Love Is in the Air (14 page)

She groped to answer as Tyr used his teeth to cinch a piece of cloth over his wrist wound. His words were unfair, yet she couldn’t think of a single way to refute them.

Boom
.

This time, the beast’s assault shook the entire wall. While Tyr’s seal might hold, the building’s foundation now fell into question.

“There is not a blood that will hold forever,” Tyr said as he grabbed her upper arm and urged her deeper into the warehouse.

The beast’s challenging of the entrance came closer and closer as their flight became slower and slower. Unloaded crates littered the huge cement floor haphazardly. Worse, they formed some kind of labyrinth that snaked its way forward, then back again.

Once they stumbled out of this serpentine path, they found the warehouse littered with unpacked artifacts. With no regard whatsoever to what he destroyed, Tyr picked up the pace, shattering a vase here, smashing a mirror there. Priceless art was ground underfoot.

Sal might have been outraged, except the integrity of the museum’s nouveau riche collections just didn’t matter. The de Young could buy more.

“Open!”

The thick, double key-coded door swung out of their way as they charged into the museum proper. Without a single peep from the security system, they ran through the Oceanic Arts display. Huge, five-foot-high masks flanked them as they hauled ass. Placards filled with amazing facts about the Natives’ handwoven baskets were a blur. They didn’t have time for edification, only survival.

Their flight took them over the islander exhibit’s rough-hewn floor and onto slick marble as they passed the Impressionists Gallery. Somewhere in the darkened room were Monets and van Goghs, but Tyr angled them away from the painting-lined gallery and toward the large, central atrium.

Far ahead, Sal could see the glint of the glass doors. Just a few more seconds and they would be away from all the death and carnage.

CHAPTER 42

They flat-out ran for the doors when an alarm sounded from all around. The Klaxons nearly deafened them as the glass doors cracked, but then stopped abruptly.

“Open!” he shouted again, sounding angry that the glass doors dared to disobey him, and yet they wouldn’t budge. Tyr was about to give the command again when she realized the problem.

A thick metal sheet rolled down, preventing the doors from opening.

“Look!”

“Stop!” His command to the security door was drowned out by the sheet locking into place. Before them stood a wall of metal. Behind them, a heart-stopping howl, forlorn yet challenging. The beast was inside the museum.

Tyr swung to her. For the first time she saw fear in his eyes.

“If he can smell me…” Sal couldn’t finish the sentence. If they were trapped, well, she was dead.

Resolve hardened his features. “I must find another blade. A stout one.”

Yes, they did need one. Wasn’t that how she convinced him to come to the museum in the first place?

“Medieval Days and Knights!” Sal turned, but Tyr did not follow. “The third floor.” He still didn’t seem convinced, like she couldn’t possibly fathom what he needed. “Armor, swords, shields. All are on the third floor.”

This time he bolted after her. The spiral staircase was on the far side of the museum, far from where the beast issued its challenge.

They vaulted up the steps as blood dripped from the hem of Tyr’s coat. Between the battle in the glade, his own bloodletting to seal the door, and the exertion of their flight, Sal knew that Tyr shouldn’t have even been able to stand, let alone run up stairs. Something other than adrenaline was keeping him on his feet.

This had all gone so horribly wrong. The carnage at the docks was still fresh in her mind, a bloody scene that might be repeated here. If she died, she wanted to make sure Tyr knew why she had come back.

“I’m sorry for all those men. I thought I could help by—”

Tyr answered curtly, “An affliction you suffer from frequently.”

Ears
reddening, Sal gritted her teeth, not rising to the bait. “The beast wasn’t just after the statue. The rest of the victims are associated with a physics laboratory at San Francisco State University.”

A fleeting look passed over Tyr’s face. Had she regained an iota of his respect? Then the softer expression fled, replaced by his stern jawline.

“He seeks only my death and his return home.”

“I just—”

Reaching the third-floor landing, Tyr skidded to a halt. Before them, a plethora of glittering steel blades and studded shields beckoned.

“What’s wrong?” Sal asked, more than a little panicked. Wasn’t this what he wanted? If this didn’t satisfy his need for a weapon, nothing ever would. When Tyr didn’t respond, she tugged on his arm. “What’s—”

But there was nothing wrong. Nothing at all. As he turned to her, the left side of his lip tugged up into an expression she’d never seen before.

