Timeless Moon (26 page)

"Thank you."

"Let's just hope it works,
ch
ère
Josette."

She ended the call, letting the phone drop back onto the seat.

"That was a good thought. It never would have occurred to me." Rick was nodding his head and smelled of pride.

"I just hope I'm right."
Josette
picked at the seam of her shorts with a fingernail. "I remember how it
felt.
Based on what I went through in the vision
—" She gave Rick a desperate look. "But what if I'm wrong? What if it's what I just
suggested
that winds up killing them?"

He deliberately projected as much calm as he
could when he met her gaze. "You're doing the best you can. You said yourself that the others gave their power to you to kill the caster. That says they wanted a say in their own fate. That's all we can do. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Her voice held more than a trace of wry amusement when she answered.
“T
alk about your pot calling the kettle."

Rick snickered and winked at her. Their destination was only a couple hundred yards away and a little to the right of the road. It was accessible by a small gravel drive that led up to a large metal building one side of which proudly proclaimed "Sim Peanuts." From the blown over paint cans on the ground and the distance between the
m
and
P
she'd have to say the name wasn't complete yet. And if the storm got any worse, the building might not be here in the morning for them to finish the job.

The building could
have been used for storage of farm equipment, or anything really, but the orange wind sleeve attached to the roof, which was flapping in the breeze, and the concrete runway suggested that it probably served as the hangar for a private plane.

Across the fields he could see a farmhouse and barn, along with animal pens and various outbuildings.

Everything was neat, prosperous, and well tended.
Even the smells were just as they should be. The air coming through the car vents was rich with the scent of crops growing, humans, farm animals, and fresh-cut grass.

Despite the almost idyllic setting, Rick began twitching uneasily in his seat.

Josette
cocked her head. She could probably scent his frustration. "What's the matter?"

"I had to leave my gun at the motel. I don't like being unarmed."

She nodded. "Raphael sent weapons. They're in a bag in the trunk."

"In the
trunk?"
He couldn't keep the disgust from his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "We couldn't exactly have had you arming yourself in the middle of the roadhouse parking lot, now could we?"

He growled. "You should have kept them inside the car in case of trouble."

"And if we got pulled over?"

Rick grunted with displeasure, but didn't argue. He felt exposed out here in the middle of nowhere. The landing strip was a narrow ribbon of concrete stretched between two large fields. The first blush of green peeked up through the tilled earth. It was impossible to tell what the mature plants would be, but she'd wager they were peanuts. She could see for miles in every direction.

Gravel crunched beneath the Volvo's wheels as
Rick pulled to a stop. Whether by chance or design, he'd put the hangar between the car and the farmhouse, giving them at least some semblance of privacy. He leaped out the door the minute the car was no longer in motion and circled to the rear of the vehicle, key in hand.

It was obvious which bag held their munitions. It was big, bulged oddly in several spots, and smelled of gun oil and silver. He pulled it from the trunk and set it gently on the ground. Squatting down beside it, he pulled open the zipper.

The average pack leader didn't have much need for armament, but no doubt Rick would find something useful, since Raphael Ramirez was not the average pack leader. The bag held a variety of handguns in holsters, with silver and regular ammunition available for each. Every weapon was clean, oiled, and appeared to be in perfect working condition. A low whistle and the light scent of citrus told her Rick definitely approved.

He chose a Ruger with an inner pants holster as his main weapon. He pulled it out, admiring the four-inch barrel before opening it up to check the chamber. Sure enough, it was fully loaded with silver-plated rounds. Rising to his feet he untucked his T-shirt and put on the holster. "It'll be uncomfortable with these jeans as tight as they are, but I'll feel better knowing we'll be going into whatever we're facing armed. Pick something for yourself, and then we'll let Raven choose when he gets here."

She shook her head no. "I've never handled a modern pistol. I'd probably wind up shooting myself in the foot."

Rick growled viciously under his breath. "You've spent your entire life being stalked by assassins and you couldn't be bothered to learn how to shoot? How in the hell have you managed to stay alive, being that stupid?" It was an invitation for an argument. He knew it the minute the words left his mouth and he tried to close his mouth before he said anything else. But apparently she could sense how keyed up he was feeling. She looked at him with curiosity rather than anger.

"Um
…
should you be feeling this aggressive, Rick? It doesn't really match the situation. You know I've never needed to shoot."

He stopped cold and stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "It
…
um
…
no, you're right." His eyes went blank for a moment as he slipped inside his own head. "This emotion isn't mine. In fact, most of it is coming from outside."

Armed with that knowledge, he lowered his shields and focused. He could probably block what was coming, but it might be better if he could track its source. Just identifying that it wasn't his emotion helped cleared his head. It allowed him to look at it in the abstract instead of letting it overwhelm him. But apparently, his tone of voice had been more accusatory than he'd intended, and
Josette
got the wrong impression. Her head dropped into a defensive position and a small snarl rose into her chest.

"So now it's all
my
fault?"
Josette
growled.

Rick put a finger to his lips, sending a small tendril of magic. "I'm tense, but someone else is projecting, too. It isn't you, but it's
affecting
you through me. Can't you feel the difference now that I've started to block it?"

Her expression grew thoughtful but then she shrugged. "We're both wound pretty tight. It's been a rough couple of days."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Maybe." And yet somehow that didn't feel quite right. What he was sensing felt more
…
well,
male
than anything he'd ever gotten from
Josette.

"Maybe I'm picking up something from Raven up there in the plane," Rick suggested. "God knows
he
probably has enough to be nervous and angry about."

