Chiana took a few deep, gulping breaths. Whether reality or illusion, she felt like she’d gotten her ass kicked by a paranormal army. She moved her shoulders, her arms, her legs to assess the damage. She ached, but she wasn’t hurt.
A deep groan brought her fully back to the world and the man who had promised to die before he’d let her be taken. Creed lay on the cave floor, hands clasped to his chest as if he was holding his flesh together. She rushed to him, knelt beside him and, after taking a deep breath to fortify herself, gently moved his hands.
His body was intact.
“What’s wrong with him?” She glanced over her shoulder at the woman who’d forced her awake.
“He’s still in the other plane,” the woman said. “My name’s Caroline, by the way, and Creed used to be my partner. I tried to help him, but I can’t. Apparently there’s a connection between you two that no one else can get into. Kinda like a private phone line, I guess.”
“What do I do?”
“What I did for you. Bring him back. Talk to him, make his spirit come back to this place and time.”
She stretched out beside Creed, facing him, oblivious to the rocky surface beneath her. She laced her fingers through his and began talking.
“Hey, guy, it’s about time you got back here with me,” she began. “I already told you I don’t intend to spend my life in a cave, and you know the rule: Leave no one behind. So if you intend to make this your permanent residence, I’m stuck here too, and I really want that burger basket you promised me.”
Creed lay still as death beside her, although she could see him breathing and feel his heartbeat. Time to try a different tack.
“I need you back here, big boy.” She dropped his hands and snuggled her body against him. “You’ve been toying with my affections, you know, and you can’t hide from the consequences. You come back, and I promise it will be well worth your while.”
Still nothing. Well, she remembered her fairy tales. She’d try the Sleeping Beauty approach. Scooting up, she leaned over and touched his lips with hers, eyes closed, with all the take me, I’m yours she could put into one kiss.
Joy filled her when he responded. The joy became desire when his arm came around her, pulling her on top of him. The kiss lengthened, igniting an aching need that made her forget where they were and that they weren’t alone.
Caroline’s voice seemed to come from a distance as she said, “Okay, you two, this is a public cave. I think you’re both back with me now.”
Chiana gave a tiny mew of protest when Creed let go of her. She felt cool air fill the space where his body had been hot against hers, and reluctantly got up when he stood and offered his hand.
“I’d excuse myself and let you two do what you obviously need to do, but I’m kinda bad with small spaces. So what say we get out of here, now.”
“I second the motion,” Chiana said, pulling her flashlight from her pocket. “I mean, it’s been fun and all…”
Creed clicked on his own light and led the way through the tunnels to the cave opening. Chiana decided when they finally got out that she’d never seen a more beautiful sight than the late night sky that greeted them, tinged with the early orange of sunrise. She inhaled deeply of the fresh air, grateful to be able to do so.
Creed had moved away to speak quietly to Caroline. Chiana didn’t know their connection, but she could see their conversation was private. She walked over to the truck and rummaged in the glove compartment to see if she could find something to satisfy her growing hunger.
She found half a roll of candy mints and an unopened bag of peanuts. Deciding they’d have to do, she jumped up on the hood and watched the others.
Creed looked pissed. Caroline looked sad. So what was their deal, anyway? Boyfriend, girlfriend, bad break-up? Former partners who got reassigned because they couldn’t work together? She gave a mental shrug. Eventually, she’d find out.
Tipping her head back to pour some peanuts in her mouth, she realized her neck ached. She used her flashlight to examine her arms and realized she was sporting some fresh bruises. Her spirit might have done battle, but she was feeling the effects.
She bet Creed felt like hell. If what she remembered was right, and she was pretty sure it was, there had been some sort of mind meld or something that let her get inside him. She grinned. That sure gave new meaning to the phrase “got you under my skin.”
“Hey, you gonna talk all day? I’m starving,” she shouted when the peanuts were gone.
“You’re pretty bossy for the only person who doesn’t have a car,” he retorted, walking toward her with Caroline by his side.
“I’m not worried,” she said, sliding off the truck and opening the passenger door. “If you don’t take me, I’m riding with her, and we’ll spend the whole time back to Louisville discussing you.”
She was rewarded with laughter from Caroline, who seemed to be recovering from Rhori’s possession rapidly. She relaxed against the seat, eager to get as far away from this place as possible. She wasn’t worried about Odin dispatching another warrior to bring her back. She was more concerned with getting gone before the ranger saw their vehicles, found the glow sticks down in the cave and had them arrested for trespassing.
Sitting in a jail cell for real truly would suck.
Chapter Fourteen
“Talk to me.” Chiana wadded up the wrapper her sandwich had come in and stuffed it into the paper bag at the center of the picnic table.
“About what happened?” Caroline asked.
“No. I can figure that out once I’ve had some sleep. You don’t know what a relief it is to feel like myself again.” She glanced at her now-naked arm. “And to have that thing gone. I felt like a cow with that brand on me.”
She put her elbows on the table and folded her hands together. Tipping her head, she turned her attention to Creed.
“I know you were possessed or something, and once the big baddie got transported to the fighting grounds thanks to Lillian’s little helper, you were you again,” she said. “I know that even though I felt like I was there, it was just my spirit or whatever. Got that. I want to know about you and Caroline.”
All she heard in response was the whoosh of traffic past the interstate rest area and some bird song from trees at the back of the lot.
“Really, if you don’t just tell me, I’m going to bug you all the way back to Louisville.”
Creed sighed.
Caroline spoke.
“We were partnered together once, on an emergency. Things didn’t go well.”
“Oh, please.” Chiana rolled her eyes. “That makes it sound like a bad blind date. Details, I want details.”
After exchanging glances one more time, Caroline began to tell the story. Chiana listened in fascinated silence as she learned of the talent that brought Caroline into the agency, her ability to see death surrounding people. When Caroline faltered, Creed stepped in.
“I’d never seen so many people in various stages of death,” Caroline said after they’d shared the bare bones of their assignment. “Imagine that you’re surrounded by people. One of them is playing a violent video game at high volume, another is listening to a heavy rock station, another is singing opera and yet another is playing a tuba. That’s kinda what it was like, except it was a cacophony of colors, not noise.
“Just walking down the street was overwhelming. So many people, so little I could do. And then I saw her.”
* * * *
The woman had been younger than Caroline and obviously pregnant. Instead of the pale pastel glow Caroline sometimes saw around expectant mothers, a cloud of bright orange tipped with red surrounded her. The effect was like a physical blow; Caroline felt as if the violent colors pushed at her, trying to force her to keep her distance.
She might have closed her eyes and tried to forget what she’d seen if a young boy, too young for school, hadn’t run up to the woman and grabbed her hand. The look he gave her, one of adoration, caught at Caroline’s h
eart. She couldn’t walk away.
Following them down the street, she saw the color begin to wrap itself around the child. Without thinking, without remembering that she was in Haiti to exterminate hell creatures and not save humans, she ran up to the woman and stopped her before she could walk into the little shop with the dark curtains.
“I figured she’d think I was crazy and call for a policeman, but she listened,” Caroline explained. “When I told her I saw death surrounding her, she crossed herself and hugged her son closer. I didn’t know we were being watched as we talked; I was only concerned with her safety and that of her children, born and unborn.”
Caroline’s voice cracked; Creed began to speak. Chiana learned from his sparse explanation that the woman had been paying the shop owner weekly for charms to protect her during pregnancy. Either the woman’s own suspicions or Caroline’s pleading not to wear them anymore kept her from entering the shop.
“What happened next is my fault,” Creed said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I was the senior agent; I knew the rule. You never leave your partner, which applies double when you’re chasing hell creatures.
“But I did. I thought I knew everything, and the last thing I needed was someone whose talent made no sense in the situation. The island had been devastated. Why send in an agent who’s going to see death everywhere?”
“No.” The denial came from Caroline in a small voice. “I walked away from you. I followed that woman; I caused my own problem.”
“Which was?” Chiana interrupted.
“The shop owner was a powerful man who had people convinced that only his charms could keep what they feared most from happening,” Creed said. “If you were afraid your husband was cheating, he’d create a charm for you guaranteed to keep your man faithful. When someone walked in afraid they were being poisoned, he’d mix a charm up right there.
“He saw Caroline with his customer. He watched the woman walk away. A few days later, after she’d been admitted to the hospital with toxemia and nearly died, she didn’t hesitate to tell people how worthless his charms were.”
Chiana suspected what came next: revenge. Sickened, she listened to the rest of the story.
“He came for Caroline in broad daylight, pulled a sack over her head and had his toadies carry her away,” Creed said. “If I’d followed procedure, if I’d kept her in my line of vision…”
“It still would have happened,” Caroline said, her voice firm. “We were playing at his house, remember? Sooner or later, he would have taken me.”
Again, Creed glossed over details as he told of hunting for Caroline and finding her in a small building behind the shop owner’s house, naked and painted with bright, violent images. She’d been laid out on a table like an offering at an altar.
“I don’t know what all he planned, but she was too drugged to know where she was or what surrounded her. My best guess is that he intended to kill her and make it look like a voodoo sacrifice to scare his customers into continuing to buy his lies and his charms. That’s when I did what I thought I had to do.”
He dropped his head to stare at the concrete below his feet. Chiana tried to ask another question; Caroline shook her head in a warning to be silent. Dying to know more, Chiana held her hands up in a “what now” gesture.
“Finish up; we’ve got to hit the road.” Creed spoke brusquely as he pushed away from the picnic table and headed for the trashcans with their waste. Passing by Chiana, Caroline whispered, “No matter what he might say, he did the right thing. Not only did he save my life, he probably saved dozens of others who relied on that shop of promises instead of seeking real medical help. That’s what he needs to understand and refuses to accept.”
Chiana smacked her hand on the table in frustration. This was like reading a book and finding the entire last chapter missing. Yeah, it had been the Cliff’s Notes version she was getting, but she needed more. She needed the end. She needed to know what Creed’s demons were before she got further entangled with him.
“I’m riding with her.” She tried to sound casual. “No offense, but that seat in the truck puts my butt to sleep. I’d like to arrive with no numb parts.”
Creed shook his head. “I promised your partner I’d return you in one piece, unharmed, and I intend to keep my promise.”
“The big bad wolf is dead, remember? Maybe I’m in the mood for some girl talk.”
“Or maybe you’re in the mood to be tossed over my shoulder and carried to the truck. I saw baling twine under the seat. That’ll work as well as handcuffs if need be.”
If it hadn’t been for his grim face and narrowed eyes, she might have thought he was joking. Except, as long as they’d been together, she’d discovered he was serious in everything he did. She walked over to the truck with reluctant steps, determined to find out more before he dropped her at the house and disappeared from her life.
“Tell me,” she begged as he pulled back onto the interstate behind Caroline’s small sedan. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It is.”
“Let me be the judge. I’ve made my own share of stupid calls in my time.”
Creed’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white.
“You didn’t draw innocent blood.”
“That guy was no innocent.”
“His children were.” The words came from Creed as if being torn from the fabric of his being. “I saved Caroline, yeah, but that man’s children were attacked by a hell imp while I was getting her out of that shack. I can still hear their screams in my sleep sometimes. They sounded barely human as their flesh was being torn off them and their bones crushed.
“The little girl was four years old, the same age as my daughter. Their mother died trying to save them, her blood mixing with theirs until it ran out of the house and down the street, a stream of crimson. You know how this works. You do what you have to, put it out of your mind and keep going. I couldn’t forget it, but I couldn’t deal with it either.
“Do I believe in voodoo curses? No. But I know what a man is capable of when he’s lost everything he cares about. I couldn’t take a chance that the bastard would leave Haiti and find my wife and daughter. I couldn’t let him take their lives in return for his children’s.”
Chiana longed to offer some platitude, but she wasn’t a novice. She’d seen the work of hell creatures; she knew death was a blessing for those they attacked. She thought of Caroline, driving ahead of them. Even if she’d been drugged, she had to have heard the attack, had to know that because she lived, children had died.
Reaching over, Chiana laid a hand on Creed’s thigh. Maybe her touch could reach him where her words would fail.
Self-loathing filled Creed, a familiar darkness that seemed comfortable after so long. That’s why he worked alone; he couldn’t and wouldn’t expose another agent to the hell Caroline had suffered. Her torso and legs had been covered with tiny cuts, and she’d been hot in his arms as he ran with her down the street and away from the site of carnage. Yeah, he’d sworn to protect his partner, but their prime directive was to protect the innocent.
He’d failed those children, and he’d failed Caroline. Even though he kept his distance, he knew that she lived a half-life now, sequestering herself in her house except for her hours at the diner and casual moments with her neighbors. He’d been pissed when they were partnered; he’d wanted an agent at least as experienced as he was. Pure and simple, that’s why he’d let her wander off. If he’d done his job, she’d be whole and those children would be alive.
“She knew better.”
He turned to Chiana with a questioning look.
“We all receive the same training. We’re taught to stay with the team and not to contradict the senior agent. She should have stayed with you.”
“She did the right thing in saving that woman. She had twins, two more boys.”
“How many children did the shop owner have?”
“No.” Creed shot out the word. “Don’t
tell me it was a trade. Lives aren’t corn or cows. They can’t be bartered with.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Chiana’s hand moved up, to grasp his forearm as he clenched the steering wheel. “Because a hell imp did what hell imps do, you’ve thrown your life away. Chasing evil’s not a bad thing, but there’s more to being alive than work.”
“Like what?”
“Laughing during a movie. Enjoying a perfectly done pork chop. Listening to people you care about talk about their past and their plans for the future.
“And love.”
“You’re one to talk.”
When Chiana remained silent, he figured he’d hit home. She wasn’t that much different than him. She used Doc’s serum to be like everyone else, yet if what he heard was true, she didn’t date, she didn’t do much except work. Just like him.
The difference between them was that she didn’t have the nightmares, the futile replaying of those hours in Haiti. She hadn’t drawn into herself, changed so much that the only people she loved couldn’t stand to be around her anymore.
He wondered if she’d understand if he told her why his wife had left, why he had no contact with his daughter. Would she turn away if he confided his terrible secret, that he’d nearly killed his wife while in the throes of a nightmare, nearly plunged a knife into her heart?
The silence continued as they drove toward Louisville, traffic picking up as they neared the city. When they passed Caroline slowing for her exit, he honked goodbye and switched to the fast lane.
“Still have a phone?” Chiana asked as they neared downtown.
“In the glove compartment. Why?”
“Because I intend to call in sick for the first time in my life. And then I’m asking for a new partner.”
“About that…”
“Yes?”
“Hardison is dead.” The words sounded cold even to Creed. He tried to soften them.
“Odin’s warrior wore him out, literally. When Caroline saw you, she realized you two were connected. Mick made it to the diner, but he was in bad shape by the time help came.”
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