Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior (20 page)

Roan blinked. He felt hot tears jam into his eyes. “You’ve packed her skull in ice?”

“Yes, she is ice packed right now.”

“And put an anti-inflammatory in her IV to reduce the swelling of her brain tissue?”

Dr. Sanchez nodded grimly. “
Sim.
I’ve given her the highest amount possible,
senhor.
If I give her any more, it will kill her.” The surgeon reached out. “I’m sorry. We must wait. Right now, she’s being wheeled into a special room that is outside of ICU. She will be monitored by all the latest equipment, but it is not glass-enclosed. It is a private room.”

Roan felt his world tilting. He understood all too well what the doctor was saying without saying it. The private room was reserved for those who were going to die, anyway. This just gave the family of the person the privacy they needed to say their goodbyes and to weep without the world watching them.

“I—see….” he croaked.

Sadly, Dr. Sanchez whispered, “She’s in the hands of God, now,
senhor.
We’ve done all we could. I anticipate that in the next forty-eight hours her fate will be decided…. I suggest you get cleaned up. And then you canstay with her, yes?”

The doctor’s kindness was more than Roan had expected. Inca was going to die. Blinking back the tears, he rasped unsteadily, “No, I want to stay with her, Doctor. Thank you….”

The beeps and sighs of ICU equipment filled the white room where Inca lay. Normally, Roan felt a sense of se
curity with all these machines. Inca was breathing on her own, which was good. As he stood at her bedside, he saw how pale she had become. Her head was swathed in a white dressing and bandage. The ice packs were changed hourly. And every hour, her blood pressure was moving downward, a sign of impending death. Miserably, Roan stood at her bedside, her cool hand clutched within his. Dawn was peeking through the venetian blinds. The pale rose color did not even register with him, only as a reminder that Inca would enjoy seeing the beauty of the colors that washed the dawn sky. So many conversations with her played back to him. Each one twinged his aching heart. He had tried to heal her as he had once before, but it didn’t work. He was too exhausted, too emotionally torn to gather the necessary amount of laser-like concentration. Never had he felt so helpless.

Leaning down, Roan pressed his lips to her forehead. Easing back a little, he studied Inca’s peaceful face. She looked as if she were asleep, that was all; not fighting a losing battle for her life. Roan knew that the brain could continue to swell despite whatever efforts doctors made, and that if it swelled too much, it would block the necessary messages to the rest of the body and she’d stop breathing. Her blood pressure dropping was a bad sign that her brain was continuing to swell despite everything. A very bad sign.

“I love you, Inca. Do you hear me, sweetheart?” His voice broke the stillness of the room. His tone was deep and unsteady. Hot tears spilled from his eyes. “Do you hear me? I love you. I don’t know when it happened, it just did.” He brushed the soft skin of her cheek. “At first,
I was afraid to fall for you, Inca. But now I’m glad I did. I want you to fight, Inca. Fight to come back to me. To what we might have. This isn’t fair. None of it. I’ve just found you…loved you…. Please—” he squeezed her fingers gently “—fight back. Fight for our love, fight for yourself, because there are so many people who need you. Who rely on you…”

The door quietly opened and closed. Roan choked back a sob, straightened up and twisted to look in that direction. He’d expected the nurse, who would take Inca’s vitals and replace the old ice pack for a new one. His eyes widened. It was Captain Stevenson. She was still dressed in the clinging black nylon uniform, her flak jacket open. Beneath her left arm was her helmet. His gaze ranged upward to her face. His heart pounded hard. She looked drawn and exhausted as she stepped into the room.

He met her slightly tilted emerald-green eyes as they locked on his. Blinking, Roan again saw the powerful resemblance between her and Inca. They almost looked like—twins! But how could that be? His mind spun. She had her black hair, tightly gathered in a chignon at the nape of her long neck. The pride and confidence in her square face was unmistakable. But there was grief in her eyes, and her full lips twisted slightly in greeting.

She moved soundlessly to the other side of Inca’s bed. Glancing down at Inca, she quietly placed her helmet on the bedstand. “You’re right, Senhor Storm Walker. I
am
her twin.” She smiled tenderly down at Inca and ran her fingers along her arm. “Fraternal twin.”

“But…how…? Inca never told me about you.”

Maya shrugged. Her expression softened more as she leaned down and placed a kiss on Inca’s damp brow.
Straightening, her voice hoarse, she said, “Inca never knew I existed. So she couldn’t tell you about me. I was told of her being my sister a year ago by the elders of the Jaguar Clan. Once I knew, I was told I would meet her.” She grimaced. “They didn’t tell me how I would meet her until a week ago. That’s why I’m here….”

Stunned into silence, Roan stared at the woman. She was a warrior, no doubt. She was as tall as Inca, and he could see the black leather holster on her thigh.

“My poor sister,” Maya whispered in a choked tone as she continued to stroke Inca’s hair in a gentle motion. “Our fate has been one made in darkness. I’m so sorry this happened. I wished I could’ve stopped it, but I couldn’t. You have one more bridge to cross, my loving sister. Just one…” And Maya straightened and looked directly at Roan.

“She’s going to die,” Maya told him in a low tone.

Roan rocked back. He gripped Inca’s hand and tried to deal with the truth.

Maya sighed as the pain moved through her heart. She held Inca’s other hand in hers.

“I tried to save her like I did once before,” he told Maya.

She shook her head. “You don’t have the kind of training it takes to be able to heal in the middle of a battle.” She gave him an understanding look. “It takes years of training to do it, so don’t blame yourself.”

“It worked once…I hoped…wanted it to work again….”

“You’re lucky it happened once. There’s a huge difference between a snake bite and a firefight. You just
didn’t have the emotional composure to pull it off when she got shot.”

Roan stared at her. “Earlier you said ‘black jaguar express.’ I thought you were kidding. But if you’re Inca’s sister, then you’re from the Jaguar Clan, too?”

She smiled tightly. “The
Black
Jaguar Clan,
senhor.
Very few know about us. Let’s just say we do the dirty work for the Sisterhood of Light. The Jaguar Clan you know of, Inca’s people, work in good, positive ways. The Black Jaguar Clan…well, let’s just put it this way—someone has to clean up the ugliness in life.” Her mouth was grim. There was a glitter in her eyes that said she was committed to what her life was about.

“You—work for the Brazilian government, then?” His mind spun. His heart ached. Inca was going to die.

Maya shook her head and gave a low growl as she continued to devote her attention to Inca. “What an insult. We work for a much higher power than that. But enough of this. You need to listen to me carefully,
senhor.
Inca has one shot at living. That’s why I’m here. I’ve been told that she can have her life back. There’s only one possibility for her to live, however.”

Eagerly, Roan listened. “How? What can I do?”

Maya studied him fiercely. “You are a credit to the human race,
senhor.
Yes, you can help.” She pointed toward the ceiling. “In the laws of the Sisterhood of Light, it’s said that if a person willingly gives up her or his life for another, the one who is dying may survive. But—” Maya gave him a hard, uncompromising look “—in order for that to occur, that person must
willingly
give her or his life in exchange. It must be someone who loves the dying person unselfishly.”

The silence swirled between them.

Roan looked down at Inca. He would have to die in order for her to live. His hand tightened around hers. He felt Maya’s stare cutting straight through him. It was clear she possessed a power equal to Inca’s, and then some.

Inca’s life for his own. His heart shattered with the finality of the her words.

“You know,” Roan whispered in a broken tone, “I’ve been a lucky man. I never thought I’d know what love was in this lifetime until I met Sarah. And then she was torn from me. After that—” he looked up at Maya, tears in his eyes “—I never expected to fall in love again, until Inca crashed into my life. I’d given up hope. I was just surviving, not living life, until she came along.” Gently, he brushed Inca’s arm with his fingertips. “My life for hers. There’s no question of who’s more important here. She is.”

Roan lifted his chin and met and held Maya’s hard emerald gaze. Her expression was uncompromising as she stood there, the silence deepening in the room.

“Yes. Take my life for hers. Inca is far more important than me. I love her….”

Maya regarded him gravely. “In order for this exchange to occur, you must love her enough to not be afraid of dying.”

Shaking his head, Roan rasped, “There’s no question of my love for Inca. If you’re as powerful metaphysically as she is, then you already know that. You knew the answer before coming here, didn’t you?”

Giving him a mirthless smile, Maya whispered, “Yes, I knew. But you see, my brave friend, there’s always free will in such matters.” She glided her hand across Inca’s
unbound hair. “If I could give my life for hers, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But the laws state that I can’t. We’re twin souls, and therefore, it’s unacceptable.”

Roan looked at one monitor. He saw Inca’s blood pressure dipping steeply. “She’s dumping,” he growled, and pointed at the screen. “She’s dying. Just do it. Get it over with. Just tell her when she wakes up that I loved her with all my heart and soul.”

Maya took a deep breath and gave him a warm, sad look. “Yes, I promise she’ll know. And…thank you. You’ve given me my sister, whom I’ve never been allowed to approach or to know. Now we’ll have the time we need to get to know one another…and
be
sisters….”

Roan nodded. “More than anything, she wanted a family, Maya. I’m glad she has one. I know she’s going to be happy to see you when she wakes up.”

Blinking hard, Maya whispered, “Place your hand over her heart and your other hand over the top of her head. Keep your knees slightly bent and flexed. It will allow the energy to run more smoothly. If you lock your knees, you’ll block it and cause problems. And whatever happens, keep your eyes closed and keep a hold on her. Me and my black jaguar spirit guide will do the rest.”

Roan leaned down. One last kiss. A goodbye kiss. His mouth touched and glided against Inca’s, whose lips were slightly parted. Her lips were chapped and cool beneath his. He kissed her tenderly, and with all the love that he felt for her. He breathed his breath into her mouth—one last parting gift. His breath, his life entering into her body, into her soul. As he eased away, he whispered, “I’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart. I love you….”

“Prepare!” Maya growled. “She’s leaving us!”

Roan did exactly as Maya asked. He stood at Inca’s bedside and braced himself against the metal railing for support. He had no idea what would happen next. Well, he’d had one hell of a life. He’d been privileged to love two extraordinary women—two more than he deserved. The moment his hands were in place, he felt Maya’s strong, warm hands move over his. It felt like a lightning bolt had struck him. He groaned. The darkness behind his lids exploded into what could only be described as sparks and explosions of color and light. In seconds, Roan was whirling and spinning as if caught in a tornado’s grip. He lost all sense of time, direction and of being in his body.

And then he lost consciousness as he spun into a darkened void. The only thing he felt, the last thing he remembered, was his undying, tender love for Inca….

A
n intense, gutting pain ripped through Roan and made him groan out loud. His voice reverberated around him like a drum sounding. Was he dead? He felt out of breath, gasps tearing raggedly from of his mouth, as if he’d run ten miles without resting. Everything was dark. His body felt as if a steel weight was resting on him. It was impossible to move.

“Lie still, lie still, and soon the pressure will lift. Be patient, my son….”

Roan didn’t know the woman, but her voice was remarkably soothing to his panicked state. Had he died? Struggling to see, he groaned.

“Shh, my son, just relax. No, you are not dead. You’ve just been teleported from Manaus to here. In a few moments your eyes will open.”

He felt her hand on his shoulder, warm and anchoring. His head hurt like hell, a hot, throbbing sensation. What
of Inca? What had happened to her? He opened his mouth to speak, but only a croak came out of it.

He heard the woman chuckle. She patted his shoulder. “Young people are so impatient. Try to take a deep breath, Roan. Just one.”

Struggling to do as the woman asked, he concentrated hard on taking a breath. His mind was scattered; he felt like he was in five or six major pieces, floating out of body in a dark vacuum.

“Good,” she praised. “And again…”

Roan was able to take the second breath even more deeply into his chest. He was hyperventilating, but by honing in on her voice, he was able to slow his breathing down considerably.

“Excellent. My name is Alaria. When you open your eyes, you will find yourself in a large hut here at the Village of the Clouds. You and Inca are welcome here.”

Roan felt a surge of electricity move from her hand into his shoulder. The jolt was warm and mild, but he was very aware of the energy moving quickly through him. “My son, when Inca returns from the Threshold, she will want to see your face first….” He felt the gentle pat of Grandmother Alaria’s hand on his shoulder.

And then, almost without effort, he lifted his lids. Bright light made him squint, and he turned his head briefly to one side to avoid it. Shafts of sunlight lanced through an open window. Blinking several times, Roan managed to roll onto his side and then slowly sit up. Dizziness assailed him. All the while, Alaria’s hand remained on his arm to steady him. That electrical charge was still flowing out of her hand and into him. Shaking his head, he rubbed his face wearily.

“Take your time. You’ve been through a great deal,” she said quietly. “Inca is fine. She is lying next to you, there.” She pointed to the other side of the mat where he sat. “Inca will recover fully, so do not fret. I need you to come back, into your body, and become grounded. Then the dizziness will leave and you will no longer feel as if you’re in pieces, floating around in space.”

Next to him, on a soft, comfortable pallet on the hard dirt floor, was Inca, who was asleep or unconscious. She lay beneath several blankets. Her skin tone was normal and no longer washed out. Most of all, the peaceful look on her unmarred features made Roan’s fast-beating heart soar with hope. Looking up, he saw the woman named Alaria for the first time. Relief flooded him that Inca was here and she was all right. He didn’t know
how
she could be; but having been around Inca, he knew that miracles were everyday occurrences in the life of Jaguar Clan members.

And perhaps a miracle had just occurred for both of them. He felt better just looking into Alaria’s aged but beautiful face. Her eyes sparkled with tenderness, her hand firm and steady on his shoulder. She had her silver hair plaited into two thick braids, which hung over her shoulders, and she was dressed in a pale pink blouse and a dark brown cotton skirt, her feet bare and thickly callused. His mind spun. With her parchmentlike hands, she continued to send him stabilizing energy, reassuring him that he wasn’t dead.

“I know you have many questions,” Alaria soothed. “Just rest. You are still coming out of the teleport state that Maya initiated with our help. All questions will be answered once Inca has returned to us.” She brushed his
dampened hair with aged fingers. “You are a courageous and unselfish warrior, Roan Storm Walker. We have been watching you for some time. Be at peace. There is safety here in the Village of the Clouds for you and Inca.” Pouring some liquid into a carved wooden cup, she handed it to him. “Drink this warm tea. It contains a healing herb.”

He was thirsty. His mouth was dry. Eagerly, he drank the contents of the mug. There was a slightly sweet and astringent taste to the tea. Roan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He watched Alaria slowly get to her feet. She straightened and gave him a grandmotherly smile.

“Inca will be awakening soon, and she will be disoriented and dizzy just like you for a while. Be with her. We are monitoring her energy levels at all times. Her wound has been healed. There is no more swelling of her brain.” A slight smile crossed her lips. “And you are not dead. You are both alive. I’ll return later. Give Inca the herbal drink when she’s ready for it.”

“T-thank you,” Roan said, his voice sounding like sandpaper.

Alaria nodded, folded her thin hands and moved serenely out of the roomy thatched hut. Outside, thunder caromed in the distance, and he saw an arc of lightning brighten the turbulent blue-and-black sky. It was going to rain shortly. The beam of sunlight that had blinded him earlier was gone, snuffed out by the approaching cumulus clouds, which were dark and pregnant with water.

Turning his attention to Inca, Roan moved his trembling fingers along her right arm. She wasn’t dead. She was alive. Her flesh was warm, not cool and deathlike as before. Dizziness assailed him once more, and he shut his
eyes tightly and clung to her hand. He still felt fragmented. He felt as if pieces of him were still spinning wildly here and there in space. It was an uncomfortable sensation, one he’d never experienced before.

Opening his eyes, Roan studied Inca’s soft, peaceful features. Her lips, once chapped, were now softly parted and had regained their natural pomegranate color. Her hair was combed and free flowing, an ebony halo about her head and shoulders. And his medicine piece now lay around her neck, resting on her fine, thin collarbones. The last thing he remembered was placing the amulet between their hands—a last gift, a prayer for her, for her life. Someone must have put the necklace back in place around Inca’s neck, but he didn’t know who had done it. Roan gently touched the opalescent blue stone which felt warm and looked as if it was glowing.

So much had happened. Roan couldn’t explain any of it. One moment he was in the hospital room in Manaus, following Maya’s orders to save Inca’s life. And the next, it felt as if fifty thousand volts of lightning had struck him squarely. Roan remembered spinning down into a dark abyss, but that was all. And then he’d groggily regained consciousness here, in this hut.

Frowning, he felt a wave of emotion. Inca was here with him. He loved her. His heart swelled fiercely with such feeling that tears automatically wet his lashes. Not caring if anyone saw him cry, Roan didn’t try to stop the tears that were now moving down his unshaved face.

“Come back, sweetheart. They said you would live….” he rasped thickly, as he moved his fingers up her arm in a comforting motion. She should have had needle imprints and a little bruising around where the IVs had
been placed in her arms, but there was no sign of them on her beautiful, soft flesh. And when he examined the back of her head, the wound was gone. Gone! Her skull bone no longer protruded. There was no tissue swelling. It was as if the injury had never occurred.

How could this be? Roan couldn’t stop touching Inca. His heart was wide-open and pounding with anguish one second, giddy with joy the next. Her skin was warm and firm. Her thick, black lashes rested across her golden, high cheekbones. Moving his fingers through her lush, silky hair, he marveled at her wild, untamed beauty.

The rain began, pelting softly at first on the thatched roof. Lightning shattered across the area and illuminated the rain forest at the edge of the village, its power shaking the hut. Thunder caromed like a hundred kettledrums being struck simultaneously. Cringing slightly, Roan waited tensely.

Inca stirred.

His hand tightened around hers. He held his breath. Did he dare hope? Was she coming out of the coma? Would she be whole or brain damaged? Would she have amnesia and not recognize him? Roan leaned down, his eyes narrowing, his heart pounding wildly.

“Inca? Sweetheart? It’s me, Roan. You’re not dying. You’re alive. Open your eyes. You’re here with me. You’re safe. Do you hear me?” His fingers tightened again about hers. Once more her lashes fluttered. And then her parted lips compressed. One corner of her mouth pulled inward, as if she were in pain. Was she? Anxiety tunneled through him. Roan wished mightily for Alaria to be here right now. He had no idea what to expect, what to do in case Inca was in pain. It was his nature, as a
paramedic, to relieve suffering, and right now he felt damned useless.

“Inca?”

Roan felt her fingers twitch, then curve around his. He smiled a little. “That’s it, come on out of it. You’re coming back from a long journey, my woman. You’re my heart, Inca. I don’t know if you can hear me or understand me, but I love you….” He choked on a sob. Roan watched in amazement as color began to flood back into her face. He felt a powerful shift of energy around her and himself. Her cheeks took on a rosy hue. Life was flowing back into her.

A second bolt of lightning slammed into the earth, far too close to the hut. Roan cringed as the power and tumult of the flash shook the ground. Rain was now slashing down, the wind howling unabated. The wide, sloping roof kept the pummeling rain from coming into the open windows. Instead, cooling and soothing breezes drifted throughout the clean, airy hut.

