The Reluctant Amazon (Alliance of the Amazons) (12 page)

Rebecca glanced to the woods and must have also seen the
movement in the trees. “Oh, my God. Someone
is
coming.” She slipped off his lap and headed to the stone steps, clearly upset as
she stumbled her way up. “Where’s my towel? Where’s your kilt?”

He refused to get flustered and leaned back against the wall.
“’Tis called a plaid, Becca mine.”

“I don’t give a damn what it’s called. Where is it?” She turned
back to Artair, the worry plain on her face. “If she finds us, Rhiannon will be
furious.”

“Celt? Where the hell are you?” Sparks shouted.

Artair cursed again. Rebecca had already scrambled out of the
water and was hastily wrapping her towel around herself like a cocoon.

Sparks stomped through the cover of the trees, took one look at
them and set her hands against her hips. Artair almost laughed at her Sentinel
stance, a bit proud she’d mimic him so closely.

“I knew it! I can’t leave you two alone for one damn minute!” A
small plume of smoke rose from her bright hair, and the smell of burning pine
wafted through the air.

He grinned. “How did you find me?”

“Rhiannon came to talk to you. You weren’t there. Then she
wanted to talk to Earth. She wasn’t around, either. I put two and two together
when I saw Dolan coming out of the woods. He took one look at me, immediately
turned into a rabbit and scurried away. I almost chased his little cottontail
ass down.”

“I didn’t ken you knew about this place.” Artair would stay in
the hot spring until the women were gone. While it was exciting to have Rebecca
staring at his body with open appreciation, he didn’t think Sparks needed to get
an eyeful of her Sentinel.

Sparks chuckled. “Only since 1942.” She patted the pockets of
her jeans.

He chuckled back, hoping to inflict a little pain as payback
for her invasion of his privacy. The Guardian had impeccably bad timing.
“Looking for yer wee cigarettes?”

She scowled at him before she directed the same nasty look at
Rebecca. “Rhiannon’s mighty pissed. She said she’d come back when you weren’t so
busy.
Didn’t you feel the earthquake?”

Rebecca glanced at Artair. He shrugged. She frowned. Then she
grabbed her clothes and hurried away from the glen, dashing through the trees
like a frightened doe.

The Guardian glared at the Sentinel. “This isn’t good, Artair.
The goddess was fuming.”

“Let her fume. You should’ve let us be. ’Tis nae yer concern
what there is between Becca and I, Sparks.”

“’Tis my concern, ye stubborn Celt. I’m her wee Guardian,” she
replied, tweaking his already sour temper with her fake brogue.

He shot her a frown.

“I know you’re leaving soon, but that doesn’t mean you can just
go around breaking the rules. Rebecca can’t go back with you. You realize that,
right?”

“Of course.” His mind knew. His heart preferred to remain
ignorant.

“So you’re just going to screw her then run back to the real
world?”

“I wouldn’t shame the lass that way, and you damn well know
it.”

“Stay away from her,” she demanded, her voice harsh.

His scowl deepened.

“Stay away from her. You’re not stupid. You know that if we’re
called to fight, and your feelings make you try to protect her, someone’s going
to get hurt.”

Freya popped up at Sparks’s side.

Artair sighed. “So much for my privacy.”

“Did you not tell him, Frida?” the goddess asked.

“Tell me what?”

Sparks was the one to answer. “We have a lead on Helen’s last
home. We need to get Rebecca and Megan and go check it out.”

Chapter Eleven

“Damn.”

Rebecca smiled at Sparks’s breathless response to seeing Times
Square. While she wasn’t sure why Freya had set them down here instead of closer
to the Brooklyn apartment Helen used to live in, she was happy to see her city
again.

“Never been to New York before?” she asked.

“Nah. I’m a Chicago gal.” Sparks turned a slow circle, her eyes
darting from lighted sign to lighted sign and building to building. “I thought
it was big, but… Damn.” A couple of excited sparks shot from her fingertips.

