Demon of Vengeance: Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 4 (13 page)

Chapter Ten

It didn’t take long to reach the small fishing village of Mahahual. There, they would gather the last of their supplies. Because their base camp was located well off the beaten track, deep in the dense heart of the jungle, they would have to leave their vehicles behind and finish the final lap of their journey on foot.

Phoebe had explained to Ricardo that secrecy was of the upmost importance. She’d instructed him to hire only a fraction of the crew they usually employed, and only those he knew to be the most dependable workers, ones he’d already had prior experience with.

As they stood beside one of the small shacks where they’d purchased supplies, Phoebe took a moment to follow up with Ricardo. Earlier that morning, he’d sent most of those workers ahead with the bulk of the expedition’s supplies and gear and very specific instructions. Satisfied everything was going according to plan, Phoebe approached Sebastian, where he leaned against the back of their jeep.

“We hike the rest of the way,” she said, offering him a chilly smile. She was still a little peeved with him for snuggling up to her in the Jeep. He shouldn’t have done that. It gave off the wrong impression. To everyone.

And it had been entirely too
nice
for her own peace of mind. She couldn’t afford to let herself get used to that kind of behavior. He was a demon. She was a Guardian, despite the fact that she was also—

No. A line has to be drawn somewhere.

Shaking off that thought, she mentally ran down her checklist. She had everything she needed so they could—

She caught sight of her bandana on the back seat. She reached through the window and snagged the red cotton, rolled it up and tied it at the back of her neck. There. Now she had everything. It was time to get a move on. The ruins were calling to her. Hefting the bulky pack onto her back, she hitched it up and balanced herself against the weight.

Sebastian straightened away from the Jeep and crossed his arms. His frown deepened as he watched her cinch the strap around her waist. “What do you think you’re doing with that?”

She shielded her eyes with the blade of her hand and peered up at him. The cool of the morning had already started to wear off, and a fine line of sweat trickled its way down her spine. “Um, carrying it?”

He shook his head and moved forward with his arm outstretched. “No, you’re not. That thing has to weigh at least forty pounds. Give it here. You can’t—”

“Actually, it’s probably closer to fifty.” She took a step back. “And yes, I can. I carry one just like this every time I come out here.”

“That was before.” He tried to get around behind her, but she turned to face him, denying him the opportunity to take the decision, and the pack, out of her hands. Or off her shoulders, as it were. “It’s different now.”

She planted her fists on her hips. “Different how?”

“It just is.” The muscle in his cheek bunched, and his nostrils flared. Once more he tried to get around her, and once more she countered his move.

“Not good enough. So, again, how is this any different?”

He looked away from her for a moment, watched the others move around the clearing as they each prepared for the trek.

“Sebastian,” she snapped, all out of patience when it looked as if he might try to dart behind her yet again. “I don’t have time to waste dancing with you right now. So just answer me. How?”

His hands went to his hips, and blue fire shot from his eyes. “I wasn’t around before. But I am here now. And I’m not going to let you—”

“Whoa.” She slapped a hand to his chest when he made to reach for the pack again. “Back that train right up. You’re not going to
let
me?” She was surprised steam wasn’t rolling from her ears, that fire wasn’t spewing from her nostrils. “Just who the hell do you think you are? This isn’t my first camping trip, buddy. I’ve been carrying packs like this since I was twelve years old. I’m not some simpering southern miss, and
I
will not
let you
behave otherwise.”

He’d like nothing more than to turn her over his knee. It was written all over his face.

Let. Him. Try.

A shrill whistle broke the tense standoff. She glanced over her shoulder and found Ricardo standing beside the other two men.

“Are you two done with your pissing contest yet?” Ricardo called.

Phoebe hissed out a long breath. Damn it, he was right. She was burning daylight arguing with Sebastian like this, and they had a lot of ground to cover today.

“You’re pack’s over there.” She tossed a thumb over her shoulder and she moved to join the others, ignoring Sebastian as he sputtered in her wake. “Better get a move on, or you’ll get left behind.”

“Absolutely out of my freakin’ mind,” she heard him mutter.

Whatever.

