"He doesn't have any more to give."
Lainie's gaze shot to the horizon, where the hidden I sun lurked behind a gray armada of clouds. "Are we | going to make it?"
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"We'll make it." There was a steely determination in his voice that reassured Lainie. She settled back into her seat and tightened her hold on him, resting her damp cheek against the wet oilskin of his duster.
They picked their way across the desert floor, moving with agonizing slowness. The wind was a constant stinging slap against their cheeks, the rain a hammering stream in their eyes. Suddenly Killian drew Captain to a stop.
"What?"
He held a gloved hand up for silence. "Something's not right." He stiffened, drew the gun from his belt.
Lainie glanced to the left and saw something. A shadow of movement, a glitter of light where no light was possible.
"Kil?"
The deafening roar of a shotgun blast severed her sentence.
Captain let out a groaning, wheezing grunt and staggered sideways. His head dipped. Stumbling forward, he sank to his knees in the soft, wet earth.
"Shit!" Killian clutched Lainie around the waist and jumped out of the saddle.
She landed face-first in the mud, felt the cold ooze splatter her face as Captain floundered in the mire, grunting, wheezing, trying to get back onto his feet. The acrid smell of gunpowder chased away the sweet fragrance of the rain. All Lainie could smell now was wet earth and sweat and sulfur.
And blood.
She saw the dark smear of red that stained the Appa-loosa's huge flank. The animal gave one last, shuddering breath and collapsed.
She stared at the horse for a heartbeat, unable to comprehend, and then, in a flash, it came to her.
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"Oh, my God" she screamed in a panic. All at once she knew what was happening, knew why it was happening. She clutched Killian's sleeve and yanked hard. "Where are we?"
"Bloody Gorge." He inched forward on his elbows and peered over the dead horse's swelling stomach, using the now silent animal as a barrier between them and the snipers.
The world fell away from her for a second. Bloody Gorge. What the hell were they doing here?
Viloula's prophecy came crashing back to her. There will be a death.
"Killian!" a male voice yelled, echoing above the driving rain. "Surrender or we'll shoot you."
Lainie slogged through the mud and plastered herself alongside him. Taking Killian's face in her wet, dirty hands, she forced him to look at her. "You have to get out of here. That's Joe Martin."
"I'm not leaving you. We're gonna make it to the Rock."
Lainie shook her head. Tears scalded her eyes and fell down her cheeks, mingling with the cold rain. "You don't understand. This is? Oh, God ..." For a second she couldn't talk, couldn't move, couldn't do anything except look into Killian's eyes and feel a drenching, desperate sense of regret.
"What, Lainie, for Christ's sake?"
She shook him hard, glared up at him through the stinging veil of tears. "This is where you die, damn it. Get the hell out of here."
She saw the dawning realization in his eyes, the understanding. "Bloody Gorge," he said softly. "Yeah, I remember you saying that now...."
"Now you remember," she said hysterically. "Couldn't you have remembered yesterday?"
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"There's no other way to the Rock. This is it." He frowned suddenly. "How did Joe Martin know I'd be here?"
"Mose," she said without hesitation. "He sent Joe Martin to kill you at Bloody Gorge. After your . . . death, Mose takes your place with the outlaws."
"Bastard," he hissed.
"Come on out, Killian. Don't make me kill the lady, too."
Killian shot a glance at the horizon. He couldn't see the sun, but knew it was fading fast. "We've got to make a run for it. Now."
She grabbed his chin, forced him to look at her. "Not you. No way."
He clutched her by the shoulders and drew her close, giving her a hard shake. "We're in this together, damn it."
"But you die here, Killian." She was screaming now, screaming and crying, and she didn't care.
He gave her a hard, desperate kiss. "Don't you get it?" he whispered against her lips, his voice a thread of sound above the thumping of the rain on their bodies. "I'm dead either way. Now, get your beautiful ass up to a crawl. I'm heading for the Rock, and I'll get you there if I have to drag you."
He maneuvered onto his hands and knees and peered over the spotted swell of the horse's hindquarters. Lainie followed, keeping close. In the distance, not more than one hundred feet away, she saw the shadowy outline of three men on horseback.
