Embrace The Night (34 page)

Theo. He’d made it!

She smiled up at him and he smiled back, a tender, warm one as he reached to touch her cheek. “You’re back.”

Then she remembered…something. She pulled herself upright. Her head pounded and panic leaped through her. The last thing she recalled was slipping out of the secret tunnel and, dodging the increasingly heavy rain of rubble from Hell’s Wall, running toward Theo in the humvee. “What happened? Where am I?”

“Home,” he said, and she realized that all she had to do was look around and see that, yes, she was indeed, in her room back in Envy. With Theo.

And without Simon.

“Where’s Simon?” she asked, looking around even though she knew he wasn’t there. Jade wasn’t there. No one was there but her and Theo.

“I don’t know,” Theo told her. “You said he wanted to stay, and then you tripped and got conked on the head by a good-sized rock. You were out cold.”

“You took me away? You left him there?” She thought she might be shrieking, but she wasn’t certain. One thing she knew, her head was pounding even harder now. And so was her heart. What had he said to her?

You don’t know me.

I’m not your damned superman.

What the heck did that mean?

Theo’s handsome face, rough with stubble, had been tender and happy. But now it tightened with confusion and anger. “What the hell was I supposed to do? You were
knocked out
, Sage. For all I knew, you could have a concussion or a brain injury, because you sure as hell didn’t want to wake up. I brought you back here for Elliott to look at.”

Well, put that way, she supposed she could sort of understand. “And do I?”

“What?” He was still frowning at her, and it made her heart sad. Because she knew he was going to be frowning even more.

“Have a concussion. Or brain injury.”

He shook his head. “No. Just a good knot on the head and maybe a sore spot for a while.” He sat on the edge of the bed, very near her. “And besides, your message had said you were in trouble and had to get out of there right away. What the hell was I supposed to do? Go looking for Simon, God knows where, especially after you said he wanted to stay?”

“He didn’t want to stay, he
had
to stay,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “The Strangers were going to destroy Falling Creek and he was the only one who could stop them.”

“Really.” Theo sounded supremely unconvinced. He absently rubbed Scarlett, a sure sign that he was unhappy.

“How long have we been gone?”

“We got back just a couple hours ago.”

Sage closed her eyes because the pounding in her head was becoming unbearable. “I wouldn’t have left
you
, Theo, even if you said you had to go in…I just can’t believe we left him.” Even though that was what he wanted.

“You said he had to.”

“We have to go back and get him, Theo,” she said, opening her eyes again. “We can’t just leave him there.”

“Yes, I know. We’re going, first thing in the morning. We were waiting to make sure you’re okay, and to see what you could tell us about what happened.” His eyes softened and he brushed her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back, safe, and for the most part, sound.”

She looked up at him, into his solemn dark eyes, familiar and warm, and waited. Nothing happened inside her. Nothing.

He loves you. Give him a chance.

I don’t want to give him a chance. I want you, Simon.

I’m not your damned superman.

She closed her eyes, surprised at the renewal of pain—not from the bump on her head, but from the vicinity of her heart.

“I’d better let you rest,” Theo said, brushing the hair from her forehead, then leaning forward to press a kiss there. It was warm and soft, brotherly.

Good idea. Because as soon as he was gone, she was getting the hell out of there and going down to the computer lab to Yahoogle what she could about Simon Japp and Tatiana, or Florita…and someone named Mancusi.

You don’t know me.

But I soon will, Simon Japp.

Theo rose reluctantly, perhaps because Sage made no protest nor suggestion for him to stay. She tried to look weary and in pain, but inside she was straining to get up and out of bed and back to work. There was no time to waste.

He moved slowly toward the door, and she watched him. He was a handsome man, just as well-built and strong as Simon, not quite as tall, but a little more buff. And he had his own special ability—that power-surge thing was kind of sexy. And he loved her. And he was kind and smart as hell and funny.

But he wasn’t Simon.

“Theo,” she said when his hand was on the doorknob. She had to do it now.

