Part 9 (1/2)
In the last month or so, Remy had seen and experienced absolutely nothing that refuted that belief.
She changed the subject. ”We're meeting up with Seattle and Garrett tomorrow?”
Ian's face twisted with revulsion. ”Yes.” His eyes scanned her, raising little p.r.i.c.kles on her skin. ”Seattle's already heard about you from Lacey, so expect a lot of attention from him. She may not like that you're with me, but she'll still rub Seattle's face in anything that gives her an advantage.”
Bounty hunters worked for the Elite, searching for whoever might be considered a threat to their power and domination over the rest of humanity. Right now, the bounty hunters were not only looking for Remington Truth, one of the original members of the Cult of Atlantis, but also an escaped member of their own-a woman named Marley Huvane.
These rogue hunters and their partners generally had allegiance to no more than one Elite at a time. It was a sense of pride and display of power for the immortals. And if a bounty hunter was loyal and successful at whatever task was set out, then he or she could be rewarded by being crystaled as well. Someone like that wouldn't be considered an Elite-for that designation was only for those who'd been part of the Evolution fifty years ago-but for many, the immortality was enough.
Lacey was neither a bounty hunter nor an Elite, but she was crystaled. And, according to Ian, she had a love-hate, compet.i.tive relations.h.i.+p with Seattle, who aspired to being crystaled so that he could be her equal.
”And we're meeting up with them, why?” Remy stood and gathered up the simple bowl and spoon she'd used for breakfast. Ian appreciated that she was a far better cook than he, and had gladly given over that task to her since they'd become so-called partners.
He'd fairly blackmailed her into that arrangement when she walked into Madonna's one day, unaware that the bar was a gathering place for bounty hunters and crystaled immortals. He claimed it was for her protection, which Remy found ridiculous since she was always accompanied by Dantes. But Ian had pointed out that the dog wasn't impervious to bullets, and had given Remy little choice.
But being in the midst of the bounty hunters and their ilk gave her a better hiding place than she could have concocted herself. So she agreed.
”They want a good, strong showing at Yellow Mountain-a little settlement north of here. We're doing a raid, going in to clean it up next week. For some reason, Seattle is a bit spooked by some woman there who can foretell someone's death.”
Remy smiled again and took up his bowl. ”Maybe he's afraid she'll foretell his demise.”
”If that were the case,” Ian replied, lounging back against the wall and watching her with those cold eyes, ”I'd be first in line to find out. Seattle is a stupid, violent, and reckless b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
”Whereas you are simply a violent and reckless b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” she said mildly, bending to give Dantes the bowls. He liked to make certain every bit of stew was gone before she washed them up.
”It's the only way to be,” he said.
His words made her blood chill because she knew he wasn't being amusing, and she tried to ignore the way the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled. She didn't trust him, and she wasn't afraid of him ... not really. Aside of the fact that he'd never made any threat toward her, there was Dantes, who watched him like a lion waiting for its prey. The dog didn't trust him either.
But he was a hot, demanding kisser. And he had a strong, lanky body with golden skin marred by lots of scars.
They weren't lovers, but Remy suspected it was only a matter of time until that happened. Between the proximity, the lack of privacy, and the fact that they had, in fact, shared more than one session of deep, rough kisses, she knew it wouldn't be long. One of those sessions had ended when she jammed her elbow into his belly and then her foot onto his instep, twisting away to make an escape from Ian and his father.
Not that she hadn't enjoyed the kiss-or the ones that had tangled their tongues before-but the opportunity had arisen and she'd taken it. And it was shortly after that that she'd been reunited with Dantes and met up with ”d.i.c.k,” and then only a week later that she'd come upon Ian again at Madonna's.
Her relations.h.i.+p with him was indescribable and illogical: they were neither friends nor lovers, nor were they enemies. They neither trusted nor liked the other ... and yet they remained together.
One thing Remy knew: he hated the fact that he had kissed her. It was as if he'd been forced into it, and now reviled himself for doing so. Whether it was because he had shown weakness or some other emotion, she wasn't certain. She only knew what she read in his eyes.
He watched her, not with the heat Remy was used to seeing in a man's gaze, but with cold calculation.
She stayed with him because it was the best camouflage and the safest place to be.
She wondered, not for the first time, just what he wanted from her.
Selena didn't realize Theo had returned from Yellow Mountain even earlier than she had, and she found herself glancing out the window, wondering if he would even come back at all. But about two hours after she finished checking on all of her patients, she saw him walking toward the house, deep in conversation with Frank. He was wiping sweat off his brow, and he looked as if he'd been working for some time.
