Part 20 (1/2)
Bracing herself, she rose and went to the sink, leaned against it, and looked into her own haunted eyes.
Shead tasted his blood . . . and been transported. It had happened before, in his tent in the Himalayas, but only briefly.
This time shead seen, smelled, felt that dream, that vision. Shead lived in his skin, and what had occurred had been her nightmare. Shead bounced down a cliff and hit the rocks, and suffered horrible internal injuries. She should have . . . no, he should have died a slow, painful death.
He hadnat.
She s.h.i.+vered.
But he had suffered. She knew that now. He had suffered in a myriad of horrible ways. Yet he had survived to save her life, and if she didnat move, didnat push her own shock aside and deal with the situation now, he would die on her floor. Even Warlord deserved better than that.
That snake man out there wasnat the only one of those things. They had to escape.
She splashed cold water on her face, brushed her teeth, and went out.
Warlord was on his feet. He had managed to wrestle his way into his trousers, and now he fought with the fastenings.
”First let me look at the bite again.”
”Itas fine.” His complexion was gray; his pupils were pinpoints.
”I can see that.” A little more gently, she pushed at him. ”Let me look. It needs to be bandaged. Youare dripping blood on the floor.” She pointed at the pool by his feet.
”I suppose. Just donat touch it again.” He lowered his pants.
She wiped the wound clean with the gauze. ”The bloodas washed it out. I canat see any more of the venom.” She pressed another gauze pad over the bite, taped it in place, and glanced up at his white-knuckled grip on the bedpost. ”You have to fight whateveras in your system.”
He looked down at her. Red, painful blisters spotted his cheek, one eye was sealed shut, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead. Yet the hand he reached out to her was steady, and he stroked her cheek as if she were the one who needed rea.s.surance. ”Donat worry. Iall hang in there long enough to get you onto the plane and to safety.”
”I didnat mean . . .” But shead told him she was saving him because he was her best bet for safety.
Did he believe that?
Did she?
He tugged up his pants.
She helped him with the zipper and the belt, then pushed him into a chair and shone her reading light on his face.
Carefully she cleaned the dirt out of the wounds. ”This one eye should be okay. How about the other one? Can you open it?”
”No. But the eyeball didnat take a direct hit. Thereas a chance Iall retain my sight.”
He was so calm. So sure of himself.
He continued, ”I called ahead. Theyare getting the plane ready. We have to get to the airfield and head toward the mountains.”
”Iall order a car.” She started to lift the phone, then paused. Hotels had operators, and phone conversations were not always private.
She paged Dika, then helped him on with his shoes and socks.
A soft knock sounded on the door. She looked through the peephole.
It was the maid. She was smiling, nodding. ”Miss Karen,” she called. ”I brought the bottle of wine you requested.” She held up a bottle for Karen, and anyone else who was watching, to see.
Karen let her in.
As Dika took in the messa”the scattered DVDs, the smooth, jewel-colored tail of the snake protruding from beneath the comforter, the man in the chaira”her smile disappeared. ”What happened?”
”We were attacked.”
Dika lifted her chin at Warlord. ”Is this the man you were afraid of?”
”Yes, but he saved my life.”
”Again,” Warlord interjected.
”You took your payment last time,” Karen snapped.
”So in return youare saving his life?” Dika looked him up and down. ”Handsome devil. I can see why you might.”
”You told me to trust my instincts. In this case, my instincts tell me to get him out of here without anyone seeing. Fast.” Karen waited, wondering if Dika would mock her.
Instead, the soft, smiling maid was gone, replaced by a hard-faced, determined, and intelligent woman. ”Right. Give me five minutes. Iall be back.” She left.
Karen pulled two water bottles out of the refrigerator and started to hand him one.
He shook in a hard burst, and gave off a flash of fever so hot she felt it where she stood.
For the first time she took a breath, and realized how inadequate she was to this task. She didnat know anything more than basic first aid. She wasnat capable of fighting demons who turned into beasts. She placed the bottle against his neck, hoping to cool him, and said, ”Iam a normal, sensible woman who is good at planning chocolate buffets and dealing with flower arrangement emergencies. How am I going to help you now?”
”Sensible, yes.” He took the bottle, opened the cap, and drank. ”But you are anything but normal. You can build a hotel, beat up a man, survive a trek through the Himalayas. Right now I canat think of anyone Iad rather have at my side.”
She didnat want his tributea”but it touched her heart. ”Drink it all,” she said tartly. ”Itall flush the venom through.”
As he drank, he was grinning, and he reminded her of someone. Someone she liked.
Oh, yeah. He reminded her of Rick Wilder.
”Iave got survival gear on the plane,” he said. ”With the stuff youave got in your backpack, weall be okay.”
”Did you go through everything I own?” She drank, too, grimly aware that she had also taken in a few fatal drops of the poison . . . and a few frightening drops of his blood.
”Right after your little conversation on the patio.” He nodded toward her sliding door.
She jerked the bottle away, spilling water down her front. ”Dika? You heard us?” Head heard every word shead said? About him? About her? About her fears?