The Touch Of Twilight (36 page)

“High-rise living getting old?”

I thought of my sister falling to her death. “It has its down sides,” I said softly.

“So thinking of joining us mere mortals on the ground, then?” He was teasing, but that sharpness was still there, like flint, indicating a spark of something more. The word choice was peculiar as well. What the hell had Regan been telling him?

“You takin’ shots at me, Traina?” I pouted and turned away, ostensibly to study the kidney-shaped pool, the scattered light of the trees falling softly across its surface. “Never thought I’d see the day. Must be that new girlfriend of yours making you forget who your old friends are.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he said, the censure in his voice equaling my own. “But Rose is very selective, and she knows how to make a man feel special. For example, she only brings people here once she knows she can trust them. And once she’s gained that trust, she doesn’t blow it away with lies or abandonment.”

The insinuation was clear, and I thought,
It was a mistake to come out here
. I looked around the cool, dappled yard like I was searching for escape. He looked like the man I loved, and smelled like the woman I hated. And he was probing at Olivia to see how much she knew.

I glanced back to find challenge blazing in his eyes, so fucking angry and righteous and cavalier, it made me want to run away screaming. But what about the scent that’d dusted his breath? How soon would it begin spilling from his pores? When would it be too late to save Ben from Regan’s destructive grasp?

When they make love? When she really gets to him? When he reaches the point where there’s no returning to you?

I should just allow Micah to erase some of his neurological pathways, literally changing his mind so my existence was forever whitewashed from his memory. Then Regan would no longer be able to use him as a weapon against me. But did reason ever prevail when the heart was involved? What would remain of Joanna Archer if Ben forgot about my existence? If no one retained at least a mental record of a life lived, then had it been lived at all?

They were important questions because the person I was becoming, through experience and the march of time in the opposite direction of that which I’d have chosen for myself, was a person even I had trouble believing could exist. A superheroine. The Kairos. An individual who controlled the destiny of thousands.

Which brought up an even more pressing problem: I had one day left to find out what the doppelgänger needed from me before she either devoured my heart or blew Vegas to smithereens just to spite me. I needed to go, but…

I looked down at the row of white peonies he’d been planting. They were frilly and fragrant, and their petals would turn crispy under the full glare of a relentless summer heat, but in late October when the sun’s touch had gentled, they looked wispy and promising. He had an artist’s touch and a lover’s mind when it came to his gardening. I knew it offered him escape from whatever worries occupied his mind, and he was at peace when surrounded by a quiet landscape and rich earth. The fear that had been knotting up inside me loosened.

There were parts of Ben yet untouched by Regan’s foul influence. There was still time. And, I thought, as I stared at those fragile white blooms, as any good gardener knew, you don’t pull out the whole garden just because there were a few weeds. You uproot the dead stuff, prune everything back, and start again.

I looked back up at Ben, considered everything I’d given up to so convincingly become Olivia…my home and work and body and self. I thought of the parts of my new life I’d so completely embraced…my strength and powers and responsibilities and troop. I thought too of the extraordinary man I’d continued to reject, Hunter, and I suddenly knew what I needed to do.

I would tell Ben everything. It would be no different than the mortals we used to help hide our supernatural activities, no different than the mortal/agent love matches of the past, even if Warren did believe my kairotic state made it too risky. Because didn’t
kairos
really mean “the right or opportune time”? And the time to save Ben—along with the rest of the world—was now. I had to do it immediately, before Regan’s influence burrowed in so deep he’d end up in a jail cell with slashes over his wrists and fingertips.

And after I told him, I’d kiss him as me, I’d infuse him with
my
scent, my touch, my taste. And it would make all my past and present sacrifices worth it. I could embrace my new life while holding on to what made me care about humankind at all. My first love.

“Listen,” I started, whirling back to face him. “I’m chairing a pre-Halloween party for the North Las Vegas Children’s Fund tonight at the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel. Know where it is?”

“The Boulevard.”

I nodded, but had to pause to swallow hard. “If you want, if you show up, I can make sure…
she
shows up as well.”

