by L. L. Muir
Freezing in Nevada in the spring.
She finally reached Jamison and, hand in hand, they hurried toward the cage. But there was no one left inside, just shadows and rock.
“They’re already gone!” She might have cried, but she was too happy to be free of those bands. Free to hope for a little more time.
“No!” A man shouted. “Wait here. They’ll be back.”
The chilly water reached her crotch and the shock of it got her moving. Jamison helped her up onto the rock bench, the same row they’d been sitting on, then climbed up next to her. The water moved so smoothly over it, unless she’d just seen them, she wouldn’t have known the stone seats were there.
They jumped to the next row back where part of Lake Mead was already lapping over the edge. Skye counted only three visible rows beyond. Jamison noticed them too.
A dozen Somerleds swooped down through the opening, plucked up two wet people each, then swooped out again. After a hundred others had followed suit, there was little difference to the size of the crowd. Men began putting women on their shoulders, hoping to reach the mezzanine level. Even with the rag-tag Somerleds reaching down to them, only a few nimble teenagers managed. But with so many people already up there, it wouldn’t take much for the suspended floor to fail. Their best hope was the sky.
Everyone’s best hope was the sky.
“Women and children first.” Jamison squeezed her hand. “I don’t want any arguing. Think of all those women who could have been saved from the Titanic if they hadn’t argued.”
“Chauvinist.” She gave him a soft poke with her elbow.
“Damned straight. Women and children first, chauvinists last.”
“We’d better get to that last row before it fills up.” Skye turned and braced herself to jump, but there was no room. Others hadn’t been distracted by handsome young men and had already scrambled to the highest points. “On second thought, I like it here.”
The water was up to their knees again.
“Cuddle time,” Jamison suggested.
A few people surrounding them chuckled.
Skye grabbed him and whispered, “Dibs.” Her arms slid around his waist. His draped around her shoulders. She was instantly warm and a few minutes later, just as she was closing her eyes, the air shifted. Hundreds of angels filled the air, swirling clockwise, plucking up their loads, and moving smoothly back into the white tornado. The people they carried were wet, all the way to their hair.
“Move back!” Gabriella’s voice rang out clearly across the water. She was standing in front of the gray doors. The water was up to her waist, splashing as high as her armpits and she held her little control panel above her head. “Move or die!”
People came rushing down the rows to get away from her. Eventually, they figured out how to straddle the benches to either side and new rows were formed.
A loud bang brought Skye’s attention back to the gray doors, but those doors were gone.
So was Gabriella.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The stone of the coliseum absorbed no sound and the water only amplified the screaming and the roar and splash of the water. It was a terrifying way to die.
Individuals fought their way to the cringing mob and the mob reached out and pulled them in. A man and a woman lost their grips and were swept up in the flood. They disappeared out the gaping doorway before they ever had a chance to surface—dark shadows just beneath the water that brushed to the left, heading for the sloping tunnel.
A woman fell next. A heartbeat later, her body knocked the legs out from under another woman and they washed out the doorway too.
Skye couldn’t watch anymore. She turned away and pressed her ear against Jamison’s chest. If they all washed away in the end, at least they’d go together. Jamison squeezed Skye so hard she thought her neck might break. She nearly missed the fact that the water was receding.
The flood of water going out the door Gabriella had opened was greater than the amount pumping in! The water was going down. They weren’t going to die!
The truth stared her in the face.
“Jamie! Oh, my gosh! She did it!” Skye pulled back from Jamison to make him understand. “Gabriella saved us—on purpose! We’re not going to die! We’re not going to die!”
Jamison nodded, then clutched her to him again.
From that moment on, time passed differently. It didn’t matter that they were wet and freezing. Skye didn’t worry about the way her legs shook from the exertion of keeping her balance on top of the bench. If she and Jamison were the last ones to escape, she didn’t care. All that mattered was that they’d survived. Together.
All around them, people grinned and huddled together for warmth. Even those who wept did so with smiles on their faces. Skye and Jamison stood like two trees entwined, planted too close together for anyone to separate. His body heat seeped into her, making her whole again, thawing the terror in her heart—terror she hadn’t had the luxury of acknowledging until that moment.
It was no time to worry about what had brought them to that point. Not the time to mourn those swept away by the rush of water. The only things Skye had on her mind besides Jamison was breathing in and out, and being grateful she was able to hold onto him while she did so.
What seemed like an hour passed before a white figure swooped next to them, roughly grabbed their arms, and lifted them into the air. It was only four or five minutes before they descended over a wide plateau where the rest were gathered.
Skye screamed the whole time.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Skye tried not to throw up when they started descending. As grateful as she was to be rescued, she wasn’t grateful for the roller-coaster drop in her stomach. When they were about twenty feet from the ground, they finally slowed.
Of course, she couldn’t begrudge the tall angel rushing so he could help others. But after she and Jamison were on their feet, their rescuer showed no signs of leaving.
The Somerled gave Jamison a little bow. “You are Jamison Shaw?”
“I am.” Jamison grabbed Skye’s hand like he was afraid he was going to lose her again.
