Mayan Afterglow (3 page)

Chapter Three

“Me. I’m not going to Mexico.”

She frowned. “Oh. I see.” Getting up she moved toward the
entrance and wrapped her arms around herself against the cold.

He stood up. “Don’t ‘I see’ me. I don’t owe you a trip to
Mexico. I don’t owe you anything.” His gut twisted. Who did she think she was?

“No, you don’t,” she said shivering.

He began to pace the cavern. He moved back and forth
stomping as he went. “I saved you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Yes, of course it is, but don’t you wonder why you were
even there to save me, Ian?”

The sound of his name on her lips caused the muscles in his
chest to clench. He turned toward the back of the cave and kept his eyes on
anything but her. “It was just a coincidence.”

“Do you know that the bolt should have killed you?”

That got his attention.

“That’s right. No one should be able to survive thrusting
their hand though a jump bolt. You should have been killed. Still I wonder why
you would even do such a thing. You’re a criminal not a hero, right?”

She was still at the entrance to the cave, but now she was
facing inward. Behind her a storm was gathering. Snow would come soon. He had
to get out of these mountains and get her as far away from him as possible. He
couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was dangerous. Her hands were on her slim
hips. Her breath raced and her chest rose and fell. The tunic clung to all her
curves. He couldn’t help it. The woman’s anger just made her more magnificent.
Even though he was fuming, his groin immediately responded, painfully pressing
against his button-fly jeans.

“That’s right. I’m a criminal. Why would you even want to
travel with me?” He turned away again but not before she glanced down and saw
his condition.

He didn’t look back. He could hear her moving toward him. “I
don’t know why I did it. I already told you,” he said like a pouting child.

She touched his back.

He spun around and grabbed her roughly, pressing her hard
against his arousal.

He saw no anger in her eyes or even distress when she asked,
“Is that what it would take, Ian?”

“Maybe.” His mouth came down hard on hers.

She didn’t fight him, just allowed him to plunder her mouth.
His fingers gripped her upper arms so hard that she would have bruises. He
continued to kiss her brutally. She opened her mouth for him, but she didn’t
join the kiss. After a moment his grip softened as did his kiss. He nipped at
the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. He kissed her cheek and then her
eyelids one after another. “I’m sorry.” His hands fell away.

Their eyes locked.

She smiled. “I have to admit I liked that last part quite a
bit more than the first.”

She touched his cheek.

He took her hand and kissed the palm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. You’re not the first man to take what he
wants from me, but you may be the kindest and most remorseful,” she admitted.

His frown deepened. “I don’t want to hurt you, Aileen.” He
dropped her hand and turned away. “I’ll take you down the mountain and find
transportation for you to get yourself to Mexico or wherever it is you want to
go.”

“Thank you, Ian.”

Never glancing back at her, he yanked a parka over the
leather jacket he wore and rushed out into the mountain air. The biting wind
helped cool his arousal. He tried to think about the task at hand. A small,
diamond-plate trailer hidden in the trees was his first task. He pulled the
front end out and then backed it up to the cave entrance before walking into
the woods to the left of the cave. He pushed aside several pine trees, which
immediately fell to the ground behind a Chevy Silverado pickup.

He climbed inside and turned the key. The engine complained
for only a moment before growling to life. Slowly Ian drove the truck out of
the woods and backed it up to the trailer hitch. He cut the engine and jumped
out before finalizing the hitch for his motorcycle.

Inside the cave the fire dwindled to ash. Aileen stood near
it going through some clothes.

“May I take some warmer clothes?” she asked, not bothering
to turn toward him.

“Take what you need,” he said. “Then help me put some of
this in the truck. We may need to barter.”

“What should I pack?” she asked.

He lifted two ten-gallon gas cans. “Let me get all the fuel
loaded and then we’ll see how much room we have left. You can put the jewelry
inside the cab and that brown bag in the corner has pharmaceuticals. We may
need them.”

“Drugs?” she asked, picking up the bag.

He casually lifted his shoulders. “The pain killers for sale
and the antibiotics just in case.” He thought of Jane for a moment before
wiping the thought away. No time for being sentimental now. The snow would be
here soon.

