Beyond the Darkness (24 page)

There was something that still bothered her. She walked toward him now, her hands stuffed into her back pockets. There was nothing for as far as she could see, other than red sand, scrub brush, and square-topped mountains. And Cheveyo, throwing small rocks at some unseen target. His hair was bound in a leather ponytail, tight at the back of his neck.

She knew the moment he heard her approach. His body tightened, but he didn’t look her way.

“I heard someone say it would be clear in about twenty minutes,” she said.

He threw another rock, as people did when they were trying to skip them across the water. The only water around here were the puddle mirages that were always just ahead on the highway, only to disappear when they got close.

She came up beside him, staring off into the distance. “You’re not afraid of dying, are you?”

She thought he might not answer, but finally he said, “I don’t like the idea of it, but no, I’m not afraid. It’s much harder to lose someone than it is to die.” He was still watching the rocks’ trajectories.

“It’s not because you have a death wish, or because you’re reckless with life. You revere it. I’m terrified of dying, especially now that I’m the same age my mom died. How can you not be?”

“I know we never die. Our bodies, yes, but not our souls. Talking to my father helped me believe this. He’s gone physically, but he’s still here.” He turned to her. “Why are you afraid?”

A breeze blew her hair across her cheek. “Because I don’t know what’s beyond this life. I believe in Heaven, but it’s such a vague, surreal concept to me. And what if I screw up and go to Hell?”

She saw the hardness soften. He brushed her hair from her face, an amused smile on his lips. “Heaven and Hell are here, on Earth. The life you create. If you live in fear, you create Hell. If you let go of that fear and embrace what life is, then you’re in Heaven. Do you believe in a God that is loving and merciful and created all of us and everything here on Earth?”

She nodded.

“Would He or She send you to eternal Hell because you ‘screwed up’? Does that make sense? Or that you only get once chance to get it right?”

She thought about it. “No, now that you put it that way. You said ‘or She.’ I’ve heard women call God a Her and figured it was some feminist thing.”

“That may be. God is neither a He or a She but encompasses both feminine and masculine energy. It’s easier to consider God one or the other, but I’ve never seen Her as an old white man residing in the clouds watching us with a stern eye, granting some people wishes, punishing others for no good reason. Calling God
Her
breaks the illusion.”

She nodded. “I always wondered about when a child dies. Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. Go on.”

“I think it’s totally unfair when a child or a baby dies. One chance here and it’s gone, sometimes because of someone else’s actions. And if the child wasn’t baptized, did he or she go to Hell? A child? Really?”

“When a child dies, there’s been an agreement before that child and his parents ever came here. The child is to teach them a lesson with his death. We come here to learn, in each lifetime, to become stronger and more enlightened. But our humanity leads us astray more often than not. Luckily we have many chances.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“One of my archetypes is Seeker. When you live on the edge of death and life, you can’t be afraid to look over that edge to either. But I have to stay on the edge without falling to either side.” His fingers had unconsciously gone to his Mobius ring.

“You can’t embrace life when death stalks you.”

“I embrace it more.” He met her gaze. “The next time you’re afraid, I want you to think about your eternalness. Close your eyes.”

She did.

“Hold out your hands. Without moving them, feel them. See them in your mind as energy fields.”

“Wow, I
can
feel them, like a low, throbbing energy.”

“That’s who you really are. Not your body. That’s your spirit. If you concentrate, you can feel your whole body. No one can hurt you, not who you really are.”

She sat with the feeling for a few seconds. Maybe no one could kill her soul, but she sure did want to live in her body for a while longer. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “What did your son’s death teach you?”

“That being part of a family is not my journey this time.”

She met his gaze. “Then why do you want it so badly?”

She saw the denial of that on his lips, in his eyes, but he didn’t say the words. “It’s what I’m here to learn, to overcome.”

“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe your purpose is to be alone in this world, eradicating evil.”

“I’ll never eradicate evil. They just keep coming. All I can hope for is to stay alive long enough to make a difference.” Weariness saturated his words. He glanced over at the line of traffic when an engine started. The tow truck was pulling away, hauling the carcass of a wrecked car with it.

“Let’s roll.”

As they walked back, her iPhone rang. She pulled it out and looked at the display. “Greg.”

“Your date?”

“Yeah.” She answered. “Hey.”

“Hi, it’s Greg. I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.”

“That was really nice of you. Things are a bit . . . hectic.”
Like you wouldn’t believe.
“My grandmother broke her hip, and we’re helping her out.”

“If you want some company or moral support, I’d be glad to come out for a couple of days.”

