Stars of Mithra Box Set: Captive Star\Hidden Star\Secret Star (51 page)

He led her down the stairs. There was the guard she'd seen before. But he wasn't standing now. Averting her eyes, she stepped around him, gestured. She was steadier now. The past didn't always run in a loop, she knew. Sometimes it changed. People made it change.

“It's back there, the third door down on the left.” She cringed when she caught a movement. But it was Jack, melting out of a doorway.

“It's clear,” he said to Seth.

“Take her out.” His eyes said everything as he nudged her into Jack's arms.
Take care of her. I'm trusting you.

Jack hitched her against his side to keep his weapon hand free. “You're okay, honey.”

“No.” She shook her head. “He's going to kill them. He has explosives, something, at the house, at the pub. You have to stop him. The panel. I'll show you.”

She wrenched away from Jack, staggered like a drunk toward the library. “Here.” She turned a
rosette in the carving of the chair rail. “I watched him.” The panel slid smoothly open.

“Jack, get her out. Call in a 911. I'll deal with him.”

She was floating, just under the surface of thick, warm water. “He'll have to kill him,” she said faintly as Seth disappeared into the opening. “This time he can't fail.”

“He knows what he has to do.”

“Yes, he always does.” And the room spun once, wildly. “Jack, I'm sorry,” she managed before she spun with it.

 

He hadn't locked the door, Seth noted. Arrogant bastard, so sure no one would trespass on his sacred ground. With his weapon lifted, Seth eased the heavy door open, blinked once at the bright gleam of gold.

He stepped inside, focused on the man sitting in a thronelike chair in the center of all the glory. “It's done, DeVane.”

DeVane wasn't surprised. He'd known the man would come. “You risk a great deal.” His smile was cold as a snake's, his eyes mad as a hatter's. “You did before. You remember, don't you? Dreamed of it, didn't you? You came to steal from me before, to take the Stars and the woman. You had a sword then, heavy and unjeweled.”

Something vague and quick passed through Seth's mind. A stone castle, a stormy sky, a room of great wealth. A woman beloved. On an altar, a triangle wrenched from the hands of the god, adorned with diamonds as blue as stars.

“I killed you.” DeVane laughed softly. “Left your body for the crows.”

“That was then.” Seth stepped forward. “This is now.”

DeVane's smile spread. “I am beyond you.” He lifted his hand, and the gun he held in it.

Two shots were fired, so close together they sounded as one. The room shook, echoed, settled, and went back to gleaming. Slowly Seth stepped closer, looked down at the man who lay facedown on a hill of gold.

“Now you are,” Seth murmured. “You're beyond me now.”

She heard the shots. For one unspeakable moment everything inside her stopped. Heart, mind, breath, blood. Then it started again, a tidal wave of feeling that had her springing off the bench where Jack had put her, the air heaving in and out of her lungs.

And she knew, because she felt, because her heart could beat, that it hadn't been Seth who'd met the bullet. If he had died, she would have
known. Some piece of her heart would have broken off from the whole and shattered.

Still, she waited, her eyes on the house, because she had to see.

The stars wheeled overhead, the moon shot light through the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird began to call out, with hope and joy.

Then he walked out of the house. Whole. Tears clogged her throat and were swallowed. They stung her eyes and were willed away. She had to see him clearly, the man she had accepted that she loved, and couldn't have.

He walked to her, his eyes dark and cool, his gait steady.

He'd already regained control, she realized. Already tucked whatever he'd had to do away in some compartment where it wouldn't interfere with what had to be done next.

She wrapped her arms around herself, hands clamped tight on her forearms. She'd never know that one gesture, that turning into herself and not him, was what stopped him from reaching for her.

So he stood, with an armspan of distance between them and looked at the woman he accepted that he loved, and had pushed away.

She was pale, and even now he could see the quick trembles that ripped through her. But he
wouldn't have said she was fragile. Even now, with death shimmering between them, she wasn't fragile.

Her voice was strong and steady. “It's over?”

