“Fuck that.” He’d made the decision when he’d watched Kace touch her face. This woman had betrayed herself. If she wanted to be free of him, he would accommodate her, if only to see what she would do.
Energy coalesced into a one word and Christan slammed it into her mind. The force was stunning and totally unnecessary. With a second burst of telepathic power he pushed past her psychic defenses. Satisfaction curled like hot blood in his throat and he watched what was happening. Knew the magic was forming into alien symbols of red and black and bronze. Paper-dry whispers would assault her and the swirling images would settle like living things as the magic took hold. It was perhaps the most unreasonably reckless thing Christan had ever done in his long, long life and he didn’t care.
Robbie pushed a hand through his hair. Arsen’s jaw clenched until the muscle bunched.
Lexi sank down onto the ground and pressed her forehead to her knees.
Christan looked at her, then turned and walked away.
CHAPTER 8
Lexi couldn’t recall how everyone got back to the Range Rover. She’d tried to retrace her steps on her own, wanting to get to the clearing without asking for help. She planned on walking without looking back, just leaving them all behind, but became disoriented. And her head hurt so much her vision blurred.
It had been Robbie who found her sitting on the ground. She’d been pressing the heels of both hands hard against her eyes. He held her bleeding hand in his for a moment, carefully checked her head—where the wound still bled from when Wallace had thrown her into the rocks. Then he asked if she was strong enough to walk. Lexi said she was, hating the way she felt like a lost child as he led her down the path. Her earth sense had abandoned her as well as everyone else.
When they reached the clearing, there had been a lot of “what the hell just happened?” and “Lexi, please get into the car,” to which Lexi had responded badly. No one would tell her anything and for several minutes she stood mutinously in place, looking for some other avenue of escape. She didn’t want to be around any of them, not now. Perhaps not ever.
It was Marge who finally put a hand on Lexi’s arm. Marge, who told her that, for the moment, she had no other options. Marge had alternated between anger toward Christan and sympathy for Lexi, but in the end, Lexi thought the anger won out—her anger and not necessarily Marge’s, although on the drive to wherever they were going, Lexi doubted that assessment as well.
Dusk had descended and only a few trees were visible before the landscape lost itself in deep shadow. Lexi sat in the back of the heavy vehicle while Marge sat in front with Robbie driving. Arsen and Christan had disappeared. Lexi felt the pulsing sensations in her mind from whatever Christan had done, and her hand hurt. She cradled it within a makeshift ice pack, made with towels, not that the cold helped. Her migraine had moved to her nape where blood was sticky in her hair. She hadn’t wrapped her mind around Wallace being Kace, whom they knew and hated. And there was probably a lot more to Marge’s story than she’d revealed.
The Range Rover bounced along the dirt track, rocking occasionally. Headlights speared a faded world of olive-grey. The drone of the engine was monotonous and Lexi drifted. She tried see the lesson in this experience, guessed it went beyond the idea of change, which most people accepted at face value, thinking change was an unending upward curve. They’d find a better job, move into a nicer house. No one wanted to think about the change that dragged you somewhere else.
But that was the nature of change. To disrupt. Destroy.
Something screamed in the distance, a wild animal sound. Bear, cougar, coyotes lived in this wilderness, along with all their prey animals. The headlights of the Range Rover slanted as Robbie turned off the track and pulled behind a high ridge. What looked like an abandoned homesteader’s cabin came into view.
The moon had risen, full enough to see in the dark. The air was cool, fresh with the hint of moisture that only gathered at night. They trundled out of the car and up the steps to the homestead door, solid and looking new. Robbie held it open for Marge, held it for Lexi, too. Lexi’s smile was tense. She appreciated the courtesy but sensed Robbie’s distance. None of them knew what to do with her now that they’d exposed their secrets and thought she had some of her own.
Walking ahead, Robbie flipped the light switches, and it was clear this wasn’t an abandoned homestead. Stainless steel and black granite glittered in the kitchen. A fireplace made of river rock dominated a cozy living area. The dining table was large enough to seat up to twelve, but Lexi didn’t stop to count the chairs.
“Sit down,” Marge said. Robbie went back to the car, returning with bags of groceries which he sorted and put into the refrigerator. Marge busied herself, filling a bowl with warm water and collecting medical supplies before sitting at the table.
“I’m sorry you were hurt today,” the woman said. “We’ll sort through a few things first, and then you can shower and get the dirt out of your hair. Would you like tea?”
“Will it have arsenic in it?”
Marge waited until Lexi had settled in the chair. Then, she dipped a cloth into the warm water and washed the blood from Lexi’s hand. A heavy silence filled the room before Marge spoke.
“I realize you’re angry, Lexi. But what happened today could affect a lot of people I love and care about, including you, and I have to ask—why did you go to Montana?”
“What does Montana have to do with anything?”
Marge didn’t answer. Lexi glanced around the now empty kitchen and said, “Wallace contacted me. He needed an immediate location for a retreat since the one he had planned had fallen through. There was only one location to research and I needed to leave immediately—I think I mentioned that to you. I spent three days wandering around the wilderness and then I returned. The area was awkward for what he wanted and I told him so.”
“Did you know him before he contacted you?”
“No.”
“Did you know he was out there today?”
“I think I’ve been clear about that.”
Marge rubbed antiseptic into a cut, and Lexi tried not to flinch. “What were you talking about in the rocks?”
“I wasn’t doing much talking, Marge.”
“Kace must have said something,” the woman persisted.
Lexi hesitated, working through her disorganized thoughts. “Wallace asked if I liked it when Arsen shifted and I realized what he was. He never told me his other name. We talked about the dreams. He wanted me to remember something about Christan, said there was a reason I should be afraid, that he was trying to help me. And then he threw the phone and told me to call if I wanted to chat.”
“Why didn’t you tell this to Christan when he asked you?”
“I don’t recall him asking.”
Lexi pulled her hand from Marge’s grasp and wrapped both arms around her waist. She doubted she would sleep that night; she didn’t want to dream. The longing to go home was overwhelming.
After a long, long moment the woman spoke again.
“I’m going to trust you with information. Am I right to trust you?”
It hurt that Marge needed to ask, but trust was such a fragile thing, and it had been broken for both of them. Lexi nodded, not willing to speak.
Slowly, Marge reached out and reclaimed Lexi’s hand. She continued to clean away the dirt, explaining how, when Christan was forced from the Void, he’d been weak and disoriented. Three had returned him to Montana, thinking he’d be protected there. It took five minutes to explain the effects of long exposure in that place between space and matter. How vulnerable Christan had been before Arsen found him. Finally, as Marge attached a small bandage to an oozing cut, she mentioned the curious fact that Lexi had been wandering around within a half-mile from Christan’s location. Because Kace had sent her there.