Her mouth turned into a frown. “That is so totally sweet to offer.” She hated lying. “But not necessary. Listen, I—”

Cheveyo took the phone. “She should be done here in a couple of days, and she would love to go out with you again.” He handed the phone back to her.

“Who’s this?” Greg asked.

“That was, er, my cousin, Cheveyo. The one who hijacked me from our date.”

“He’s your cousin? I wasn’t so sure. He’s . . . different.”

She eyed him. “That he is. Hold on for a second.” She pressed the phone against her thigh. “What did you do that for?” she whispered fiercely.

“I want you to commit. You like the guy, right?”

He wanted to hook her up with someone else. “I want to marry him and have three kids and a dog with him,” she hissed. “Well, not
have
a dog with him but get a dog.” Then she looked down and saw that in her irritation she’d pulled the phone away from her thigh. With a grimace, she said, “Greg?”

“Uh . . . look, I’m not ready to get married anytime soon, and I’m allergic to animals.”

Could she just die right there? She punched Cheveyo’s arm. “Me either. I’m just annoyed at my brother and trying to rile him up.”

“I thought he was your cousin.”

“He’s my cousin’s brother.”

“That would make him—”

They reached the bike, and Cheveyo climbed on.

“Never mind. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately and life has been very stressful. Can I call you another day?” She climbed on, too.

“Sure. I hope everything’s all right.”

“Thanks, ’bye.” She hung up, making sure she’d disconnected. Then she thumped Cheveyo’s shoulder. “What’d you do that for?”

He started the engine. “I figured if you could interfere with my future, I could interfere with yours. Making plans is a good idea.”

Traffic started to move, and the bike inched forward.

“Gee, thanks. I’m glad you care so much—about arranging a future for me without you. Do you think I’m going to cling to you once this is all over? Beg and plead for you to let me be your partner? You think because you’re an incredible lover, that you risk your life to keep me safe, that we have some silly psychic connection, that I can’t live without you?”

Uh-oh. Her voice was starting to break. She cleared her throat and waved him to go forward. “Keep moving. Traffic is picking up.”

Chapter 18

P
etra saw the Zion Park signs, relief coursing through her. “We still made it early, even with the traffic snag.”

Cheveyo only nodded, riding on through the small dusty town. All around were the flat-topped mountains jutting up into clear skies. If she never saw a rock again, she’d be happy. It wasn’t that they weren’t beautiful, or at least interesting. Just that it was all she’d seen for days now.

He turned off onto a small shoulder area. “This is where we start hoofing it.”

They got off the bike and she stretched. He pulled out the map from the bike’s bags and moved his finger along the highway as he read Pope’s notes.

She eyed the expanse of land that stretched for miles in either direction. Hoofing it was a cute way of saying they’d be walking in the glaring sun without a bathroom or a Starbucks to be had. No chair to sit down, and not a lot of shade either. She pulled out the hiking shoes they’d bought at a camping store, along with a backpack of food and water.

“We’re not going far,” he said, brightening her mood. “Unless we get lost.”

“Thanks for that. Just when I was cheering up. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

He met her gaze. “You’re complaining.”

“Only a teeny weeny bit.” She changed into the clunky, butt-ugly shoes that didn’t come in pretty colors. She called this color smashed bug-gut green. With as much driving as they’d been doing, she was way familiar with that particular shade. She, however, wasn’t saying a word about the shoes’ color.

Cheveyo’s black shoes seemed capable of handling all kinds of terrain. He hefted the pack onto his back. During a lull between passing cars, he pushed the bike behind a large mound of boulders.

He consulted the map and notes again. “That way. Let’s go. The less talk, the better. We don’t know where Baal might be, but we have to assume he’s out there. The terrain could be just as deadly. Pope said the ridge drops off into a steep ravine near the finestra. The ground is loose, and one misstep will send you falling to the rocks below.”

“I know, I know. The mental pictures he showed us looked scary.”

Thankfully it wasn’t summer. It wasn’t even eighty degrees, though the dry air felt like someone had stuck a hair dryer in her sinuses. Her skin felt dry and itchy.

He aimed for a low spot in the long ridge that turned out not to be that low when they reached it.

She groaned, staring up at the steep angle. “Okay, I’m complaining.” She tapped her chest. “Right here.”

Why didn’t he look tired? He was hardly breaking a sweat. He rubbed the back of her neck as though sensing her frustration.

They climbed up and over. More mountains as far as she could see. She tried to remember the luxury suite back in Vegas, and tried not to remember what they’d done in that suite. No need for distractions like that.