The faintest smile.

CHAPTER 43

The emergency lighting glowed red, making it impossible to discern when the beast actually mounted the staircase, yet Sal knew exactly when it did by the tension across Tyr’s shoulders. Either that or the strain on the hunter’s taxed muscles from holding a broadsword in one hand and a scimitar in the other had finally gotten to him. Thick leather straps supported his steel breastplate.

He truly looked the knight, complete in shining armor.

Then the red glow took on a sinister cast. Even she could tell the difference between the beast and the lighting. The beast’s glow sucked all the light from the air and replaced it with a hunger.

Sal was so nervous that she didn’t notice that Tyr had turned to face her.

“Do not despair.”

Sal didn’t bother to mention that she had passed despair somewhere on the second floor and entered into hopeless a few minutes ago.

“I shall hold him,” he said firmly. But were his words meant to convince her, or himself? “I shall lure him deep within the hall.”

Nodding, Sal’s attention wandered back to the staircase. In only a few seconds, the beast would make an appearance. It might stalk slowly, or burst out with wild fury, but it would come.

Tyr forced her to face him. “When I give you the command, you must run. Run as you have never in your life.”

“But I’ll still be trapped in here. I’d rather—”

“Have you not listened?” Tyr growled. “You must be far away when I succumb.”

“Succumb?” Maybe the word meant something different in his culture. “You mean die?”

He acted as if he had to explain the sun’s rise each morning. “After I draw my final breath, the beast will flee through time. He will become my brethren’s burden, but you must be away. Too near and he will delay his flight to satisfy his revenge upon you.”

“But…” Sal voice shook from confusion and fear. “The baby’s blood. You said it was the key to killing him.”

Tyr shook his head. “It must be spared until the killing stroke.”

“Then make the killing stroke!” she demanded.

His tone was almost kind. “Battling to kill and fighting to lure are disciplines apart.” Tyr squeezed her shoulders. “If I were to miss, he would take us both in a single bold stroke.”

“There’s got to be another way,” she begged, but could tell by the weight upon his features that there wasn’t.

Tyr was going to die. She might too. Either way, he was going to die.

He nodded sharply as if to finalize their plan, but she refused to sign off on his suicidal plan. She refused to give up. The beast hadn’t even drawn blood yet, and Tyr was capitulating? That would be like signing a death certificate before the patient had even been wheeled into the ER.

“Damn it, think!” Sal urged herself. Using her medical school-honed memory, she sorted through everything she knew about the beast. Their attacker was nothing more than a virile pathogen. If he had strengths, he had weaknesses.

“You can use my blood.” Sal extended her arm. “You have my permission. Use it to anoint your blade.”

“His flesh has tasted you. The blow might sting, but stall him? No longer. Mine is the only path.”

It couldn’t be. Sal felt anguish threaten to overwhelm her, but she refused to indulge in such wallowing. What did she teach her students? If the patient’s heart still beat, you kept trying; even when you thought there wasn’t anything else to try, you still tried.

“Wait,” Sal urged. “If you can hold him, I can run down and get another gun.”

Tyr sneered. “Those armed thought the same, and did you not witness their fate?”

“Damn it. I injured it.” A snort from Tyr pissed her off. “Back on the dock, I shot him.”

“Startling and injuring are leagues apart.”

Tyr’s view must have been blocked by the crate. Didn’t he realize she’d actually shot the beast?

She thrust her bloody hand toward Tyr. “That’s the beast’s blood.” She indicated to the spray of dark spots on her jacket. “And that’s from the second shot.”

That unusual turning up of his lips formed, only this time it wasn’t just a smile but a fierce one.

“Then there is hope,” he said as tugged on her jacket. “I must prepare the elixir.”

Sal blushed as she helped him rip the garment from her. Her mind knew the action was just to get the blood-soaked cloth for his potion, but her body had a very different reaction. Ignoring her flushed cheeks, Sal looked toward the staircase. The entire room filled with the beast’s sickly red pallor. Sal refused to be terrified. Tyr had a plan, and from his pleased expression it was a good one.

“Now,” he added, “we need only for
you
to hold him.”

