The Burn (10 page)

Seth winced, hearing the words penetrate the sharp pain in his skull. He swallowed a dusty breath and opened his eyes, blinking at the blur of cool sand in front of him.

He was lying on the ground in the shade. His body felt stiff, too heavy to move. His eyes burned. His muscles ached. He felt raw, an acute sense of loss hollowing his insides.

"You hear me?" Pete's voice cut into the breeze. "You need help or what?"

Seth groaned, shifting to rub his hand over his face. A large object appeared above him and he blinked, bringing it slowly into focus. It was a bulky metal drive-train, its surface coated with oil, rust and road dirt.

"Shit," he muttered. "I'm under the RV."

"Yes, you are," Pete said with satisfaction, ducking lower to peer under the vehicle. He grinned, his mirrored sunglasses obnoxious in the heat. "Seems to happen a lot out here, people collapse in the dirt and then roll under the closest thing available when the sunlight starts to hurt."

Seth didn't remember any of it. The things he did remember didn't make any sense. The sex was vivid enough, Miranda holding onto him as if he were a lifeline, her expression strained in the grip of her release. After that though…

He cursed under his breath. What had possessed him to take her like that? She couldn't have been more vulnerable. It wasn't his style, to be rushed and thoughtless, to be an asshole.

"Jesus." He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes in disbelief. "What the hell happened?"

"Good to know we're all asking the same thing, cowboy," Pete said. "We watched you take a sip from the freako's cup last night. What did he tell you that was? Wine?"

Seth pressed his lips together, remembering the Necromancer's table, the brief exchange before world turned upside down. "I thought that's what it was."

"Fuck, cowboy," Pete laughed under his breath. "Did I, or did I not, warn you multiple times that these people employ various methods of mind control, including psychoactive drugs? Do you know what psychoactives do?"

Seth rubbed the point of pain along his temple with his fingers. "I can guess."

"Some of them make you hallucinate. Some of them make you happy, some make you horny, some just screw you into an incoherent state for hours. It's powerful stuff. Why don't you come out here and let us talk to you about it?"

"Us?"

"Yeah. Me and Logan. No surprise, right?"

Seth cursed under his breath.

Sliding on his back through the dry silt, he climbed out from under the RV and rose to his feet, wincing into the white glare of sunlight. He ran his fingers through his hair, holding it at the back of his neck as he glanced across the camp.

Logan sat at the edge of the picnic table, snapping a piece of gum between his teeth. His dark eyes narrowed on Seth, his expression hard and unforgiving.

Pete laughed, propping his mirrored sunglasses on top of his head and whistling between his teeth. "You really did have a hell of a night, didn't you?"

Seth ignored him, walking to the ice chest and opening the lid. Digging a bottle of water from the pool of melted ice, he sat down in one of the picnic chairs and pressed his forehead to the cool plastic container.

"So," Pete prompted, cocking his head to the side in thought. "We saw you take her out of there. We saw you bring her back here to the RV. We saw her leave and you chase after her in the wrong direction."

"Great," Seth muttered, twisting the cap off the water and taking a large swallow from the bottle.

"What happened?"

Tricky question.

Seth considered the bottle without reply.

"Maybe you could spare us the details," Pete said after a moment. "Just skip to the relevant part, the part about what she remembers and what she doesn't."

Seth slid his gaze to Logan. The man glared back, drawing his hands into tight fists, making it clear that he considered every minute of the time spent with his ex-wife relevant.

Seth took another sip from the water bottle and shook his head. "She remembers you. She remembers that she worked for the FBI, that she was an agent."

"There's no past tense there, buck-o. She's still an agent."

"She thinks you can't help her."

Pete and Logan both managed to look alarmed in exactly the same way, their expressions awe-struck.

"And I'm inclined to agree," Seth muttered. "Since you just want to keep her in that camp, with those murderers, when they know who she is and she's clearly suffered too much."

"Clearly?" Logan asked. "How clearly?"

Seth groaned. "They've convinced her that she's dead, that they cut her up and killed her. She thinks the Gate brought her back and she can't stray from it."

"Christ," Logan whispered.