Megan didn’t appear at all impressed with the Big Apple.
Instead, she kept touching her right hip, probably to remind herself her gun was
still there. Artair hadn’t forbidden her from bringing it along, mostly because
he didn’t expect them to face a fight. They were just supposed to see if Helen’s
old place held any clues to her whereabouts and then get back to Avalon. He’d
cautioned Megan that the weapon wouldn’t be much help. Sparks had even called it
a crutch.

Megan still brought her gun.

Artair was dressed in jeans so he could blend into the crowd, a
first since Rebecca had met him. They hugged his muscular thighs and tight ass,
and she couldn’t help but notice other women noticing. When one leggy blonde who
was skinny enough to blow away in a stiff breeze gave him a blatant appraisal,
Rebecca’s temper flared. She leveled her best glare at the woman and brushed her
hand over the jeweled handle of the dirk resting in her belt. The blonde’s face
blanched and she hurried away, tripping once in her stilettos.

The bustle of the city was so unusual after spending so much
time in Avalon. About to mention that to Megan, she had to chuckle when the
Fires headed to the closest hot dog vendor and plunked down money for food.

“Such a strange place,” Artair said, coming to stand next to
her. “Too busy for my tastes.”

“You don’t like cities?”

“Nay. My idea of heaven is a cottage in the Highlands with
nothing but fields of heather and sheep around.” He sighed. “I cannae abide by
all this noise.”

“Oh? So you’d be all alone in that cottage?” Rebecca couldn’t
help but ask. “I mean, if you can’t stand noise, you’d want to be alone,
right?”

“What are you asking me, Becca?”

“Well, wouldn’t you want someone with you?”

“Of course. I’ll have to find a woman to stop by some evenings
for a visit. I’d nae want to be so alone I lack feminine warmth.”

“You mean a lover?” She almost choked on the last word.

“Perhaps several different lovers. I’ve been a long time
without companionship.”

Her eyes widened. Surely he was teasing. “
Several
lovers? At the same time?”

“Becca mine, you have a wicked mind.” His grin and suggestive
wink tweaked her temper. He was enjoying her jealousy. “I would only take one to
my bed at a time.”

Before she could deliver a verbal blow to his arrogance, Megan
and Sparks joined them. Both were still chewing their hot dogs.

“In answer to your question,” Artair began. “I suppose I could
try two—”

“Not now!” As if she’d let him bring the other Amazons into
this discussion. Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire. “We need to find
the apartment.”

Rebecca only took a few steps away when she noticed things
changing.

The noise was the first thing to slow, going from the roar of
Times Square to a sound much like an old-fashioned record player when the speed
was set too slow. The movements of people in the crowd—everyone except Artair
and the Amazons—decelerated until they were mannequins, standing still in one of
the world’s busiest places. Every car stopped. Every scrolling sign froze. Even
the steam coming from the manhole covers stood stalwart.

“What the hell?” Megan walked to the closest man and poked him.
He didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Are they dead?”

Laughter that could only be described as sinister filled the
air, spilling down from on high. “You fools. You shouldn’t have come here.”

One of the largest screens flared to life. An Asian man with
long, dark hair and obsidian eyes stared down at them, a grin on his thin lips.
“So, Fire. We meet again.”

“Jin, you bastard.” Sparks clenched her hands into fists. “How
the hell did you get off that island?”

He scowled. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here. And you’re going to
die. Soon.”

With her typical bravado, Sparks stepped closer to the visage
whose eyes followed her every move and spread her arms wide, beckoning with her
fingers. “Well, then. Why don’t you get your sorry ass off that television and
come down here and face me? I’ll beat the shit out of you. Again. Then Freya can
plunk you right back on that deserted island where you belong.”

“Who’s Jin?” Megan whispered in Rebecca’s ear.

Since they’d only just begun to learn about the Asian deities
and demons, Rebecca didn’t have an answer. She remembered something about him
liking blondes and being exiled.

