by fox, angie
I buried my head in my hands. “I am so fucked.”
“What else is new?”
I looked at him. “I’d miss at least two shifts at the hospital.”
“Not if I cover for you. I’ll take your schedule. Hell, I owe it to you anyway.” The cot dipped as he sat next to me. “I checked on the way in, I’m not even on this week’s docket.”
It could work, but, “What if someone comes looking for me?”
He thought for a moment. “I’ll diagnose you with a nasty case of the Imp Flu. Nobody will want to come near this place for a week. We may even get to fumigate my footlocker.”
Lord knew, he could use it.
I stared at the wooden floorboards of our tent. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not. But I do think we can pull it off, at least from this end.”
“I’d be AWOL.”
Rodger nudged me with his shoulder. “It’s always been your dream to run away.”
I smirked. “Only this time, I have to come back.”
“No escape is perfect.” He grew serious. “Look, Petra. I don’t know why this is happening or why you’re in the middle of it.” He stopped to consider. “You’re always in the middle of it, aren’t you?”
“Lately,” I said, giving nothing away.
Rodger watched me as if he was trying to put the pieces together.
Nothing to see here.
I let out a breath when he let it drop. “If it does have something to do with the prophecies, you have to do it,” he said. Avoiding fate could spell disaster. “My pack leader always used to say things happen for a reason.” Rodger shook his head. “I mean, here I am.”
It was eerily unsettling how Rodger had arrived home early. That even before I’d seen Marc, events had been set in motion that would allow me to get out of camp and confront the murdered Dr. Keller. If I actually had the guts to do it.
“It’s the little things, remember?” he said, repeating my words back to me. The last prophecies came true because of seemly inconsequential decisions.
Thank heaven for that. But, “This decision is hardly free of consequences.”
“If you don’t go, what if you miss changing that one thing that could make the difference?” Rodger cocked his head. “What it boils down to is that I don’t think you have a choice.”
The truth of his words settled low in my stomach. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
chapter five
“Take this,” Rodger said, tossing his army field jacket my way. It missed my cot by three feet and smacked against the canvas floor of the tent.
“It’s at least five sizes too big,” I said, turning back to my canvas duffel. I’d stowed a flashlight, extra batteries, and six of the energy bars Rodger had brought from home. Plus the cookies.
I swallowed, my mouth too dry to even contemplate eating one.
“What?” he asked, leaning up against the tent pole. “Did you actually replace your uniform coat?”
“Of course not.” My field jacket was toast from the last time I was crazy enough to try to leave camp. But I didn’t want to swim around in my buddy’s. “Marc said he’d leave me a uniform.”
Rodger’s eyes widened. “That’s the easiest way to be shot as a traitor.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” I said, turning back to my duffel. “If you can tell me another way to sneak into an enemy camp, I’m all ears.” Fingers trembling, I searched the nightstand next to my cot for a notebook. I tore out some pages, folded them down, and stuffed them into my boot, along with a pen. There they rested, a comforting weight against my ankle. “I won’t change until I’m past the Great Divide.”
Rodger harrumphed. “Speaking of which, do you have a plan for that?”
“Marc gave me a map of the armies,” I said, feeling for it in my back pocket. That was treason right there. I shoved it into my other boot. It wasn’t like I’d be changing my shoes.
I glanced behind me. Rodger was in the same spot, eyeing me like a disapproving father. Tell me about it. I tried to give him a smile and failed.
“He’s leaving transportation,” I said, “most likely a jeep, outside camp.”
“Did he say a jeep?”
“No,” I groused, the realization prickling at me. Yeah, okay, this really was insane.
I rubbed at my temples and wondered if James Bond ever got a stress headache before a mission.
Whatever Marc left for me, it had better be fast. I had to outrun imps before I could even think about crossing the Great Divide or sneaking into the enemy camp.
No telling what else was out there, either.
“Remember what I said about this being a good idea?” Rodger asked.
I searched under my cot for a weapon of some kind. All I had were shower supplies and my dress uniform, still in the box.
He stood next to me. “I changed my mind.”
Yeah, well, it was too late for that. Besides, I didn’t have to be a conventional soldier to pull this off. Lots of people made do. “My cousin Regis used to hunt alligators in the swamp with just a hook and a bangstick.”
“What? You think self-defense is genetic?”
Sitting back on my haunches, I made a quick search of my pockets. Maybe I could stab an attacker with my penlight.
I gave a shuddering sigh. “I can’t back out.” Despite the fact that I was no warrior, and certainly no James Bond, we had to know what was going on in that other camp. If Dr. Keller had discovered a weapon of some kind, I could bring back photos and information. Maybe Colonel Kosta would know what to do about it. Then I really would be a spy.
Seven hells.
I stood, nudging Rodger out of my way as I tossed the penlight into my bag. Couldn’t hurt, right?
“Can I borrow your camera?” I asked. I hadn’t bothered to bring one down here. But Rodger took pictures to send to his kids.
“Don’t break it,” he said, as if that was our biggest problem.
As dusk fell, I zipped up my dark blue New Orleans Zephyrs jacket. It was the best camouflage I was going to get.
