Ann Gimpel (3 page)

“Come here.” Travis opened his arms. “You don’t have to tell me a thing.”

The civet growled low. Travis spoke sharply to it, and it stood, arched its back, and walked to a spot a few feet away, where it circled before lying down.

Mortified by how desperately she wanted the comfort of those arms, Aislinn dropped to the floor and crawled to him, taking care to give his bond animal a wide berth. The blanket must have helped, because when she fitted her body to his, it was more than warm. The sexual heat she thought she’d moved beyond flared painfully in her loins. When he cupped her buttocks with his hands and pulled her against him, she wound her arms around him and held on.

“There,” he crooned, moving a hand to smooth her hair out of her face. “There, now. Let’s take comfort where we can, eh? There’s precious little to be had.” He laughed, sounding a bit self-conscious, before adding, “Even I could feel Perrikus’s spell. Got me going, too.”

He closed his lips over hers. She kissed him back, too aroused to be ashamed of her need.

Chapter Two

T
he gateway to Taltos. How the hell was she supposed to find it all by herself? Travis was long gone, making a journey jump to wherever he lived. At least, that’s where he’d said he was going. Aislinn blew out a breath, feeling guilty. She hadn’t exactly asked him to go, but she’d hinted strongly that she needed time to herself. Travis was sweet—and a surprisingly adept lover. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She hadn’t expected him to be so skilled. Or so attuned to what she needed, which had been rough and tumble sex without much in the way of seductive undertones.

The smile vanished abruptly. Ever since she lost her family, she’d made a point of staying away from anything that could turn into an emotional entanglement. It hurt too damned bad when you lost someone you loved. She could go the rest of her life without that kind of pain again, thank you very much.
Doesn’t matter. It will be months before I see him again. If then.

Relegating her tryst with Travis to the infrequent dalliances she’d given in to when need outweighed reason, she gazed about her cave. It wasn’t much, but it was all the home she had, and she was loathe to leave it. Aislinn shrugged off her ambivalence about the upcoming journey. Since her instructions were to take nothing and tell no one, she sure wouldn’t be wasting any time in preparations. Only problem was that she really did need to figure out where she was going. She closed her eyes and sifted through Lemurian memories that had been embedded within her at the time of her initiation. She kept two fingers centered in tattooed marks—black ink in the form of ankhs and stars—on her opposite arm as she concentrated.

Rather than a map of how to get to Taltos, what filled her mind was the Harmonic Convergence of August, nineteen eighty-seven, and its globally synchronized surges. The Surge three years ago had been the last one as far as she knew, though there’d been many prior to it. Resentment filled her, and she ground her teeth together. Of course it had been the last one. The dark gods had used it to leapfrog their way to Earth. They didn’t need to mastermind any more of them since they were already here.

Her parents had taken her to a remote location in the mountains of Bolivia during that last Surge. There’d been a surprising number of people, given it had taken several hours of strenuous climbing on slippery, muddy trails to get to a sundial supposedly placed by the Incas. Or maybe it had been the Aztecs. She couldn’t exactly remember. She’d been tired and not listening especially carefully to her father lecturing about the history of the Convergence as they made their way to the ancient shrine. He’d talked about it all the time. It had been his life’s work, his and Doctor José Argüelles’s. They’d spent over twenty years tracking every aspect of it at power points all over the world. That wasn’t the first time he’d taken her and her mother to some remote location to view a Surge.

While the trek had begun in thick jungle, they’d climbed beyond the line where trees grew to an arid, high plain, pocked with huge craters and the ruins of primitive dwellings. Small scrubby plants dotted the landscape. Herds of llamas grazed nearby. Aislinn had been fascinated by their huge, liquid eyes and long, graceful necks. When she’d reached out to touch one, her father had called her back, telling her they weren’t nearly as friendly as they looked. The journey had taken most of the day. Light was fading when they reached the sacred power point. Her father told her about dozens of such spots scattered around the globe. “People are gathering there, too,” he’d said with a knowing smile.

Her parents offered her cocaine leaves to chew. They’d given her a mild high. When the ground around the sundial began to undulate, she’d chalked it up to the drug. The rest of the crowd had rushed forward, though, chanting something in a guttural language. A vast hole had formed in the earth, and two naked alien beings had swarmed out of it. Several of the worshipers threw themselves at the feet of the things, chanting fervently.

The creatures had been so horribly inhuman, with eyes that radiated infinite power and colors shifting and changing under golden skin. Christ! An army of zombies wouldn’t have looked any more terrifying—or shocked her more. Danger rolled from them in waves, setting her teeth on edge and making her stomach ache. Though she hadn’t known it then, one was Perrikus, the other D’Chel. That had been the beginning of the freaky part. And her world had unraveled right along with it.