Artair moved closer to Rebecca and Megan. “The goddesses
imprisoned him on an enchanted island prison in the middle of the Pacific Ocean
after he attacked a girls’ school in Oregon.”

“What kind of demon is he?” Rebecca asked.

“A low-level demon who can shock with a touch. He favors
torturing blondes, usually girls barely past their first flux. I’m nae sure how
he freed himself. I didn’t think he wielded that kind of power, nor did I think
him so foolish as to target Amazons.”

Artair went to Sparks’s side. “We didn’t come for a battle,” he
whispered.

The only acknowledgement she gave him was an almost
imperceptible nod as she kept her attention on the demon. “Who let you out of
your cage, asshole?” Sparks shouted at the screen.

“I have a new master,” he replied. “One more powerful than you
can imagine.”

“Oh, so you’re hiding behind some demig now?”

He didn’t take Sparks’s bait or give her any confirmation that
she was right.

She tried again. “If you’re that tough, come out of that boob
tube and get down here and fight me.”

Jin seemed to consider Sparks’s offer, stroking his chin with
his thumb and fingers. His gaze shifted to lock on Rebecca, and a sly smile
curved his mouth. “Such a beautiful blonde.”

Artair stepped to Rebecca and shoved her behind his back.

So much for him thinking she could protect herself. She pinched
his upper arm to let him know what she thought of his misplaced concern, but the
chilling stare Jin gave her made her stay right where she was.

“Tempting though it is to end you all now,” Jin said, “my
master would be angry. No, I have a job to do first.”

“Who’s your master?” Megan shouted at him.

His face faded until the screen went black.

Times Square suddenly flared back to life, people going about
their business as if nothing had happened. The sounds of the city seemed
deafening after the eerie silence.

Rebecca stepped around Artair. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He just grunted.

Sparks shook herself like a dog ridding its fur of water. “I
hated that bastard before. Now, I want him dead.”

“Aye,” Artair replied. “He deserves killing.”

She shook at finger at Megan. “Now do you see why I warn you
about staying away from the Seior? That’s why that asshole is loose again. Only
someone using Seior could get him off that island.”

Seior—the evil side of the magical
world.

Rebecca had heard the warning from Sparks more times than she
would count, and that wasn’t nearly as often as Megan. Fire was the most
volatile of the Amazons, and the lure of Seior was stronger for them. Although
Seior could bring a world of power to the one who practiced those dark arts,
there was always a cost, usually one far too dear, especially to any Amazon who
strayed down that path.

“We should have brought our swords,” Megan said, her tone
nothing short of a pout.

“Yeah,” Rebecca drawled. “Four people with swords, running
around Times Square. Nothing suspicious about that. Besides, what would you do?
Fight the TV?”

“You’re right,” Megan grumbled. “I just hate walking away from
a fight.”

Giving Rebecca a nudge between her shoulder blades, Artair
said, “’Tis your city, Becca. Lead the way.”

* * *

Although she’d known the address was a bad neighborhood,
Rebecca couldn’t believe the condition of the building that used to be Helen’s
home. What Earth would want to live so far away from anything green?

Some of the windows were covered with plywood. Others had been
broken. Graffiti covered most of the brown brick. She took in the broken fire
escapes. Several of the metal platforms barely hung on to the building. A good
gust of wind would send them crashing to the littered alley.

“Are you sure, Sparks?” Artair asked. From his frown, he didn’t
think Helen belonged here any more than Rebecca did.

“I can feel her,” Sparks replied. “I’m not thinking she liked
the place, but she was here. I’m sure of it.”

“She’s been here,” Rebecca said. So had many other people.
People who lived and loved and died in this building. The ground beneath her
feet told her so.

Artair’s gaze caught hers before he scanned down to where she
stood and saw the exposed patch of dirt she stood upon. “Good, Becca. Your
powers are getting stronger.”