Rodger stood behind me. “I still think—” He stopped himself. “Never mind.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”
The footlocker behind him rattled and we both jumped, our nerves getting the better of us.
Marius shoved open the lid and flipped his longish blond hair out of his eyes. It fell in stylish layers that framed his face.
My stomach crumpled.
“Stay right there, missy,” he said, his limbs stiff and awkward as he climbed out of the cramped space.
Yikes. “I’d assumed you were in your lair.” And not listening in.
“I’m having new mirrors installed,” he said, brushing imaginary lint from his black silk smoking jacket. Marius squinted against the lingering orange rays in the sky.
Worry stabbed at me. “I’m going whether you approve or not.” I just hoped he wouldn’t tell. I had to think that even if he wouldn’t outright lie for me, he wouldn’t turn me in.
“What you do with your short life is none of my business,” he said, “but going out there without a weapon is patently ludicrous.”
“Thanks for the insight,” Rodger remarked.
Marius ignored him.
He turned his back on us both and began working an ornate, blood-red chest from under his cot.
“I’ve never seen that before,” Rodger said.
“Me neither.” Despite Marius’s claims, we didn’t really bother his stuff. Unless it was already out. And at that point, he was just asking for it.
Marius lifted the lid. Inside was an assortment of weapons the likes of which I’d never seen. He had curved swords and jewel-handled daggers, gleaming Chinese throwing stars and what looked to be a Regency-era dueling set.
Rodger whistled. “What are you doing with all that?”
The vampire stiffened. “I used to display them in my home. I find them quite stimulating. Here, they’re
just going to waste.”
He had a point. Nothing could improve this dump.
Marius reached for the pistol set and I thought he was going to give me one of them. Granted, they only had one shot each—not very useful against a pack of imps—but it was something.
Instead, he reached for a velvet sack underneath and produced a strange-looking silver-and-bronze pistol, with a snubbed nose and rounded handle. There was a knob on the side in an exotic spiderweb design, as if the gun could be cranked up or down. It almost looked like a toy, or a weapon carried around by a crazed Victorian inventor.
“Keep this in your pocket,” Marius instructed, handing it to me.
It was … interesting. “How do I load it?” I asked, turning it to the side, inspecting the scrollwork, trying to find where the bullets would even go.
“It doesn’t take ammunition,” he said, “it acts as an energy disruptor. I’d give you a demonstration, but you seem to have a soft spot for Rodger, as well as the swamp creatures out back. Besides, it’s extremely bright when it goes off. Take your sunglasses.”
I didn’t know if I should be glad or worried. “Thanks,” I said, touching the knob.
Marius hovered at my side like an overprotective mother. “Keep that on the lowest setting.”
“No kidding? Why?” I asked. It really was a gorgeous weapon.
“Or else I’m not responsible for your scrawny hide,” Marius said. “Here’s the safety.” He touched a long, manicured finger to a lever next to the handle. “Keep that on until you’re ready to use it.”
“Thanks,” I said, reaching sideways to give him an awkward hug.
He stood unresponsive and I felt him stiffen under my arm. “Yes, well, if someone has to go, I’m glad it’s you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, easing my duffel over my right shoulder. Night had fallen. It was time to leave.
“Other side,” Marius instructed. “You want to leave your firing hand free.”
I opened my mouth to protest, because really, who was going to shoot at me in the middle of camp? But then I shut it. Marius was right. I needed to stay in position to defend myself, if only because I needed to get in the habit.
“Do you know how to use all those?” I asked him as he returned the weapons chest to its place.
“I wouldn’t have them if I didn’t,” he said, his back to me.
Rodger and I exchanged a glance.
“Be careful,” Rodger said, closing in to smother me with a bear hug.
“Piece of cake,” I lied, before heading out into the night.
* * *
The red dirt path was bathed in flickering torchlight as I made my way silently across camp.
There weren’t a lot of people out, and I thanked my lucky stars I’d managed to hit the lull between dinner and late-night debauchery. Most of the people out were either returning from shifts that ran late, or catching up with a friend before heading out to the club or home for the night.
I nodded to a pair of nurses going the opposite way, my hand sweating against the canvas strap of my bag, the gun in my pocket bumping against my leg with every step.
Don’t mind me. I’m just going AWOL.
Lord help me. I hadn’t even snuck out of the house as a never-wild and anti-rebellious teenager. The consequences, namely disappointing my father, had seemed too high. So why not make a go of it when I was only risking my medical career and my life?
My heart pounded and I was tempted to turn back, go home, forget I’d even run into Marc. I’d gone ten years without him. Why not another ten? Or twenty for that matter?
But I had to figure out what was happening over at the MASH-19X. I tightened my grip, straightened my back. I was the only one who could.
The oracle had predicted a hideous new weapon. It was bad enough that the war would start up again soon. If I could learn what was happening, if I could prevent some of the horrific injuries, some of the senseless death, it would be worth it.
Please, let it be worth it.
The helipad was set up on a hill overlooking the surgery tent. I ducked into the shadows between surgery and recovery and tried to stay as inconspicuous as I could. I was a shadow. Alone.