Damned irritating…demon. She nodded to Ricardo and they set off leaving Sebastian scrambling to catch up. They walked for the better part of two hours, stopping only for short breaks now and again to rehydrate. Despite the close, muggy heat, one of the many—and possibly one of the most deceptive—dangers of the jungle was dehydration.

After one such stop, Phoebe decided to cut Sebastian some slack. Though he refused to walk anywhere but directly behind her, she hadn’t heard him complain once. He couldn’t possibly be used to the humidity or the constant physical exertion. And yet he continued to plod along after her.

He’d even been gentleman enough to catch her by the elbow when she’d tripped over an exposed root. She’d been too focused on the vegetation at eye level, listening to the many voices of the jungle. The symphony of sounds was a balm to her soul. One she’d missed a great deal. She should have been paying more attention to where she was putting her feet. She knew better.

She had to give him points. He didn’t scold or point out her clumsiness. Just held her waist till she got her balance and then fell in behind her in silence once more.

Maybe she had been a little hard on him back at the village. As they began moving again, she pushed a big leaf out of her way and decided an olive branch might not be out of order. Phoebe began telling him about the different flora and fauna of the region, detailing various plants as she held a few examples up for his inspection.

He seemed interested, asking questions and making observations, so she continued talking as they walked, really getting into her subject. She even related an old anecdote about a pack of Guatemalan black howler monkeys that had decided to lay siege to their camp one time when she was younger, and the extreme measures Ricardo and her father had taken to finally drive them off.

“The howlers are more active at dawn and dusk, so of course, whenever we were trying to either get our day under way, or trying to shut it down for the night, they would come out and make a raucous.” She smiled when he reached around her to hold up a wide fan of leaves. “Hands down, one of the most exhausting trips I’ve ever been on.”

“Ever have any problems with predators?”

“Not so far. Though the jaguar population in the region is one the largest anywhere in the world, estimated at roughly around four hundred,” she said. “They’re primarily located in the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve.”

She kept moving down the freshly beaten path, the last of the workers some thirty feet or so ahead of her. Phoebe reached up to snag a big flat leaf. Suddenly, she was plucked from the ground before she could take her next step, snatched from behind and jerked back against Sebastian’s chest. He held her there, her feet dangling nearly a foot above the ground.

“What the hell?” she squawked.

Though he kept one arm around her waist, kept her anchored to him, he pointed at the ground directly in front of them. A snake had slithered into their path and she’d been so busy talking that she hadn’t noticed. Again.

She patted his forearm, a gentle admonishment to let her go. He did so…reluctantly. Which caused her heart to thump a little harder. Determined to get them back on an even keel, she took a closer look at the snake. When she went down on one knee and reached for it, Sebastian hissed and made to grab for her once more.

“Don’t,” she cautioned in an even, smooth tone. “Unless you want me to get bitten for sure. You’ll startle it.”

Behind her, he froze.

Phoebe slowly eased her hand down and, palm up, patiently waited for the snake to come to her. The small red head lifted from the ground and, tongue flicking this way and that, the serpent moved fearlessly into her loose grasp. Sebastian drew in an audible breath, let out a nasty—if soft—curse. But he didn’t move.

Carefully, supporting the snake in both hands, Phoebe stood and turned to Sebastian.

“There,” she murmured, soft and easy. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to—” He sounded like he was choking. Phoebe glanced up from the snake she’d been smoothing her thumb over. Sebastian’s expression was alarmed, his body tense, and his eyes were glued to the creature in her hands.

“Phoebe, sweetheart, that’s a snake,” he said very slowly.

“Very observant.” She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Put it down,” he ordered with forced calm. Lord, he acted like she was handling a bomb here.

She managed, just barely, not to smile. “Are you afraid of snakes?”

As expected, his back stiffened. “Of course not. We have an understanding. They don’t mess with me, so I don’t mess with them. No one gets bitten that way.”

She held the snake up, inches from her nose to look into those little black eyes. So uncomplicated. Such basic desires. Hunt. Eat. Rest. Mate. Basic survival 101. Would that all life were that simple?

“Then we’re in luck that you’re in such a good mood, aren’t we?” she cooed.

