Claimed (17 page)

“Creed?”

“Yeah?” he answered, shifting the truck into low as he went off-road.

“Promise you’ll kill me if the time comes.”

His stomach clenched. Through this whole thing, she’d been confident and feisty. If she was giving up, he might as well shout to the heavens for Odin to come get her.

“I don’t want to be my mother.” Her voice broke, and he thought she snuffled back a sob. “She ran away, came to a place where she knew her life would be shortened, rather than serve as Odin’s handmaiden. If that
thing
manages to get me, I’ll spend eternity doing what she ran away from.”

The truck shuddered to a stop on the dirt track as Creed slammed on the brakes. He flipped on the dome light and turned to Chiana.

“The only way you get taken is if I die,” he said. “And I’ll take you with me. That’s been my plan right along.”

The words sounded harsh to his ears, but he believed in honesty. Besides, she was an agent. She knew the rule was death before possession. He’d come damn close to killing Caroline and there wasn’t near as much at stake then.

Dropping the transmission back into drive, he steered along the bumpy track to the stand of trees that should mark the fissure. He stopped a few hundred yards away, grabbed the pack and said, “Honey, we’re home.”

“Ha, ha.” Chiana was out before he could get to her door.

He handed her an LED flashlight like the one he carried and said, “Stick close.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said fervently, “I’m going to be like glue on your butt.”

As Lillian had predicted, there was a slit in the vegetation-covered rock wall big enough to slide through. Creed sent Chiana in first, tossing the pack to her when she shouted that she’d made it. The rough surface scraped his back as he wiggled through; he nearly panicked when his boot caught and twisted under a root. It would be a bitch if the entrance was big enough for her and too small for him.

He wiggled his foot free, took a deep breath and shoved between the rocks. Relieved, he joined Chiana on a small flat area.

“Now what?” she asked.

“We go.”

“Where?”

“Left or right,” Creed said. “I’ll be a gentleman. You choose.”

Leaning against the damp stone, Chiana peered in both directions, her flashlight beam revealing only more rocks a few feet either way.

“Left,” she finally said.

“Then let’s do it. But first, tie this around your waist.”

He handed her a length of clothesline rope. He was already fastening one end of it around his own body. When they were tied together, Chiana dropped back to let him lead the way.

The going was slow. Sometimes they could stand, but more often they crawled through narrow passageways that seem to close in on them. Creed had been in tight places before, and he wasn’t claustrophobic, but he was damn glad when they reached what was a small room well underground.

“This is it,” he said, untying the knot at his waist.

“Nice place,” Chiana said, shining her flashlight. “Little paint, a few curtains and it will be downright cozy. So what do we do now?”

“Wait.” Creed dropped the pack and sat on the cave floor. Chiana chose to sit on a large rock she’d seen in her quick look around. Creed fished some glow sticks from his pack, snapped them and tossed them between Chiana and himself.

“Saving the flashlights,” he explained as he snapped his off and stuck it in his pocket. Chiana followed suit.

The green glow gave the cave an otherworldly feeling Creed found downright creepy. Apparently Chiana did too because she was soon sitting beside him on the cold rock floor. She was close enough for him to feel her shiver; he wrapped an arm around her and tucked her next to him, sharing his body heat.

“Creed,” she said a few minutes later, when her shivering had stopped.

“Yeah?”

“You know what we almost did back there in the safe house?”

“Yeah?

“Promise me that’s the first thing we’ll do if we get out of here alive.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather have a big burger and a huge basket of fries instead?”

“Nah,” she said, her voice echoing slightly. “I mean yeah I do, but first I want you and then a really good meal.”

“Okay, then, I promise.”

That, he realized, was the easiest promise he’d made in his life. If they got out of this thing alive and with their minds intact, he’d not only make love to her, he’d get the honeymoon suite at the fanciest Las Vegas hotel if she wanted and fill the hot tub with champagne.

* * * *

Caroline watched the red lights of the ambulance disappear, shaken by the whole episode. At least the guy was leaving alive. If he died at the hospital, that was on someone else’s head. She’d done all she could do.

The familiar gray depression began to sweep over her. She’d gone to work for the agency to protect all the people who lived their lives unaware of the supernatural forces surrounding them. She’d been proud of what she did, and proud of the praise she earned from her partners and supervisors. Her life had been carefully planned before that last, doomed assignment. A few more years in the field and she would have applied for a supervisor’s position. Once she was on a desk, she’d date more, find someone to love and settle into the suburban dream of a three-bedroom house, a couple of kids and a dog to play fetch with.

What did she have now?

Enough money to buy the small house she lived in, thanks in large part to an inheritance from her parents. A still-solid reputation with the agency, although her field days were over. Her nightmares kept her from a desk job; the shrink they’d sent her to when she first got back in the States suggested even reading reports and okaying travel vouchers might be too traumatic for her.

“Wanna go home, kiddo?” Carl, the kitchen manager, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “You’ve covered plenty of times; I’ll call someone to take over for you if you want.”

Caroline shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”

“If I had a dozen more like you, I’d never have to hire again.” Carl dropped his arm and sighed. “Tell you what. We’re slow right now. Grab a Coke, go on around back and sit in the shade for a while. I’ll get you if we need you.”

“Carl…” she protested.

“Go on now,” he said with a shooing motion. “If you decide to head on home, do it, you hear me?”