Aileen tugged a pair of jeans on over her leggings and took
a hooded ski coat for warmth. Then she did as she was told. They managed to
pack up most of the loot from the cave in less than an hour. Besides the drugs
and the jewelry, Ian loaded several guns and knives into the back of the truck.

He watched her tuck a long, sheathed knife into her right
boot. When she looked up, he inclined his head in approval.

“I guess you’re taking the motorcycle,” she said looking at
the trailer.

“That bike is a classic. It’s a Heritage Softail.” Seeing
her blank look he shook his head. “That bike has gotten me out of a lot of
tough spots. I’m not leaving it behind unless I have to.”

He stood over the bike and rolled it toward the trailer, up
the ramp and into place. Once it was secure he jumped in the cab and they
headed west just as a light snow began falling.

As soon as they moved away from the cave entrance, a wolf
leapt onto the hood of the truck. It snarled and snapped at the windshield and
drool dripping off its teeth splattered the glass.

Aileen screamed, “Werewolf!”

Ian turned sharply side to side, trying to shake the monster
from the hood. It held on with its claws cutting through the steel truck. “Are
you telling me that these things are human?”

“Not human and no longer wolf. Mutations,” she said, her
voice rising with panic.

Ian saw movement in the rearview mirror. A closer look
revealed another werewolf on the trailer, its claws digging into the Harley.

“That’s it. Take the wheel.”

“What?”

“Take the damn wheel,” he repeated pulling a pistol from the
console between the seats.

She did as he said.

“When I shoot, you turn the wheel and shake it loose.” He
didn’t wait for an answer. He checked the chamber and once assured of the
semiautomatic’s readiness, he opened the window and began firing directly into
the face of the beast.

Aileen turned the wheel first right then left.

The creature screamed in pain. When it lifted one paw, its
body careened off the hood and smashed against the rock wall to the left of the
road.

Ian wasted no time. He turned around and fired at the other
beast. It leapt off the bike toward the truck. He fired two more shots while it
was in midair. The impact crashed the werewolf back against the bike and then
forward between the trailer and the truck. The trailer thumped over its body
but the hitch held.

Dropping back into the driver’s seat, Ian took the wheel and
handed the pistol to Aileen. “Good driving,” he said as he closed the window
against the biting cold.

“Good shooting,” she remarked.

“Why did you call those things werewolves?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “What else would you call them?
They’re no longer wolves, though I suspect they were at one time. They’ve been
altered to serve the Darkness.”

“The Darkness?” His voice bit with ridicule. “Please don’t
tell me you’re a religious freak.”

She laughed. “I never really believed in anything before
December,” she said.

“And now?”

She shrugged again. “Now things are different. Now I have
seen evil that can only be answered by good. My little talent for healing has
evolved, and I can shoot lightning from my fingertips. I have seen things that
make my skin crawl and been subjected to torture that no one should survive.
Everything is different now. If that is your definition of a ‘religious freak’
then I must be one.”

He took his eyes off the road to glance at her. A tear
rolled down her cheek. His chest tightened, but he said nothing.

They drove in silence for hours. He usually didn’t mind the
quiet but now he yearned to hear her voice. By midday the snow was heavy and
visibility in the mountains was nearly zero. His thoughts wandered back to the
argument in the cave.

Finally he said, “What is a ‘jump bolt’?”

“Where did that come from?” she asked.

“I was too angry when you mentioned it before to ask. Now
I’m asking.”

She shook her head. “It’s an electrical charge that creates
a temporary hole in two planes of existence and allows matter to move between
them.”

In spite of his skepticism, he asked, “And Mictlan can
create these holes?”

“Yes.”

“So why can’t he get through one of them?” Ian asked.

“He can’t create a bolt big enough for his mass on his own.
He needs to get power from somewhere else or someone else.”

“He didn’t look that big to me.”

“He can look anyway he wants to, but he is enormous in
reality,” she said.

“Reality,” he scoffed. “Okay, so he’s bigger than he looks
and he needs you to get through. So why didn’t it work? He had you, and he
didn’t get through.”

