by Nora Roberts
“I was dreaming.”
“No.” She pressed her cheek to his. “No, you weren’t.”
“At first . . . or maybe not. Stretch, you got any whiskey around here? I need a shot.”
“I’ve got a bottle of Paddy’s.”
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars for three fingers of Paddy’s.”
“Sold.” Her laugh was too close to a sob for comfort. “Here, just lie down. I’ll get it. You need to cover up, you’re shaking.”
She hauled the covers over him, tucked him up like a bug in a cocoon. “Oh, Jesus God.” She shook herself as she dropped her forehead to his.
“Two thousand if you get it here within the next forty-five seconds.”
She fled the room, and Jordan figured he couldn’t be in such bad shape if he could still appreciate the beauty of a naked Dana on the run.
An instant later Moe leaped on the bed and tripled every ache in his body. He started to curse, then settled for a sigh as the dog growled low, sniffed all around the bedcovers, then slurped Jordan’s face.
“Yeah, that’ll teach us to boot you out of the bedroom just because we want to have sex in private.”
Moe whined, bumped Jordan’s shoulder with his nose, then turned three ungainly circles and settled down at his side.
Dana sprinted back, a bottle in one hand, a glass in the other. After pouring considerably more than three fingers of whiskey, she hooked an arm behind his head and lifted the glass to his lips.
“Thanks. I can handle it from here.”
“Okay.” Still, she eased him gently back against the pillows before lifting the bottle again and taking a long pull straight from it herself.
She imagined the heat of it hit Jordan’s belly just as shockingly as it did hers. Steadier, she went to the closet and pulled out a robe.
“Do you have to put that on? I like looking at you.”
She didn’t want to tell him her skin felt as if it had been rubbed with ice. “We shouldn’t have locked the dog out of the room.”
“Yeah, Moe and I were just discussing that.” He laid his hand on Moe’s wide back. “Is he what woke you?”
“Him, and your screaming.” She shuddered once, then sat on the side of the bed. “Jordan, your chest.”
“What?” He looked down at himself as she eased the covers aside. There were five distinct grooves, like a talon pattern, over his heart. They were shallow, he noted, and thanked God for it. But they bled sluggishly and were viciously painful.
“I’m messing up your sheets.”
“They’ll wash.” She had to swallow, hard. “I’d better take care of those cuts. While I’m at it, you can tell me what the hell he did to you.”
She went into the bathroom for antiseptic and bandages, then just braced her hands on the sink and ordered herself to breathe until she could manage it without feeling like she was sucking razor blades into her throat.
She knew what fear was now. She’d felt it when the storm had ripped over the island and the black sea had rushed to take her. But even that, she realized, even that bone-deep terror, had been a shadow of what she’d gone through when the shocked agony of Jordan’s scream had torn her out of sleep.
She fought back her tears. They were a useless indulgence when action was needed. Instead, she gathered what she needed and went back in to tend his wounds.
“I brought you some aspirin. I don’t have anything stronger.”
“That’ll work. Thanks.” He downed three with the water she offered. “Look, I can handle this. I remember you don’t do well with blood.”
“I won’t be a baby if you won’t.” Ignoring the queasiness, she sat down to mop him up. “Talk to me, and I’m less likely to pitch over in a faint. What happened, Jordan? Where did he take you?”
“I started out somewhere else. I can’t quite pull it back, so maybe I was dreaming. I was walking. It was dark, but with a full moon. I think it might’ve been up at the Peak. I can’t remember for sure. It’s hazy.”
“Keep going.” She concentrated on his voice, on the words. On anything but the way the cloth she was using reddened as she pressed it against the cuts.
“Next thing I knew, it was broad daylight. It was . . . sort of the way I always imagined the transporter in Star Trek works. Instant and disorienting.”
“It wouldn’t be my favorite mode of transportation.”
“Are you kidding? It’s got to beat the hell out of . . . Christ on a crutch!”
