Part 26 (1/2)

Gian cradled Kate in his arms as the wind at last died down. He didn't want to wake her when she had finally relaxed enough to doze off. When he'd come in, she was obviously in shock, trembling, her skin clammy and cold to the touch. It had been all he could do to calm her. He hadn't meant to rake up her past. The last thing he wanted was to give her pain. But he had to admit that her past explained exactly why she was so cynical, so self-sufficient.

And why she would never love him. Even beyond the fact that he was a monster in her eyes, she would never let herself love.

Maybe not anyone. Certainly not him. He'd heard the dismay in her voice as she asked about vampire society. The way they lived would certainly be daunting to a human. Perhaps she would let him be her friend. Perhaps she could grow used enough to him for that.

In the dark of the tent, with the wind raging outside and the heat making him sweat, all his doubts a.s.sailed him. Even if they could find the cursed temple they'd have to dig out the tons of sand that buried it. He'd taken blood in Laghouhat, but he could foresee a time when he would need to feed again. Elyta was probably safe up in the mountains right now, and if they survived, she'd be ready to swoop down on them. And Kate would never love him.

He couldn't think about all that. So he just thought about how to talk Kate out of buying a cottage in rural England. She could be the toast of Rome, or Vienna, or anywhere really. She just had to be bold enough to brazen it through. People would get used to her scar, in spite of what his mother said. If Kate let him be her friend, he'd make sure she never wanted. He'd invest her money for her, say it was doing well, supplement it if he must.

He was condemning himself to his mother's fate; watching someone he loved grow old and die. But what was the alternative?

Not to see her at all? He didn't have the courage for it. If she was stubborn enough to stick to her doomed plan, he'd set himself up in England, where he could watch over her. Italy held no attraction for him now.

He felt the sun go down. His entire lower body was numb from sitting in one position so as not to wake her. But now it was time. ”Kate.”

She roused herself. ”Did I fall asleep?”

He smiled. How could one not smile at Kate? ”For a little while.”

”The wind has died.” She scrambled to her feet.

He rose, his limbs tingling and stiff. ”You stay here.” He went to untie the tent flaps.

”Nonsense. I'm going with you.” She came to help him with the ties.

”I don't think you want to see what may be out there.”

She swallowed. ”If it's bad, you're going to need help.”

She was so courageous. He had placed the door to the tent toward the mountains, yet still, when he undid the final tie and pulled the flap inward, sand poured in from a drift that almost covered the doorway. He crawled up through the small opening. ”Just give me a chance to take stock,” he ordered. ”I promise I'll come to get you when I know it's safe.”

He got to his feet. The sky was slashed with red wounds where the setting sun glinted on the high, streaked clouds. The sea of sand had engulfed the tents. Only one tent pole showed above the dunes like a miniature pyramid. Two camels brayed their protest as they struggled out of the sand. There had been six including Kate's. He could see no horses.

He strode to the surviving tent and began to dig. ”Are you alive?” he called in Arabic.

”Enough alive,” came the reply. He scooped sand out until they were able to open their flap. He pulled them out one by one.

There were five.

Kate came up behind him with the water sacks. Could the woman never follow orders?

”Here,” she offered. The men took the skin gratefully. They must not have had the foresight to grab a pack from the camels.

Together the seven of them looked around. Except for the two half-buried tents, the dapple-gray horse scrambling up out of Kate and Gian's tent, and the two camels, they were alone on the rippling sand.

”That means we lost six men,” Kate whispered.

”Let's just make sure.” Gian staggered through the sand to approximately where he remembered pitching the other two tents and began to dig.

They didn't find anyone else alive. Gian dug up some packs they'd taken off the camels with great effort, but they left the men who'd suffocated when their tents collapsed and the animals buried under the sand. Kate imagined the bodies becoming mummies, the sand sucking the moisture from their flesh, to be found ages and ages hence when the sea of sand rippled again with wind, and their desiccated corpses were revealed.