Graveyard silence spread over the yard, and Ben fell so still for so long that I grew afraid he wouldn’t speak at all. “You
know
?” he finally asked, vocal cords tight in his throat.

“Of course.” I looked away, and closed my eyes until my breathing normalized. Then I looked back, my own voice stronger. “Um…it’s a costume party. So, naturally, she’ll be wearing a mask—”

“Naturally,” he said wryly.

I jerked, but then took a step toward him. “Look, Jo has good reasons for what she’s done. You know her—”

“I thought I did.” Folding his arms, he took a step back.

“Just give her a chance to explain,” I said, advancing on him again, forcing him to meet my gaze, not begging, but damned close. He only shifted feet. “Just give her a chance.”

Again that deathly stillness…and then, unexpectedly, he softened. “She left me.”

I shook my head quickly. “She hasn’t gone anywhere.”

Just then, a voice cleared harshly behind me.

I whirled, automatically feeling at my side for a weapon that wasn’t there, and squinted up at a bulky, badly dressed figure posed on the stone patio. I sighed, relief mingled with resignation. Chandra. Talk about bad timing.

“Who is it?” Ben asked, squinting also.

“My…Realtor,” I said, turning back around.

“Oh.” Surprise lit his face. “You weren’t kidding about buying the place?”

“Ben,” I said, putting my palm to his cheek, letting the warmth spread through me again. I waited until his gaze met mine. “Archers only lie about the important things.”

That almost brought a smile to his face, but it died half formed. Bitterness was bright on the air, I could almost taste it standing this close, and I knew I was right to tell him. He was deteriorating, like a sandy cliff relentlessly pounded by the cold sea. Soon all that would be left were crags and crevices where his softer spots had once been.

“Please,” I said, my hand moving to his shoulder. “It was a mistake, she knows that, but extreme circumstances require extreme measures…and eventually, forgiveness.”

He looked down, and stepped back again so that my hand fell away. “Just make sure she’s there. I want it to end tonight.”

One way or the other
. He left that part unspoken, but it was alive on the scented air.

Throat tight, I nodded shortly. “I’ll look for you.”

My “Realtor” cleared her throat behind us. I shot him one last uncertain smile, before I headed back into the house and out the front door with Chandra. Once there, I took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Despite the world threatening to crash in around me, it almost felt like a fresh start.

It occurred to me as Chandra and I strode to my car that whatever corner we’d been about to turn in our acrimonious relationship was about to experience a monumental roadblock. I don’t know how long she’d been standing on that patio, but the strained silence told me she’d seen and heard more than enough, and Warren would undoubtedly make up for her astounded silence once
he
heard of it.

“How’d you find me?” I asked, as my engine ignited in a sweet, low purr. There was no other car on the street, and I knew she hadn’t walked to Paradise Palms from the sanctuary, so I wasn’t surprised when she answered darkly, “Gregor dropped me off. He knew where you were, and Warren has decided he wants us paired up again. The doppelgänger created another portal this morning.”

“I know.” The vibrational percussions had had my Porsche shaking on its wheels as I drove to Brynn’s. It wasn’t as long and percussive as her last entry into this reality, though, which meant it had only been a nongentle reminder—and warning—for me. One day to go.

“You know I have to—” Chandra broke off, then took a deep breath before continuing. “
We
have to tell Warren about this. What you’ve done. What you’ve shared with that…mortal.”

Ignoring that I was driving down I-15 at ninety miles an hour, I squared in my seat on Chandra. “That
mortal
is my life. He’s everything to me. He’s all I want, all I care about, all I need. And if any of you ask me to give him up, you can shove the third sign of the Zodiac up your collective asses.”

“If Warren wants you to give him up, he won’t ask.”

I knew that. Warren would kill the President himself if he thought it best for the troop.

“Turn off on Blue Diamond,” she said, a few minutes later. “We have to scout a location for Kimber’s metamorphosis tomorrow.”