“I know. I’m sorry.” But she gritted her teeth and continued to swab the disinfectant over the cuts. “Keep talking. We’ll get through this.”
Alarmed, Moe deserted the field by slinking off the bed and crawling under it.
Jordan did his best to breathe through the pain. “The Curtain of Power. I was behind it,” he said and told her.
“You provoked him? Deliberately?” She sat back, all the interest and concern on her face shifting into irritated impatience. “Do you have to be such a man?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Added to that, he was going to do whatever he was going to do. Why shouldn’t I get a couple of swings in first, even if they were only verbal?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Let me think.” Sarcasm dripping from each word, she tapped a finger to the side of her head. “Maybe because . . . he’s a god.”
“And you’d’ve stood there, of course, hands folded, having a polite conversation?”
“I don’t know.” She blew out a breath and finished the bandaging. “Probably not.” Deciding that she’d done her best, she bent over and dropped her head between her knees. “I don’t ever want to have to do that again.”
“That makes two of us.” Stiff, still achy, he turned so he could run his hand up and down her back. “I appreciate it.”
She managed what passed for a nod. “Tell me the rest.”
“You just cleaned and bandaged the rest. Whatever he did felt just the way this looks. Actually, it felt considerably worse.”
“You screamed.”
“Do you have to keep saying that? It’s embarrassing.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I screamed, too. I woke up and you were—it looked like you were having a convulsion. You were dead white, bleeding, shaking. I didn’t know what the hell to do. I guess I panicked. I grabbed you, started shouting. You went limp. Almost as soon as I touched you, you went limp. I thought—for a minute I thought you were dead.”
“I heard you.”
She stayed where she was another moment, fighting back tears again. “When?”
“After I hit the dirt the second time. I heard you calling for me, and it was like getting sucked back into the old transporter. I heard him, too, right as I was fading out. I heard him, but more inside my head. ‘I’m not finished,’ he said. ‘I am not finished.’ And he was royally pissed. He couldn’t keep me there. He wasn’t done with me, but he couldn’t keep me there.”
“Why?”
“You woke up.” Reaching out, Jordan ran his fingers over her cheek. “You called me. You touched me, and that brought me out.”
“Human contact?”
“Maybe as simple as that,” he agreed. “Maybe just that simple—when the humans are connected.”
“But why you?” She picked up the cloth and dabbed at the cut on his lip. “Why did he take you behind the Curtain?”
“That’s something we have to figure out. When we do—ouch, Dana.”
“Sorry.”
“When we do,” he repeated as he nudged her hand away, “we’ll have more of the pieces for this particular puzzle.”
SIMPLE or complex, Dana needed answers. With Moe hanging his head blissfully out the passenger window, she drove to Warrior’s Peak to get them. Research and speculation were one thing, but her lover’s blood had been shed. Now she wanted cold, hard facts.
The trees were still bright, and their color splashed across a dull gray sky layered with sulky clouds. But more leaves littered the road and the floor of the forest.
Al
ready past their peak, she thought. Time was moving forward, and her four weeks were down to two.
What did she think? What did she know? She ran through everything that came to mind as she drove the last miles and then through the gates.
Rowena was in the front garden, gathering some of the last of the fall blooms. She wore a thick sweater of deep blue speckled with dull gold, and to Dana’s surprise, well-worn jeans and scuffed boots.
Her hair was tied back and rained in a sleek tail between her shoulder blades.
The country goddess in her garden, Dana thought, and imagined Malory would see it as a painting.
Rowena lifted a hand in a wave, then a smile lit up her face as she spotted Moe.
“Welcome.” She ran to the car as Dana parked, opened the door for the exuberant Moe. “There’s my handsome boy!” Her laugh rang out as Moe leaped up to kiss her face. “I was hoping you’d pay me a visit.”
“Me or Moe?”
