American Quest (35 page)

All Gloria knew was that she was weary from fighting him. Weary from being angry and indignant for so long without relief. Would it be such a terrible thing to get used to this, the luscious finery of Aaron’s lifestyle? She could release herself to Aaron’s heat, allow herself to be drawn in by that intoxicating sooty gaze. The massive, overwhelming power of him. The scent of invincibility.

His heart betrays, and he falters while beneath your gaze
. The canteshrike had said that to her when she visited her. When Gloria was certain she would die. What did the canteshrike mean by this?

Gloria steeled herself and rose, trying to dash away the sick heaviness that strangled her. But cobwebs from the dream still lingered in her mind and heart. She shook it off. Tried to shake it off.

How could Bruce forget her so easily? They were supposed to be eternal. How could he turn to Jamie so quickly? And why now after they’d known each other so long?

She faltered, and her knees buckled. She sank to the floor under the weight of her misery as ghastly, searing heartache overwhelmed her. Sobs leaped from her throat.

She allowed the tears and sobs to wrack her. She had no idea a person could carry this much sorrow. She tried to squelch it, but her body would not comply. She could not stop the tremors or the gushing tears, nor could she muster enough strength to stand.

“Gloria?”

She looked up and saw Aaron in the doorway.

She turned her face, unable to speak. Loathed the exposure during such a private moment. Aaron entered the library and knelt before her, taking her hand.

“What’s happened?”

She shook her head, mortified. And yet her strength and her composure still failed her.

“What is it?” Aaron urged.

“It’s—it’s nothing. Please.”

“No, tell me!”

He startled her with the solicitous urgency of his tone. She slid a finger under an eye and then grazed the other with her thumb. “I can’t talk about it. Please, Aaron.”

“No!” He grasped her shoulders, pulling her toward him so that her head tilted back.

His eyes burned. “Don’t you understand, Gloria? I am your lifeline. I am your world. When you are in distress, I shall remedy it. If you are in want, I shall provide. You must confide in me.”

She blinked, stunned, though her breaths continued in gasps.

“It was just a dream,” she said, and she strove to make her voice sound as though she truly believed this. “About Bruce. He was . . . intimate with another woman.” Her chest convulsed, and the words tumbled from her. “He used to tell me they were just friends, but I always . . . wondered . . .”

The pain of it seared through her afresh. She had become so accustomed to the thought of sharing her life with Bruce. So certain of her path.

Aaron’s eyes softened. “But you believe it was more than a dream, don’t you?”

She tried to blink the tears from her eyes. She looked away, unable to speak. She gave a small nod. She didn’t just believe it; she knew it. What she saw in the dream was a vision that the dagger had transposed to her mind, and the dagger relayed the truth with the cold indifference of a steel blade. She waited for Aaron to say something damning about Bruce.

But he didn’t. Instead, he folded her hands into his as one might
caress a newly hatched bluebird, and he surprised her with his words. “You mustn’t blame him. He cannot help but follow the inclinations of human nature.”

He reached a hand to her hair and brought her to him. She didn’t resist. She laid her head on his shoulder and allowed the agony to course through her unbridled. It was so soothing to be able to unburden herself.

“He is but a mortal and cannot possibly grasp that a rare jewel has come to be in his midst. He sees every woman as varying degrees of beautiful, intelligent, and witty. They all see women that way. Hear me when I say you would be squandered in his company.”

Gloria could not speak. Could not argue. She wasn’t sure how she’d go about doing so even if she’d managed to remaster her body to a more functioning state. Aaron’s intoxicating heat pulled her in, warmed her frigid bones. She longed to disappear, even if only through an escape of the flesh. She knew she could use her own body to sever the tie with Bruce, and in doing so reclaim some shred of control.

Aaron’s fingertips rested in her hair. And as he soothed her, she sensed his arousal. His flesh had grown taut beneath his clothing. Yet he only seemed to want to comfort her.

Her convulsing grief lessened, though she knew she still lacked the bodily strength to stand, or walk. Or push Aaron away.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “You want to go to your room?”

“Yes,” she whispered, though she wondered how she’d manage it and felt self-conscious about making her way weak-kneed under Aaron’s gaze.

He shifted so that his hands moved under her knees and he stood and lifted her into his arms. Her eyes closed at his shoulder, her hand curled around his neck. And she allowed him to carry her. She didn’t have the strength to protest even if she wanted to. The wall of his chest breathed warmth back into her blood. She felt intoxicatingly aware of his hand as it curved from her knee to her thigh in the otherwise chaste manner with which he transported her from the library to the living area to the bedroom. She felt his breath at her spine and it caused her flesh to tingle in a shiver that traveled from the nape of her neck to her shoulders, nipples, and stomach.

He laid her on the bed and kissed her cheek. He made no other advance. She reached up and grazed his fingertips with her own. “Thank you, Aaron.”

He nodded, touching her chin with his knuckle.

And then he left the room and closed the door.

She knew she could have asked him to stay and he would have. She knew she could have lessened her pain, if only for a short while, by sharing her body with him and finding escape. She wasn’t ready for that yet. Still, she wondered how much longer it would be before she learned to fix her eyes forward.

And she wondered about the other side of Aaron, that dark side that she’d only glimpsed. The part that caused a choking fear to seize her breath and send whispers into her psyche, reasoning with her to comply with Aaron’s wishes. That to oppose him may mean her demise.

And beneath it all, the strange, musical words of a canteshrike.

Gloria closed her eyes, and the moment she did, her vision filled once again with the image of Jamie laying in bed next to Bruce.

Jamie lay stretched on her stomach atop the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed. Bruce blinked at her and she could see him struggling to maintain consciousness. An IV ran from the crook of his elbow to a clear plastic bag hanging on a hook over his bed. The scare of his near death still gripped her.

