Timeless Moon (6 page)

"You do realize that
Josette
—" Rick stopped to correct himself, "That is,
Aspen
…
may have disappeared by choice? What if she saw all this and realized that she was a danger to the rest of the seers? Or that she needed to get here to be with the others? What if she's on her way to
us?"

Lucas nodded. "We've considered that. It's why we need to send someone to her that she trusts. I'm not certain that the ways things are right now, she'll trust any of the rest of us."

Rick picked up his cup and took a long pull of the nearly cold coffee before setting it back onto the end table.
"If
I agree to do this, and I'm not saying I will,
I'd need to know everything she's liable to be seeing that would spook her enough to make her take off."

Lucas was bleeding suspicion and raised his own shields until Rick couldn't feel him anymore. He'd been careful to put on the Wolven cologne when he went outside earlier to check the SUV with Bruce, so his scent didn't give away his mood, but he'd forgotten just how easy it was for Rick to read him. The old wolf's expression grew flat and impersonal. "You'll be told everything you need to know."

Rick shook his head. "Not good enough."

The two men stared at each other across the room. The silence thickened and magic filled the air. The temperature rose until sweat beaded each man's brow. Rick knew Lucas could beat him. Hell, anyone in the room probably could. But he didn't care. He wouldn't back down. This was too important.
Josie
was too important. If they were going to use his relationship with her as a tool to get her to cooperate, he wanted to be damned sure it was for a good cause. He'd seen too much, done too much to simply trust anyone
—especially those in the Sazi hierarchy.

"Mon Dieu!"
Amber spat the words out and the air crackled around her. A French accent filled her voice, the same thing that used to happen to
Josette
when she was too stressed. "Time iz too short for theez. Just tell him, Charles, or I swear to the heavens that
I
will!"

Lucas made a disgusted noise in the back of his
throat, but Charles just sighed with resignation. Apparently, he knew exactly what his wife was capable of. "If we don't find Aspen in five days, every seer in the world will be dead. Within a week after that, the council will fall. After that, the remaining Sazi and humans alike will all be nothing more than cannon fodder, as something unimaginable
—and I don't use that word lightly, it's hidden even to the best of us— sweeps over the world like a plague."

Rick stared into the other man's eyes. The intensity of his belief was a thrum like a bass dram that pounded at his temples. "How in the hell did it come to this?"

"Whoever we're dealing with is good.
Very
good. They've exploited every weakness we have to the point where I don't know who to trust." Lucas rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "In fact, it's so fucked up we haven't even got a clue as to the extent of the mess. Worse still, we don't know who we're fighting."

Rick's eyes widened. "I can't believe Fiona let it get this far. I mean, whatever faults she may have, she was one hell of a good agent."

Lucas's flat, cold statement had enough truth inside to chill his blood. "Not good enough. Not
nearly
good enough for this."

Charles sighed. "Someone has apparently been planning this for decades, possibly centuries." He shuddered and was forced to steady himself against
the nearest wall. Pain rolled off him in waves, but he fought through it. "Another vision is trying to come, but it can't get through the block. It hurts like a son of a bitch."

It was the pain that did it. Rick probably would have done it for Josie anyway, just to see her again. But Charles had been his mentor and was the closest thing he had to a father. It took a lot to bring the ancient polar bear, once worshipped by the humans as a god, to his knees. He turned his gaze to each of them in turn. "Tell me what I have to do."

It was still
painful to move, but
Josette
did it anyway, digging deep into the packed sand to reveal a plastic Bubble Wrap envelope that was thankfully still buried at the base of the old hickory. Once it was unearthed, she carried it in her teeth and used her nose to follow the path of the snakes back to where they'd hidden their vehicle. Her little Jeep, which had been in the attached garage, was nothing more than a lump of steel by now, but she doubted the snakes would need theirs.

They'd left it a surprisingly long way from the house. She was forced to make a good five-mile trek to find it hidden in the brush just off one of the side roads. A black SUV with tinted windows and all the luxuries a yuppie on vacation could want. The snakes had left it unlocked with the keys in the ignition. There had probably been aversion magic protecting it originally, making humans and Sazi alike unwilling to venture close. But the snakes were dead, and the power for the spell had died with them. So here it sat, ready and waiting for a pair of people who would never return. It was practically a gift.

Still,
Josette
sniffed around it carefully before she
risked opening the door. There was no scent of explosives; no trap that she could see. Peering through the window she saw a black nylon duffel on the passenger seat. It was unzipped, and she could see it was stuffed with the kind of cheap "one size fits all" clothing Sazi always kept on hand. There were wigs, too, one blond, two dark brown. That was no surprise. Most reptilian women had little or no hair in their human form. They wore wigs to "pass" in normal society.

