Visions of Skyfire (24 page)

“How close?”

“That wasn’t clear,” he admitted ruefully. “But I’d guess within a few miles.”

“And we’re nowhere near one now, right?”

“We are,” he said. “We just can’t get to it. The closest one is just outside Sedona—but before you say anything, we’re not going back there.”

“You’re right. Going back would be really stupid.” She nodded, then asked, “Do you know of any others?”

“There is one outside Veracruz.”

On the plus side, she thought, the state of Veracruz was a lot closer to Chiapas, where they were headed anyway. “We should go there, then, don’t you think? Let me find a way into the library before we go to my grandmother? Get as much information as we can.”

“It’s a good plan,” he agreed solemnly. “I don’t like this ‘beware the immortal’ warning your friend gave you, though.”

“Me neither,” she said with a wry smile. Then she reached up to touch his face, drawing her fingertips along the line of his jaw. “But I want you to know, Rune, I
do
trust you.”

He kissed her then and before her brain fuzzed over in an onslaught of sensation, she realized he might never trust
her
in return. She felt a twinge of regret as she acknowledged that a part of Rune was still holding her past against her. He was still keeping himself at an emotional distance from her.

Teresa only hoped that their shared misery of a past wasn’t going to doom the future.

Chapter 41

I
n a soundproofed lab deep below the pretty treelined streets of Arlington, Virginia, a witch finally died screaming.

“You should have gagged her,” Kellyn said, her ears still ringing with the echo of the dying woman’s wailing.

“Oh, no,” Henry Fender said with a jovial wink. “I find their screams quite invigorating.”

One of Kellyn’s eyebrows lifted into a high arch. She had been in the lab for days already and she’d discovered nothing new—well, beyond the surprising fact that even torture could get boring after a while.

Not to Henry, though, she mused, watching the good doctor as he unstrapped the dead witch from the white-gold torture table. Kellyn kept her distance from the slab of gleaming metal, knowing that if her body got too close to the damn thing, her own powers would be drained. And she didn’t trust good old Henry to keep from torturing
her
if he got the chance.

The man was as single-minded as a campaigning politician going after votes.

Dr. Henry Fender had started out his career as a gynecologist. He’d been well respected, with a thriving practice in Richmond. He had given it all up, though, as soon as the world had become aware of witchcraft. He, like so many other humans, was drawn to the promise of power. The only difference between Henry and most of the population was that Henry had no scruples about how he acquired that power.

“She told you nothing,” Kellyn said, seating herself on a swivel stool a good distance from the table. She really didn’t like this part of the lab. It bothered her to be so close to the power-sucking metal. She much preferred the old-fashioned torture room. After all, Henry had had it stocked with some of the classics. A rack. An iron maiden, thumbscrews and a Judas Cradle, not to mention a few other items that Kellyn remembered fondly from the Middle Ages, all newly made, handcrafted in the mountains of Virginia.

Buy American
, she thought with a smile.

Henry waggled his long, bony finger at her as if she were a child in a schoolroom. “Not entirely true. She did reveal that the witches will all eventually head to Wales.”

“Yes, well,” Kellyn snapped, “I knew that already.”

He tipped his head to one side and stared at her. “Did you? Now, isn’t that interesting?”

Kellyn shifted uncomfortably. This was what came of being bored to distraction. One slip of the lip and her entire plan could be shot to shit. Once again, she felt that flickering stir inside her, as something fought to surface. Frowning, she buried it even deeper. Covering for herself, she said, “Not very interesting at all, really. Wales is a lot of territory. Their home could be anywhere.”

“Hmm …”
He simply watched her, a curious glint in his deceptively soft eyes.

A change of subject was needed, she told herself.

“Beyond what we already knew,” she said sharply, “the witch told you nothing.”

“The more of these women I experiment on, the more I learn. Did you know that with their bonding, their powers are stronger?”

“Yes,” Kellyn said, “I knew.”