She turned toward him. “I think because I wasn’t strong
enough and also the time was cut short by you. Mictlan thought bringing me to
my place of birth would boost my power and it would be enough to create a big
enough bolt.”

“Why Mexico?”

“It’s where the great temple is. It’s where this must end.
There he can pull enough power from me to get through.”

“I don’t understand. If you can help him get through, why
go?” Ian asked.

“Because, he can’t be killed when he’s in his world. I need
to bring him through to where he’s mortal,” she said.

“And you think you can kill him?” He tried to keep the doubt
out of his voice but failed.

She didn’t answer for a long time. “I really have no idea. I
only know that I have to try.”

“Aileen, I’ve been nearly all the way across the country and
I only saw those ‘werewolves’ once before. Now I’ve seen them twice in less
than twenty-four hours. Do you have an explanation for that?”

“He sent them. They’re trying to stop me or maybe to capture
me again. He will send worse things through,” she said flatly.

“Because you’re the sole fighter for good in this battle
against evil.” The sarcasm dripped from his words.

She grinned. He could see it out of the corner of his eye.

“Let me ask you something, Ian Scott.”

“Hmmm?”

“When you set out from the desert did you know where you
were going?”

He thought about that. “Not really. I just had to go east.”

“Had to?” she asked.

He shook his head and leaned forward to wipe the fog off the
inside of the window. “I don’t know why. At first I thought I should go and
find some other survivors but every time I got on the bike it pointed me east
and then north and then to the cave. Last night I was going to leave. I knew
the snow was coming. I could smell it. I got on the bike to push it out so I
could load it on the trailer and then I was driving east again. I knew exactly
the way, but I didn’t know where I was going until I rolled into the driveway
where I found you and the other guy.”

“Mictlantecuhtli or Mictlan if you like,” she supplied.
“Don’t you think it strange that you were there just when I needed you?”

He shrugged.

“Do you know what your name means, Ian Scott?” she asked.

“My name?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Scottish, I think,” he said.

She used the sleeve of her coat to wipe the fog from her
side of the windshield. “Ian is Celtic for John. I It means ‘gracious God’ and
Scott signifies a ‘wanderer’.”

“So?”

“So isn’t it interesting that you should be named a wanderer
for the grace of God?” she said.

“I think that’s a stretch, Aileen.”

She chuckled. “I knew you would.”

After a long pause he asked, “What does your name mean?”

She was smiling again. “Ironically it is also Celtic. Aileen
means ‘light’ and Grant is the word for ‘great.’”

“Great light,” he translated, trying to be cynical but even
he was a bit daunted by the coincidences.

The snow was piling up on the roads. They had made it to
I-90 west. It was treacherous driving, especially since the roads were littered
with abandoned cars. Most of them had been pushed to the sides but some still
remained barriers to be driven around.

“Should we stop?” she asked.

“Where? The snow will be higher the longer we wait.”

“I still think we should stop.”

“It’s your party,” he said as if the consequences of
stopping were of little interest to him.

Chapter Four

They turned off the highway somewhere in a small town in
western New York. The power plant had stopped running long ago leaving the town
completely dark. The truck made the only tire tracks in the foot of snow
collected on the roads. Ian drove slowly.

“Look,” he said pointing.

Nearly covered in a snowdrift was a small brown sign. “Lake
Cabin Lodge—½ mile” and an arrow directing them to the right.

“Sounds good to me,” Aileen said.

It took another ten minutes to plod their way out of town.
Some of the snow had drifted above the truck’s wheel well and getting through
had been difficult.

The Lake Cabin Lodge was an enormous log cabin set in the
woods just outside town. Snow piled up around the foundation and drifted onto
the wraparound porch. The only light came from the Chevy’s headlights. Strands
of Christmas lights hung haphazardly from the roof left for nearly a year.

Her stomach tensed at the sight.
All those people,
she thought for the ten thousandth time.
They were all preparing for the
holiday. No one believed the predictions. No one made preparations. But what
could they have done?

Nothing.

She tore her gaze away from the ruined decorations.

Ian turned and clutched his backpack. He reached inside and
handed Aileen some items. “Here, you may need these,” he said.

