Desert Guardian (8 page)

Kelly
tilted her head, giving his arm a pointed look before asking, "How did you
burn yourself?"

"This
scar's not from a burn," he said softly, wishing he could make the
physical testimony to his past disappear. "It used to be a tattoo of a
comet."

She
sat forward and grabbed his arm to study it more closely. "Like the tattoo
my brother has?"

Sam
nodded.

"How
did you get it off?"

"Sand
paper," he said, gently pulling his arm away, though her silky fingertips
had felt good against the roughened skin. He'd been branded at the age of
twelve, one of his first rights of passage in the cult. The humiliation of
being owned by Star Mother had scarred more than just his arm. It had scarred
his soul. "I started sanding it off on my sixteenth birthday, the same day
I ran away from Star Mother."

The
emotion he saw in her eyes touched his heart. He hoped it wasn't pity that made
her say, "It must have hurt pretty bad."

"It
hurt like hell." He massaged the old scar, remembering. "I worked on
that tattoo for days until it became one giant scab. I'd hidden what I was
doing from my foster family, so when it got infected, they rushed me to the
hospital. The start of gangrene. I almost lost the arm."

Kelly
stared at his scar like it held the key to all his secrets. It didn't. It was
simply proof of a childhood lived in hell.

"Sam,"
she finally said. "Why didn't your mother leave with you when you ran
away?"

How
much should he tell her? His mother wasn't a subject he felt comfortable
discussing. Sam had lived so long inside himself that the need to share his
pain and his worries had become overwhelming. Constantly moving from state to
state, town to town, always in pursuit of yet another cult and its victims, had
left him no time for alliances, no time for relationships. It was time for him
to trust someone. What he needed more than anything was a friend. "My
mother was a true believer in the cult's religion. She wanted to stay with them
and begged me to stay with her, but I didn't share her beliefs."

"Because
you don't believe in extraterrestrials?"

"Oh,
I'm open to the possibility but not in the twisted, self-serving way Star
Mother has incorporated it into their religion."

"I
don't get it," she said. "What do little green men have to do with
religion?"

Sam
chuckled. "The extraterrestrial myth is powerful because people are
captivated by the idea that billions of advanced civilizations may exist on
planets outside our solar system. Add a few power-hungry, self-deluded
religious fanatics and you get a cult like Star Mother that combines elements
of Christianity with UFOs. Valya's great-grandmother started the cult. She
interpreted passages from the four gospels in the Bible and the book of
Revelation as referring to UFO visitation. There's a story in Revelation that
describes two witnesses who were killed, stayed dead for three and a half days,
then came back to life and were taken up into the clouds. I'll give you one
guess who those witnesses were."

"Von
and Valya's ancestors?"

"You
got it." He groaned in disgust. It was a fairytale not even children would
believe. And to think he was once a party to that madness. He wanted Kelly to
understand how truly insane this cult was. "Star Mother's followers
believe the souls of those two people were replaced with superior entities from
another world, entities who later became the founders of their cult. And the
starship crew who had delivered these entities are believed to have
reincarnated into the cultists they have today."

Kelly
raised both eyebrows, looking interested. "When was the cult first
started?"

He
shrugged and peered up at the ceiling, trying to recall what he'd been told as
a child. "The earliest reference Valya ever made was to the turn of the
twentieth century. Her great-grandmother set up the first traveling camp in the
Mohave Desert in 1898."

"Wow."
Kelly shuddered. "Creepy."

"Tell
me about it."

"So
is your mother still with them?"

Sam
hesitated. He'd already told her enough about his past. Emotionally drained
now, he decided the tale of his mother's fate was best left for another day. "Hey,
it's not fair that you get to know so much about me and I know next to nothing
about you."

"I've
already told you about my dad. You even met him," she said dryly. "Need
I say more?"

"To
be fair, yeah, you do."

She
scratched beneath her chin and yawned. "Your story is much more
interesting than mine."

"Humor
me."

"Fine,"
she said, deadpan. She took a gulp from her mug. "My mother was
fifty-three when I was born. She'd been going through menopause when she got
pregnant, not believing pregnancy was possible at her age. Surprise, surprise."

"But
your brother Jake—"

"Same
father, different mother. My mother died of a heart attack when I was two, and
three years later Dad took up with a stripper at a local nightclub. Delilah. He
got her pregnant, she moved in with us, had the baby, then took off. None of us
ever heard from her again." Her eyes looked distant, as if viewing a movie
of the past from inside her head.

What
a crappy life young Jake had had so far. Poor guy. Abandoned first by his
mother then rejected by his father. No wonder he was messed up.

"Dad
raised me, but he wasn't a very nurturing father. I was pretty much ignored
while growing up, which was just as well because being invisible was a good
thing in my house. My father disciplined with a heavy hand."

So
Kelly was motherless, just like Sam. And like him, she was no stranger to abuse
and neglect. "Didn't you have any aunts or older female cousins to look
after you and your brother?"

She
wagged her head. "None of them lived close to us."

Sam
was beginning to understand why she felt it so important to be her own
caretaker and not rely on anyone else to do it for her. The story of her life. "How
about friends in school? You must have had gal pals while growing up."

"Not
really. I kept mostly to myself." She gave the pillow a punch. Past
resentments, probably. "I loved sports, and not many of the girls I knew
were into the same things I was. So I had mostly guy buddies. Jake was my best
friend. Guess you could say I was a tomboy."

Not
anymore, he thought, but didn't say so. "You seem like the athletic type."
He smiled to make sure she took it as a compliment.

She
blinked. "Yeah?"