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” His pale blue eyes glazed over as new possibilities occurred to him. “If we could get a witch in here
after
her bonding, then her power would be that much greater.”

“And that much harder to contain,” Kellyn pointed out.

“True, but scientific discovery is not without risk. And think of the rewards. If we could bleed off a bonded witch’s power, it would make locating the Artifact a piece of cake.”

She chuckled a little and idly studied her nails. She’d actually chipped the polish on that last witch. Now she needed another manicure. “Henry, you’ve been working on a way to bleed off witch power for ten years now. When are you going to admit it’s just not possible?”

One hand snaked out, grabbed her throat and tipped her head back until she was looking up into those pale, haunted eyes. “I will do it. You’ll see. You’ll all see.”

Furious, Kellyn called on her own power and teleported out of his grip to the other side of the room. “You son of a bitch. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He smiled at her in genuine wonder. “I love that you can do something so incredibly amazing without the slightest effort.”

“The effort I’m making now,” she told him, “is to keep from killing you.”

“Oh”—he waved one hand at her—“you won’t do that. Our common partner wouldn’t like it. And besides, we still need each other. The Artifact is out there, my dear Kellyn, and it’s up to us to find it. Now … would you like to take first shot at our next guest?”

He looked harmless. Affable. Charming. Almost like an absentminded professor of sorts. But underneath it all, he was vicious and, she was beginning to think, dead crazy. But he was right. She couldn’t kill him. Their partner wouldn’t like it and for right now, Kellyn needed that partner on her side.

Once she had the Artifact, that would be a different story. But for now …

“Yes, Henry,” she said, giving him the smile he seemed to be expecting. “I would like to take first crack at her. But shall we go downstairs to the other chamber? I’d really like to put the witch on the rack and take it out for a spin. For old times’ sake.”

Chapter 42

R
une and Teresa spent nearly a week reaching the outskirts of the state of Veracruz. They stayed away from towns and cities, camping in the desert or in valleys as the terrain changed. Veracruz was more of a tropical state, with rivers, waterfalls, jungles and rich meadows. Keeping away from the more populated coastal areas gave them plenty of places to hide. It wasn’t only the feds and witch hunters they had to be wary of. There were always humans with nothing better to do than to rob and kill as well. Which made the trip interesting, if nothing else.

He didn’t mind roughing it.

Belen only knew, Rune had lived rougher than this for most of his immortal life. But he also knew that Teresa wasn’t used to it. Still, he admired that she was game. She didn’t complain. Didn’t whine. Didn’t do anything but practice her magic whenever she had the chance. Using him as a focus, she was becoming unerringly adept with the lightning that she called with a flick of her fingers.

And she was skilled with a knife as well, he thought with an inner smile. He’d been working with her and she was a quick study, her innate grace and speed making her a star pupil. He wanted her to be familiar enough with weapons that she could defend herself if necessary. Of course, he planned to be at her side always, especially in times of danger, but he’d lived long enough to realize that sometimes a plan blows up in your face. And a matter of moments could mean the difference between life and death.

He showed her how to fight—with knife, gun and fist—to win her those few moments. All she had to do, he told her, was to stay alive until he could get to her. Then he’d kill anything that threatened her.

She believed him. Trusted him. He saw it in her eyes.

And he was humbled by it.

The effects of the Mating were racing through them, wrapping the two of them together with mystical bonds that went soul deep. Every time their bodies became one, Rune felt those silken threads winding more inextricably around them. He felt the tattoo in a nearconstant burn on his flesh and knew she felt the same. The branding mark was growing rapidly now, curling under his arm to climb up his back, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than tracing her matching tattoo with his tongue.

But there was time to practice honing Teresa’s magic as well. Rune had watched her come to grips with the incredible power inside her. Admiration filled him as he saw her work to exhaustion in an effort to remember who and what she had been. To open the memories locked within her mind. To find what they both needed to end this quest.

