Beyond the Darkness (13 page)

“I was serious about feeling a good heart in him. Don’t feel that very often, let me tell you. There’s something about him. He’s different.”

“Pope is . . . is . . .”

The bells on the door jangled, saving her from trying to come up with something, and both men stepped inside.

Pope licked his fingers as his gaze went right to Suza. “Uh-oh. This is—what is it called? Dejazoo?”

Cheveyo was obviously surprised to see Suza there, but he gave her a warm smile.

Suza spread her arms to encompass the store. “Welcome to my boutique, gentlemen. This is why I work so hard.” She walked around the counter and closer to the two men, stopping in front of Pope. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

He gave her a smile that Petra had never seen. A flirtatious smile. “You figured me out. I’m from a little town near Croatia.” Probably his line to explain why he wasn’t up on all nuances of American life and conversation.

Suza didn’t look gooey and dewy; her eyes sparkled with interest. “I’d love to get you out of those clothes.” His eyes widened, and she added, “And into something like this shirt that would bring out the gorgeous color of your eyes.” Without taking her gaze from him, she snatched a shirt from a rack of men’s clothes and held it up to him. She looked as guileless as could be, as though she hadn’t tossed out that provocative line. “Not that you need to. They pop all on their own, but this would really maximize them.”

Pope’s expression was a mixture of wonder and pleasure. “Thank you.” Without even looking at the shirt, he said, “I’ll take it.”

Suza looked at the tag and then at his upper body. “You’ll need an extra large to fit those shoulders.” She riffled through the hangers and produced a larger size. “You want to try it on?”

“No, I trust your judgment.”

She held it against his chest, running her hands over the fabric to flatten it against him. “Yes, that should fit you just fine.” She paused a moment, her hand still on his shoulder. Petra felt that pregnant pause between them, that beautiful moment when two people realize there’s something going on between them, even deeper than surface flirting, that takes your breath away.

Suza blinked and dropped her hand. “I’ll . . . I’ll go ring you up.”

Okay,
now
she looked gooey and dewy. It looked good on her, softening her eyes, curving her mouth into a misty smile.

Pope remained there for a second before snapping out of it. He stepped to the counter and pulled out his wallet. After he’d paid, Suza put all of her attention on wrapping the shirt in teal tissue paper and inserting it into an opaque plastic bag. She met his gaze as she handed it to him. “Come back and see me. I mean, come back and shop again. It was a business doing pleasure with you.”

Pope’s mouth twitched, and Petra saw the moment poor Suza realized she’d switched the words. Petra stepped up to the counter. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, too.” She held out her hand. “Don’t tamp down that impulsive side. It suits you. And thanks for . . . you know.”

The moment they walked out of the store, Cheveyo asked, “Do I want to know why you’re thanking her?”

She gave him a mysterious smile. “Probably not.”

Chapter 10

C
heveyo spent a half hour stocking the Tank and readying it for the next trip. More than anything he did not want to share this small space with Petra again. But he couldn’t think of one other place where she would be safer without bringing in the Offspring. Dangerous for them, and still maybe not enough to protect her. Hell, he wasn’t sure he would even be able to keep her safe.

Back in the house, he caught her looking at something in the drawer of his china hutch. She held up a stack of pictures, a puzzled look on her face.

He walked up to her, gently took them from her hand and closed them back in the drawer.

“Why?” she asked, glancing toward the drawer. “Why do you have these pictures of me?”

“Because I’m a crazed stalker.” He widened his eyes to make the point. Luckily, she hadn’t gone deeper into the pile. He didn’t want to explain anything else she might find in there. “Do you still want to do the ceremony? We have to leave soon.”

“Yes, I do, but—”

“When I checked on you, I sometimes took a picture. No big deal.”

She flicked a glance to the drawer. “No big deal. Right.”

Pope was sitting on the couch, three different maps spread out on the coffee table that showed the surrounding area. Cheveyo caught his attention. “You want to come?”

Pope took them in, standing only a few inches apart, probably picking up the tension. “I’d better not. That Hotter’n a Bitch sauce you warned me about . . .” He pressed a fist against his stomach. “I should have believed you.”

Was he really talking about the sauce?

Petra picked up the knife she’d set on the table and followed him out the kitchen door to the backyard. The night was alive with sound, crickets and a breeze whispering through the pines. Soon the crickets and katydids would go silent for the winter. The first snowfall could come in a couple more weeks. Cheveyo paused, sensing the surroundings. No sign of an unwanted presence.

A rustle of some animal startled by their exit from the house made Petra’s body tighten. “What was that?” she asked from very close behind him, her fingers curling around his arm.

