Timeless Moon (21 page)

"No, but you're thinkin' it."

"I was not! God you are so
…
"

"So
what?"

"Paranoid. You're so damned
paranoid.
You see problems coming at you from every shadow. It's those damned drugs. I hate what they do to you. I hate it!"

"You mean you hate me. That's what you're really saying."

She let out an inarticulate shout of rage and frustration before saying. "Will you just
stop!
I can't stand this anymore. Just
…
go
…
get away from me. Go hang out with Ron and the rest of them down at that goddamned meth lab and stay away from me and Ellen until you have control of yourself. None of us want to deal with you when you're like this."

A semi passed by on the road, the noise covering the sound of the argument. A moment later Ray burst from the room. Slamming the door, he stormed across the parking lot and climbed into a dirty four-wheel-drive truck. The engine roared to life. He threw the truck into gear and, tires squealing in protest, the vehicle zoomed out of the parking lot and was gone.

Rick stood still for a long moment, taking slow
breaths, letting the man's rage, which had flooded into him, flow slowly outward to ground itself in the muddy earth surrounding the parking lot. When he was back in control, feeling only his own emotions, he went to work following Josette's trail.

He crossed the road, prowling the edge of the open field until he found a partial paw print nearly obscured by boot prints and snake markings. Heart in his throat, he kept at it. There were few traces of
Josette.
It was easier by far to follow the trail of her pursuers, who hadn't even attempted to hide their passing.

Across the way, he could see a woman standing outside a small restaurant next to a wheeled bin with cleaning supplies. She was smoking a cigarette and watching him, her eyes avid with curiosity. Just what he needed. Not that he blamed her. Strangers to town generally didn't just start wandering through wet fields for no good reason. He began calling out the first name that came to mind, acting for all the world as if his beloved pet had run off. "Pierre," he shouted. "Here boy. Where are you? Pierre, come!"

He turned to look at the woman, calling out. "Have you seen my dog? He's
a Doberman pinscher,
about so tall
…
" He gestured with his hand, making sure he made the size suitably imposing. He didn't want to risk her offering to help with the search.

"No," she called back. "Sorry. Good luck finding him." She gave a friendly wave before dropping the cigarette butt onto the pavement and grinding it out
with her toe. He watched long enough to see her walk into the restaurant's back door, waiting to resume his search until she was safely inside.

He continued calling the dog's name sporadically as he followed the trail in a nearly straight line across the field. It was miserable work. The ground was rocky and uneven. It was sandy in some places, in other spots the mud sucked at his boots like an eager mouth. Scattered around was the kind of litter and junk that always seems to accumulate in empty lots.

The rain had brought out biting insects, too. They buzzed annoyingly around
h
is head. He didn't know, or care, what they were, just wished they'd go the hell away. Of course they didn't. They buzzed right along with him as he followed the trail to the top of a small rise. The soil here was more what he had expected, sandy enough that it was firm and already starting to dry. The tracks changed, too. Instead of the deep impression of her toes digging deep as she shoved off of the ground there were lighter treads. She'd stopped here. There weren't many of her paw prints that hadn't been spoiled by her followers, but there were enough to give him hope. She'd been far enough ahead of them to stop for a second to rest and take a look around. He straightened up, turning in a slow circle, searching for anything that might have caught her eye. There, in the distance he saw the unmistakable pole with crossed boards that indicated a railroad crossing. Ellen had said a train passed.

In Josie's place, he'd have made a run for a moving train if the car wasn't available. He bent down, examining the grass. Sure enough, the trail led that way.

Attagirl Josie.
He hurried forward, following the trail. Sure enough, it ended at the gravel. And no matter how far up or down the line he went, he found no further bobcat tracks on either side of the rails.

Josette
woke to
the scent of rare steak and freshly brewing coffee. Eyes still closed, she took a deep whiff. Beneath the mouthwatering scents of breakfast she could smell a Sazi presence, and the trace of another one lingering on everything. The latter was a cat, perhaps a jaguar. The former was a wolf she knew very well indeed.

"Raphael Ramirez." She spoke the name out loud as she opened her eyes.

In some ways he looked just as she remembered him, a handsome, well-built Latino with softly curling hair and deep dimples when he smiled. But there were differences as well. Laugh lines were beginning to form at the corners of his eyes, and his scent was deeply content. Marriage obviously agreed with him, as did his new pack.

"Aspen Monier," he replied with a grin that lit up his handsome features and dissipated the heavy pall of worry that was thick in the air. "You're awake." He sounded relieved and utterly weary.

"I'm going by
Josette LaRue
now." She kept her tone light so he would know she was joking when she continued. "And don't sound so surprised. I'm tougher than I look."

"I don't doubt it for a minute." He put a laden plate and huge thermal coffee mug onto the wooden coffee table in front of the sofa she'd been resting on. It actually smelled good enough that she found the energy to sit upright

"Not that I'm complaining, but how did you find me?" She began cutting the meat into delicate bite-size chunks as she spoke.

"You got lucky. When Wolven crashed the system they notified the alphas of every wolf pack that stranded agents might need aid. I posted some of my people at the airports, bus and train terminals
—just in case." His expression sobered, and worry once again rose in the air. "You were unconscious and fading fast. At one point, your heart actually stopped. Fortunately, Betty Perdue joined our pack recently. She's one hell of a healer. She recognized what was happening to you, started doing CPR and contacted me."