She glanced to the west again, saw the sun. They had mere minutes left.
He slipped his hand in hers. She felt the solid, comforting squeeze of his fingers. "On the count of three
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we get to our feet and run as fast as we can to the Rock. Okay?"
"Okay." The word hurt, felt as if it had been wrenched from her soul.
"One ... two ..."
"Now, Killian," Joe Martin yelled. "You got thirty seconds to give yourself up."
"Three." Killian and Lainie lurched to their feet and spun around, racing for the Rock.
"Son of a bitch!" Martin shrieked. "They're makin' a run for it."
Lainie and Killian lurched forward. The thick, viscous mud sucked at their feet and splashed up their pants. Rain slashed against their faces, blinded them. Still they ran, their threaded fingers a lifeline in the shifting world. Behind them came the thundering heartbeat of horses' hooves.
Gunfire exploded again, sprayed all around them. She heard the thudding impact of bullets on the crumbling rock walls, smelled the sharp, acrid scent of gunpowder.
Suddenly Killian arced forward, his chest curving outward. His fingers spasmed around hers, clamped hard. He stumbled and slid forward, crashing to his knees.
She clung to his hand, ignoring the painful snapping of her bones. "Killian?" she screamed, wiping the rain from her eyes, trying futilely to see him.
He staggered to his feet and kept running, dragging her alongside him. "Keep running, damn it."
She glanced backward. The three horsemen were gaining ground; their tall, silhouetted forms shimmered in the silver curtain of the rain.
Thunder boomed across the darkening sky, shook the ground beneath their feet. Lightning flared, its white light bright enough to hurt Lainie's eyes. She blinked,
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trying to see where they were going. A huge, snaking bolt of lightning shot out of the clouds and hit a gnarled old tree. The branches exploded in a shower of golden sparks, a fire billowed up from its core. The scent of smoke was all around.
"Here." Killian yanked her sideways into a crack in the Rock. Huge, wet sandstone walls curled around them, protected them from the howling wind. He pulled her into his arms and collapsed against the Rock, breathing hard.
She clung to him, her cheek pressed to the slick, soaking wet oilskin of his duster.
"This is it," he said in a tired voice.
There was a finality in his voice that surprised her. She looked up at him, blinking against the rain. "Killian?"
"Sorry, Lainie. I thought maybe ..."
She pulled back. "What?" Then she saw it. Wide-eyed, disbelieving, she stared at the dark blotch that spread across his chest.
Blood. He'd been shot.
She couldn't breathe. Horror shuddered through her in a wave that left her icy cold. She launched forward and pressed her hands over the wound in his chest, applying a steady pressure. Blood seeped through his shirt and squished between her fingers, running over the back of her hands. Rain diluted the blood, turning it a pathetic pink and washing it away.
"You're going to be okay," she said, breathing hard.
"You'll be fine___" Her voice cracked on a sob. Tears
burned her eyes and turned him into a watery blur.
"Don't cry," he whispered.
/>
"I love you," she said in a hoarse, hiccuping voice. "I love you." Her words took on a strident desperation,
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rose shrilly above the hammering of the rain on the rocks around them. "I love you."
"I love you, too." He winced, drew in a shaking breath that seemed to hurt. "Remember that."
"Don't do it, Killian," she said, pressing harder on his wound. "Don't you die on me. I won't let you."
He wheezed and clutched his hand over hers, wincing at the pain. The look he gave her was so sad, so filled with love, it broke her heart. "I knew ... I... wouldn't be ... there for ... you.. . ."
"Don't you say that. Don't ..." She threw her arms around him and clung to him, breathing in the rainy, bloody scent of him, trying to memorize everything about him in a single, aching touch. "I won't let you go, Killian. I won't. You're coming with me."
He stroked her hair for a second, then his hand wavered, drew back from her head. She heard it thump softly against his thigh. A fluttering sigh escaped him.
Shaking, she drew back. The sight of him was like a sharp blow to the chest. She drew in gasping gulps of air and tried to keep breathing. But she didn't want to, she wanted to curl up alongside him and die. Just die ...