And as his admiration grew, so did his hunger for her. It was as if that desperate, clawing need for her had a life of its own. She moved and he wanted her. She spoke and he felt her voice slide inside him. She laughed and his unbeating heart clenched in his chest. She was so much more than she had once been, he told himself daily. Her soul and mind and heart had grown through her many incarnations.

He had seen that growth personally as he followed her through time, always near, yet never close enough. He’d felt her change, felt her progress toward the witch she needed to be—and still, that silent, doubting part of him remained.

She was throwing herself into the quest—he could admit that, but the uncertainty remained with him. He looked at her and wanted to see only the woman she was now. But other images flashed across his mind. Other faces, other times—all her. And in each of them she had turned away at the last moment. Stepped back from him when she should have believed in him.

And so now he was the one to step back. Rune wondered if they would ever truly mate if they were separated by centuries of mistrust.

So which of them, he was forced to ask himself, needed to get beyond the past? Which of them was clinging to a world that had died out centuries ago? Holding on to betrayal and pain as a way to keep a risky future at bay?

Gritting his teeth, Rune pushed that thought aside. He had reasons for feeling as he did, damn it. The fact that Teresa was becoming more and more a part of him only fed the doubts. He’d allowed her too deeply inside him once before and then the gates of hell had swung wide and he’d been left holding the proverbial bag. Damned if he’d do that again.

So he trained her, worked with her, encouraged her and had sex with her at every opportunity.

But he still didn’t trust her.

On the evening of the sixth day of their trip, Rune made camp alongside a roaring river. Trees overhung the campsite, partially hiding the small campfire he allowed them, and dissipating the smoke. It was warmer here, too, as they moved away from the cooler desert into the more humid jungle terrain.

He knew they were close to the Sanctuary, but he also knew he wouldn’t be taking Teresa there directly. He remembered all too well his reception at the Sanctuary in the Uinta Mountains of Utah. He had taken three human females there for safety and had practically had to fight his way past a phalanx of guardian witches to gain entry.

Had to admire a woman who was willing to stand up and spit in her enemy’s eye, he told himself. But whether it would be safer for them to go or not, they really didn’t have the time. As it was, nearly two weeks of their thirty days were up and they were no closer to discovering the whereabouts of Teresa’s share of the Artifact.

Not for lack of trying, though, he admitted solemnly. Teresa’s magic was blossoming. He could see it, literally, etching itself into her marrow and bone. In the way she held herself, in the more defiant tip of her chin and, most especially, in the cool glint of determination in her eyes.

Now, though, he glanced at her in the snapping firelight and saw her yawn. This constant travel was wearing on her. Even though their combined strength was growing, she was still human and being on the run was taking a toll.

Even her idiot bird wasn’t making her smile tonight. It bobbed up and down on a narrow tree limb, shrieking and whistling, but Teresa paid no attention. Rune frowned at the brightly colored creature. Every day the bird flew off on its own and hours later it would return. He kept waiting, hoping the damn thing would run into a hawk or some other wild animal, but it seemed to have an inordinate lucky streak when it came to survival.

As if sensing Rune’s thoughts, the bird bristled, ruffling its feathers before hopping up and taking to the air. It banked and wheeled overhead for a minute or two, then streaked off into the night.

“Where the hell does it go?” he murmured.

“Maybe he has a girlfriend,” Teresa mused, rummaging in the duffel bag that held their dwindling store of supplies.

Eager to forget all about the bird now that it was gone, Rune asked, “How are the supplies holding out?”

“Really well if we’re not very hungry,” she told him with a shrug. “We’ve got enough for tonight and maybe tomorrow. Then we’ll need to hit another village.”

He didn’t like it. Didn’t like taking her into rural towns and villages with him, but couldn’t really convince himself to leave her alone while he went. He did a slow turn now, letting his sharp eyes scan their surroundings. While the firelight played and danced behind him, he stared into the shadows. At the clumps of trees, the high grasses, the rocks along the river rushing past them. Anywhere an enemy might hide.