So apparently, he hadn't stayed in Yellow Mountain this morning to be with Jen. Why did that make her feel so warm and hopeful? She bit her lip, realizing she was smiling. Despite him scaring the c.r.a.p out of her with his stunt on horseback, she'd enjoyed being with him. They'd joked, they'd smiled, she'd found herself relaxing a bit. She felt comfortable around him in a way that she hadn't been with anyone for a long time.
When her patient groaned, Selena turned her attention guiltily back to Maryanna. The woman's death cloud sparkled softly in the morning sun. Bluish gray glitter, like s.h.i.+ny dust motes, curling and swirling, told her that the young woman's time was near. Maryanna's guides waited patiently, watching as their charge sighed and shuddered in what was no longer sleep but the ease of life into death.
Maryanna hung on between life and death for longer than Selena expected, the pregnant cloud coiling delicately in the corner of her room as the guides hovered silently. The young woman, who'd been breathing with rough desperation, opened her eyes and looked at Selena, lucid and calm.
”I'm going soon,” she said, her voice low and halting. ”I'll see my brother again and it's going to be all right.”
Selena nodded and reached to cover her patient's hand. Preparing. ”Whatever separated you on this plane will no longer matter, I think, after.”
Maryanna's smile looked to be one of peace, despite what Selena knew: she must be feeling searing pain from the infection that had wormed into her body, culling every bit of energy and leaving her little more than skin and bone. ”He's waiting for me too. Thank you for listening to me all these days.”
Selena returned her smile and curled her fingers tighter over weakening ones. ”That's what I'm here to do. I learn from each of you, all those who come to me.”
So very true. Every soul that she'd ushered into whatever came beyond this life had touched her or taught her in some way-and not only through their inherited memories. They taught her forgiveness and grace, peace and even humor. Often, humor.
And then there were the zombies ... the ones with whom she could only communicate at the moment of their release. Those were the ones that haunted her.
”Are you in great pain?” she asked, seeing the flash of an uncontained grimace. There was so little she could do ... but she would try.
The woman's lips thinned and the peace from her smile ebbed. ”It's nearly over. I ... I can manage.”
The guides had moved now, and Selena saw them reaching out their hands for Maryanna. Between them, and behind, was a young man waiting. The one person Maryanna needed to see before she could let go ... and so she did.
The glaze of discomfort left her expression, and was replaced by a beatific one when she slid out of her body and into their arms. As she died, the slam of memories barreled into Selena, p.r.i.c.kling and rus.h.i.+ng through her in flashed images.
When Maryanna was gone, Selena did as she always did. She spent quiet moments in prayer, remembering some of the images that had flashed through her mind at the moment of death, as a sort of private memorial.
Sometimes, that was nearly as difficult as the moment of actual death, seeing those times of happiness and joy. But the angry or frightened ones were the most difficult. Their sadness and grief.
It was as if she lived every emotion from a person over and over. But she did it in memory of the person who died. Then she wrapped the body in lemon-scented cloth. It would be given to the family if there was one, or taken to Yellow Mountain for cremation if not.
Selena looked down at Maryanna and wished that it was always this easy. This painless. This peaceful, ushering a soul into the after.
Her stomach tightened and she glanced outside. She'd been eighteen when she learned of her other responsibility. Of the power of the rose crystal.
She'd been outside the walls one night, returning to her home, when she became lost and couldn't find her way. She was in the forest, lost and without light, and she pulled the crystal from her pocket because she knew sometimes it lit up.
Tonight it was glowing, and offered some illumination to help her find her way.
When she heard the moans from the orange-eyed creatures, Selena knew she didn't have a chance of returning home. The trees were too tall for her to climb and there was nowhere else to hide from them.
She sat on the ground and prayed that it would be quick, holding the crystal, wondering if she'd see her own death cloud. She heard a voice in her mind that said, Be brave. All will be well. Be brave. All will be well.
She tried to heed the advice, for she knew it was her guardian angel. But when two of the zombies came to her, she tried to fight them back, terrified and screaming.
Suddenly, she realized they wanted only to touch her crystal. They didn't tear into her, didn't try to carry her off.
They groped and grabbed at her crystal, and deep inside her Selena heard the voice again: Help them. They need your help. Help them. They need your help.
And when she opened her eyes-which had closed in fear-she saw the blond-haired Wayren standing there, watching and nodding.
As with the others that she helped, Selena didn't wholly understand how or what was expected of her. But she knew peace when she saw it; and as she allowed the creatures to touch her, she saw it fill their eyes.