The terrain got steeper as they went. Cheveyo kept stopping and looking at the sketches Pope had given him. “Over there.”

“The witch’s nose, wart and all.” She found a smile inside her.

They reached four landmarks, and each one made him act more wary about their surroundings. She kept practicing whipping out her knife, ready to plunge it into an imaginary opponent. Every time Cheveyo looked at his watch, she looked at hers. Two hours before Yurek was due to return.

They climbed up another ridge, this one steeper. She stumbled, sending a cascade of pebbles and dirt down to the ground several yards below. Her feet slipped and she grabbed onto rocks, chipping two nails. He grabbed her arm, steadying her.

Okay?
He asked psychically.

I forgot we can talk this way. I could have been loudly complaining all this time!
At his chagrined look, she added,
Kidding.

He motioned for her to remain low while he peered up over the ridge. After scanning it, he nodded for her to follow. They stepped up on the ridge, crouching low, and then down on the other side into a crevasse. Over there . . . the final landmark.

She felt the energy and saw the shimmer, as she had at the first finestra. He surveyed the area again, knife at the ready. As they’d planned, she went to the right and he to the left. They would wait until Yurek arrived.

The waiting was as bad as the walking, except it wasn’t physically taxing. She was tucked into the shade, too, but in a place that left her two ways in which to run.

Ten minutes later movement caught her eye in the other direction. Cheveyo waved for her to come. Her heart clenched. He must have spotted Baal. She had been watching the finestra and didn’t see Yurek come through. She made her way toward him, the boots clunky and awkward. He was watching something in the near distance, his gaze riveted there. She reached him, looking in the same direction.

Baal, in human form, leaning against an outcropping of rock, looking right at them. Then Cheveyo’s arm came around her shoulder, pulling her against his chest. One hand came up hard against her mouth. She jerked her head toward him.
His eyes.
They weren’t blue-gray, or black, but a muddy gray.

Yurek!

She kicked and tried to scream against his hand, but he’d locked her tight against him. Her fingers stretched but she couldn’t begin to reach for her knife. Baal ambled over, a triumphant smile on his face. The two exchanged a nod, and Baal patted her down as Yurek held her, running his hands from her ankles all the way up, lingering on the roundness of her behind and even jabbing into the crack. She jerked, but he continued, finding her cell phone in her back pocket.

Baal put it in Yurek’s pocket and continued to check her, not patting but rubbing up her sides, over her breasts, the bastard, and then finding the sheath. He pulled the collar of her shirt down, yanked the cord. It held, jerking her neck forward. She quickly stepped back. He pulled the cord over her head, removed the knife, and tucked it in his waistband. Then Yurek pushed her toward Baal, who grabbed her just as tight. She had one second to scream before Baal’s big hand slapped her mouth.

It hit her then that they had let her scream. To get Cheveyo to come over. Yurek crept up beneath the ledge, watching for him.

No, no, no!

She wriggled harder, kicking Baal’s shin. Something shiny in Yurek’s hand caught the sunlight. Wait! She could communicate with Cheveyo!

Don’t come here! It’s a trap!

Too late. He skidded to a stop at the edge.

Below you!

A white-yellow laser beam shot out of the small gold device Yurek held and hit Cheveyo in the chest. He staggered back. His body swayed when he stared at the blood pouring out of the hole. Breaking out of his shock, he jammed his hand over it, but blood kept gushing out between his fingers. He looked at her and dropped to his knees. Yurek was already crouching beside him as he fell to the side.

God, no! Cheveyo, don’t die on me. Don’t you dare die!

This was what his father had seen. Her fault, yes, her fault. Yurek, who still looked like Cheveyo, stood again, nodding toward Baal. “Get them to the car.”

Baal dragged her across the dirt and rocks toward Yurek. For a few seconds all she could see was Cheveyo’s legs, and then Baal brought her into full view of him. She gasped. Her stomach churned. The hole was two inches wide, a perfect circle, and the visible flesh and muscle meant it went deep.

He was looking at her, still there, though pain glazed his eyes. She saw fear pierce the glaze. Fear for her. His breaths came in short, choppy gasps.

Sorry . . .
he got across to her.

No, I’m sorry. But this isn’t over yet.

If they could get help—

Yurek nodded toward Cheveyo. “Get him, I’ll take the girl.”

In the exchange, she had a moment to let out a gut-wrenching cry. Cheveyo’s eyes drifted closed against his will. Grief curdled her scream, sending her to her knees. She tried to crawl to him, but Yurek hauled her up and threw her over his shoulder as though she weighed nothing.

