Miami Days and Truscan (27 page)

“They can’t. To unleash such massive power—it would knock the worlds completely out of balance. Maybe not just Trusca’s world. Other worlds, maybe even this one.”

I lay back down beside him. My fists were really nothing but an annoyance anyway; it’s not like they’d made much impression on those muscles.

“Listen to me carefully. I told you that the stones picked and chose who came through and when. And that it is
absolutely necessary
that you are who you are, right now, to be the King to finish this.”

“And?”

“And I am who I am now because of you. And I don’t want to be anybody or anything else. That fairy tale you and Johnny spun to tell the Truscans—I was chosen, sent by the gods. Well, it wasn’t a fairy tale, it was all true. The stones did
not
plan all this so you could leave me behind. And I want you to look me in the eyes and
swear
to me—on your mother’s soul, your son’s life, and on my heart—that you will not try to leave me here and that you won’t try to coerce Carlos into anything either. Right now. Look me in the eyes and do it
right now
!”

He looked somewhat startled and a bit uneasy. “Tess, what a Truscan oath! Did you lie awake thinking of it in case you needed it?”

“That’s not an answer. Your mother’s soul, your son’s life, your wife’s heart. Right now.”

He didn’t want to, which told me volumes, and I took his face between my hands and turned it to me. “Now!” I insisted.

“I swear.”

“No, you have to say it! The whole thing! I know you too well!”

He sighed. “I swear. On my mother’s soul, my son’s life, my wife’s heart.”

“Gotcha!”

He laughed and pulled me closer. “Yes, I suppose you do. But actually, that simply leaves the decision with the stones and not with me.”

“They’ll bring me through,” I said emphatically. “Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else they’ll have to deal with one very pissed-off Truscan Queen!”

A strange expression crossed his face and he laughed again.

“What?”

“The Stones, my Queen. They’re laughing at you.”

The morning was moving along so I got up and picked more clothes, including running shoes this time, from the stock we kept on hand, somewhat surprised that despite his height, Dalph only wore an eleven shoe. None of us came downstairs until fairly late that morning; Dalph’s run had apparently been good for Carlos, too, and I fixed a late breakfast. When we finished, Carlos announced that he and Dalph were going out to do “guy” things, which in light of my morning’s conversation, triggered five-star alarms.

“Such as?”

“Excuse me, did we ask you what you were doing yesterday when you went out to do girl stuff?”

“Tess, I swore,” Dalph said.

“Swore what?”

“Yeah, but I’m still not sure I trust that when I stack it up against the ‘doing what you think is best no matter what’ deal you got going,” I said.

“I don’t have a
clue
what you two are talking about!” Carlos exclaimed.

“You’d
better
not have!” I declared emphatically.

Carlos shook his head. “O-kaaay, so can we leave now mother, may we?”

“I guess,” I said, actually quite glad for a few minutes alone. They left to do whatever “guy” things Carlos had planned, and I raced to the computer and accessed the internet. The plastique was due in tomorrow; I needed an expedited, guaranteed next-day delivery of one more item that I didn’t think would be very easy to just walk into a store and buy to complete my backpack. I found what I needed, courtesy of Google, punched in one of Ramos International’s corporate cards, and checked the box for overnight Federal Express. Let him try now.

The guys returned from their “guy” thing about two o’clock, and it was my turn to stare. I’d long been of the opinion that most men, like most women, had one hairstyle that looked best on them, and that generally, some men looked better in longer hair and some looked better in shorter hair but usually, it was one or the other. Not for my husband, and I didn’t hesitate to tell him so. It was perfect; layered, razor-cut, and blended so that it really didn’t look very different than it did when tied back. Carlo’s personal barber, I knew; I recognized the technique, and since I couldn’t go to anyone I knew and had merely sat at down in a shop at the Mall, that made Dalph’s haircut considerably more expensive than mine.

“You are positively
gorgeous!
Not that you weren’t anyway, but still. What made you think of it?”

“You, of course. You’re right. Why go back through the—what do you call it?”

“The Badass.”

“Right. Why go back through the Badass—or out on any patrol—and have to keep it tied back when it can just not be there?”

Carlos hadn’t stopped there, either; and the two of them went back and forth to the car several times. When everything was in, Carlos started opening bags and pulling out, bless his heart, state of the art micro-fleece pullovers and pants, several sets for both Dalph and me, light as a feather and warmer than the Equator, and equally warm footgear, with small, synthetic lightweight carry bags to fit in the larger backpacks that would transport the plastique. And come to think of it, my new library of books.

“Carlos! What
possessed
you—you didn’t need to do all this! And where’d you even
find
all of it in Miami, anyway?”

He shrugged. “High-end sporting store. Skiing and camping sections. Miami’s full of millionaires who pick up and fly to the Rockies at the first snowfall, you know that. Besides, I don’t want you cold going back through the Badass, that’s all. You’ve lost weight, I think, but they ought to do. And I’m sure you’ll need ’em after that, too. I didn’t think Dalph would have much success at trying to get you to stay behind.”