Gian loaded packs on the camels and a smaller one on the horse. The moon was high and cold by the time they'd finished The five men whispered together. Didn't Gian notice?

”Effendi.” One Arab stepped out of the group.

Gian turned. The man slipped a long curved sword out of the scabbard at his waist and spoke again, this time an order of some kind.

Gian shrugged and opened his palms. He stepped away from the camels. But he spoke rapidly and gestured at the horse. The man shook his head and waved the sword around.

Gian's eyes went hard. Faster than she could quite comprehend, he stepped in and twisted the sword from the leader's fist. He threw it on the ground behind him. He took a handful of the man's burnoose and lifted him up, growling in Arabic. The man's eyes rolled white in fear. Gian tossed him to the ground, seemingly without effort. He landed about six feet away with a thud.

Gian glared at the others, but they opened their hands, murmuring what had to be apologies.

Gian stalked over to Kate, only pausing to retrieve the sword. ”Come on,” he muttered. ”These cowards are no use to us.”

The men hurried to the camels and pulled them to their feet. Kate watched them retreat back along the cliff walls toward Laghouhat. Gian never once looked at them. But he didn't take their water or their camels either.

He unstrapped the pack from the horse, retied the straps so that he could shrug it on his own back. Kate looked out at the line of cliffs, gray in the moonlight, disappearing into the distance. What was she doing here? For a moment she couldn't think why she had come so far, and got to this place on the edge of the world where sand and wind could kill if you didn't run out of water or if vampires didn't catch you. She couldn't have stayed in Amalfi because Elyta would have found her. But she should have stayed in Algiers.

Gian rose from his knees in the sand.

Oh. Her sense of herself shuddered back into place. She was here because Gian wouldn't give up on this mission to return the stones to a place where they could do no harm. That was who he was. And he couldn't do it without her. So that had become who she was too.

He cupped his hands and bent. ”You're finally going to learn to ride a horse,” he said.

She didn't want to ride while he walked and carried a pack. But she also didn't want to hold them back. So for once she didn't argue with him. She put her sandal in his hands. He tossed her up on the horse's bare back. She grabbed the creature's mane.

Gian picked up the horse's reins and started across the dunes back toward the cliffs.

There was no help left now. It was just Gian and the horse and Kate against a desert that could kill without reason, against Elyta and whomever she brought with her. They couldn't turn back until they found the place that was home to the jewels that drained a vampire's power, or drove men mad. They were goaded on by Gian's honor. Because he couldn't leave the job undone.

She just hoped this job wasn't their undoing.

Kate alternately rode and walked through the night and much of the day. They stopped to rest in the shade of the cliffs. Gian gave his share of water to the horse, but only after Kate had drunk. That annoyed her. If he could give up his water so could she. She resolved to wait until he'd had his share before she sipped next time. Then he slipped the pouch from his shoulder and handed it to her so she could take a reading from the stones.

She could feel them buzzing with energy even through the leather and their boxes. They were ramping up in power as they neared their destination. A thought occurred. She concentrated on Gian's vibrations and thought they had waned a bit. The stones were affecting him, even through their boxes. ”Aren't these growing uncomfortable for you?” she asked.

”A little.”

”I'll carry them from now on.” He was already in pain from the light, though he kept his hands in his burnoose sleeves and pulled his hood down low over his forehead. She opened the mahogany box and took out the ruby. It gleamed like sparkling blood in the light. She relaxed her body and held it in front of her in cupped hands. She breathed in and let the air out slowly. Her hands extended almost of their own accord to the southwest and trembled. That was the strongest the stone had ever been.

”I think we're close now.”

”Can you go on?”

”Perhaps, but we'll kill our trusty friend here.” She didn't say that she thought Gian needed rest too. He'd been walking for twelve hours carrying a heavy pack.

He examined her and grunted. ”We'll rest then.”