Breathe in, breathe out, I reminded myself as I made a dash for the unlit side of the hill. I didn’t dare take the main path. It blazed with torches, and I wouldn’t have been too surprised to run into a few guards as well. We kept some of the helicopter fleet gased up and ready to go at a moment’s notice. This was a strategic place in more ways than one.
I battled up the rocky ground, bracing my hand against the sharp stones when I felt myself slipping. There was no way to do this quietly. The rock crunched like glass under my feet.
This was one of the few natural rises on the limbo plain. Chances were, they’d located our MASH unit here to take advantage.
There was a road off the back side—probably where I’d find my jeep—but I wasn’t about to snake around the base of the hill in the dark. There were shallow caves back there. No telling what liked to nest in them.
Besides, I had somewhat of an excuse to be on the helipad, more than I did wandering the cave openings below.
If any guards spotted me, I’d tell them I’d lost my keys.
And pray they didn’t search my boots.
At last I reached the top and stepped up onto the smooth, flat dirt of the helipad. I didn’t see any guards, at least not yet.
Fiery torches outlined landing zones Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. Each pad was marked with a Greek letter, and the Ankh, an ancient symbol for life. It resembled a cross with a loop at the top.
That same Ankh was emblazoned in gold on my scrubs, and on the roofs of our medical tents. It was our version of the red cross.
Beyond the landing pads, I caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows. My breath caught. It could be a guard, or a creature of the night. Or my ride.
Hell and damnation.
I closed a hand over the gun in my pocket, praying I didn’t need to use it.
Wait. I yanked my hand back. Of course I couldn’t use it—not on my own people. My head pounded. I was too keyed up.
Relax. Breathe.
Easier said than done.
There was no way to make it across the helipad unseen. Heart hammering, I inched along the side, making my way for the hulking machine on Gamma pad. If I could keep it between me and whatever was out there, I’d at least have some protection.
I stayed to the shadows, moving in silence.
My hand touched the cool metal of Gamma pad’s chopper.
“Hurry,” a familiar voice ground out.
Recognition whooshed through me. Marc. “Where are you?”
He stepped from the shadows. He’d stayed. I wasn’t alone. “Thank God. I could kiss you.”
His smooth facade faltered. “You don’t mean that.”
“No,” I said automatically.
Of course I didn’t.
He stood with his flak jacket open, and nothing underneath. Firelight flickered over the wide expanse of his chest. For a moment, all I did was stare. I remembered this, him.
A heaviness hung between us.
“The patrol should be back in five minutes or less,” he said, breaking the spell.
He tore his gaze from mine as he worked the rest of the buttons, shrugging off the jacket completely. He had a strong, swimmer’s build.
Wait. “What are you doing here?” He should have been back at his own camp by now. He’d be missed. Discovered.
“You need a ride,” he said, matter-of-fact.
“Right.” Of course he’d stayed for me. It was Marc.
Yes, I was still mad as hell at him, but the clenched fist inside me loosened. There was some justice in the world. One good man survived, when so often many did not.
His hands went to his waist, unhitching his belt. Firelight illuminated the curve of muscle at his hip.
Yow. Was it getting hot up here? I was starting to sweat.
A jeep was bad enough, but if he thought I was going to ride over the Great Divide on dragon back …
He dropped his pants.
“Do you mind?” I asked, glancing behind us as he shucked his boots. Yes, I’d seen it all before, but not for the last decade. And besides, I was still angry with him. And I kind of hated him and here he was stripping and Jesus on a pogo stick I’d forgotten how good he looked naked.
“No out-of-uniform jokes, okay?” he said, his voice betraying a smile.
Yeah, yeah. He could still get to me. I was glad one of us was amused.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, soldier,” I said, trying to keep it light, trying not to stare—and failing miserably.
He was lithe, with the build of an athlete. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I stared at the dip of muscle just below his left hip. There he wore the mark of the silver dragons. It was circular, with the head of a dragon swallowing its tail. It was supposed to symbolize never-ending loyalty to the clan. I used to play with it while we lounged in bed on our days off.
“Keep an eye out,” he said, lowering his head to shift.
He was at his most vulnerable during the change. I scanned the area in front and behind us as he bent, the muscles in his back expanding, his bones re-forming. His neck grew long, and scales sprouted along his back. The air around him glittered as his hands and feet morphed into talons and he grew to the size of a large horse. I’d seen it a hundred times and I’d still never seen anything like it.
Spikes framed his long face, curving downward toward the hard white plates of his underbelly. Dorsal spines inched down his neck, as hard as his thick, armored hide. He pawed at the ground with four-clawed talons. Legend said the claws symbolized earth, fire, air, and water. Marc was an elemental dragon, of the air. Immense wings unfurled from his back.
Marc was a born dragon, silver and beautiful.
He crouched before me, rumbling low in his throat, and when he caught my eye, he blasted my leg with a shot of cold air.
“Cut it out,” I said, gathering up his clothes. Teasing would not make me relax. Escaping here in one piece would.
Maybe. At least it was a start.
His clothes smelled like him, spicy and warm. I cradled them under my arm. “This is insane,” I muttered, climbing onto his back.