Josette
blinked with shock. Raphael was, very delicately, telling her that she'd died. It shouldn't have been possible. "What happened?"

Raphael ran a palm over his scalp, smoothing his hair. It was a nervous gesture she remembered from when he'd been with Amber, and from her visions of him. It made her smile. Some things might change, but others just didn't.

He spoke slowly, as though he was having to search for the right words to describe what he wanted. "When I kill by touch I create a magical bond with a person
—
or use an existing bond, and pull the magic out of their bodies, letting it drain out onto the ground. It's not a common gift, and it's not easy. I have to be touching them
and
have some sort of bond with them to do it. Somebody was able to do the same thing to you at a distance." The look he gave her showed just how much that worried him. "I've never even heard of that. If you'd asked me, I'd have said it wasn't possible." He shook his head. "I was able to break the connection and you revived. But it was a damned near thing."

Lucky indeed. She'd survived, when even her own lack of visions had predicted otherwise. Moments like this made her seriously wonder if there really was a higher power. She hoped so, and hoped that he or she was on her side. Because she was going to need all the help she could get to connect back up with Rick and get to Charles and the other seers in time to save them
—if it wasn't already too late.

"How long was I unconscious?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. We brought you here a little over an hour ago. Betty stayed long enough to make sure you'd be all right, then left. She had to get to work. She's opening a new practice down here, and they're moving her furniture down from Denver." He admitted. "But if it helps, it's 10:00
a.m.
on Saturday, and tonight is the first night of the full moon."

"Oh, thank God!" She started to leap to her feet and wound up right back on her fanny as her vision dimmed and a wave of dizziness hit her.

"Sit. Eat," he ordered. "You're not going anywhere until you do. You came damned close to dying. Your body will heal, but you need food and rest. You won't be any good to anyone if you don't."

"I don't have
time,"
she snarled, but her heart wasn't in it. He was right, damn it. She felt weak as a newly birthed kitten, and ravenous as a half-starved lion
—which made sense, since she
was
half lion. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to calm down. "I'm sorry. I really do appreciate everything you're doing, but I'm in the middle of a crisis. If I don't meet Rick Johnson and go find Bruce Levin at the Grodin airport, they're going to go to where I was—and walk right into a trap." She closed her eyes, trying to bring her talent to bear, force it to show her what she wanted to see. Nothing. It was as if she were completely head blind. "Can you get me a phone and the number for the airport while I finish this food?"

"Of course." Raphael pulled a cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans, punched in the number for directory assistance, and requested the information she wanted. When the recording offered the option of connecting the call, he took it, and passed the phone to her waiting hands. "I'd heard Johnson was dead."

Josette
gave a little growl between bites. "So did I. Believe me, I've been giving him hell about it."

Raphael gave a snort of laughter. The scent of his amusement rose off him in a visible mist. "I'm sorry
I missed it." He gave her a wicked grin. "I've got a picture of the last man you 'gave hell' to."

Josette
sighed. Lucas had been a very busy man indeed. If she'd known he'd take and distribute photos of Ahmad and his men plastered to the ceiling to every shifter she knew, she might have reconsidered doing it. Or not. Ahmad had, after all, been even more snide and condescending than usual. God, but he could be an
ass!

Raphael was chortling as he walked out of the room. She heard him open a door down the hall. It sounded like he was rummaging through a dresser, but she couldn't be sure. Still, when he returned a moment later he was carrying a bundle of clothing topped with a pair of flip-flops. Bending over, he set them onto the coffee table next to her plate.

"I don't hear any talking." He observed.

"I'm on hold."

"Ah, in that case
…
" He plucked the phone from her hand and put it to his ear. "Eat." He glared at her. "Your food is getting cold."

"Yes sir." She cut a large chunk of rare meat away from the bone and put it in her mouth. She took a minute to savor the flavor. It was perfect, absolutely marvelous: rare enough to be bloody, but warm, with just the hint of mesquite smoke. He must have cooked it on the grill. It was a thoughtful thing to do. But Raphael had always been exceptionally kind to her. She knew she made him nervous, especially
since he'd managed to single-handedly turn the entire Monier family against one another. But he was nice to her anyway. She appreciated that more than he probably realized.

She was busy chewing when Raphael got through to an actual person. She listened as he explained that he urgently needed to speak with a pilot that was probably waiting around the airport. "He flew in on a private commuter jet registered to Wingate Enterprises. Short burly man with thinning hair, goes by the name of Bruce Levin." There was a long pause as he listened to the woman on the other end of the line. A small muscle tic started at the corner of his left eye, and she could see the pulse pounding in his neck. "That's odd. He
left?
Did he happen to go with a large blond man named Rick Johnson?" He paused again. "Hm, well, if either of them come by, could you have them call this number right away? It's urgent." Raphael recited the number.

"What's wrong?"
Josette
asked between bites.

"I'm not sure. I was just talking to the secretary at the airport. She said that she overheard Rick saying he was headed back to Pony. Bruce said he'd stay at the airport hi case the person they were supposed to meet came by. But Rick hasn't gotten back and Bruce seems to have disappeared. The airport isn't that big. If he was there, they'd know it. He's just gone."

She frowned and forgot to chew for a moment, but then did so quickly and swallowed. "Bruce wouldn't
just take off like that." Or would he? There was just something about him
—

"Not when he's under direct orders from Charles and Lucas."

Josette
set her fork back onto the plate. Suddenly she just wasn't hungry. "I've got to get back to Pony."