"That
I can believe." She looked up at the sky and shuddered. She could control her expression, but she couldn't hide the hint of terror in her scent. Rick could clearly feel the fear pumping through her body with every adrenaline-laced beat of her heart. He wished there was something he could say to ease her mind, but flying was a full-blown phobia for her. Nothing he said or did would make any difference. "I'm
really
not looking forward to Raven arriving."

Rick reached over to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. I'm going to patrol the area. Something's bothering me."

"Fine. Patrol." There was a tense edge to her voice that he didn't like. For a second he considered just
flat out asking her what was the matter. He decided against it because right now he didn't want to know. It would only be a distraction.

Rick started his patrol by walking around the hangar, paying particular attention to the dirt and grass at the gravel's verge. There was no sign of snakes having been here. If there was any scent trail, it was far too faint for him to catch under the overpowering scent of chemical fertilizer coming from the building and the remaining ozone in the air. The smell of the chemical bothered him, even though it only made sense. They were, after all, on a farm. The plane was probably used to spray the crops. But fertilizer was a major ingredient in ANFO, a high explosive that was used by terrorists worldwide because it was both effective and easy to make.

He paced restlessly to the front doors of the building. They were secured with a large, impressive-looking padlock that probably wouldn't prove much of a challenge to a professional thief, but should at least keep out the riff-raff. If he had a set of picks
…
but of course he didn't.

As he strode down the runway he looked carefully across the fields in the direction of the farmhouse. There was a clear line of sight between the buildings and the strip. Again he felt a shiver of
…
not nerves exactly
…
more like anticipation. Whatever the emotion was, it wasn't his. He shook his head to clear the unwelcome intrusion and headed back to the car.
The closer he got, the more his frustration grew until he was nearly livid with anger and hate as he reached the car.

"What is the matter with you?"
Josette
snarled. He didn't blame her.

"Wish I could tell you." Rick shrugged, then stretched, feeling the bones of his spine move back into place and then shivered. The thin white fabric of his T-shirt wasn't doing much to keep him warm. Normally he could control his body temperature better than this. But the full moon was near, and he was tired and stressed.

She gave an irritable little growl and might have said more, but the cell phone rang inside the car. The noise startled
Josette.
She jumped, making one of those silly, squeaking noises that used to embarrass her. It broke the tension a little and Rick was grateful for it.

She brushed past him and opened the car door. Grabbing the phone from between the seats she managed to answer just before it would have gone into voicemail. "Hello?"

There was a long pause as she listened to the person on the other end of the
Une.
In the distance, faintly, Rick heard the sound of an aircraft engine. They both turned and looked upward to the northeast, following the direction of the sound.

"Raphael, he's arriving now. Yes, yes, I'll give him the message. Not that he's liable to listen
…
okay, fine, I'll tell him that, too."

Rick was only half-listening. He could see the darker speck of the plane against the leaden skies. It was being badly buffeted by the winds. He felt his stomach tie itself in knots from nerves. It was going to be a very rough landing.

The blue-and-white twin-engine plane looked tiny against the towering clouds. It grew larger as it came closer, and Rick could see that the pilot was fighting hard to hold it steady against the wind. It came down fast and hard, bouncing against the concrete runway. Rick cringed as the machine rocked, one wing nearly touching the ground as it slewed hard to the left.

"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath. "Hang on. You can do it."

The plane skidded sideways across the wet pavement, with the smell of burning rubber coming from its brakes. It came to a shuddering stop after it fell off of the edge of the concrete and into the muddy grass partway down the runway.

Rick and
Josette
ran to the plane. The machine was listing to the left, its weight forcing the landing gear deep into the viscous mud. Off-balance, it shifted uneasily as the door to the cockpit swung open.

Raven stood in the opening. He was a big man, and had to hunch over to fit through the door. But his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the doorframe, as he vomited noisily into the grass. The black clothing he wore made the grayish pallor
of his skin all the more noticeable. He was obviously shaken. He stepped carefully onto the metal step and down to the ground. There was no mistaking the wave of relief flowing off of him as his boots touched the earth.

"Are you all right?"
Josette
was at his side almost instantly, and Rick felt a strange twinge of jealousy in the way she treated him. Did she know Raven better than he'd thought?

"Fine." Ramirez's voice was hoarse, so he cleared his throat and tried again. He didn't react to
Josette
like anyone he knew, but didn't object to her touch, either. "I'm fine. Glad as hell to be on land again. If I never set foot on a plane again it wouldn't bother me."

"But how
—"
Josette
started to protest, but Raven cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Oh, I'll do it, but you can't make me happy about it." She stepped back from him, but it was obvious she was still concerned.

"Will we even be able to?" Rick gestured toward the plane that was listing more and more as it sank into the soft mud. He didn't know anything about airplane mechanics, but it didn't look good. Aside from having run off the runway and getting stuck in the mud, it looked like there was damage to the wheels and landing gear that would need work before they could take off.

Raven turned around and began swearing. He
motioned to Rick and grabbed onto the wing. "Here, give me a hand getting this back onto the runway."

It took all three of them to fight the wind and lift the plane high enough to scoot it back onto the concrete. Without their Sazi strength, there's no way they could have done it.

Raven bent down to inspect the damage. "Well, I can fix it, but I'll need some tools." He glanced over his shoulder at the locked shed. "We'll have to ask Mr. Simmons if we can borrow his."

"Simmons?"
Josette
had stopped several feet short of the rest of them, keeping her distance. "John Simmons?"