“Could be a raccoon or coyote. It’s not a beast dog.”

“That is only somewhat comforting.”

“We don’t have to do this.” He turned, and she was walking so close she ran right into him. He automatically put out his hands to steady her, resting them on her shoulders.

“I want to. Let’s just do it quickly.”

He heard the apprehension in her voice, and yet she was determined to go through with it. He liked it better when she was the wigged out scaredy-cat than the determined woman with a knife gripped in her hand. The blade caught the moonlight, sending a flash across the ground with her movements. The moon wasn’t full but bright enough to see by.

Her voice was soft in the darkness. “Did your father bring you out here in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, but the moon was full.” He stopped at the stone fire pit midway between the house and the forest but didn’t sit on the circular bench.

She faced him, the light washing over her blond hair like silver, sharpening the planes of her face. “Were you afraid?”

“I was more afraid of screwing up the ceremony or doing something that would make him see I wasn’t worthy.”

She nodded. “Do you feel any anger toward
your
father?”

“Why would I?”

“Mm, let’s see. He stole away your childhood, turned you into a warrior at seven, and has directed your life since then.”

“He gave me a direction. When I saw other kids playing, sometimes I wished I could be like them, yeah. But I also felt special because I had a mission, a secret purpose.”

“Do you still feel special?”

“That was a kid’s ego. I can’t let my ego play into what I do. I don’t feel special. I just am.”

She moved closer. “A warrior.”

“And an exorcist, and shapeshifter.”

She had been about to touch his face, but the reminder of his cat stilled her hand. “The archetypes. Is that from the Hopis?”

“I’ve studied many different religions and spiritual teachings. The question is there evil on earth and why, drove me down many paths.”

“And what did you find out?”

He glanced up at the moon, feeling its rays as strongly as he felt the sun’s. “The only evil is what we create in ourselves.”

“So you don’t believe Yurek or people who kill are evil?”

“They are beings who stray from their path. I kill. Am I evil?” Was he almost as bad as they?

“No.” She stepped closer. “Are you happy doing what you do?”

“I don’t think I’d use the word ‘happy.’ I do it because I feel a deep need to. It fulfills me. But I can’t say I like killing anything, even if it deserves to die.” He couldn’t see her eyes, only shadows, orbs. She looked otherworldly with the moonlight kissing her hair in a halo. If he didn’t start the ceremony now, he’d be kissing her, too. “Ready?”

She nodded, holding out her hands. “What do I do?”

“You have to make the cut yourself. Hold out your nondominant hand like this.” He took her cool hand in his and held it faceup. With his finger he traced a line in the center of her palm. “Just a small cut, about here.”

She placed the blade where his finger had just been and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t even like getting shots. I look away.” She took a breath and moved the blade. He knew how sharp it was; it would take nothing to slice her skin. She gasped but let out no other sound. He saw the line of blood form. He took his knife and sliced his palm, too.

Cupping her hands, he held them up to the moonlight. “We dedicate this knife to the protection of the blood of the innocent.” After a pause, he added, “Let this knife become yours, Petra.”

Looking at her gazing up at the moon, her expression so serious, took his breath away. She looked at him then, and he could feel the depth of her emotions. He felt her fingers graze his, and then she pressed their palms together. “Now I’m yours, too.”

Those words reverberated within him, like an echo bouncing deep within endless caverns. He closed his eyes and forced out the words, “You are mine, but I can never have you.”

She twined her fingers tightly through his. “You
can
have me.”

Those words crumbled him, sucking away his resistance. He felt the pieces of his heart fall away like shards of glass. He kissed her, soft, completely in control, and yet . . . not completely, because then he wouldn’t be kissing her at all. But he let himself taste her, because he’d been living on the memory of that one kiss for too long. For a few seconds he got lost in her, his fingers threading through her soft, long hair, breathing her in, feeling her tongue moving against his.

Too long. Too late.

He finished the kiss. No, not too late. He pressed his forehead against hers, listening to her breathing for several seconds.

“I didn’t just imagine how spectacular that kiss was,” she said on a breathy sigh. “I thought I’d built it up in my imagination because you were my mysterious savior. But . . . no. Dangit.”

He stepped back enough to see her, pulling her fingers from his but keeping her hands in his grip. “And if we went further, it would be even harder to back away.”

“Then don’t back away.”

She was killing him, and he didn’t use that phrase lightly. “You see what my world is like. What kind of man would I be to bring you into this?”

She squeezed his hands. “Walk away. Stop living in the darkness.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Because you can’t go against your father’s wishes?” Her voice had taken on an edge, her mouth tightening.