“I’ve been connected to you since the moment I was born,” Jamie said to him. “Losing you is something I just can’t handle.”

Bruce’s hand reached up and smoothed the top of Jamie’s hair. “Not going anywhere, Tink. Love you too much.”

“I’ll always watch over you, Bruce.”

“I know you will, Tink.”

“When the paramedics came, you had such a low pulse and you were barely breathing,” she told him.

“I’m breathing now,” he slurred.

“You want to know something stupid? If I hadn’t told them I was your wife, they wouldn’t have even let me visit you. They’d’ve let you just fight it out alone. How ridiculous is that? As though only husbands and wives can support each other.”

“Doesn’t matter, Tink.”

“No it doesn’t,” an elderly nurse said, a kind, abundant smile sparkling in her eyes as she entered Bruce’s hospital room and laid a hand to his forehead. “But he is going to need to rest.”

Jamie’s heart fluttered, embarrassed at having been caught trying to pass herself off as Bruce’s wife. She pulled herself up off the bed, cheeks burning, and turned away.

But then her breath caught. That elderly nurse—the kind, abundant smile in her eyes!

“It’s you!” Jamie said.

“You who?” Bruce said in a voice that bordered on delirium. “Yoohoo?”

He did not see this nurse. Jamie realized that she was probably the only one who
could
see the nurse. Because this nurse, with her familiar smile, had first visited Jamie many years ago when she sat in a golden chair and held her hand, explaining Jamie’s purpose in the world.

Jamie’s eyes filled with tears. “You’ve finally come. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Bruce shifted, tension clouding his face. “He’s sent her to watch us. Them to watch us. Me and Gloria. Candy stripes.”

A dazzling pearled atmosphere surrounded the nurse and she took Jamie’s hand and led her from the hospital room.

“I’ll be back, Bruce,” Jamie whispered over her shoulder with excitement.

“Tink.”

She paused, afraid to spare a moment lest the visitation disperse. The Auxilium had already left the room.

“Can you bring the mirror closer so I can see the candy stripes? Candy stripe. Looks like there’s only one.”

“Oh God, Bruce. You really need to rest. There aren’t any candy
stripers around here.” But she adjusted the little round mirror that stretched on an accordion arm near his bed.

He narrowed his eyes at it. “Where are your pearly feathers? Used to be white. You’ve changed. Candy stripe. Canteshrike.”

Jamie hesitated, suddenly worried for him again. She put a hand to his forehead and found it clammy. “Bruce? What do you see in there?”

“Don’t worry, Tink. I’ll be fine. I just gotta ask her about Gloria. Gotta do this.” He seemed to be fighting to keep his eyes on the mirror. “I’m not afraid of you, canteshrike.”

Jamie gripped his hand. He was delirious, of course. She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. Was the Auxilium still out there? She looked back at Bruce.

“Sweetie, I have to go, but I’ll be right back. It’s the Auxilium. She’s finally appeared.”

“Go, go ahead, Tink. Love you. Remember that, whatever happens.”

A bolt of fear jumped in her heart. Whatever happens?

But she had to talk to the Auxilium. She would know what to do. Jamie gave his hand one last squeeze and jogged for the door.

ENERVATA’S TAIL FLICKED as he watched Hedon use his fingers to desecrate a goose breast stuffed with onion and lard-fried sheep’s kidney. He downed each bite with grunting gulps of mead. The sheer gluttony once amused Enervata, particularly when Hedon’s brother Glueg joined him in such frenzies. But today, though stray bits of sauce dribbled from the corners of Hedon’s mouth and slicked his beard, Enervata had no interest in the revulsion of it.

He frowned at Hedon. “Where is Isolde?”

“Owzat? Oh, dinno, master.”

Hedon smacked his lips and they disappeared into a burrow between his notched nose and thick beard, now a confetti of hair and stuffing. “Seeing to it that the damnable company of fools is off to California, last I saw. Shall I check in on her?”

While Isolde had failed to prevent Bruce from gathering those he sought, she had at least managed to divert the van farther away. First to New Orleans, and now to California.

Enervata furrowed his brow. “Have you noticed anything unusual about Isolde?”

“What, since her man Rafe is gone? Seems a might bit more relaxed these days, doesn’t she? Not so anxious to start waving that talon about, carving away like some blasted nimble-footed ninja.” Hedon rubbed his scarred nose.

Enervata nodded. “Perhaps. And your instructions are quite clear, are they? For both of you?”

“Aye,” Hedon said. His eyes seemed mystified and slightly nervous at Enervata’s question. Likely, he interpreted it as Enervata laying the groundwork for punishment in case of some sort of breach.

“Tell me,” Enervata said.

“You did want me to reconnoiter activities among other Pravus, master, didn’t you? I’ve had a look, I and my own Pravus troops. There’s been a mite bit of mischief building up but we’ve managed to crush them.” His voice took on a thrust of pride. “It’s what I’ve come to report after all, isn’t it. Our Pravus soldiers are superior in training and execution. Even on a bad day one of mine’ll outmaneuver five of any of theirs.”

Enervata leaned in slightly. “And Isolde?”

“She, well, you instructed her to divert the van, didn’t you. West coast United States is it? California? That the young man Bruce must remain alive. I . . . I can summon her, master. Shall I?”

But Hedon’s words sounded accurate enough. They were clear on their mission and Isolde’s change in demeanor stemmed from a release in tension over Rafe’s death. And Enervata was loath to retrieve her if she was managing any form of success with Bruce’s company.

“No, let her be,” Enervata said. “The forces of light are all around them. I want her to suppress those forces and keep herself hidden from them while she continues with her mission. Interrupting her might jeopardize that.”