“Please, baby.” Sebastian swallowed audibly, his tone gone hoarse. “Just put it down.”

The poor guy. She decided to take pity on him. “Red on black.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“See the bands of color on him?”

She risked one more glance at Sebastian. The vein in the side of his forehead bulged. The muscle along his jaw bunched. He eyed the snake, nodded, though he remained tense.

“It’s like the saying goes…red on black, friend to Jack. Red on yellow, kill a fellow. Now this little guy here is red on black. A tropical milksnake. Another indicator is the color of a snake’s head. See how his is red? The poisonous coral snake will have a black head.”

Taking her time, she lowered the snake to the ground, then opened her hands and let it slither away. She brushed her hands together as she stood to face him. “He’s harmless. You can relax now, Indiana Jones.”

She made to turn back to the trail, but he grabbed her elbow. “Don’t
ever
do anything like that again.”

“Like what?” she asked, jerking her arm free.

“You scared ten years off my life.”

“You’re immortal. I think you’ll survive.” She struggled to control her own temper now. Why was he getting all bent out of shape like this over a little, harmless snake?”

The look he gave her spoke volumes about what he thought of her comment.

But he didn’t say anything, and his strained expression didn’t relent, so she took a deep breath and a mental step back. Okay, she could see how, to someone unfamiliar with—or someone who actively went out of his way to avoid—snakes, the situation might have seemed a bit risky.

Patience
.

“It’s pretty rare to find a coral snake, though they are present in this region.” She smiled encouragingly up at him, pleased to note his shoulders were gradually loosening and he wasn’t holding himself quite so rigid anymore. “Besides, he was feeling far too mellow to bite me.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and a groove dug in between his brows. “How do you know what kind of mood he was in?”

Phoebe went still, blinked, licked her lips. Then she shrugged and laughed, if a bit nervously. “Male moods tend to improve on a full belly. And his was pretty fat. I’d say he had a mouse in there or something.” She spun away and, letting out a silent breath, Phoebe set out at a determined pace. “Besides, I’d be more worried about the creepy crawlies if I were you.”

The heavy thuds of his boots had begun following her. The swish of vegetation denoted his proximity. Close. Too close.

“Creepy crawlies?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” she said, feeling a little spiteful despite her determination to remain patient and understanding. A little devil rode her shoulder. “Wolf spiders, tarantulas, scorpions. That sort of thing. You’ll want to make sure you shake out your boots in the mornings before you put them on. Probably shake out your sleeping bag too at night before you climb in. ’Course, that’s not to say they won’t decide to join you anyway round about the midnight hour.”

All movement behind her halted. She kept right on walking. When he resumed crashing along through the foliage he was cussing a blue streak beneath his breath.

Phoebe smiled.

* * * * *

The afternoon seemed to stretch on forever, wearing on his last nerves. He couldn’t shake the sight of Phoebe picking up that snake earlier. The damned thing could have been poisonous, her cute little rhyme notwithstanding. Black on yellow, red on black, freakin’ blue on green, he didn’t give a shit. Just the memory of her holding the creature so close to her face still made his heart stutter. He’d seen her at death’s door, fighting off poisoning once already. He had no desire to ever do so again. Where she was concerned, he wasn’t taking any chances.

As if Phoebe’s stunt with the snake wasn’t enough to try the patience of a saint, even the jungle seemed out to drive him insane. The edges of some of the leaves would catch him unawares, slicing his arms to ribbons with a thousand thin paper cuts. Sweat would trickle into the cuts and burn like a mother. Then the insects would come out in droves—drawn by the scent of blood, no doubt, the vicious little suckers—driving him insane with their buzzing and their stinging nips. No wonder Phoebe had chosen to wear khaki cargo pants and a long sleeve shirt.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take another second of it, the bugs would finally go away. Leaving him with nothing to focus on but the sweltering, stagnant waves of heat. And Phoebe’s sexy ass in those pants…and him not able to do a damned thing about it but play host to one erotic daydream after another. Which cranked his internal temperature sky high. It was a vicious cycle. By the saints, he was in Hell all over again.