Sal’s head snapped around. “What?”

CHAPTER 44

Tyr seemed unconcerned. “The tincture must be precise.”

“I can’t—” Of course, that was the moment the beast’s paw mounted the top step. “He’s coming!”

“But look how slowly,” Tyr said as he hunched over the jacket and a myriad of vials. “He can sense you and smell my wounds. Why does he not charge to meet us head- on?”

Sal hadn’t thought about that. Every second the beast delayed was a gift that she wasn’t rushing to question.

As the full measure of the beast mounted that last step, Sal raised Tyr’s scimitar. The beast’s warning guff burned right through her clothes and into her heart. Still, the beast did not attack. Instead, it paced back and forth, blocking their only exit.

“You have taught the beast a caution that I did not think possible.”

Well, Sal wouldn’t exactly call it caution. Rather, its ruddy glow and guttural vocalizations spoke of rage, a rage that was about to be unleashed.

She’d seen the same bunching of its muscles back on the dock. The same tension in its neck. The beast would have his satisfaction.

“Tyr…”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before the beast gathered, its tail lashing violently. Faster than she could blink, it launched at her.

Sal was sure that she screamed, but couldn’t hear over the beast’s roar. A single blow knocked the scimitar from her hand. The weapon skidded across the marble, sparking in a piercing squeal.

Both she and the beast knew that she was defenseless.

A hand grabbed the collar of her sweater, pulling her off her feet. As she fell back, Tyr blew a thick powder into the beast’s face. Enraged, the beast swatted, but its aim was off. Tyr easily danced away as their enemy staggered backward, clearly blinded.

Tyr took her hand. “This way.”

As they ran, Sal glanced over her shoulder to find the beast groping about, disoriented and frantic. “Why didn’t you just kill him?”

“To kill the beast will take an act of treachery.”

“Such as?”

Instead of answering, Tyr quickened the pace. It wasn’t until they were deep within the Black Death exhibit that he pulled them to a halt. He cast his glance around the room, and then tugged her toward the far corner.

“Here,” he said as he shoved about seven million dollars’ worth of Dark Ages artifacts aside to clear an area in front of an enormous thirteenth-century stone cross. “Sit.”

With her bottom on the cool, marble floor, Sal leaned against a rough rock. Tyr took a small leather bag of powder and sprinkled it in a circle around her and the cross.

“You must stay within the protectorate.”

Hugging her knees to her chest, Sal nodded.

Next, he uncorked the tiny vial that held the baby’s blood. Tyr tapped the glass, and a single drop of blood fell onto his sword. This time, instead of the blade turning a blinding white, the gray metal shimmered red.

The color of the beast.

CHAPTER 45

The commotion from the front of the exhibit abruptly stopped.

“He comes,” Tyr said, locking her gaze. “No matter the cause, do not breach the circle.”

As the hunter strode off, her stomach twisted. Sal didn’t want to be the “clingy” girl, but she couldn’t let him leave without the tiniest bit of reassurance. “You won’t go far?”

Those blue eyes sobered to gray. “Only as far as needs be.”

She gave him a timid smile, which he didn’t return. Her heart thudded against her sternum as Tyr disappeared between a Black Death casket and a massive gargoyle.

The room warmed as the seconds ticked by. Just as the red gloom preceded the beast, so did his body heat. Crinkling her nose, Sal realized that his odor was a pretty good indicator, too. As the smell filled her nostrils, she knew the beast had entered the exhibit.

Which would be the greater attractant? Her essence, or Tyr’s blood?

Did the circle of powder only mask her scent, or was it a true barrier?

Her resolve was tested as she heard the beast’s harsh breath. He padded softly across the room, his nose down, sniffing along the floor. The beast found the pile of artifacts that Tyr had tossed aside. For an instant, Sal held out hope that they would hold his interest, then the beast snorted in disgust, moving onto the next, until there were no more.

When the beast almost bumped into a pedestal holding a carving of the Green Man, Sal realized the beast’s vision must still be compromised. He was relying solely on his sense of smell.

Tyr really did know his Praxis.

The beast raised his head, nose pointed up, taking in great long droughts of air. His thick mane turned in her direction. Digging fingernails into her jeans, Sal kept herself from screaming.