He
nodded. "You can certainly hold your own in a fight."

Her
grin faded and she looked away. "Thanks."

He'd
obviously said something wrong. "I meant that in a good way."

She
lifted both shoulders and let them drop. "I know you did. It's just that
my father always said it was a shame I was a girl because I'd have made a great
guy. Doesn't do much for a girl's ego."

"If
it matters, I think you make a great girl."

Their
eyes met as she said softly, "That's sweet of you to say."

This
conversation had become too personal. The gap between them from when they’d
first met was rapidly closing, and he couldn't say he was disappointed. Kelly
touched him in a way no other woman had. She was sensitive, gutsy and sexy. A
lethal combination for a man like him.

He
cleared his throat. "I think I've figured out a way to change your brother's
mind about staying with Star Mother."

"You
have a plan?"

"Sure
do." He looked at her sheepishly and added, "But it means getting
your father involved."

****

"Lady
Valya, have mercy!" begged the man who backed into a corner of an old army
surplus tent. A few feet away from him, a coiled snake arched its graceful
neck, tongue flicking and tail rattling.

Valya
paced outside the tent used for disciplining those who strayed from the true
word of Star Mother. She didn't dare go inside. It stank of old sweat and
blood, the smell of fear having seeped into the canvas itself. It infuriated
her that she was forced to facilitate this archaic method of discipline, but if
her followers would behave themselves, such action wouldn't be necessary.

She
stopped pacing to peer through the tent's doorway. Her rage barely contained,
she managed to keep her voice steady when she said, "If you're innocent,
you won't be harmed."

The
man whimpered then yelped when the snake moved its head from side to side,
preparing to strike. "I was only following Von's orders," he cried,
hugging the coarse canvas wall at his back. "He told me to give the snake
to The Arrow. I just assumed—"

"Idiot!"
she shouted, then checked herself, determined not to have one of her people
witness an emotional outburst. She had evolved beyond such petty human
indulgences. As Star Mother's doctrine dictated, she must portray the serenity
that ruled her heart and mind. That's what made her a superior being. "I
apologize. I have no right to judge you, but I have every right to put you on
trial. It is Star Mother herself who will pass judgment." She heaved a
cleansing breath to vanquish her temper. "You may have received your
orders from Von, but you did not receive
my
permission to assassinate The Arrow."

The
snake launched its body forward and embedded its fangs in the man's thigh. He
screamed.

"You
see?" she said, watching the snake slither a few feet from its victim. "You
have been judged guilty of breaking a holy law. Assassinations are ordered by
the royal couple, which means
both
Von and I must agree.
I
did not agree
to have The Arrow killed."

The
snake struck again. The man bellowed in fear and pain, clutching the new bite
on his calf as he sank to his knees on the tent's sandy floor. The torn fabric
of his robe slipped down his shoulder, revealing the ugly red welts from an
earlier beating. "I'm sorry, Lady Valya," he sobbed. "I didn't
know. Forgive me."

"Only
Star Mother can forgive you," Valya said coldly. "She watches from
the starship that's coming for us all. And your Essence will be one of her
first passengers." As Valya turned away, she heard him scream again.

She
closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the dry desert air scented with the day's
hundred-degree heat. Baked sand and rock had a unique smell, an earthy smell,
and she wondered if their new home on Atria would convey a similar atmosphere.
She hoped so. Having grown accustomed to the desert, she enjoyed its desolate
beauty and breathtaking landscapes.

She
opened her eyes to gaze at the camp's diminished activity as her followers
prepared the midday meal. They would dine together in their courtyard, a crude
gathering place surrounded by an assortment of tents and trailers they called
home. She heard the distant idle from a pair of gas-powered generators and
noticed a disturbing, uneven rhythm. Made from discarded auto parts, the old
things probably ran low on fuel and needed a tune-up. There was a time when she
could have purchased a more modern system, but after buying the satellite
equipment for their Internet work, she’d decided to make do with the generator
they had. She made a mental note to remind her repair crew the generators must
be in excellent working order for their day of departure.

Star
Mother's finances were always tight, though far better than they'd been when
her great-grandmother had ruled the first congregation. She didn't remember the
woman very well, having been only a toddler when the old bat died, but she
recalled the stories about her. Cons were pulled back then, flimflams and shell
games, before the traveling carnival began. The carnival days would always be
her favorite. But Star Mother's church had to change with the evolving American
culture, and that had meant investing time, money, and education in new
technology.

They
still ran cons, but in a far more sophisticated way. Star Mother's church had a
reputation for New Age philosophy and spirituality, and prophesying wasn't a
stretch for their religion. Valya would have her cyberspace gurus gather information
about affluent individuals whom she would manipulate by telling them things she
couldn't possibly know without being psychic. These people didn't realize her
real talent was snooping, and she knew just where and how to get the
information she needed. The wealthy families she contacted were eager to make
charitable donations in exchange for a
spiritual
reading
. She always emphasized secrecy and discretion, telling her clients
that her gift couldn't be exploited because her extraterrestrial brothers and
sisters had given her the information. The people she read for were special,
she told them, because they were reincarnated from the original starship crew.
Over the past several years, many of those contacts had ended up joining Star
Mother's church. Despite the financial compensation she received from converts,
it was never enough.

Valya
continued her stroll through camp, making note of the time. Though the day was
only half over, she needed to prepare her sermon that would precede the evening's
ten o'clock meditation. She would spin her message off this morning's service,
and her ideas needed jotting down now before she forgot them. Casting a bitter
glare at the discipline tent, she mentally chastised the sentry who had
compromised her daily routine.