I did so silently, whipping onto a road so straight and long and narrow it eventually disappeared into the desert. We’d already scouted at least a half-dozen locations, but the senior troop members weren’t going to settle for a spot that might be compromised. Riddick and Jewell were older than the quarter-century mark when they’d taken up their star signs, so not counting my flawed transition into the troop, it’d been almost two years since an initiate had metamorphosed, and nobody had forgotten the carnage that’d ensued when the Shadows had learned of that location. Tekla’s heir, caught in the paralyzing moments of receiving his powers, had lost his life. I didn’t think that night would ever stop fucking with her.

“We can’t leave the city limits,” I reminded Chandra as I watched the buildings fall behind us, the streets dropping away until there was only the one.

“We can’t enter another city,” she corrected, which was what I meant, “and we’ll be turning off well before we reach Pahrump…not that it counts as a city.”

She wasn’t simply being rude…this time. There had to be a large enough population to warrant a proper troop, and Pahrump wasn’t there yet. Soon, though. People had been pouring into Vegas for almost two decades now, annually making it the fastest growing city in the nation, and Pahrump was getting a lot of the spillover.

We drove forty miles into what looked like nowhere, flat expanses of desert flanking both sides of the two-lane road with stubbled brush and crippled cacti jutting from the earth like a marine’s botched crew cut. I was surprised when Chandra had me slow for no apparent reason, and totally astonished to find a badly paved road veering ninety degrees south, even farther out into a very literal no-man’s-land. However, I wasn’t surprised to hear the telltale bluster of Soulfly’s “Corrosion Creeps” emanating from my phone, though I only gave it a cursory glance before setting it aside, smiling.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Not yet.”

We drove for another five miles, the paved road giving way to gravel before a giant pole appeared out of nowhere, stretching into the desert sky like it was flagging us down. It was only as we got closer that I realized it wasn’t just a pole; it had an unshielded light affixed to its apex. A beacon, then.

I pulled into a lot cleared of all natural brush and stone, still so taken by the sight of the pole, I would’ve plummeted over the cliff in front of us if Chandra hadn’t jerked sharply on the steering wheel, causing us to swerve.

“Watch it, will you?” She closed her eyes, hands fisted on her lap as I pulled the car to a halt. “Just because I can survive a thirty-foot fall doesn’t mean I want to.”

“Well, shit,” I said, climbing from the car so I could peer over the cliff. “I didn’t know it was here.”

“Not many people do,” she replied, coming around to stand next to me. “Which makes it perfect for our purposes.”

It was a small arroyo, proof water had once run through this area; probably around the same time greenery had flourished and giant creatures had yet to become extinct. “What is it?”

“Cathedral Canyon,” Chandra answered, heading back toward the light pole, and motioning for me to follow. “Nature made it, and man improved it…or one man did, anyway.”

She went on to point out a sign welcoming visitors to the tiny canyon, a wooden box next to it soliciting donations, and a rickety staircase leading into the crevasse, with a platform situated at the halfway point, directly in front of a giant sculpture of Jesus. We continued all the way to the bottom under his watchful eye, and that’s when I saw the pottery and statues situated in surprising little clearings, and the drawings and quotes encased in Plexiglas stands, many dedicated to a deceased relative or someone who contributed heavily to the canyon’s creation.

I glanced up to spy a rickety footbridge linking the two sides of the narrow grotto, and below it, where we were, a well-marked pathway curled along the canyon’s base. A waterfall, currently off, was tucked at one end, and a bathroom was hidden in a natural alcove at the midway point. Most important, however, were the dozens of tiny stained glass windows fitted into the natural outcroppings, glinting impressively even in the full day’s light. Chandra explained at night the colorful windows exploded with light, thus giving the cherished little canyon its name. Classical music would pump from hidden speakers, and water would again fall where it once had. Somebody loved this little place dearly.

“It’s open air,” I said, pointing out the obvious. Metamorphosis from initiate into star sign always took place in a secured indoor environment; the more elements the troop could control during the process, the better. “Unless there’s an underground aspect to this canyon you’re not telling me about.”