He turned, a flash of hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“About your email,” she began.

But he held up a hand, his eyes hooding. “I meant to apologize for that. It was inappropriate…and not the best timing. I think we should just…talk about it later. When you’re feeling better. Okay?”

Sage drew in a deep breath to go on, felt a pang in her head, and suddenly felt too tired to press the matter. Even though she probably should. “All right, Theo. Thank you for bringing me back safely. I’m sorry if I sounded like a shrew.”

“I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, his eyes serious and dark—completely negating his implication a moment ago that they shouldn’t talk about their feelings for each other. “Sage, you know I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” she said, and closed her eyes. Feeling like crap inside. He was a good man. She could see the love for her in his eyes…and she just didn’t feel the same.

Could that change?

If Simon didn’t—or wouldn’t—come back? Should she do what he suggested and try?

Her instinct, deep in the core of her belly, said no.
There’s no contest.

No contest at all.

Simon had no intention of staying with Florita or letting her slice up any more Sage look-alikes, but he was also smart enough not to go blazing out of there. Although he was heartsick at the death of the young woman, he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

As soon as she’d been brought into Florita’s custody, she was as good as dead. Perhaps it had been better that she was murdered in a fit of pique rather than tortured to death. At least it had been over quickly.

Simon was well aware how long a death could be drawn out.

He wasn’t a prisoner in his bedroom, or any room. Florita had made it clear that he could move about as he wanted. “You aren’t a prisoner, darling,” she’d told him when she got her anger under control. “But if you leave, I’ll have those kittens brought to me and start slicing them up, one by one. So know that your freedom will mean their deaths. You may not hear them scream, but you’ll know it’s happening.”

So Simon would bide his time for a day. Maybe two. Pretend to play her game. And save a few more girls from certain death.

Being inside the private residence of a Stranger would give him the opportunity to find out more about them, information that could prove useful, and might lead to more clues about Remington Truth.

And the Cult of Atlantis.

Whatever he found, he’d somehow get the information to them in Envy—even if he never went back there. Which, at this point, was likely. He’d finish up here—he was going to have to kill Florita, he knew it already, and although the thought settled like a knot in his belly, he knew it was the only way. Either she was going to have to die, or
he
was—and although there’d been a time he opted for the latter, that time was long past.

He’d finish up here and get on the road and do his Good Samaritan thing.

And Theo and Sage could be together.

No, he was definitely not going back to Envy.

He prowled around the three-level house, the sound of rushing water following him wherever he went. Every room seemed to have a channel running through it, sometimes a narrow ditch at the edge, sometimes a wider one, and in Florita’s bedroom, the water splashed down a wall and was caught in a narrow pool before rushing out of the room through a small aqueduct to the right.

“Come in, my dear Simon,” she greeted him as he stood on the threshold.

“You called for me?” he asked. Of course she had.

“Join me,” she replied, and he noticed that her eyes glittered brighter than usual. “For dinner, and perhaps a little…dessert.”

Reluctantly, he came into the room. This was part of the game, for a few more hours. He’d wandered around the place, checking to see what sort of security and guards she had. A few seemed to be normal humans and they would be of no concern to Simon. He found no locked rooms that might contain more prisoners or victims of torture.
Good
. She hadn’t replenished her supply from FC yet.

The other two Strangers had been in the lower level, playing football on Xbox as more ditches of water rushed and gurgled around them.

A ridiculously low-key environment. Mancusi’s house had had twice as much security, even when he wasn’t there.

Was it because as Strangers, hidden away here behind Hell’s Wall, they didn’t fear the normal humans? Because they held so much power—and immortality? Or was it because Florita was certain she had Simon under control, due to her threats?

Either way, he kept himself on the alert for any other changes and sat down on the long, flat, low-backed sofa. Upholstered in white with pale pink flowers, and full pink throw pillows, it was the only piece of furniture in the room other than the massive bed. Florita sat at one end, and when he settled, she moved down so she was next to him, close enough that the long flowing blue dress she wore brushed his leg.