Racking, aching sobs clutched her chest, burned her eyes. With cold, shaking fingers, she pushed the wet hair from his eyes.
He sat slumped against the Rock, his head cocked at an unnatural angle. His face was ash gray, his mouth colorless and slack. He was staring at her through bleak, resigned eyes. "I ... love ... you," he said again, more softly, his voice cracking on the last word. He let out a groaning sigh and reached for her.
She waited for the touch, but it never came. Halfway there, his hand stopped, slid lifelessly downward. He breathed her name, only her name.
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"Killian." She clutched his shoulders, shaking him hard.
He slumped against her, his head fell forward.
"Noooo!" She threw her arms around his lifeless body, throwing herself on top of him, as if her warmth could somehow bring him back to life. Blood seeped through his shirt and stuck to her skin. The smell of it was everywhere. "Don't leave me," she whispered against his ear again and again, tasting the salty moisture of her own tears. "You said you'd hold on to
me-----You promised-----" She reached for his hand,
threaded her wet fingers through his limp, lifeless ones, clinging to him. Sobbing, she brought his hand to her chest, plastered it to her heart. "You said you wouldn't let go. You promised...." Her voice caught, shattered into a great, inhuman howl of pain.
Suddenly she remembered the necklace and Viloula's words. Use it wisely. Lainie had been wrong. She didn't need the necklace to get back. He did.
"Oh, God ..." She wrenched backward and fumbled with the latch at the back of her neck, willing her shaking, ice-cold fingers to function. She couldn't do it, couldn't open the catch. Frustration welled through her, and with a scream, she ripped the necklace from her throat and pressed it to Killian's chest.
It slid downward.
Sobbing, she grabbed his limp hand and pressed the stone against his flesh, forcing his fingers to curl around it. "Take it, damn it. Hold on. You promised-----"
Thunder rumbled again, a sound so loud, it vibrated in the rock walls around her. Lightning ripped through the darkness, for a split second turning the world into a burning ball of white-hot light. She blinked against the brightness and buried her face in the wet crook of his neck, her fingers coiled around his.
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As she lay there, sprawled on top of him, rocking him in shaking arms, a tingling sensation spread through her body. She felt tired suddenly, as if all the fight and fire had drained out of her, leaving only a broken, lifeless shell. Lightning flashed again, hit the rock above her head in a spray of fire-bright sparks. The impossible aroma of roses floated on the wind, mingled with the acrid scent of smoke.
And then she couldn't feel Killian anymore.
Terrified, she withdrew her face from the crook of his neck and stared down at him. He was sitting there, slumped just as before, his eyes closed, his skin deathly pale.
But she couldn't feel him, couldn't feel the wetness of the rain on his still warm skin, couldn't feel the stiff fabric of his duster.
With a sob, she reached for him, tried to touch him again, but her arms and fingers were hazy and unreal, shimmering and insubstantial. Ghost's arms, ghost's fingers.
She was floating away from him, her invisible ghost's body riding on the swelling rise of the wind. She screamed his name, sobbing, and fought the motion, but the more she fought it, the farther she pulled away from him.
Dimly she was aware of the three riders who appeared in the crack of the Rock beside Killian. She watched in horror as the riders approached.
Joe Martin slid out of the saddle and moved cautiously toward Killian, his shotgun pointed at the man slumped against the Rock. He jabbed Killian in the shoulder with the tip of his rifle.
Killian slid sideways and lay in a heap in the thick mud.
"He's dead," Martin said.
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The man beside him laughed quietly. "The re-ward said dead or alive. Hey, what's that in his hand?"
In Killian's hand, the amethyst started to glow, lightly at first, then in pulsing, radiant purple rays. A pale white light crept through his fingers and up his arm, moving slowly.
"He probably stole it from some widow," Martin said, shoving his rifle back into its long leather holster on his saddle. "Let's get him onto a horse."
Lainie screamed Killian's name, but the sound was no more than an echoing sharpness on the wind. She reached out and scooped an armful of air, holding it to her chest, pretending that she could still feel him, still touch him.