“He’s still alive, but he won’t be for long. Can I finish him?” Baal asked, looking at Cheveyo with a feral gleam.

“Let him suffer. He has been like the sandstorms that wreak havoc in Surfacia: unexpected, destructive, and creating a lot of work.”

Baal struggled to pick him up. “Can’t we just leave him here?”

“I cannot leave evidence.”

She sobbed again, beating on Yurek’s back.
Stop looking like him!

He had her legs pinned against his chest, so she couldn’t kick him. She went from beating to scratching, lifting his shirt so she could go deeper. Her broken nails left raw, red streaks across his back. He shifted but couldn’t escape her claws.

With a quick twist to the left, he rammed her head against the side of the rock. Pain rocketed through her skull, followed by a wave of dizziness. She looked up to see Baal carrying Cheveyo in a similar way, but he wasn’t moving. Blood continued to drip down the front of Baal’s shirt.

Cheveyo’s blood.

They reached a sedan that was covered in red dust, its tires caked with mud.

“Struggle, and I’ll ram you into the car. It won’t be pleasant,” Yurek promised as he unlocked the hood. “For you, anyway.”

She couldn’t help the cry as Baal dumped Cheveyo into the trunk. She tried to see if he was still alive before the trunk lid slammed down, but he was lying on his side, facing away from her.

Baal opened the door to the backseat and pulled out several lengths of rope. “See, it was a good idea to pick this up. Just in case.”

She felt the rope bind her ankles. She kicked, but her legs were still held tight. A few seconds later Baal’s face peered from below, gazing up at her. She spit on him. He wiped it from his cheek, but instead of looking pissed, he licked it off his palm with a smile. Her stomach lurched.

Glouks ate humans. And the way he was looking at her, moving her saliva around in his mouth as though it was a sip of wine, he looked at though he would love to eat her, too.

He grabbed her hands, and though she fought him, he gripped her painfully hard and managed to tie her wrists tight. “Got her.” He opened the back door of the car to dump her in.

“Put me in the trunk with him . . . please.”

No one bothered to acknowledge her. Yurek dropped her onto the backseat, then slammed the door and morphed back to the guise she had seen before. She watched with morbid fascination despite herself. Bastard had tricked her; she hadn’t even considered that he wasn’t Cheveyo. Baal walked around to the driver’s side while Yurek got into the passenger side.

They bumped along for several minutes. Cheveyo, in the trunk, was behind the leather seat Petra sat on. She pressed her hand against the back of it. So close, and yet. . .

Are you there? Please answer me.

She thought she heard something, but it was too faint to understand. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Cheveyo. Don’t die. I love you. I’m sorry, so sorry. This is my fault.

She felt the terrain go smooth as they got back on the paved road.

Yurek said, “Their motorcycle is somewhere along here, behind a rock. I’m sure he has the keys on his person.”

They’d been watching at least since she and Cheveyo had arrived in the area. Yurek must have gotten back early. It still wasn’t twenty-four hours yet.

They stopped and Yurek got out. He opened the trunk and a minute later slammed it shut. He walked over to the open driver’s window. “I’ll let you know the plan after I talk to Pope,” he told Baal.

Pope?

Yurek held up her phone and looked at her, a smug smile on his face. “Won’t he be surprised to hear we’ve got his daughter?”

“I’m not—” She held the words back. He thought she was Pope’s daughter? Because he’d sensed Callorian in her. If she negated that, he would want to know how she’d gotten it.

“Not what?” Yurek asked, as though indulging her.

“I’m not going to talk to him, if you think you’re going to use me to get him to come to you.”

He smiled. “I won’t need your cooperation.” He held up her phone and took her picture. “Baal, get in back with her.”

He was out his door in a second, hovering over her. “What should I do to her?”

“Just be in the picture. It’s proof we have her. I’ll take one of the hunter, too.” Baal laid on top of her, swamping her with his odor. Yurek took another picture.

Pope would be devastated. She hoped he wouldn’t turn himself in to save her
.
Her life for all the others, for the baby. No! If Yurek looked at her pictures, he’d see the sonogram.

Baal remained on her, his hot breath pulsing against her neck. She shoved at him. Yurek had gotten his damned pictures. He only pushed up and got to his feet after Yurek said, “We go now.”

Baal was still looking at her. “I’ll take her to the house.”

Yurek held up the phone. “No signal, as I thought. Stay there until you hear from me. Don’t let her loose, even for a second. We can’t afford for her to get killed in an altercation. We can afford for her to escape even less.”