Indelible (20 page)

Not surprisingly the girls chose cutting out the final day and getting him home. Janise recommended a litter. Michael balked, but Trevor took the suggestion seriously.

“You’re walking fine now, but you haven’t eaten or drunk enough and might not be able to. At this elevation your body burns at least twice as much to stay functional and avoid altitude sickness.” At first he’d suspected that the culprit, but the raging fever, which only the Tylenol relieved, suggested a virus. Janise had dispensed it twice since the vomiting stopped.

He looked around the worried group. “Let’s build a litter.”

Michael dropped his head into his hands, but didn’t argue. Trevor sent two guys to find four strong poles in fallen wood if they could, cut
them if they had to. On softer terrain, two side poles would be adequate. But this was the Rockies. He’d use the tarp from his pack for the base, the sleeping mats from several others to pad it and Michael’s sleeping bag for warmth. He’d throw his on too since Michael wouldn’t be expending energy.

Two days and one night would get them back. As his industrious group followed his instructions, he cast a glance at Janise. “Let’s hope it’s not contagious.”

Her jaw dropped grimly, as that picture sank in. Worst-case scenario, he’d come prepared with the sheriff’s department’s satellite phone.

Him, the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire.

I
n the back of a detached garage, behind a half-restored roadster under a tarp, he took out the book, dressing the leather with the oil of his own palms. Into its ancient lore he had probed for hours, days, years, seeking an end, learning the means, fulfilling the command, needing, needing to know!

Before his mind could grasp the words, his finger dragged the yellowed pages, silent lips shaping syllables that had no meaning. Fear instructed him, until at last it all became clear. And in that clarity, a dread affinity. Not mere cognition—recognition.

The book was the key, unlocking not the door he’d hoped, but a door the other never envisioned. Years of servile torment. Anguished hope. Betrayal! All preparing him—for this.

Evil had fallen to earth in writhing desolation, yet did not yield, but rose, unfurling wings of night, lidless eyes, never blinking, never cringing. Into those eyes, he stared, unflinching, armored in his scars.

Thirteen

I
n her studio, Natalie pressed the letter to her chest, tears starting in her eyes. Her parents’ congratulations on her opening had just arrived, but they meant no less for the delay. Their excitement and joy came through each line, and no wonder. She knew there’d been times they doubted she could make it on her own, but here was the fulfillment of at least one hope.

She couldn’t have done it without them shoring her up in so many ways. It brought a fresh pang to think of Trevor in that pub with a man who could procreate but not be a father to his sons. Trevor and his mother and brothers had held it together, sacrificially, but the man’s desertion changed them in ways she’d never known. What day had she ever imagined her dad might walk away? Her parents’ marriage, their mission, even this letter spoke of faithfulness and devotion. That was her heritage, a blessing she never took for granted.

She slipped the letter into the envelope and opened the box of powdered glazes. On her knees, she organized them in the cabinet, pausing, head tipped at a sound. She drew her head out of the cabinet and looked over her shoulder. Her phone vibrated on the counter.

Trevor
.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she answered. “I thought you couldn’t call from the high country.”

“Can’t. Not where we were.”

“Were.”
The word fluttered her stomach. “Are you back?”

“Delivering the adventurers to school as we speak.” He hadn’t even gone home yet.

“I thought you weren’t due until tomorrow.”

“Three of the kids came down with flu.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah. But even though we had to clip a day, they got better training in some ways than any class before them.”

“Ugh. I can imagine.”

“I hope not. Let me just say, these guys know each other
really
well now.”

“Poor things. What if you’d caught it?”

He groaned. “Don’t even go there.”

“Seriously, what would you do?”

“Call in the reserves.”

She threaded her fingers through her hair. “Was that an option?”

“Yes. But thankfully not exercised.”

Once again he’d taken people under his wings and safely harbored them. A person could get used to that. “Can you come to the gallery? I want to show you something.”

“I’ve been six days without a shower. I’ll do you the great favor of washing up first.”

She laughed. “Okay, but hurry.” She didn’t care how eager she sounded.

And it obviously showed because when she pushed through into the gallery, Lena said, “Let me guess. The rugged explorer has returned.”

A flush burned into her face. “I want to catch him before Jaz does.”

“About the drawing? Or the statue?”

She released a slow breath. “Well, that too.”

“It’s one of the best things you’ve done.” Lena twirled the wide gold bracelet on her wrist. “All those faces should be out here.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You think that. I believe seeing oneself unmasked can be life changing.”

“How many do you know who want to change?”

Lena shot a look over her glasses. “I know plenty who should.”

Natalie smiled. “It’s not the same.” They might not turn and run as Trevor had, but people hugged their secrets.