With a despairing look on her face, her mother had whispered in Gaelic so garbled that it was tough to follow, telling her and her father to fade into the shadows behind nearby ruins. They’d begun a surreptitious retreat, when one of the things materialized right in front of her father. One minute, he’d been behind them; the next, he was in front of Jacob Lenear, blocking his way. Jacob stood six foot four, but the glowing figure was at least half a foot taller. Up close like that, multi-hued eyes glowed menacingly. Shiny black hair hung past his waist. The colors flowing into one another under his skin had a hypnotic quality.

“Where do you think you are going,
human
?” The last word sounded like a curse.

“It’s late,” her father began, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. “And—”

Those had been his last words. The thing reached out quick as lightning, wrapped a long-fingered hand around Jacob’s neck, and snapped it. It happened so fast, the only part Aislinn remembered clearly was her mother screaming. The humans who had welcomed the abominations began to chant something like, “Kill the unbelievers. Bring on the New Age. New Age. New Age. New Age…”

A woman had stepped forward then and tugged at the other alien being’s arm. Dark hair blew in her eyes. She was half naked, her small, conical breasts painted with runic symbols. “I am Amaya, queen witch of this coven. Where are the others? I was told six of you would emerge.”

The thing smirked at her and shoved reddish-gold hair over broad shoulders. “If you ever speak directly to me again, it will mean your death. Depending how closely your kin followed orders, our brothers and sister are already here. This is not the only power point in this world.”

Looking mildly shaken, Amaya lowered her hazel gaze and slunk backward. She joined hands with several others. They raised their voices in a song that only partially muffled Aislinn’s mother’s wailing. Draped over her husband’s body, red hair dragging in the dirt, Tara Lenear’s Irish heritage came to the fore as she shrieked a wake for her beloved. Aislinn tried to join her, to hug her father one last time, but in what was one of her last sentient moments, her mother had stopped screaming and hustled them off the mountain.

It was only later, after the madness took root, that Aislinn realized it would have been far more merciful if Tara had joined Jacob that day. Her mother hadn’t been the only one to lose her mind in the face of the invasion—the six dark gods hadn’t lost much time creating gateways for their hell-spawned minions to scare the crap out of people—but Aislinn had
needed
her mother, goddammit. It hadn’t taken long for the truth to sink in: she’d lost both her parents on that South American mountain.

Then the Lemurians had shown up with their own brand of alien power. While they’d dealt fairly with her, Aislinn knew it was because she was gifted. The chilly indifference with which they’d dispatched humans who were either crazy or without magical ability still felt like an affront. She’d been raised to believe that all life had intrinsic value. The first time she’d floated that idea to a Lemurian, he’d laughed for a good thirty minutes. She hadn’t brought it up again.

Aislinn’s face twisted into a grimace. Even three years later, the memories horrified her. She shut her eyes, squeezing them so tightly that colors flashed behind her lids. Her father and mother were dead. They couldn’t help her anymore. There was no percentage in thinking about either of them. All it did was make her sad.

Pressing harder on the tattoos, she asked the Old Ones how to find Taltos. When the answer came, she understood that she’d known all along. It was part of the embedded memories, but she’d been so upset by Perrikus—and thinking about her parents—that she’d been at cross-purposes with herself.

Confident the gateway would show itself to her, assuming she survived the journey, Aislinn wondered about her invitation. Insofar as she knew, other than the brief indoctrination she’d gotten once she’d accepted her magic and agreed to help the Lemurians, no additional training had been offered to any other human. Had any of them ever been invited into the Old Ones’ domain before? Was she the first? The thought excited and frightened her at the same time.

“Let’s see.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Mage, Seeker, Seer, Healer, Hunter.” The spectrum of human powers. She had both Mage and Seeker talents. Her Mage gift gave her facility with spells. Most humans had only one skill. It was unusual, but not unheard of, to have two. Travis, for example, was a Hunter, but he had Healing talent also. Why would the Old Ones suddenly take such an interest in her? So what if one of the dark ones planned to rape her? It wasn’t any different than they’d done with countless human women. A harsh laugh escaped. Actually, the Old Ones and the enemy had one thing in common: a blatant disregard for human life. Aislinn figured the Old Ones were simply using her and others like her as pawns in their million-year-old battle against Perrikus and his cronies.