Aileen took the flashlight and pistol he handed her. The gun
felt heavy in her hands.

“Do you know how to use one of those?” he asked.

“Point and shoot?”

He chuckled. “Pretty much but make sure you’re not pointing
at me.”

Hoisting a rifle from the back he opened the truck door and
stepped out. She followed his lead and jumped down from the passenger side. She
sank knee-deep in snow.

Slogging through, she moved the flashlight in a wide arc.

“Look at this,” Ian said shining his light to the right side
of the parking area.

Covered in snow, a Ford pickup truck with a plow blade
attached stood in front of the Lodge.

“If it runs we can swap trucks. If not, I’ll try to fit that
blade on the Chevy,” he said, sounding pleased.

It was no warmer inside the lodge. The dried-out Christmas
tree still stood sentinel in the center of a reception area and a huge living
room complete with leather furniture and a stone fireplace.

“We should search the house,” Ian said. “Make sure we’re
alone.”

Ian headed to the left to search the ground floor.

Aileen nodded. Behind the reception desk she took a key off
the hook marked “master key” and moved toward the stairs leading to a long
hallway overlooking the great room. One by one she searched the guestrooms. All
were neat but dusty after so many months. The last door was the only one that
did not exit out onto the open hallway. Tucked away in its own private hall, it
stood alone.

She unlocked the door and stashed the key in her pocket to
better grip the flashlight just as she had done in the other rooms. The putrid
smell of rotting flesh gagged her as soon as she stepped inside. Moving the
light from corner to corner she was surprised to find no body in the room. The
door to the left led to the bath. Also empty.

Aileen’s gun clattered to the floor at almost the exact
moment she felt the crushing pain in her wrist and hand. In an instant she
crashed to the floor. She reached out for something to steady her, but the
small bureau crashed down beside her. Her head hit the floor with a nauseating
thunk.

It took a few seconds for her vision to clear. She could
hardly breathe. Something was on her chest. She fought the nausea and pain and
opened her eyes.

The flashlight had rolled a few feet away but it was still
on and cast a shadowy arc of light in the room.

A foot, bare and putrid, pressed against her chest. She
gasped and lashed out at the leg above.

Hideous laughter echoed in her hears and dust swirled in the
dim light.

“You cannot win, Aileen of the Light.” The voice was
high-pitched but male and raw.

“Who…” she managed to blurt out through her collapsing
chest.

Suddenly the weight shifted and the man knelt down. His
knees pressed her arms to the floor and his rotting body ground her ribs
against her aching lungs. Bone-thin arms pressed down on her shoulders and the
smell of him choked her. No longer human, the creature was more demon than man.
His narrow, sunken face oozed pus and bile. Fierce eyes bulged from rotting
sockets devoid of irises.

The sight of him changed her question to a scream.

“I serve him. I shall reign at his right hand when I deliver
the prize.”

He leaned forward, bringing his fetid face close to hers.

She turned her head and shut her eyes.

Nearly nose to cheek with her, he said, “Pretty and good. I
have not had a taste in too long. He will not mind if I have one taste of the
prize.”

She kicked and twisted her lower body, but she could barely
breathe and her head pounded. The smell of him was causing her empty stomach to
heave.

Ian, help me,
she prayed silently.

The door shattered sending shards of broken wood in every
direction.

The creature rose up on spindly legs.

Ian stopped for a moment when he saw the enemy. Aileen could
see the pity in his eyes just before he swung the shotgun butt smashing its
head. Bits and pieces of skull and putrid flesh splattered the bed and wall.
Its body collapsed and she rolled away so as not to be crushed again.

“What the hell was that?” Ian demanded.

“I think it used to be a man.”

At the sound of her voice he moved forward and reached down
to help her up. “Are you all right?”

She reached back and felt the lump growing at the back of
her head. “He knew my name.”

“That’s not good,” Ian said.

“No. That is not good.”

“Let’s get out of this room,” he said.

He had a fire burning in the hearth and several cans of beef
stew opened and tucked into the hot embers.

They ate directly from the cans placed on top of an
overturned frying pan on the floor between them.

She stopped eating. “That thing didn’t know about you.”