“I have a message for you, from a Primary called Lanny.”
The name made Skye’s stomach lurch again. Too much of the nightmare was tied to this Lanny.
Jamison took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What does she want?”
The angel smiled. “She asks that you stay put. She is on her way and she would like a full report.”
Jamison snorted. “Is she flying on her broom or something? Colorado is a long ways away.”
The angel flinched. “By helicopter, I believe. She’s not far.” The guy glanced nervously over one shoulder, then the other before stepping closer to Jamison and whispering. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about this Lanny?”
Jamison laughed. “Well, she’s not here to stop me.”
~ ~ ~
The helicopter flew in from the south. Thanks to the colorful evening sky, orange glinted off the side of the enormous black vehicle and made it seem less menacing than Skye knew it to be.
Lanny was coming.
The Primary that started this whole nightmare was in that flying, black and orange bug that grew bigger by the second. And though it didn’t show on the outside, Skye’s innards were shaking like the filling of Richard’s blackberry pies when someone bumped the table.
She stood with Jamison at the edge of the space left clear for the chopper to land. From the air, they probably looked like a handful of dark sand scattered across the ground with a few white grains sprinkled in. Apparently the Somerleds standing at the corners of the giant table of rock had the gift of persuasion. They were planting suggestions in the minds of any possible onlookers to turn away and forget the massive group of people gathering in the middle of nowhere.
But how long would that last? How were they all going to get out of there? And when they did get down the cliffs, where were they supposed to go? As important as t
hose questions were, she was almost embarrassed to admit, now that everyone was relatively safe, she was obsessed with her own little problem.
How long would Jamison stick around?
Now that he didn’t have to worry about saving her butt anymore, would he head home? Ask for her phone number? She didn’t even know where he lived, exactly. Was he in college? Did he have to get back to classes? To a job?
Nothing they’d talked about was real. All they had in common was the nightmare they’d shared. It wasn’t actually a relationship as much as it was a basis for a support group. And after he realized the truth, how awkward would it be for him to have to blow her off?
It would be easier for Jamison if she just stepped back and got absorbed into the crowd. It broke her heart to even think it, but she wasn’t going to be a pity case.
His attention was glued to the approaching helicopter so it was as good a time as any. She slowly straightened her fingers and started sliding them out from between Jamison’s when his gaze snapped down at their hands, then up at her.
Worry wrinkled his forehead. “I’m sorry. Am I hurting you?”
Say yes. Say yes.
“No.” She smiled. “I just thought maybe I was cutting off your circulation.”
“Never,” he said, then scooped her fingers up again and held her hand even tighter.
I should have said yes. Now he’ll be suspicious.
It shouldn’t have made her sad, to have to hold his hand a while longer, but it did. Tears welled up behind her eyes and waited for a chance to let go. She wished it could just be over with so she could start crying already. But she wasn’t going to fall apart in front of Jamison. He could never know what a boob she was, or how her heart was breaking. Even if he had another life, he was too nice a guy to walk away if he knew it would hurt her.
The chopper hovered over them, and she had to turn her head away to keep the sand from blowing in her eyes. In the distance, the surface of Lake Mead shimmered like a layer of floating, bobbing diamonds. The water itself was a dark shade of sapphire with no sign on the beaches that a significant amount of liquid had been bled from its body.
The white robes of Somerled Diamonds seemed to float through the mass of Gabriella’s hostages in the same way—flashes of white among rags—and like Jamison said, they were probably providing comfort to make up for all the time they weren’t allowed to do so.
Jacob, the angel who had extracted her and Jamison from the mountain, stood beside them while they waited for the blades to stop spinning. It felt like they were cutting her heart out.
A door swung open and a pretty brunette woman in tan slacks jumped out holding the top of her head like she was afraid the giant blades would take it off if she didn’t.
“Mom!” Jamison started forward, then stepped back and held Skye’s hand a little tighter and waited. That one little act told her he wasn’t ready to just run off and forget her just yet.
I’m still important to him.
For the moment, it was enough. And it was more than enough to push her tears past the barriers she’d erected. They poured down her face in little rivers.
His mom heard him call the second time and ran in his direction. He hugged her with one arm for a very long minute before letting go. Skye hurried and wiped her face on her sleeve. She could tell they were really close by the emotions on their faces.
Behind his mom came a blond, male Somerled with a wider build than Buchanan. He grinned at Jamison, then clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good to see you whole,” he shouted over the sound of the helicopter winding down. Then he looked curiously in her direction.
“Lucas,” Jamison hollered, “this is Skye Geddes. Skye, this is Lucas. He…used to be your family.”
Skye smiled shyly, then gave the man a little wave. “Hey.” Her voice was still wasted from screaming for a good five or six minutes straight. And her throat was filled with more tears. Jamison didn’t know how sad it sounded to her, that she used to have family she never knew about, and by the way, they weren’t mortal, so she was kind of SOL.