Caroline nodded. Carl had a good heart, but he didn’t understand that the last place she needed to be was home alone. First the close call with Hazel and now this. She managed to avoid conversation as she headed out the kitchen door.

She settled onto the wooden bench where the diner employees took their breaks in nice weather and sipped from the icy glass. Her mind returned to the man the ambulance had taken away, wondering what his chances were for survival. Despite all the TV shows, paranormal encounters were usually deadly. Once an entity got hold of you, it was pretty much over. Yeah, some people survived, but they were never the same.

Like me.

She shoved against the whisper from her unconscious mind, the reminder that she might have been better off if she’d come home in a pine box. Put to rest beside her parents in that small Michigan cemetery, she might actually be at peace.

“Awk!”

The caw of a bird brought her attention back to the world around her. She smiled and said, “Hey, there” to the black bird standing not three feet from her. Instead of flying away at the sound of her voice, it hopped toward her and spoke again.

“Sorry, this is all I’ve got.” She shook the glass in her hand, the ice jingling against the hard edges.

Silent now, the raven moved even closer, and Caroline began to worry. Was there something wrong with it? She’d always heard that wild animals that got close had rabies, but she didn’t know about birds. Maybe they got rabies, too. Maybe she’d be pecked by that hard black bill and wind up having a series of painful and expensive shots.

Okay, enough of this freaking herself out. She dashed the little that remained in the glass on the ground behind her and stood. The bird moved too, but instead of taking off into the air, it began to shimmer and fade.

Caroline’s heart started to pound. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. She tried to yell for help, but her throat was so dry from fear that all she managed was a soft syllable that no one could possibly hear. Before she could swallow and try again, the possession started. She closed her eyes against the eerie feeling, her stomach clenching as deep gasps emanated from her. Unable to fight whatever was taking her over, she fell to the ground, making herself small as her own senses and sensibilities were pushed back and she was taken.

This woman was strong, Rhori realized as he pushed himself up and flexed his arms and legs. She was healthy, too, without the hidden sickness he’d felt in the vessel he so recently abandoned.

Moving with care as he adjusted to this new shell, he poked into Caroline’s mind, seeking a connection to the woman Odin desired. He found none. But he found memories of the warrior who protected her. Smiling, Rhori walked around the diner and found the metal box the last vessel had come to this place in. He called on the residual memories of being inside Mick to start the engine, back up the truck and roll out onto the street. He knew what people on this plane did not: that once a deep connection was made between people, it never went away. Calling on her connection to the warrior, he slid a mental wedge into the man’s mind and saw the cave, the green glow on its floor and Odin’s Valkyrie.

The smile on the borrowed face was wide as he made a U-turn and headed east. Tonight, he would rejoin Odin, his mission successful, and join his comrades in Valhalla.

Chapter Twelve

“You psychic? Creed asked.

“You mean like ESP, mind reading and all of that?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes, I’m positive.” Chiana tempered her irritation. They’d been in this hole in the ground for a couple of hours, hardly talking, and now he wanted parlor games.

“I was tested when I joined the agency, like everyone else,” she said. “You know, they hold up a blank card and you tell ‘em what’s on the other side. I didn’t get a single one right.”

“So you can’t give this joker a shout to come on and get this over with? I’m sick of this place.”

“Tell me about it.” Chiana had shifted positions frequently in the last half hour, trying to find some way to sit that didn’t either put her butt to sleep or feel like she was sitting on, well, rock.

“Maybe we can find a better waiting place.”

Creed stood and began to gather the glow sticks. They cast an eerie light on his face, giving his features a slightly demonic appearance. Chiana hid a shiver as she grabbed the glowing tubes closest to her. He was the good guy. She had to remember that.

Okay, he was only “good” in comparison to her dogged pursuer. Still, it was a whole lot better than being on her own. Not, of course, that she would have ever thought of hiding in a cave in the supposed geomagnetic center of the hemisphere.

She followed, holding onto the tail of Creed’s shirt when the path got narrow. The damp rock pressing on all sides made her desperately long to see sunlight and open spaces again.

“Watch out!” Creed said sharply, waving both hands above his head. Before Chiana could ask if he was having a seizure or if something was wrong, she heard a rustling, fluttering sound and forgot to breathe.

Bats. Dozens of the nasty things flapping their wings, aiming right for her, she realized in horror. She squatted down on the floor and wrapped her arms around her head as they swarmed above her.

“Chiana, it’s all right.” Creed dropped beside her, his pack falling off. “They’re not going to hurt you. You’re bigger than them; they’re probably afraid of you.”

“I’m not going to give them rabies,” she retorted, her voice muffled against her chest.

Good point.

This wasn’t the time to point out the virtues of bats, like how they eat millions of mosquitoes, or remind her the bats lived here and they were the intruders. He wrapped his arms around Chiana, folding her against him and placing his cheek against the top of her head to offer as much protection as possible.

His hand moved in small circles on her back, an automatic gesture of comfort. Eyes closed, he kept a tight hold even after the air grew silent again. The bats were gone; her strong reaction wasn’t.

Creed suspected the bats were a trigger for the emotions jumbled inside her. Like him, she carved order from chaos and had a deep-seated need for things to go however her brain told her they should. She was foundering in a sea of can’t-knows, lost without the personal compass she’d created to help her find her way through a life no one else had experienced.

At least no one she knew, he corrected himself. Her mother might have been the only woman freed to live in this plane with the man she loved, or maybe not. There could be more.