Lena lowered her glasses to hang against her chest. “I agree with Fleur. These nature works are lovely, but your gift is covered in damp cloths in the studio.”

“Except for one.” She looked at the statue standing tall and powerful, avenger and guardian—and mortal. No wings or light rays, and yet the suggestion was there. At least to her and whoever had drawn him.

Driving from the high school to his condo, Trevor phoned Whit, but got his voice mail. He left the message that they were back early and he’d be stopping at the gallery, though not for long, he hoped. Too public, too professional.

He called Sara to check in, but her phone went immediately to message. A smile tugged his mouth. It meant something that Nattie was the only one he reached. She hadn’t told him to get lost either. She would do that in person, not over the phone. She’d say it kindly and make it her fault.

He slowed for three mule deer crossing the street, then pulled up to the entrance gate and swiped his key, anticipation making the slow swing irksome. “Come on.”

He parked in his space and left his gear. He’d deal with it later. Up the elevator, second floor, third. He stretched the kinks out of his neck. His place had a slightly neglected feel, and he opened windows to freshen the air. His shower was long and hot, no skimping there. The knee was in good shape—no soak required.

He dressed in a crew-neck sweater, jeans, and boots. Cologne. Teeth. Teeth again. His phone rang. Sara said, “Did I miss you?”

“Hey. Just letting you know I’m back early.”

“Great. Come for dinner.”

“Can’t tonight.”

“What do you mean? Of course you can.”

He grabbed his keys and reached the door. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe tomorrow? What, you suddenly have a social calendar?”

“Sara, darling. I was checking in. How’s Braden?”

“One week older. A few ounces heavier. Why don’t you come see?”

He approached the elevator. “I’m heading to Natalie’s. I’ll come over tomorrow, okay?”

Silence.

“Sara?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“I’m in the elevator. Got to go.”

“Mmhmm.” She clicked off.

Had she been this cranky before the baby? Maybe it was postpartum stuff. He’d have to ask Whit.

At the sound of Trevor greeting Lena, Natalie hurried from the studio to the gallery, quaking when she realized he stood before the statue of himself on the mountain, holding Cody and the upraised rock, with the lion crouching before him. She had glazed it in hues of bronze, with crushed glass forming the creek around his feet.

“It’s not for sale.” She reached him. “I finished it for Cody to have when he’s old enough. But I hope you don’t mind that I displayed it.”

The muscles in his throat worked.

“If it bothers you—”

“It’s an amazing piece.” He turned to her. “It should be seen.”

Lena gave her a pointed look.

“I don’t want—”

“It’s fine.” His voice and face softened.

She exhaled. “I missed you.”

“I missed you.”

The connection she’d felt for the first time on the boulder crackled between them. She half expected a fiery arc. Joy welled up.

He glanced over her head. “How much longer do you have?”

“Take her,” Lena said, gazing over her reading lenses. “Before she runneth over.”

“My coat’s in the studio.” She broke free, shooting a chiding look at Lena.

He slid the coffee cashmere coat over her shoulders. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

The moment they stepped outside, he gripped her arms. “What is this crazy energy?”

So he felt it too. “Chemistry?”

“More like fusion.” He drew her close. “Getting away to the wild is one of my great pleasures. This is the first time I couldn’t wait to get back.”

“Sick kids—”

“Were a challenge, but not the reason.” He slid his hand up around her neck. “I spent every day up there wishing I’d done this before I left.”

Her pulse throbbed against his palm, warmth coursing through her as he raised her to her toes and kissed her.

After a moment, he said, “Breathe.”

Air rushed out and she gasped it back in. “Sorry.”

“Are you kidding?” With a laugh, he kissed her again.

It was no chemical reaction, but a sweet soul-touching.

A throat cleared. Trevor canted Whit a dark look, “Bad timing, dude.”

“Maybe. But there’s a family here about you training their kids.”

“Within view?”

“Close enough.”

He let go, but she felt his reluctance. “Come in with me. This won’t take long.”

“You go ahead. I want to go home and change.” She’d been cleaning up the studio on hands and knees, but really she needed to compose herself.

His eyes narrowed slightly, sensing something. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at your place, then we’re going out.”

She shot him a smile over her shoulder and hurried for her car, remembering only when she was halfway home, Jaz’s drawing.

Trevor shared a look with Whit as they went in, then turned his attention to the two adults and three kids.

“You’re the racer, aren’t you?” the dad asked. “Gold medals in downhill, slalom, and …” He clicked his fingers. “Anyway.” He extended his hand. “Doug Farley. My wife, Julia.” He explained how they’d built one of the new homes and wanted to acquire all the skills they’d need to enjoy their mountain living.

Trevor turned to the kids. “How about you guys? You want to climb?”