An uncomfortable pulling sensation filled her stomach and radiated through her limbs to her fingertips and toes. She spiraled end over end?at least it felt as if she were spinning. She couldn't tell anymore, she was so dizzy.
The sounds of the night died. She couldn't hear anything but the gasping spurts of her own panicked breathing. She seemed to fall into the darkness and float there, alone except for a million floating golden-bright sparks.
And then, just as suddenly as before, there was
nothing.
Chapter T
r
Lainie came awake slowly. She had a moment's peace, a wonderful, relaxing sensation of everything being right with the world. She stretched lazily and opened her eyes. A white wall cluttered with tacked-up photographs and pictures filled her field of vision.
It took a second for things to register.
She lurched backward. The metal wheels on her chair legs screeched across the hardwood floor. She slammed into the open door and stared around, blinking hard, unable for a second to breathe.
She was sitting in her own chair, in her own office. Her computer sat in front of her, its blank, empty screen mocked her.
She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the reality, but it didn't help. Her breathing fractured into great, wheezing gulps, her heart pounded so loud she couldn't hear anything else.
Except the thunder. Thunder.
She forced her eyes open and looked out her window. Rain clattered against the Thermopane glass, slid down in opaque, sparkling streams. Wind rattled the gutters and shook the maple trees huddled in her yard.
The storm was still raging ... exactly as it had been. As if she'd never really left at all.
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Panic surged through her. She shook her head in denial. It couldn 't be true. It couldn 't be ...
"I'm not that crazy," she cried.
But she was. Goddamn it, she was that crazy. . ..
She yanked a handful of sweater and brought it to her nose, sniffing, breathing in the warm, yarny scent.
There was no hint of a dust smell, no sharp odor of blood and sweat and mud. Nothing but Tide laundry soap and a lingering trace of Fend
i perfume.
It had all been a dream. She'd never left this house.
"Noooo," she screamed. She wouldn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Killian had been real. She'd touched him, loved him, let him into her soul.
He had to be real.
If he wasn't real, she was crazy ... too crazy to be a mother, too crazy to be free.. ..
She stumbled out of her chair, spinning away from her desk and hurtling through her house. Panic and fear and desperation pumped through her in heart-stopping bursts of adrenaline. Her fingers shook, her mouth trembled, her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She moved in jerky, awkward motions, searching for something to do, to think, to feel. Anything but this paralyzing sense of terror.
Calm down, Lainie. Get a grip. It was real. It was.
She had to prove it. Had to know for sure. But how?
Judith.
She surged to the phone and yanked the receiver off its hook, punching out Jude's home phone number in New Jersey.
The buzzing drone of a busy signal exploded in her ears.
She slammed the phone back into its cradle. Pacing back and forth across her small, wooden-floored
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kitchen, she waited exactly ten seconds, then grabbed the phone and dialed again.
This time the phone rang. Judith picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"
Lainie let out a quick breath and tried to sound normal. "Jude?" she said, barely able to hear her own voice over the thudding beat of her heart. Calm down, Lainie. Breathe.
"Lainie, is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me. Jude, I was wondering ... wh-when did I leave New York?"
There was a long silence before Jude answered. "Have you been drinking?"
Lainie laughed sharply, bitterly. "Unfortunately, I'm sober as a judge."
"Thank God," Jude said with a breathy laugh. "Well, you left JFK about ten hours ago. So, with the time change and all, you've been home, what?three hours? Why?"
The answer hit her like a sharp blow to the heart. She reeled backward, her fingers spasmed around the phone. She went from panic to devastation in a heartbeat, and realized a second too late that panicked was better. With panic, there'd been hope. Now, she had nothing, nothing but a yawning, desperate emptiness.
She'd thought she was lonely before she met Killian, but she hadn't known what lonely was until this instant.
"Three hours," she repeated the words in a wooden, lifeless voice. Long enough to make dinner, pour a stiff drink, and talk to Kelly. Exactly what she'd done before she sat down at the computer.
Mumbling good-bye, she set the phone down. Her hands were shaking so badly she missed the phone's