Inca’s brows moved downward. Roan’s breath caught in this throat as her lashes swept upward and he saw her drowsy looking, willow-green eyes. Anxiously, he searched them. Her pupils were huge and black as she gazed up at him. Was she seeing him? Or was she still caught in the coma? Roan knew that it took days and sometimes weeks or even months for a person who was in a coma to come out of it and be coherent. She stared up at him. Her pupils constricted and became more focused. His heart pounded with anxiety.

“Inca? It’s Roan. I’m here.” He lifted her hand and pressed it against his heart. Leaning down, he caressed her cheek. “I love you. Do you hear me? I’m never going
to leave you. You’re coming out of a coma. Everything’s all right. You’re safe…and you’re here with me….” He managed a wobbling smile of hope for both of them.

A third bolt of lightning struck, even closer to the hut than the last one, it seemed. This strike made the hut shudder like a wounded beast. Automatically, Roan leaned forward, his body providing protection for Inca. As the thunder rolled mightily around them, Roan eased back. It was then that he recalled that Inca had been born in an eclipse of the moon and during a raging thunderstorm. Sitting up, he watched her eyes become less sleepy looking and more alive, as if her spirit were moving back inside her physical form and flooding her with life once again. The symbolism of the storm was not lost on him. Mike Houston had told him she’d been born in a storm it would make sense that her rebirth would take place during another storm.

He smiled a little, heartened by that knowledge. Indians saw the world as a latticework of symbols and cosmology that were all intertwined. As he gently pressed her hand against his heart, he saw her lashes lift even more. Inca’s eyes were now clearer and far more focused. Her gaze clung to his. Roan felt her returning; with each heartbeat, he felt Inca coming home, to him, to what he prayed would be a lifetime with her if the Great Spirit so ordained it.

“Where…?” Inca croaked, her voice rough from disuse.

“You’re here at the Village of the Clouds, sweetheart. With me. Alaria said we were teleported by her from the hospital in Manaus.” Roan didn’t care if his voice wobbled with tears. With joy. Inca was here. And she was
alive! He reached down and tenderly caressed her cheek. Her pupils changed in diameter, so he knew she was seeing him and that her brain was not damaged as he feared.

“Welcome back,” he rasped. “You’re home, with me…where you belong….”

The words fell like a soft, warm blanket around Inca. The sensation of vertigo was slowly leaving her. She felt her spirit sliding fully and locking powerfully into her physical body. Roan’s large, scarred hand held hers. She closed her eyes, took in a deep, shaky breath and whispered, “I can feel your heartbeat in my hand….” And she could. Inca opened her eyes and drowned in his dark, smoky-blue gaze. There was no question that she loved him. None. Just that little-boy smile lurking hesitantly at the corner of his mouth, and the hope and love burning in his eyes, made a powerful river of joy flow through her opening heart.

“Are you thirsty? Alaria said you should drink this herbal tea. It will help you.”

As Inca became more aware of her surroundings, she frowned. Alaria? Yes, Roan had mentioned Grandmother Alaria. Inca’s heart bounded with hope. She had been here with her? Could it be they were
really
at the Village of the Clouds? Her head spun. She had been banned from her real home. So why was she here now? Nothing made sense to Inca. Her hope soared. “Y-yes…”

Roan reached for a pitcher and poured some of the contents into a mug carved out of a coconut shell. “Hold on,” he murmured, “and I’ll help you sit up enough to drink this.”

Inca heard the wind howling around them. It was a powerful storm. She felt it in her bones, felt it stirring her
spirit back to life within her body. As a metaphysician, she had experienced many strange sensations, but this one was new to her. She’d teleported once or twice before and was familiar with the process. But this was different. When Roan leaned over and slid his thick arm behind her neck and shoulders and gently lifted her into his arms, Inca became alarmed at how weak she was.

“Don’t fight,” he soothed as he angled her carefully, cradling her against his body. He watched as Inca tried to lift her hand. It fell limply back to her side. Seeing the surprise in her eyes, he raised the mug to her lips.