Lucas gave her arm a squeeze and stepped out of the way, next to Jamison’s mother. Another male Somerled climbed carefully out of the helicopter, then headed their way. His black curls were a mess and Skye had the impression it wasn’t the helicopter’s fault. His emotions were a mess too, apparently. While walking thirty feet, his face switched back and forth half a dozen times, between a grin and a very sad frown.
Lucas leaned around Jamison’s mom. “Here comes Jonathan. His senses are overwhelmed at the moment, I’m sure.”
Jonathan shook Jamison’s hand, accepted his introduction to Skye with a gentle smile and a nod, then his face fell again and he wandered out into the crowd without saying a word.
The last to disembark were three women. An older woman with gray at her temples that swept back and alternated with brown hair in a thick braid over one shoulder. Two tall women—one redhead, one dark—followed behind her like a personal escort.
On instinct, Skye tightened her grip on Jamison’s hand and arm, and she pressed her chin into his shoulder. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
Jamison nodded and squeezed her in return. It was enough to soothe her nerves a little. She faced forward and took half a step away from him. If Lanny was anything like Gabriella, she’d have no respect for anyone who cowered.
The woman’s eyes darted her way and she frowned. There was a look of surprise there too, but it was quickly hidden, and Skye couldn’t help but cringe at the similarities between the Somerled Primary and the woman with the snake behind her mask.
When the trio came to a stop in front of her and Jamison, the woman was still scowling at her.
I am nothing like Gabriella, she said in Skye’s head, probably trying to intimidate her. But Buchanan had been able to speak with her in her head too, so she wasn’t impressed.
“Whatever,” she answered aloud, surprised at the resentment she felt bubbling up from her gut.
The woman’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again. She looked at the mob of drown rats surrounding her.
“We’ll get this all sorted out quickly,” she said, “and then get you all back where you belong! You need only be patient for a little while longer!”
She waited for everyone to back off. After a minute or two of staring, the crowd moved away leaving Skye, Jamison, and Jacob alone with everyone from the helicopter. Lanny studied Jamison for a minute. He stared blankly back.
“I would like to speak to Jamison alone,” she announced.
“Not going to happen,” he said, all but cutting her off.
She grunted and one side of her mouth pulled up in a smirk. Then she waited, but no one moved, and that smirk disappeared. She looked pointedly at Lucas. He put an arm around Jamison’s mother and shrugged.
She looked at Jacob, who stood next to Skye. “If you wouldn’t mind…”
“I would. And I do,” he said, but his face remained passive.
Lanny looked at Jamison’s mom as if she might be able to persuade everyone to do her bidding, but the woman raised an eyebrow and tilted her head the way Jamison and his grandpa had sometimes done. A family trait.
Lanny turned and glared at her tall escorts behind her and they backed away quickly. When they were well out of earshot, Lanny faced the rest of them.
She sneered at Lucas. “I don’t think Jamison’s mother needs to hear us airing the family laundry, do you?”
“Oh, I think Jamison’s mom,” said Jamison’s mom, “isn’t going to leave his side until we get home. So if you want to talk to him, go ahead and talk. Whatever he’s going to tell you, he’s going to explain to me anyway.”
Lanny smiled and shrugged. “You’re right of course. I’m sure he’ll tell you everything…he remembers.”
Jamison’s grip tightened again, proving he hadn’t missed the little pause in the woman’s concession either.
“I will not allow Jamison’s memory to be touch
ed,” Lucas said flatly. “By anyone.”
Lanny’s face froze in place. Whatever she was thinking, she wasn’t about to share it.
“We’ll discuss that later.” She looked only at Jamison and folded her hands together in front of her like a patronizing teacher that makes kids want to run around screaming just to piss her off. “I need you to open your mind to me, boy. It’s the quickest way for me to learn what has hap—”
“He will not,” Lucas said. “He does not trust you. But if he will allow me into his thoughts, you can then take them from me.” He gave Jamison a wink. “What say you, Young Jamison?”
Instead of answering, Jamison faced Skye. “I do trust Lucas. I’m really not up to reliving the whole thing right now, so I’m going to let him do it. If you think you can trust him, on my word, maybe you can do the same. But it’s up to you.”
The horror was too fresh for Skye, too, and she figured if Jamison trusted the guy, she could. But apparently Jacob was a little worried about Lanny listening in because he kept harassing the woman with questions, annoying her while Jamison and Lucas stared at each other in silence. When it was Skye’s turn, Jacob was still at it.
“Close your eyes,” Lucas suggested.
As soon as her eyelids dropped, she could feel him inside her head. It was a physical thing, like someone playing with your hair. Relaxing. And time was forgotten.
Keep your eyes closed for a moment, Skye. I’m finished, but I want to tell you something. The others need not hear it.
Okay.
First of all, you’ve done very well. The previous version of you would be very proud indeed. To go through so much and not be tainted by it is remarkable.
I don’t feel remarkable.
No. You don’t. But that is a mistake. Jamison loves you, sweetheart. This version of you as much as the last. You are a remarkable woman. You simply need to heed Buchanan’s advice—the “her” you need to forgive…is you.
And then he faded from her mind.
The sensation was gone, and though she waited a minute to make sure, it didn’t come back.