Josette
shifted into human form and pulled open the passenger door. When nothing bad happened she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and quickly began rummaging through the duffel. There were clothes for both men and women. She also found a Latina women's wallet. There was a driver's license in the name of Maria Ortega, with a matching credit card. There were no other cards and the picture sleeves had been removed, probably to keep it from looking achingly empty. Most people filled their wallets with photos of loved ones. Not having any would be obviously odd.

There was a little over seven hundred dollars in cash of various denominations tucked in the billfold, some loose change in the coin purse. Documents for the car rental in Maria's name were neatly folded into a side zipper pocket of the bag. The vehicle was due back to the Avis rental agency at 7:00
p.m.
the day after tomorrow. That gave
Josette
more than enough
time to get things done. Also in the pocket was a matchbox from the Fontana Bowling Alley in Flagstaff and a key. It looked like it should fit into an old-fashioned pay locker of the type that used to be in bus and train stations before terrorism became an issue. The number on its orange plastic head read 145. She resolved that when she made it to Flagstaff she'd check out the Fontana, see if the key worked at a locker there. There might even be a clue as to who was behind this. Probably not, but it was certainly worth checking out.

She put the items back into their compartment, zipping it closed before choosing an outfit to wear. There was the equivalent of two outfits each in the bag for both the man and the woman. She chose a plain black T-shirt over a pair of black jogging shorts with white stripes running down the size. They were a little baggy, but not too bad, particularly when she tightened the drawstring sewn into the waistband of the pants. The pair of women's running shoes in the bag were about a half-size too large, but she put them on anyway, lacing them as tight as she could so that they wouldn't be any more uncomfortable than necessary.

Josette
could hear cars in the distance. They were moving eastbound along the main road, going fast.
Probably the cavalry coming to investigate the smoke.
Not wanting to be spotted leaving the scene of the fire, she decided to look through the envelope,
which she'd never opened in the years since she'd paid for the work to be done.

Examining the package, it didn't
look
like it had been opened. Yusef, one of Charles's guards, did identities on the side and did them very well
…
for the right price. He'd sealed it very carefully, even going so far as to sign across the sealed flap after he'd glued it, and then taped the whole thing with two or three layers of the kind of clear shipping tape that had reinforced threads running through it. She couldn't imagine how anyone could have tampered with it without leaving plenty of evidence, and she hadn't noticed the scent of anyone when she'd been digging.

She felt her shoulders relax fractionally, and the knot of terror in her stomach unwound a little. Perhaps things weren't as bad as she'd feared.

She pulled a Louisiana driver's license out of the envelope first and saw a picture of herself smiling at the camera.
"Josette LaRue."
She said the name softly, getting a feel for it. It wasn't bad; certainly better than some of the names she'd worn and discarded like clothing over the long years of her life.

The first few days were always the hardest. It was difficult answering to a new name, remembering a complicated past you'd never lived. It was like breaking in a new pair of shoes. Also, there were the little things you needed to do to create an individual identity. What was her favorite color? What music did she
listen to? Did she have any hobbies? These weren't the kinds of things you find on a driver's license or birth certificate, but they were just as important as good documentation in making a believable identity. A twenty-year-old probably wasn't going to be hooked on Sinatra and Elvis after all.

With nearly unlimited time to work, Yusef's artistry had been given full rein. There was a two-page summary, birth and marriage certificates, death certificates, a driver's license, and a passport in the envelope. There was also a vehicle key, and the address of a storage unit where it was most likely stored. And there was cash; quite a lot of cash by thumbing through the large denomination bills. Most commerce moved electronically now, but there was nothing quite as untraceable as hard currency.

She pulled the summary from the package, scanning it quickly.
Josette LaRue
had been born
Josette
Reynard to an American father and French Canadian mother. At age eighteen she'd moved to New Orleans where she met and married Jacques LaRue, a Cajun who had, alas, been a small-time crook. The divorce had been finalized a mere three years later, while Jacques was in the federal penitentiary where he died two years later.

There had been a house in New Orleans, before Katrina. She could have moved there, if she'd chosen to activate the identity earlier. Unfortunately, the map showed that it had been in a neighborhood that was
destroyed in the flooding. It was probably too late to make a claim for benefits, but
Josette LaRue
wasn't wealthy enough to let something like that go. So, sometime in the next few days she'd need to start the paperwork in motion.

Overall
Josette
LaRue had led a rough life. But she was a survivor, at least that would be how she thought of herself.
Josette
decided that the story would be that using a little money she'd inherited from her father, she was starting a new life at thirty.

Based on that history she decided on a personality that wouldn't be too much of a stretch, but was definitely different from her normal routine.
Josette
LaRue would be someone who liked to walk that fine line between flash and trash. Her favorite color would be red. She'd wear dangling earrings and rings on every finger, with bright nail polish on both finger and toe-nails. Her tops and jeans would be worn a little too tight, shorts and skirts a fraction too short. She wouldn't be caught dead outside the house without her makeup on. As for hobbies, well she'd like to dance and shoot pool, and she could drink a strong man under the table when the occasion called for it.

