Visions of Skyfire

Chapter 53

Chico swooped into the van to perch on Teresa’s shoulder just before their captors slammed the back doors shut. In the dim interior, Rune tried to catch her gaze. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother, Teresa.”

She shook her head, silent tears streaming down her face. Quickly, she swiped them away with her fingertips, swallowed hard and said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Nor yours,” he pointed out, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. The bird leaped away and sat itself on the bench seat opposite them. Its beady eyes watched their every movement.

The engine gunned into life and the van jerked forward, Rune and Teresa both swaying with the sudden motion. In seconds they were riding back down the rutted track toward the highway.

Rune ignored everything but the woman leaning against him. “I know what she meant to you. If I could change things, I would.”

“I know that, Rune,” she said and her bottom lip trembled as she fought for control of the emotions raging inside her.

He ached for her, and at the same time he knew she wouldn’t crumble under this latest onslaught of pain. Her strength shone around her like an extra aura, gifting her with the ability to endure, no matter the obstacle.

In that one staggering moment of clarity, his feelings for her deepened inexorably and he knew that loving her completely had always been inevitable for him. Teresa was the other half of his soul. Loving her was as much a part of him as the fire that made him what he was.

Lifting her chin, she blinked away fresh tears, lowered her voice and said, “My grandmother was the bravest woman I ever knew. She wasn’t afraid of Miguel. She wouldn’t cower and plead with him for anything. Not even her own life. She did what she had to, for us.”

Rune flicked a glance toward the front of the van. He had already inspected what he could of the vehicle and as far as he could tell, there were no monitoring devices back there with them. But he would take no chances. Lowering his voice to hardly more than a whisper, he said, “She didn’t know where the Artifact is.”

“Of course not, but Miguel’s too stupid to realize that.” Teresa leaned in closer, her voice now no more than a hush of sound. “I think I found the answer in Serena’s journal. The Artifact is in Barcelona.”

He pulled back, a jolt of excitement shooting through him in spite of the circumstances. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be,” she told him. “She—or I—worked dream spells. And in the dreams, there was darkness in Barcelona. A darkness that ‘glittered like black magic and shone with the light of a thousand moons.’” Sounds like the Artifact to me.”

“It does,” he admitted.

“There’s something else, too,” she said just as quietly. “Remember I told you I saw my grandmother’s face, as she held out the Artifact to me?”

He nodded, waiting.

She bit down on her bottom lip to stem another rush of tears and said, “It wasn’t my abuela I was seeing. I realize that now. It was her sister, Tía Carmen. They look so much alike, it’s no wonder I thought it was my grandmother. Tía Carmen lives outside Barcelona, Rune. The Artifact has to be there.”

He gave her a slow smile, leaned in and kissed her hard and fast. “Well done.”

“Yeah. Now all we have to do is get away from these guys long enough to get to Spain and find the damn thing before time runs out on us.”

“We will,” he said, cupping her face in his palm. He wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, then lifted that tiny bead of moisture to his lips. He drank her tears, swallowed her sorrow and told her softly, “They won’t be able to stop us, Teresa. We will complete this task.”

Heart in her eyes, she met his gaze and solemnly nodded.