"Yeah," Pete said. "I thought it might be something like that, something that would prevent her from trying to escape on her own. It's a clever piece of work, and not easy to do. But you hold someone captive for long enough, give them enough of those drugs, maybe the ideas get a little mixed up with reality. She'll snap out of it."

Seth shot him an irritated look.

"No," Logan insisted, his expression darkening. "It's gone too far now. If they know who she is, you have to get her out."

"Relax," Pete said. "They're not going to hurt her. They think she's one of them now. We're not talking about keeping her in for months. We just have to be able to prove what these guys have done to her, before they go underground for another year."

"She can't do it," Logan snapped back. "We can't make a case with what she brings us anyway, you know that. She thinks that she's dead. Jesus, Pete, what's the matter with you?"

"It's just a bunch of hallucinations and mind games," Pete replied. "You get her out for a couple of hours, let her sober up, and she'll be fine. She'll be able to keep it straight."

"That's insane," Logan hissed.

"He's right," Seth added his agreement. "It's not that simple. Whatever they gave me last night…it was way too strong. I saw her bleeding, passing through walls. I lost it. You can't just wipe the experience of that away. The damage is done. She needs to be somewhere safe with people who can help her to sort it out. It's going to take time."

"Answer me this," Pete queried, crossing his arms over his chest. "What did Miranda want to do last night? What did she tell you she was going to do?"

Seth hesitated. "She wanted to go after him, to stop him."

"Uh huh. And was she afraid? Terrified?"

"She thinks that she's dead," Seth reminded him.

"Yeah, maybe, but she still wants those fuckers to go down, doesn't she? I mean, that's what she wants. That's her plan."

Seth stared at him in disbelief.

"And you couldn't talk her out of it," Pete added. "Could ya, sport? You must have tried. How much success did you have? What did she say when you asked her to come out, when you told her that she would be safe?"

"Don't look to me to justify what you're doing here," Seth replied harshly. "You're keeping Miranda in a situation that can get her killed. She can't trust what she sees anymore. She's living a nightmare. You can't take the decisions she's making, or the things that she's saying, as a reflection of a woman acting in her own best interest. Clearly, she's not, and it's no fault of her own. It's ours. It's our fault."

Logan snorted. "That's real fucking noble, coming from a guy who's taking full advantage."

"That's not what I'm doing," Seth said.

"Coulda fooled me," Logan replied, pushing off the table. "Why don't you just stay out of the picture from now on? I think we know what to do now."

Seth pressed his lips together, holding the man's gaze.

"Easy, Logan," Pete warned. "We let you be part of this thing because she's your ex, but there are still rules. Miranda trusts this guy and that means we need him. She trusts him, she's talking to him, and with all due respect, she doesn't seem too unhappy about it."

Logan scowled. Turning on his heel, he swung a hard punch at Seth. Seth caught the movement too late. Logan's fist connected with his jaw in a painful crunch. Seth felt his head snap to the side. His body fell back, the plastic chair beneath him collapsing into the dust.

His view of the world slanted. He winced, rubbing his jaw. There was no hard damage, just an ex-husband's point made.

"Yeah," Logan said. "I like talking to him too."

Seth nodded, picking himself up and rising to his full height, a head higher than Logan. "I might have earned that," he admitted, not sounding nearly as contrite as he should have. "But my interest here is the same as yours. I want Miranda safe, in a place where she can deal with this."

"You want more than that."

"Maybe, but I don't expect it," Seth replied. "If she comes out of this as the woman you married, and wants to go back to being that, I'll respect her decision. If she needs time for herself, I can respect that too. Whatever choice she makes, I'm prepared to accept it. Can you say the same?"

"She's only going for you because they fucked with her head. They convinced her."

"They might have tried," Seth replied. "Or she might just have decided all on her own. I won't turn my back on her now, either way."

"She doesn't need you," Logan hissed. "Stay away from her, okay? I'll get her out. I promise you that."

"God damn it," Pete snapped. "You're not promising shit right now, Logan. You're not doing anything but taking your ass back to the Sheriff's compound and cooling off."

"Yeah, right," Logan muttered. Glaring once at Seth, he turned and stalked away between the camps.