“Both are a delightful surprise. Why, what’s this?” She put her hand behind her back, then brought it out again. She held out a huge Milk Bone that caused Moe to moan with pleasure. “Yes, it certainly is for you. Now if you’ll sit and shake hands like a gentleman . . .”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Moe plopped his butt on the ground, lifted his paw. They exchanged a shake, a long look of mutual admiration. He nipped the treat delicately out of her fingers, then sprawled at her feet to chomp it to bits.
“Is it a Dr. Doolittle thing?” Dana wondered, and got a puzzled glance from Rowena.
“I’m sorry?”
“You know. Talking to the animals.”
“Ah. Let’s say . . . in a manner of speaking. And what can I offer you?” she asked Dana.
“Answers.”
“So sober, so serious. And so attractive this morning. What a wonderful outfit. You have such a smart collection of jackets,” Rowena commented as she ran a finger down the sleeve of the dull-gold tapestry fabric. “I covet them.”
“I imagine you can whip one up just as easy as you did that dog biscuit.”
“Ah, but that would take the fun, and the adventure, out of shopping, wouldn’t it? Would you like to come in? We’ll have some tea by the fire.”
“No, thanks. I don’t have a lot of time. We’re settling on our property early this afternoon, so I’m going to have to start back pretty directly. Rowena, there are some things I need to know.”
“I’ll tell you what I can. Why don’t we walk? Rain’s coming,” she added, casting a look at the sky. “But not for a bit. I like the heavy, anticipatory feel to the air before a rain.”
Since Moe had made short work of the Milk Bone, Rowena opened her hand and revealed a bright red rubber ball. She threw it over the lawn toward the woods.
“I should warn you, Moe will expect you to keep throwing that for him for the next three or four years.”
“There’s nothing quite so perfect as a dog.” Rowena tucked her arm companionably in Dana’s and began to walk. “A comfort, a friend, a warrior, an amusement. They only ask that we love them.”
“Why don’t you have one?”
“Ah, well.” With a sad smile, Rowena patted Dana’s hand, then bent down to pick up the ball Moe dropped at her feet. She ruffled his fur, then flung the ball for him to chase.
“You can’t.” The realization struck, had Dana tapping her fingers to her temple. “Duh. I don’t mean you couldn’t, but realistically . . . A dog’s life span is woefully shorter than that of your average mortal.”
She remembered what Jordan had said about them being alone, about their immortality on this plane being curse rather than gift.
“When you factor in the spectacular longevity of someone like you, and the finite life span of your average mutt, that’s a problem.”
“Yes. I had dogs. At home, they were one of my great pleasures.”
She picked up the ball, already covered with teeth marks and dog spit, in her elegant hand and threw it for the tireless Moe.
“When we were turned out, I needed to believe that we would do what needed to be done and return. Soon. I pined for many things of home, and comforted myself with a dog. A wolfhound was my first. Oh, he was so handsome and brave and loyal. Ten years.”
She sighed, and skirted along the edge of the woods. “He was mine for ten years. The snap of a finger. There are things we can’t change, that are denied to us while we live here. I can’t extend a creature’s life beyond its thread. Not even that of a beloved dog.”
She scooped the ball up for Moe, threw it in another direction.
“I had a dog when I was a kid.” Like Rowena, Dana watched Moe streak after the ball as if it were the first time. “Well, it was my dad’s dog, really. He got her the year before I was born, so I grew up with her. She died when I was eleven. I cried for three days.”
“So you know what it is.” Rowena smiled a little as Moe pranced back, doing a full-body wag with the rubber ball wedged in his mouth like an apple. “I grieved, and I swore I wouldn’t indulge myself again. But I did. Many times. Until I had to accept that my heart would simply break if I had to go through the death of another I loved so much, after so short a time. So, I’m so pleased . . .”
She bent down to catch Moe’s face in her hands. “And so grateful that you brought the handsome Moe to visit me.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, is it? Power, immortality?”
“Nothing is without pain or loss or price. Is this what you wanted to know?”