“Hell, Petra, I’m not doing this to please my daddy.” He shook free of her.

“Then why? Why does it have to be you?”

“Who else is going to do this job? What do you think that classified ad would read like? ‘Dangerous job fighting otherworldly beings, no pay, fame, or glory. Death possible. Slobber likely. Injuries always. Must distance yourself from family and friends for their protection.’ ”

She put her hands on either side of his face, and he smelled the copper of her blood. “When I was looking at those pictures, I wasn’t thinking you were a deranged stalker. It hit me what you’d said earlier about planning to come to the Tomb to help even though your father had seen your death. You were going to take any chance that you could to save me,
knowing
you would probably die.”

Her voice thickened with emotion. “That is a big deal. You don’t do that for someone you only care about. You do that for someone you love.” Her fingers stroked his face, weakening him as much as her words.

Still in control.

He brushed her hair from her face, feeling the wet tracks on her cheeks. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t deny or confirm what she was guessing.

She took a jagged breath. “I felt our connection that night you brought Zoe to us. When you grabbed me so I wouldn’t scream and give you away. When you summoned me from my bed. I didn’t understand what it was then.”

It was the first time he’d touched her. Agony and pleasure at once.

“Then when you saved my life and kissed me, and said how hard it was to stay away . . .”

“Agony,” he said, because the word was pounding inside his head. Her hands on him, her heart in her voice.

Her sigh was as soft as the breeze that whispered through the pines. “H-E-L-L. Sometimes I thought I’d dreamed you up. But it was all too vivid, too real, and Zoe had seen you, too. You were a terrible ache inside me, and I didn’t understand why it hurt so much. Knowing the truth doesn’t make it any better.”

“That’s why I stayed away from you, to keep you safe, to save you from feeling the ache I’ve felt most of my life.”

“Too late. I’m here and you’re here, and we’re stuck together.”

It was incredibly hard to pull her hands from his face. “We keep our heads so we keep you alive, and Pope alive, and then you go back to that safe, normal life you loved not long ago.” He let go of her hands. “We have to go. I have two people to kill.”

“And after that, you’ll have more to kill. And more.”

Weariness sank its claws into him. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry I insinuated that you’re the kind of man who would kowtow to your father’s wishes. I know it’s much more than that.”

“I do what I do to protect the innocent, Petra. It’s what I live for. And someday it’ll be what I die for.”

Only then would he be free of the ache that consumed him, the losses he’d suffered, including when he sent her back to her life.

He walked to the house, hearing and feeling her beside him but keeping his gaze on his surroundings, as he always did. His night sight was exceptional, a carryover from his cat, but the trees hid much in their depth.

Pope was still studying the maps when they walked back inside. He looked up at them, his eyes narrowing as he homed in on Cheveyo. “You have blood on your cheek.”

“Sorry, I tried to wipe it all off out there.” Petra reached over, but he stilled her hand.

“I’ll take care of it. Come here.” He walked to a cabinet just outside the kitchen and opened it, pulling out a roll of gauze and a tube. He gestured for her to give him her hand, and he put a dab of tea tree oil on the slice and then wrapped the gauze around it. The strong scent, antiseptic and yet pleasant, opened his sinuses. He dabbed the oil on his cut, too. It was his imagination, he was sure, that made him feel their intermingled blood as it tingled through his body. “Get your things. It’s time to go.” He walked over to Pope, who was now standing. “Do you have a handle on the area?”

“Enough, I believe.”

He hefted the backpack he’d readied and set it on the coffee table. “Survival supplies. Hopefully I can intercept them before they get here, but you must be ready. Signal me if you sense anything, and I’ll be back.”

“Don’t you mean ‘we’?” Pope nodded toward where Petra had gone.

The wood floor down the hall creaked as she walked out, pausing, it seemed, to hear his answer.

“We,” he confirmed. “But me as much as possible.” He turned to her. “I expect you to obey my every command, whether you agree or not. Understand? I can’t have you running all over doing your own thing. If I’m worrying about you, I’m not paying attention to what’s in front of me. Got it?”

She saluted him. “Got it, captain. Or sergeant. Or whatever.”

He had a bad feeling that this was as obedient as she was going to get. To Pope he said, “I— We know what they’re driving. They won’t be looking for us in an RV, so we should have the advantage. I’ll keep you informed.”

He followed her through the side door to the outbuilding. A board on the walkway squeaked, too. As soon as they cleared the door, he grabbed her from behind, spinning her. She reached for the knife but he had her on the ground and pinned beneath him before she could get a grip on it.

“Dangit,” she said, her fingers still flexing in vain.