She did look lovely, Simon couldn’t deny that. Her glossy black hair had been pulled up into a loose, messy sort of bundle, with strands falling randomly. She had a perfect, oval face, with full red lips, gentle cheekbones, and thick, dark lashes—a face that completely belied her manipulative, violent self. The neckline of the gown cut into a deep vee, and her breasts were pushed up enticingly, mounding over the top. Narrow shoulder straps revealed her shoulders, and the immortalizing crystal burning in her skin.

He looked at it, fascinated and repelled at the same time. “So that’s what you destroyed the world for,” he said, gesturing to her shoulder.

The multifaceted crystal was pale blue, barely tinted, and had been embedded into her skin just below the collarbone, in that tender area of skin near the shoulder. The stone was about the size of a quarter, larger than his thumbnail, and it glowed brightly enough to shine through thin clothing.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she purred, stroking the gem, which was not flush to her skin, but rose in a small dome, perhaps a centimeter high. “Immortality and eternal youth, Simon.” She looked at him, her lashes heavy and thick over those shining dark eyes. “I can offer you the same. Just say the word.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Unless you’ve already got something else. Simon, how did you manage to be here? You look exactly the same, and not a crystal in sight.”

“Talk about a fucking blood diamond,” he said, unable and unwilling to hide the disgust in his voice. He had to keep himself from really thinking about what this selfish, violent woman had helped to do, or he would snap her neck right now. But it was too soon.
Patience.

“It’s not a diamond,” she said. “It’s so much better than that. There’s nothing like it on this earth.” She stroked his arm and the light scrape of her long nails made him want to shove her away.

“Where did you get it?” he asked. “Where does it come from?”

“Below the earth, deep in the depths.” She brought her hand into her lap, spreading it open, palm up, and traced each of his fingers, then down over his wrist to his leather band. “I could get you one,” she said again.

Simon forced himself not to snatch his hand away, and to suffer her touch, even though his pulse leapt and jumped and revolted at her proximity.
Soon.

“How did you do it?” he asked. “Tell me how the Cult of Atlantis destroyed the world.”

Now she seemed surprised. Her fingers tightened a bit over his hand as she held him there in her lap. “How do you know about that? The cult?”

“I told you not to underestimate me.”

“Simon, I’ve never underestimated you. That’s why I’m so delighted that you found me. I mean, George was one thing…he was such a naughty man…but it’s always been you that floated me. Ever since we were young.”

Hell, she made it sound like they’d grown up together. He hadn’t met her till he was twenty-three, and well corrupted. “How did you get to join such an elite group? I understood it was only the cream of the crop, Florita. Why did they let you in?”

Her grip jerked and he saw a flash of annoyance in her eyes. “You forget, Simon, that after I left Mancusi, I became one of the most sought-after, highly paid, and bankable actresses in the world. With Reese and Julia and even Kate.” She said their names with loathing. “And look at me now. They’re all dead, and here I am, just as beautiful and young fifty years later.”

She reached to the long low table in front of them and lifted a shallow black dish among the plates of food and glasses. The dish was empty except for a thin layer of sugar or salt on the bottom and a tiny spoon. “How did you learn about the cult?” she asked again, scooping up a bit of the sugar into her hand.

It glittered in her palm unlike any sugar he’d ever seen. It almost looked like fine diamonds or ground crystals.

“We’ve learned a lot in the last six months. Where’s Parris Fielding? Where do the rest of your…kind…live?”

“So many, many questions.” She curled her fingers tightly around his hand and with the other, carefully dumped the sugar onto the tender skin of his wrist. “Just like I had, when I first joined them. I didn’t know what they had in mind, you know. I just knew the prize at the other end. And I was willing to pay anything for it.”

“And you didn’t give a fuck how you got there, did you?”

She’d begun to rub, gently, in slow motion, over the tendons and shallow blue veins, as if giving him a salt rub—something Simon had experienced exactly once in his life, when Mancusi took all of his “people” to a spa he was thinking about buying and made them test out the services.