Feeling confused and vulnerable—and angry that her compliance with Metae’s orders was a foregone conclusion—Aislinn mapped out her journey. She needed to get to a sacred mountain in northern California. It was about a thousand miles from her current location, so it would take several jumps and at least two days. Maybe even three because her magic would need time to recover.

Take nothing—that’s ridiculous. I have to take food.

No,
she argued with herself,
I can hunt. Probably better to follow Metae’s instructions exactly.

A familiar voice broke into her reverie.
“Aislinn.”

“Travis? Didn’t you go home?”
She winced. He’d been kind to her. He deserved better.
“Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

He chuckled.
“Yeah. I went home. Just wanted to tell you I hope I see you again.”

Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. She brushed them away.
“Damn it, Travis,”
she hissed, mind voice almost a growl.
“Do not start caring about me. I don’t think I could stand it.”

“We’ve all lost a lot, Aislinn. Don’t let it blind you to the rest of your life.”

She began to answer, but he severed the link. She sent magic spinning out to resurrect it, but pulled it back almost immediately. Travis was a complication she did
not
need right now. What she needed to do was get moving. On her feet before the thought was done percolating, Aislinn stripped off her shift, then dressed carefully in layers, snugging into long underwear and wool pants that used to be black, but had faded to gray. A red flannel shirt—it clashed with her hair, but so what?—topped by a leather vest and her torn black leather jacket completed her usual
mercenary for hire
outfit. She glanced down at herself and laughed. There’d been a time when she’d actually cared what she looked like. Now the only thing she cared about was if her clothing was warm and functional.

Eying her boots, she shook her head. She needed to be on the lookout for a replacement pair. She tossed a battered rucksack over her shoulders to hold some of her clothes in case it was warmer than she thought it would be, made sure she had a water bottle and her cook pot, and held a westerly location in her mind.

Aislinn arrived at her planned destination easily. Under the watchful eye of a weak sun trying hard to put out a little warmth, she patted the walls of a deserted tin mining shack a couple hundred miles from her home. Compared with her last journey, the first leg of this one had been easy. The next few should be, too, at least until she traveled into terra incognita.
When she couldn’t picture her location, she wasn’t sure quite what she’d do. Coming out in unknown terrain was always risky.

She’d been to the tin shack a couple of times before. Once when her mother was still alive, and later, when she was first teaching herself how to use magic to travel. The miner who’d built the humble structure had left a diary about losing his wife to cancer. His pain, splashed across the grime-streaked pages of a journal, had pierced her heart. She thought about going inside to see if the journal was still there, but resisted. She didn’t really have time to spare. Aislinn reached out cautiously with her magic to see if any threats were near. And froze.

She wasn’t certain what she sensed, but it had wrongness stamped all over it. She hadn’t expected to run into trouble so soon, and it rattled her. Silent in her cracked leather boots, she faded into the hut through a door hanging half off its hinges. The diary was right where she’d left it, tucked into a clear plastic bin so rodents wouldn’t chew it to bits. Drawing power, she looked through the walls of her shelter.

Ghost army. Had they seen her arrive? Shades of human dead, robbed of life far too soon, roved the countryside in packs. They holed up in what was left of the cities, too. Not unlike feral dogs, they refused to leave. Enough of them could suck the life out of you, which was how they swelled their ranks. Aislinn ground her teeth together. While easier to fool than instruments of the dark, she couldn’t afford to take chances. Dead was dead, and shades would kill her just as eagerly as Bal’ta. Her corporeality was an affront to them.

Because they weren’t magical, they shouldn’t be able to sense her. If she just sat tight, she could wait till they moved on, but that might make her late. The alabaster had given her four days’ time. It seemed like enough, at least if everything went smoothly. She peered at the ghost army again with magic-enhanced senses. As she watched, one of them pointed a bony finger her way. She sat up straighter. Shit. They must have seen her flicker into being after she’d first arrived.

She girded herself for moving on, pulling magic, visualizing a location, when the shades closed in. They slithered through the walls and surrounded her. When she reached for her magic, a barrier stood between her will and the reservoir that held her power.

What the hell? They’re not supposed to be able to do that.
The reek of long-decayed flesh pricked her nose. She stifled a gag. Skeletal fingers with strips of flesh hanging off them reached for her. A high-pitched, wavering howling filled the air. Chills ran down her back. The shades sounded hungry. Aislinn forced herself to really look at the remnants of humanity surrounding her. “Did this shack belong to one of you?” she asked, her gaze scanning the group.

“Aye. What’s it to you?” One of the men stepped forward. Even dead, with flesh peeling off him in strips and a caved-in place where it looked like someone had buried an axe in his skull, it was obvious he’d been a big, powerfully built man.