“Yeah. I thought about that, too,” Ian said, taking another
bite of beef and gravy.

“Mictlan can’t get through, but he is still tracking me. And
yet, he can’t see you.”

“Interesting,” he said.

“I have to leave,” she said getting up.

He didn’t move. “Where will you go?”

“To Mexico.” Her voice rose with the absurdity of the
question.

He took hold of her hand as she was moving past him.
“Listen,” he said gazing up at her from the floor. “I don’t think he has an
army of those things. At least not here and not yet,” he added with a wince.
“Somehow he knows we’re here. Okay. But he can’t get to us without help, and I
just smashed the head of that poor sucker who was helping him. We’re safe here
for tonight.”

“My being here is putting you in danger.” She could not help
her own tears. In less than two days she had grown comfortable with this man.
He had saved her life twice but it was more than that. Something about Ian
Scott drew her in and made her feel safe. The regret she had seen on his face
when he’d had to kill the creature in the bedroom made her heart ache. “I don’t
want you to die because of me.”

He tugged her back down onto the shag carpet. “I’m not going
to die tonight,” he said smiling so brightly his eyes glowed with it. “Tonight
we’re going to stay warm and dry by this fire.” He leaned her back against the
leather couch. The mirth in his eyes changed to a new kind of intensity.
“Tonight, if you are agreeable, I will keep you very warm.”

His lips touched hers like a whispered promise of ultimate
joy.

She gasped and he nipped at her bottom lip.

“Tell me that you want me, Aileen. I don’t want to be like
the others who’ve taken from you.”

“You could never be like them,” she said touching his
stubbly cheek.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“I want you, Ian,” she whispered.

His mouth opened against hers with a hunger that frightened
her at first. She pushed at his chest but then her protest turned to desire as
she gripped his shirt.

He pulled away. His fingers threaded through her hair. He
traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger and then down along her
jawline.

“My God, you’re beautiful. When I first saw you I thought
that you must be a dream.”

“But I’ve turned into a nightmare,” she said, looking away.

He turned her face toward his. “If this is a nightmare then
I never want to wake up.”

“I wish I could bathe,” she said flatly.

He laughed and kissed her cheek and then her neck. His mouth
moved down between her breasts. Her eyes closed and her head fell back against
the couch.

He was gone.

Her eyes snapped open.

Standing above her grinning, he said, “Stay here. I’ll be
back.”

She had no idea where he went or how long he was gone but
some time later she woke to his gentle shaking.

“Aileen, come on.”

He helped her up.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You said you wanted a bath.”

She rubbed her eyes and focused on him. He had shed his
jeans and flannel shirt and was wrapped in a white hotel robe.

He led her down a hall past reception. There was a large
apartment tucked in the back of the lodge.

“This must have been where the owner lived,” he said. A fire
was burning in the small fireplace and a pot was sitting on the hearth. Pulling
her by the hand he took her through the living room and kitchen area to a
bedroom and adjacent bath. The claw-foot tub was not full but it held about
eight inches of water and steam was rising. On a small wooden chair lay another
white hotel robe and a pair of white slippers.

“Ian, where did you get so much water? Is the plumbing
working?”

He shook his head and pointed to two five-gallon buckets
near an outside door. “Snow
can
occasionally be useful.” He turned to
leave.

She worked at the buttons of her jeans and then stopped.
“Aren’t you going to join me?”

He smiled and she could see desire sparking in his green
eyes.

“You enjoy your bath. I already washed up.” He turned away.

He was halfway out the door when she called, “Ian.”

He turned.

“Thank you.”

He nodded once and left.

The sensation of warm water and soap was almost as erotic as
the idea of the man waiting in the living room. He had left her a bar of soap
that was very dry and cracked but it lathered nicely and she washed her hair.
She scrubbed her skin until it was raw from abrasion. She felt as if it were
all a dream and she might wake up at any moment.

A half-hour later she wrapped herself in the robe and
slipped into the fuzzy slippers. She found a hairbrush on the vanity and sent
up an apology and thanks to the person who’d left it behind before pulling it
roughly through her knotted mass of curls.