“
What?”
I turned to attack my husband. “You told me you hadn’t mentioned—”

“He didn’t, Tess, don’t hit him. I spent all day yesterday with the man. Of course, he’d try and convince you to stay. Knew he wouldn’t have any luck, though. I thought about a gun or two, as a matter of fact, thought maybe some of the Truscan smiths might be able to study ’em and come up with something, but when I mentioned it, Dalph grabbed his head and started sweating, so I took that as a no. Strange Power Stones you have, Tess. Mass destruction’s okay, but not guns.”

Carlos had also stopped and picked up steaks from the specialty butcher shop that provided the meat for all the company entertainment functions, and I put them in the refrigerator to marinade. We started the grill about six o’clock; I popped potatoes in the microwave and mixed a salad for an old-fashioned American cook-out.

“You know, the plastique should be in tomorrow,” Carlos commented. “We could go clubbing tonight.”

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed. “You’re Paparazzi bait, you know you are!” And he was, too, his looks, money, financial power, and electric personality having catapulted him into position as one of the world’s most eligible bachelors several years ago. The Paparazzi didn’t hound him like they did movie stars, but if they caught sight of him, they stuck like glue. “That’s all you need, a picture of you with us out clubbing and you’d have to explain how I suddenly reappeared and then disappeared again!” I’d been with the company for two years; there were many photos of us together.

“You always had on a business suit and an Aunt Gertrude expression,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “They’d never recognize you.”

“I think a few of them were social and I did
not
always have an Aunt Gertrude expression!” I defended myself. “Besides, if you’ll excuse us, there’s something I’d like to show my husband before we go back.”

“Don’t mind me.”

I turned to Dalph and held out my hand.

“Come walk on the beach beside the unceasing tide under a yellow moon with a woman of your mother’s world,” I said, paraphrasing the fantasy he’d shared with me beside the small creek clearing the morning after our marriage. I didn’t doubt he’d remember.

He smiled and stood, and taking my hand, we walked down the terrace steps and out onto the beach.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The plastique came in the next morning around ten-thirty; a small, separate Federal Express delivery came around eleven.

“I don’t remember ordering anything from this company,” Carlos said, studying the label.

“You didn’t. I did,” I said, grabbing the box and heading for the stairs. We spent the day organizing and packing and I took a lot of ribbing over my paperbacks and the fact that women could not possibly travel as light as men.

“I don’t have a baggage limit,” I advised them both. “And I only have to hold onto it long enough to get through the door. It’s not that heavy.” It wasn’t, really, though I wouldn’t have liked to go on a hike with both the books and my share of the plastique charges. “Will all this extra weight bother Pegasus and Andromeda?”

“I don’t think it’s enough weight to hinder them, but we can always set a slower pace if it does.”

Carlos looked envious. “They sound amazing.”

“They
are
amazing,” I assured him.

We fine-tuned the packs, and tried not to get too antsy as we waited for nightfall and a sufficient passage of time to ensure that the park was clear, and ordered delivery from Pizza Hut as our farewell supper. We sat and ate, again, on the patio, watching the sun sink into the ocean. I looked around at the grounds and back at the house. I did love that house, which reflected my tastes perfectly, and realized suddenly that of course it did; I’d been with Carlos about six months when he’d told me he was tired of the décor and that I should re-do it.

“How?” I’d asked, and he’d shrugged.

“I don’t know really, I’m just tired of it. Do it like you’d do it if it was yours,” he’d said, and so I had, never realizing that even then, he intended for it to be my house. For someone who didn’t know men well, I had certainly lucked out. Twice.

And finally, it was late enough to head out. We piled into the Escalade, long-since packed, parked back from the gates where Carlos had waited to pick us up, and shrugged on the backpacks holding our stores of treasures from my world.

“Why are you bringing that?” I asked Carlos, as he shrugged on a smaller backpack himself.

“Thought I’d stay on the beach and commune with nature awhile when you two are gone,” he answered. “Savor the last of the excitement before I turn back to boredom.”

“Just stay back,” I warned. “Maybe you shouldn’t even be on the beach with us; maybe you should head on back.”

“No way, don’t even go there!” he said. “I have to know you’re gone.”

We hiked on down to the lighthouse, and I turned to hug Carlos.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said. “You’ve done so much for us.”

“Just win,” he said, hugging back. “And stay alive. Both of you. I’ll always love you, Tess.”

“I’ll always love you, too,” I said, the ability to know so and the ability to say so another gift from Dalph.

He turned me loose and held his hand out to Dalph, which I thought most fortuitous, as it gave me a few seconds to whip my special order out of my backpack.

“Take care of her. And yourself. And Trusca.”

“I will,” Dalph assured him, and started in surprise at the feel of the metal snapping around his wrist. “What the hell—”

I snapped the other side of the handcuffs shut on my wrist, congratulating myself on the success of my private mission.

“Insurance,” I said. “We’re real big on insurance in America. Don’t worry, I’ve got the key. And you don’t have time to find it, I don’t think.” I looked out over the waves, and saw the shimmering rainbows of color dancing far out on the water, coming closer as the wind began to pick up.

“If they don’t want you to go, I don’t think this’ll stop them!”

“Probably not, but I’m not worried about them as much as I’m worried about you turning around and knocking me out again.”

“I swore!”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, the whole conversation carried on over the sound of Carlos’ laughter. “Carlos, don’t look! And back up!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven