Keepers of the Lost Garden (The Lost Garden Trilogy Book 2) (5 page)

Shala sat behind a laptop with a downloaded image of the area.

Myora’s heart hammered restlessly. She stepped behind the guard on duty and peered over her shoulder. The satellite image was small and blurry. Myora could not directly see what exactly had caused the alarm. “What is it, Daughter?”

“It appears to be a large cavalcade of trucks.”

She saw it now, a small cluster of what must be trucks. “Where?”

“Two hundred miles due east.”

“Destination?”

“According to the probability scale, their destination is here.”

“How many trucks?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“ETA?”

“They are making good progress, cutting across the desert floor. ETA is ten hours.”

Myora stepped away from the small image on the computer screen. “Bring them up on the third unit.”

Shala tapped away rapidly and a new image appeared on the massive wall monitor. Now much bigger, Myora could distinctly see twenty-seven vehicles. All appeared to be military trucks scattered across an area of perhaps a half mile.

“Who are they?”

“I checked with our contact in the Iranian National Guard. They have no scheduled maneuvers in the area.”

“Scientific expeditions?”

“It’s much too large.”

Myora stared at the massive screen. So, they were coming. Her dreams had been accurate after all. She hated when that happened.

“Mother Daughter?”

“Yes.”

“There’s one other thing. This just came in this morning, perhaps twenty minutes ago. Faxed over from our contact at Tehran Customs.”

Their contacts believed the Daughters were, in fact, a branch of the Iranian secret police. With enough bribes and favors, they were often rewarded with such information. The younger Daughter handed Myora a faxed image of a very beautiful woman. The woman, of course, was Sulina, under the guise of Sulna Obvesky. It was a photo on her passport. She looked resolute and stoic as ever. She never changed. None of them did. Myora’s heart went out briefly to her oldest Daughter.

Do not do this, Sulina
, thought Myora.

But Sulina was no Daughter of hers. She hadn’t been for thousands of years.

“Men are coming,” said Myora, her back still to Shala. “And they are being led by Sulina. Alert the others.”

Chapter Five

He woke, gasping.

As he had been doing all night.

He was covered in sweat, but that was nothing new. Shirtless, he sat up and looked at the nightstand clock. 7:39 a.m. He had only four hours of sleep, but that had been enough. He had become accustomed to very little sleep.

Even the four hours had been too much.

Next to him, out like a light, with her long black and white hair spread like a geisha’s fan over her pillow, was Jess. Her face was turned to him. She was wearing a robe and it was mostly open. He found himself staring, aroused. She looked so beautiful and for once, sweet and harmless. That was only the illusion of sleep. The warrior in her was still there, but buried under her slumbering.

He closed her robe with a sigh. She didn’t move or stir. Perhaps immortals fell into a deeper sleep. He didn’t know.

The dream had come again, but this time, he had recognized the raven-haired beauty as Jess and she recognized him. In his dream, they had been too late. He had wielded the flaming sword too late and the world lay in waste. In fact, the plague that had swept across the Earth, ravaging all of life, had finally found him. He had sunk to his knees as he watched the boils appear on his arms. His fingers dropped off from his palms.

That’s when he woke up.

In a cold sweat.

He needed a shower.

Their flight didn’t leave for another three hours, so he allowed the hot jet of water to wash over his body. Oddly enough, even after the long night he had, his body was not sore and actually felt quite refreshed.

He wondered if the little bit of oil he had absorbed had anything to do with that and decided that it probably did.

I’m thirty-five now
.
Just playing an afternoon of basketball will often leave you sore for days, let alone fighting for your life against the undead.

And against one hell of an Amazon hellcat of a warrior in Jess.

He toweled himself off and stepped over to the phone. Jess had moved, only slightly, while he breathed over the bangs of her white birth-marked hair.

He could watch her all day.

Instead, he tore himself away again from her beauty and picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

The line picked up on the second ring, followed by a series of fumbling. Then a very groggy voice said, “You have any fucking idea what time it is?”

Knight lowered his voice. “Quit bitching. I need your help.”

Geronimo Bismark, owner of the voice on the other end of the line, groaned. “Damn it, Knight! Couldn’t you need my help in, say, three hours?”

“No. In three hours, you and I and someone else will be on a flight to Iran, with a layover in Germany.”

“I’m not hearing this! I am not hearing this! Tell me I’m dreaming!”

“You’re not dreaming. This is real and I need your help.”

A pause. Knight looked over at Jess. She hadn’t moved.

“Who’s the ‘someone else’?” asked Geronimo. Knight noted the tone had changed in his close friend’s voice. More businesslike, which was fitting since Geronimo was a homicide detective for LAPD.

“Her name is Jess,” said Knight. He inhaled deeply and plunged forward. “She’s the one, Ger.”

“What do you mean ‘the one’?”

“The One.”

Another pause and then his friend whistled into the phone. Knight had to briefly hold the receiver away from his ear. “The one you’ve been dreaming about?”

“Yes.”

“You have got to be kidding!”

“No.”

“Then you’re not insane?”

“Apparently not.”

“Damn!” said Geronimo.

“Why ‘damn’?”

“I just lost a hundred bucks to Molly.”

“You bet your wife a hundred spot over whether or not I was insane?”

“Of course.”

Knight grinned. “So, are you coming?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

“What will you tell Molly?”

“That I’m helping my bud. What do you think I’m going to tell her?”

Knight laughed.

“So, how will I find you?”

Knight gave him detailed instructions about meeting at the Ramsar Airport in northern Iran and then hung up.

* * *

“Who was that you were talking to?”

Knight almost jumped. He turned from his sitting position on the bed. She was propped on an elbow, with a look of concern on her face. Deep creases lined her pretty face, evidence of her undisturbed slumber. Her hair was only mildly tousled, except for a few renegade strands that were apparently trying to make a break for it.

“You were supposed to be asleep.”

“I was until the bed shook with your laughter. So, who was that and why is he meeting us?”

“He’s a friend. A damn good friend! He’s meeting us because I asked him to come along.”

Sitting up, she shook her head vigorously. Her robe opened slightly. She didn’t notice or care. “No, Evan. I cannot allow it. It is much too dangerous and few mortals have ever been invited into the Fortress.”

“The Fortress?”

“Our mountain home? Gateway into Eden? The fortress from which we protect and guard the Tree of Life?”

“So, you do understand sarcasm then. I understand your concerns, Jess, but this is not open to negotiation. I would have mentioned him last night. That is, if I had had a moment to catch my breath.”

He thought of their lovemaking in the early hours of morning. Out of breath, indeed.

Focus
,
he told himself now.

“We are a package deal, Jess. There is no better man...or mortal. I trust him with my life. In fact, he has saved my hide on many occasions. Trust me, he is an asset.” Knight paused. “If he doesn’t go, I won’t go!”

She studied him closely as she remembered how men reverted to children in certain situations. This was one of those situations. “How serious are you about that?”

“Very!”

She sighed. “I can tell. You would really give up this opportunity, this chance to live your dreams, this chance to see paradise, just for a friend?”

“He is more than just a friend. He is a warrior in his own right. We are a team. In fact, we are lucky to have him.”

Her concerned face broke into a smile. “Then I look forward to meeting him. What’s his name?”

“Bismark. Geronimo Bismark.”

She repeated the name. “I like it. Has a good ring.”

“Just don’t tell him that. He already has a big enough head.”

Chapter Six

Geronimo’s six-foot-plus frame strode into Ramsar’s small airport terminal with an air of confidence. Although his lifelong friend left out pertinent details of this new mission, he was anxious to get back in the game.

Evan Knight saw his friend almost immediately. His smile paled in comparison to the one Geronimo was sporting after seeing the knockout next to Evan.

“Evan! You old dog! She’s something else! Don’t tell Molly I said that.”

Jess was not sure about the addition of a third member to this adventure, but she trusted Knight. “My name is Jessima IL Eve. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Any friend of The Chose…Evan’s, is a friend of mine.”

Geronimo mouthed the word, ‘wow’ at Evan.

Evan felt pride swell up within him.
Jess is the perfect woman!

Jess wore a black leather jacket and jeans that accented her figure. Her long hair was down and the streak of white was more apparent than ever. She smiled as she admired Geronimo’s toned and tanned muscular body. He wore a tight-fitting shirt with the sleeves apparently ripped off.

Jess saw a tiny hint of jealousy in the eyes of Knight. He tried in vain to suppress any feelings for Jess, as it was detrimental to the mission, but she could still see it.

She was pleased that he felt that way about her, as she grabbed his hand.

Geronimo gave Knight a huge bear hug and lifted him completely off of the floor. He laughed and carried on as if he had just been reunited with a long-lost brother.

“I see you haven’t lost your strength, Gerry.”

Jess’ apparent confusion by Knight’s reference sparked a smile in both men.

“I thought your name was Geronimo?”

Both men exploded into laughter, as Knight did his best to compose himself while he explained the name to Jess.

There were to be many secrets between these two friends
.

Secrets that should not be a threat as she originally assumed.

Not everything needed a suspicious eye.

“Gerry is Geronimo’s real name. He thinks that by naming himself after a great warrior, then he will strike fear into the criminals of Los Angeles!”

“Well, come on now, Evan! I am one-sixteenth Cherokee, even though the real Geronimo was Apache! Ha ha!”

The joke was lost on Jess. She wondered why Geronimo was not more upset that Knight had revealed his secret.

“You come from Los Angeles? I know of this place. Why are the people there not closer to God? Isn’t it a place of angels?”

Both men immediately stopped laughing. Now it was Geronimo’s turn to be confused.

“Well, sweetheart, I guess there are two kinds of angels in the world. We don’t have the good kind in L.A.”

Geronimo put one huge arm on Evan’s shoulder.

“This reminds me, Evan. You didn’t call me out here to just admire the fine specimen of womanhood that you got yourself involved with. What’s the plan? Who do we have to hurt?”

Evan looked apprehensively at his friend as he ushered him away from Jess.

More secrets…

Geronimo’s anticipation of the details was only overshadowed by the fact that he would be working with Knight again.             

“What’s up, m’man? Give me all the dirt you have on this mission.”

Jess watched with cynicism as the two men conversed, trying to refrain from storming over there and demanding to be let in on their discussion.

Paranoia? Frustration? Jealousy?

Jess panicked as she felt her heart beating fast. Her mouth went dry and her palms started to sweat as she worried about what Knight was telling Geronimo about her.

This was unlike her.

Worried about what a man said about a Daughter?

This behavior does not echo the intestinal fortitude of a warrior!

She glared at the men and noticed Geronimo was heated over something. His disposition changed drastically after a few minutes of talking with his old friend.

Something Knight said?

About Jess?

Geronimo’s anger was apparent as he stormed back to Jess. Knight looked frustrated at the outcome of their talk.

Geronimo stared at Jess.

“M’man, Evan, told me some crazy shit about attacking a mountain, defending a tree, and possibly getting killed over some oil. And did you see the military all over the streets? I think I counted at least six tanks out there!”

There was a long uncomfortable pause.

“I’m in, dammit! I owe Evan, big time. Before we go kick some ass, I got to call Molly and let her know what’s up.”

The big man pulled out his phone and walked to a quiet section of the terminal. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes. Then Knight smiled at Jess.

She showed no emotion.             

“So, Evan Knight…what was all of that about?”

Knight remained guarded and laughed to distract Jess from the fact that Geronimo did not trust her or the mission. “Come on, Jess. That’s on a need-to-know basis. Ha ha!”

Jess was far from pleased with his response.

“We have to go soon. I have made arrangements with followers of the Khomeini faction.”

“What? Jess, anyone in that faction despises Americans and our way of life! They’d kill me just as quickly as any of the Fallen would!”             

“Do you trust me, Evan Knight?”

The words hit Knight harder than any punch he had ever taken.

Trust was not an easy thing for him, but he knew that not only did he care for this woman…he had to trust her as well.

“Yes, I do trust you, Jess.”

Her heart swelled with emotion at having heard those words, but she dared not express her feelings.

Not yet.             

“You need only to trust
me
, Evan. Yousef Omidi knows of the Daughters’ mission. He despises Americans and their way of life, yes. But he is a champion to our cause. He believes in the Daughters of Eve. His belief in us overshadows his hatred of you.”

“Lesser of the two evils…”              Now it was Knight’s turn to distrust someone Jess had brought in.

“Phrase it how you must, but he will help us get to the Mountain of God. He will also supply us with weapons.”

“What’s in it for him, Jess?”

Jessima IL Eve was never one for pettiness or vindictiveness. It was a trait reserved for the outside world, not for a Daughter. However, she was the kind of person who adapted well to any situation, no matter how small or demeaning.

“That, Evan Knight…is on a need-to-know basis.”