“Yeah, it's over.”

“He was going to kill them.”

“That's over, too.” His need to touch her, to hold on, was overwhelming. He felt that his knees were about to give way. But she turned, shifted her body away, and looked out into the dark.

“I need to see them. Bailey and M.J.”

“I know.”

“You need my statement.”

God. His control wavered enough for him to press his fingers against burning eyes. “It can wait.”

“Why? I want it over. I need to put it behind me.” She steadied herself again, then turned slowly. And when she faced him, his hands were at his sides and his eyes clear. “I need to put it all behind me.”

Her meaning was clear enough, Seth thought. He was part of that all.

“Grace, you're hurt and you're in shock. An ambulance is on the way.”

“I don't need an ambulance.”

“Don't tell me what the hell you need.” Fury swarmed through him, buzzed in his head like a
nest of mad hornets. “I said the damn statement can wait. You're shaking. For God's sake, sit down.”

When he reached out to take her arm, she jerked back, her chin snapping up, her shoulders hunching. “Don't touch me. Just…don't.” If he touched her, she might break. If she broke she would weep. And weeping, she would beg.

The words were a knife in the gut, the deep and desperate blue of her eyes a blow to the face. Because he felt his fingers tremble, he stuffed them into his pockets, took a step back. “All right. Sit down. Please.”

Had he thought she wasn't fragile? She looked as if she would shatter into pieces with one hard thought. She was sheet pale, her eyes enormous. Blood and bruises marked her face.

And there was nothing he could do. Nothing she would let him do.

He heard the distant wail of sirens, and footsteps from behind him. Cade, his face grim, walked to Grace, tucked a blanket he'd brought from the house over her shoulders.

Seth watched as she turned into him, how her body seemed to go fluid and flow into the arms Cade offered her. He heard the fractured sob even as she muffled it against Cade's shoulder.

“Get her out of here.” His fingers burned to
reach out, stroke her hair, to take something away with him. “Get her the hell out of here.”

He walked back into the house to do what needed to be done.

 

The birds sang their morning song as Grace stepped out into her garden. The woods were quiet and green. And safe. She'd needed to come here, to her country escape. To come alone. To be alone.

Bailey and M.J. had understood. In a few days, she thought, she would go into town, call, see if they'd like to come up, bring Jack and Cade. She would need to see them soon. But she couldn't bear to go back yet. Not yet.

She could still hear the shots, the quick jolt of them shuddering through her as Jack had taken her outside. She'd known it was DeVane and not Seth who had met the bullet. She'd simply known.

She hadn't seen Seth again that night. It had been easy to avoid him in the confusion that followed. She'd answered all the questions the local police had asked, made statements to the government officials. She'd stood up to it, then quietly demanded that Cade or Jack take her to Salvini, take her to Bailey and M.J.

And the Three Stars.

Stepping down onto her blooming terraces, she
brought it back into her head, and her heart. The three of them standing in the near dark of a near-empty room, she with her torn and bloody dress.

Each of them had taken a point of the triangle, had felt the sing of power, seen the flicker of impossible light. And had known it was done.

“It's as if we've done this before,” Bailey had murmured. “But it wasn't enough then. It was lost, and so were we.”

“It's enough now.” M.J. had looked up, met each of their eyes in turn. “Like a cycle, complete. A chain, with the links forged. It's weird, but it's right.”

“A museum instead of a temple this time.” Regret and relief had mixed within Grace as they set the Stars down again. “A promise kept, and, I suppose, destinies fulfilled.”

She'd turned to both of them, embraced them. Another triangle. “I've always loved you both, needed you both. Can we go somewhere? The three of us.” The tears had come then, flooding. “I need to talk.”

She'd told them everything, poured out heart and soul, hurt and terror, until she was empty. And she supposed, because it was them, she'd healed a little.

Now she would heal on her own.

She could do it here, Grace knew, and, closing
her eyes, she just breathed. Then, because it always soothed, she set down her gardening basket, and began to tend her blooms.