Looking at the envelope in her lap she felt a wave of sadness and she ran a light finger across the deep indents of his signature into the tape. Yusef was dead and she would miss him. She'd seen his betrayal coming long before he was killed in Boulder the previous winter. She felt a little guilty both that she
hadn't warned Charles that his favorite guard would betray him, nor had she warned Yusef that he was making a terrible mistake by siding with Jack Simpson in a war he couldn't win.

It had been a hard decision. She'd
liked
Yusef. She knew how much his betrayal would hurt Charles. But she also knew that if she'd interfered, there would have been other, worse things happen as a consequence.

It was one of the hardest things about foresight
— having to choose when to interfere and when
not
to. It hurt her more than she had ever admitted to stand back and do
nothing
when terrible things were about to happen. Tasha's scorn had stung deeply, but there was no way
Josette
could ever expect her to understand. There were probably harder things in life than looking someone in the eye knowing what would happen and keeping every bit of that knowledge from your expression, even from your scent
…
but she hadn't run into one of them yet.

Her sister Amber wondered why she had chosen to live alone in the middle of the desert. In truth, it was simply easier. Yes, it slowed the visions, helped her control her gift, but it was more than that. Isolation had kept her from having to face people. It was a little lonely sometimes, but for the most part she hadn't minded.

With deft movements
Josette
stripped Maria's identification and credit card from the wallet, and
slid the new ones in their place. Everything else she slid back into the envelope, and then zipped the envelope into the duffel.

The address printed on the key tag matched that of the vehicle title. Pony, New Mexico, wasn't a town she'd heard of before, but she'd have bet that Yusef chose it for its remoteness and relative quiet. Hopefully, it would be the perfect place to get herself together before contacting her family. She knew she had to do that. It was part of the future she'd seen in every vision so far. Flagstaff and the Fontana Bowling Alley would have to wait.

She was as ready as she would ever be. It was time to stop procrastinating. Still, she couldn't help casting one long last look across the fields to where her home had been. Blinking back useless tears, she climbed behind the wheel of the SUV. Moments later, tires spitting gravel, she pulled onto the highway and drove away for the last time.

Josette
drove all through the remainder of the night and into the next day, stopping only to gas up. She finally stopped just after dawn to grab some food at a truck stop that advertised "24 Hour Breakfast." It was a buffet, but the meat was fresh and good. Nibbling on a slice of wheat toast, she looked through the newspaper, searching for anything odd about the explosion that might have made it to the national press. An advertisement on one page reminded her of a request she'd made offhand to Yusef that she hoped
he'd followed. He'd asked about her car preference and, on impulse, she'd decided on a convertible. It was as close as she'd ever get to the sensation of riding a motorcycle, something that both Rick and Raven adored.

Perhaps it was thinking of him that did it. But the scene in the dining room disappeared. Instead, she was standing in a bathroom filled with steam. She could hear the shower running. Rick was humming a tune she recognized. It was an old folk song, the one that had been playing the first time they'd danced, when he'd just begun courting her. Not from one of the minuets, but a more rowdy tune, perfect for a jig. It was the kind of song that set your toes tapping.

She moved like the mist swirling through the warm air, rising toward the exhaust vent. She stopped, just above the rod holding the shower curtain.

He stood nude, the water pouring over the length of his muscular body, sending soap suds over the muscles of his abdomen to trail down through the coarse hairs that framed his cock.
Josette
thought she had remembered every inch of that body, but she hadn't. Time had fuzzed the edges in her mind, making her forget the small details, like the mole beside his belly button, or the way the raised scars on his chest pulled his left nipple.

Water beaded in the dark gold of his chest hairs. A part of her ached to be there in truth, to

join him under the shower's spray, run her hands over every inch of his body to feel his skin on hers. His head was tilted back to keep the shampoo from his eyes as his hands worked the soap into a lather. The humming stopped abruptly. She felt the flare of his power. His eyes popped open, glowing bright gold in the dimness of the shower stall. He stared at the spot where her essence hovered. "Josie?"

The shock of finding herself back in the dining room made her gasp. She blinked repeatedly, trying to bring the present place and time into focus. It took a few minutes for the scent of his shampoo to fade from her consciousness. It took even longer for the hunger in her body to subside, a hunger that had nothing to do with the food on the plate.

It wasn't until she was paying her bill at the register that time solidified in her mind. She still wasn't sure if the vision of Rick had been of when they were married, the present, or some time yet to come. But the more often she saw him, the more she was convinced it was the present
…
and they would meet again. But at least she was firmly in the here and now, for the moment.