Seth watched him go, certain that he was no longer inclined to follow orders given by the FBI or anyone else.

Pete chuckled under his breath. "People like to hit you when you're sitting down, don't they? Tougher when you're on your feet. What are you? Six-four?"

"I might have earned it," Seth said again.

"Might you really?" Pete looked at him. "Well, you might try keeping that part to yourself next time, sport. You may be tall and built like a boxer, but Logan carries a .45, understand?"

"I'm not undercover. I'm not keeping up appearances. I brought Miranda here last night and you all saw it. Denying the obvious is a waste of time."

"It's a nice courtesy though, isn't it? I mean, you could have told him that nothing happened."

"No, I couldn't have."

"Jesus, Seth. Did they give you a truth serum, or are you always this stupid? What about Miranda? Don't you think you should be a little more diplomatic for her sake?"

Seth released a slow breath though his teeth. "Miranda's not his wife anymore, or your agent anymore, and she knows it. She believes that the woman you both knew is dead. Might be a neatly constructed delusion, but it's a logical one, don't you think? She's changed. She's had to. No amount of diplomacy on my part is going to hide that fact for long. I'd prefer Logan heard it from me, and directed his anger this way, then to somehow expect something different from her."

"That's very pop-psychology of you," Pete muttered, lifting his gaze to the swirl of blue sky and clouds overhead. "You really think she's lost it? No going back?"

"None of us can go back," Seth replied, taking another sip of water. "Can we?"

Pete considered that for a moment. Then he swore under his breath. "Can you get her out?"

Seth looked at him.

"I get it, okay?" Pete said, scowling. "If she's got to come out, she's got to come out. I get it."

"It's about damn time."

"It would be better if she didn't go out with us." Pete shook his head. "It would be better if it looked like she just ran off with you. The Rathvam know we're here, but if they're convinced that the FBI was not involved with taking her out, we might manage to keep them on the playa for a little longer."

"I think I can manage that."

"Yeah." Pete whistled through his teeth, a rare earnestness caught his expression. "If they've really got her head spun that bad, it's time to end it. I owe her that. I guess we're risking that she might freak out on the road, go into some kind of mental melt down, but you'll be with her. A sensitive guy like you should have no trouble convincing a breathing woman that she's not dead."

Seth let that pass, finishing off his water in irritation.

"And anyway—" Pete brightened. "I'll arrange help for you, once you reach Reno. I'll also make sure that the girl you came with gets home."

Seth nodded. "I'll pack up then."

"Just like that?" Pete raised a blonde brow. "What's the plan? You think you're just going to throw your stuff together then walk right into that camp and get her? Might not be that simple, buck-o. That thing is a maze on the inside, lots of shining metal doors locked up tight, no telling who or what they've got hidden behind them."

"I'll find her," Seth said, narrowing his gaze on the Divine Gate tent in the distance. "I promise you that."

* * *

Miranda drew a panicked breath, gasping as she awoke on the flat surface of the altar. The golden walls of her cell glowed around her, their intricate patterns and symbols shining in the dim light from the lantern.

She rose from the altar and stood, feeling almost weightless as she balanced on the warm floor. The cheap costume of the previous night was gone. No one had attended her. No one had dressed her. She had somehow simply reappeared.

Her clothing was sparse and metal, a combination of delicate gold braiding and chain mail. Jeweled bands adorned her arms. A thin metallic sheen covered her skin and in her hair, glittering softly in the dim light.

There was a dagger at her side.

Looking down, she stroked over its elaborate sheath with her fingertips, remembering that the Necromancer's sharpened blade was identical.

"Miranda," his voice hissed softly from the darkness.

She narrowed her gaze. He wasn't in the room, but he was calling her nonetheless.

She walked forward and placed her hand on the door. It unlatched and swung back into the narrow hallway on its own. She stepped out into the dark corridor, following the trace of his voice through the close passages of the Gate.

A spiral staircase appeared at the end of the walkway, its heavy rail curling with the shape of entwined bodies reaching for each other. Running her fingers lightly down the rail, she descended into the darkness of the lower level.