Stepping away from the ground and back onto the dilapidated
sidewalk, she tried to shake away the impressions that had come to her. There
were so many, she couldn’t even sort through them. Perhaps when she finally met
Helen, the other Earth could teach her how to control her new powers. “Not good.
I should have sensed another Earth without my stupid feet.”

“It’s okay,” Sparks said. “Most Amazons only sense their
closest sisters. Other generations are always harder to pick up.”

“Yeah, well. I still think I should sense another Earth.” She
nodded at the building. “So how do we get in?”

Megan didn’t answer but moved to a door with planks nailed
across it. “One thing I learned as a cop, there’s always a way in.” She tugged
at one of the boards, which surprisingly came off in her hands. “Places like
this are ripe for junkies and prostitutes. They always leave themselves an easy
way in and out.” She tugged off another board and kicked the door. It swung open
with a loud groan.

“You newbies stay here,” Sparks said, brushing past Megan.

“The hell we will,” Megan replied.

Sparks looked to Artair, probably for support.

He thought it over before he said, “We should stay
together.”

A couple of sparks shot from Megan’s hair.

Why did the Fires always enjoy confrontation?

“Enough of that,” Artair said. “There will be no fighting. We
get in, look for anything that might help us find Helen, then we get out.”

“Party pooper.” Megan ducked inside, followed by Sparks.

“After you,” Artair said, sweeping his arm at the dank
entrance.

Rebecca bit back a sarcastic reply and stepped inside.

The place smelled so rank, she wasn’t sure anyone would even
notice if revenants showed up. She swallowed hard and breathed through her
mouth, waiting for her eyes to get used to the darkness.

Sparks lit her thumb, using it like a flashlight as she led the
way to another door. Opening it, she peered inside. “Found the stairwell.”

Since Helen’s place was on the third floor—another surprise
because Rebecca had assumed most Earths were like her and wanted to keep their
feet on the ground—they climbed the stairs. At least they were constructed of
steel and not wood, so all of them were still intact. The smell eased with each
flight they rose.

Most of the third-floor apartment doors were open or missing.
All except apartment C—Helen’s place. Artair had to kick it open, and it banged
loudly against the wall.

He was the first one inside, giving the living room a good look
before gesturing to the rest of them.

Stepping into the apartment, Sparks stopped and stared. “What
the hell were you doing, Helen?”

The room was empty, save for a small, tattered sofa and an end
table. Dust had settled over both and cobwebs hung from the ancient light
fixture. None of that had drawn Sparks. No, she headed right for the first wall
of “decorations.”

All the walls were covered with papers. Maps. Genealogies.
Pictures. Rebecca moved to the closest collage to see what Helen had been
collecting.

“Are you sure this stuff belongs to Helen?” Megan asked as she
scanned another of the walls.

“Positive,” Sparks replied. “I can feel her like she’s standing
right next to me.”

Rebecca closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind to see if
Earth could sense another Earth. She breathed deeply, searching for anything
that might help. A scent. The remnants of a movement or a memory.

She felt nothing, which was surely a disappointment to Sparks
and Artair. Helen should have been connected to Rebecca in some way.

If she was still alive. “Sparks, she isn’t—I mean—you can still
sense her, right?”

Sparks shook her head, still staring at the papers on the wall.
“I haven’t sensed her in just about forever. But she’s not dead, if that’s what
you’re asking. I’d know.” She pinched one of the lists. “What do you think she
was working on?”

Megan stepped up to a second wall, equally covered with a
sundry of information. “Some of these are really old. There’s a newspaper
article here from 1952.”

“That would be when we all left Avalon for a while,” Sparks
said.

Artair picked up a dusty book that rested on the end table.
“Helen always read. I don’t think I ever saw her without a book.”

“What is it?” Rebecca asked, moving to his side.

He held the old tome up.

She read the title aloud. “
‘Greek and
Roman Mythology.’
Looks really old.”

“Aye.” Dust rose from the cover when he opened it and turned
the first yellowed pages. “’Twas published in 1892.”