“Part of it. There are limitations, at least when you’re here. And Kane has limitations when he’s here. Limitations when he deals with something from our world. Is that right?”
“That’s a fine deduction. You are creatures of free will. That’s as it must be. He can lure, he can lie, he can deceive. But he cannot force.”
“Can he kill?”
Rowena threw the ball again, farther this time to give Moe a longer chase. “You’re not speaking of war or of defense, of protection of innocents or loved ones. The penalty for taking the life of a mortal is so fierce I can’t believe that even he would risk it.”
“The end of existence,” Dana supplied. “I’ve done my research. Not death, not the passing through to the next life, but an end.”
“Even gods have fears. That is one. More is the stripping of power, the prison between worlds that allows entry to none. This he would risk.”
“He tried to kill Jordan.”
Rowena whirled, gripped Dana’s arm. “Tell me. Exactly.”
She related everything that had happened in the middle of the night.
“He took him behind the Curtain?” Rowena asked. “And there shed his blood?”
“I’ll say.”
She began to pace, her movements so fretful that Moe sat quietly holding the tooth-pocked ball in his mouth.
“Even now we’re not permitted to see, to know. They were alone, you say? There was no one else about?”
“Jordan said something about a deer.”
“A deer.” Rowena went very still. “What sort of deer? What did it look like?”
“It looked like a deer.” Dana lifted her hands. “Except I guess it was the sort you’d expect to find in places where the flowers look like rubies and so on. He said it was gold and had a silver rack.”
“It was a buck, then.”
“Yes. And, oh, yeah, it had a collar, a jeweled collar.”
“It’s possible,” she whispered. “But what does it mean?”
“You tell me.”
“If it was him, why did he allow it?” Agitated, she began to stride up and down the verge, between wood and lawn. “Why did he permit it?”
“Who and what?” Dana demanded and dragged Rowena’s attention back to her by shaking her arm.
“If it was the king,” she said. “If it was our king taking the shape of the buck. If this is true, why did he allow Kane to bring a mortal behind the Curtain without consent? And to harm, to spi
ll his blood there? What war is being waged in my world?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. But the only one wounded, as far as I can tell, was Jordan.”
“I will talk to Pitte,” she declared. “I will think. He saw no one else—only these two?”
“Just the buck and Kane.”
“I don’t have the answers you want. Kane has interfered before, but it’s never gone this far. The spell was of his making, and the boundaries of it, his own. But he breaks them and is not stopped. I can do more, will do more. But I’m no longer certain of the scope of his power or protection. I can no longer be certain that the king rules.”
“If he doesn’t?”
“Then there is war,” Rowena said flatly. “And still we are not brought home. This tells me, whatever is or has happened in my world, it remains my fate to finish what I was sent here to do. I have to believe it’s your fate to help me.”
She took a deep breath, calming herself. “I’ll give you a balm for your man’s wounds.”
“We’re sleeping together. I don’t know if that makes him my man.”
With an absentminded gesture, Rowena brushed this aside. “I must speak with Pitte. Strategy is more his area than mine. Come, I’ll get you the potion.”
“Just a minute. One thing. Jordan. He’s essential to my key?”
“Why do you ask what you already know?”
“I want confirmation.”
In answer Rowena laid her fingertips on Dana’s heart. “You already have that as well.”
“Is he part of this because I love him?”
“He’s part of you because you love him. And you are the key.” She took Dana’s hand. “Come. I’ll give you the balm for your warrior, then send you on your way.” She cast another look at the darkening sky. “The rain’s coming.”
Chapter Twelve
BRAD dumped ice in a galvanized bucket, creating a cold if humble nest for a bottle of Cristal. He covered the exposed neck with a clean paint rag.
Behind him, Flynn and Jordan set up a card table. “The cloth for that’s in the bag over there.”
Flynn glanced over. “Cloth?”
“Tablecloth.”
“Why do they need a tablecloth? Table’s clean.”