She heard the car coming, the rumble of wheels on gravel, and her brow creased in mild irritation. Her neighbors were few and far between and rarely intruded. She wanted no company but her plants, and she stood, her flowers flowing at her feet, determined to politely and firmly send the visitor away again.

Her heart kicked once, hard, when she saw that the car was Seth's. She watched in silence as it stopped in the middle of her lane and he got out and started toward her.

She looked like something out of a misty legend herself, he thought. Her hair blowing in the breeze, the long, loose skirt of her dress fluttering, and flowers in a sea around her. His nerves jangled.

And his stomach clutched when he saw the bruise marring her cheek.

“You're a long way from home, Seth.” She spoke without expression as he stopped two steps beneath her.

“You're a hard woman to find, Grace.”

“That's the way I prefer it. I don't care for company here.”

“Obviously.” Both to give himself time to set
tle and because he was curious, he scanned the land, the house perched on the hill, the deep secrets of the woods. “It's a beautiful spot.”

“Yes.”

“Remote.” His gaze shifted back to hers so quickly, so intensely, he nearly made her jolt. “Peaceful. You've earned some peace.”

“That's why I'm here.” She lifted a brow. “And why are you here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Grace—”

“I intended to see you when I came back,” she said quickly. “We didn't talk much that night. I suppose I was more shaken up than I realized. I never even thanked you.”

It was worse, he realized, that cool, polite voice was worse than a shouted curse. “You don't have anything to thank me for.”

“You saved my life and, I believe, the lives of the people I love. I know you broke rules, even the law, to find me, to get me away from him. I'm grateful.”

The palms of his hands went clammy. She was making him see it again, feel it again. All that rage and terror. “I'd have done anything to get you away from him.”

“Yes, I think I know that.” She had to look away. It hurt too much to look into his eyes. She'd promised herself, sworn to herself she wouldn't
be hurt again. “And I wonder if any of us had a choice in what happened over that short, intense period of time. Or,” she added with a ghost of a smile, “if you choose to believe what happened, over centuries. I hope you haven't—that your career won't suffer because of what you did for me.”

His eyes went dark, flat. “The job's secure, Grace.”

“I'm glad.” He had to leave, she thought. He had to leave now, before she crumbled. “I still intend to write a letter to your superiors. And you might know I have an uncle in the Senate. I wouldn't be surprised, when the smoke clears, if you got a promotion out of it.”

His throat was raw. He couldn't clear it. “Look at me, damn it.” When her gaze shot back to his face, he curled his hands into fists to keep from touching her. “Do you think that matters?”

“Yes, I do. It matters, Seth, certainly to me. But for now, I'm taking a few days, so if you'll excuse me, I want to get to my gardening before the heat of the day.”

“Do you think this ends it?”

She leaned over, took up her clippers and snipped off wilted blooms. They faded all too quickly, she thought. And that left an ache in the heart. “I think you already ended it.”

“Don't turn away from me.” He took her arm, hauled her toward him, as panic and fury spiraled through him. “You can't just turn away. I can't—” He broke off, his hand lifting to lie on the bruise on her cheek. “Oh, God, Grace. He hurt you.”

“It's nothing.” She stepped back quickly, nearly flinching, and his hand fell heavily to his side. “Bruises fade. And he's gone. You saw to that. He's gone, and it's over. The Three Stars are where they belong, and everything's back in its place. Everything's as it was meant to be.”

“Is it?” He didn't step to her, couldn't bear to see her shrink back from him again. “I hurt you, and you won't forgive me for it.”

“Not entirely,” she agreed, fighting to keep it light. “But saving my life goes a long way to—”

“Stop it,” he said in a voice both ragged and quiet. “Just stop it.” Undone, he whirled away, pacing, nearly trampling her bedding plants. He hadn't known he could suffer like this—the ice in the belly, the heat in the brain.

He spoke, looking out into her woods, into shadows and cool green shade. “Do you know what it did to me, knowing he had you? Knowing it. Hearing your voice on the phone, the fear in it?”