Deliverance (29 page)

Chapter Forty

V
ice President Cameron was at work in his office on the first floor of the West Wing, the same floor as the Oval Office, the room he desperately sought. He was plowing through a budget bill in order to offer his suggestions to the president. His suggestions hadn’t been solicited, but that never deterred Cameron. The site of his gunshot wound ached, but that was a private matter and he had to put up a good public front.

Between flipping one page and the next, he vanished.

Cameron found himself in an area of dense fog. Ice crystals formed on his skin, as though he were standing in a freezing rain. The cold affected his entire body, and he looked down to see that he was naked. The fog was so thick he couldn’t see anything lower than his knees, and when he tried to move, he discovered he was stuck in place.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he shouted. There was no answer. He squirmed, but the fog might as well have been concrete. Cameron continued to shout until his indignation turned to fear and then to pleading. Tears poured from his eyes and froze on his cheeks.

I’m going to die here.

He had no idea how long he’d been in the fog when it started to thin. A shape approached, something that rang alarms of horror in his mind. The fog swirled as the creature moved, and the air movement brought a terrible stench Cameron’s way. The odor was something unclean, born of the charnel house and the battlefield, of putrefaction in dark, hidden places. Streams of foul brown fog came toward him, and where they touched his skin, the ice crystals were displaced by slime that sickened him. He vomited and felt the spew cascade down his body, but couldn’t move.

Finally the creature stood in front of him, and he couldn’t avert his eyes. What he saw was over ten feet tall and spherical. In the center of the sphere was a cavity with rings of vicious, inward-pointing fangs. As Cameron watched, the muscular action around the mouth—for it had to be one—moved the fangs in waves. He stared. It was both hypnotic and terrifying. He felt a warm stream of urine on his legs. When he was able to take his eyes from the mouth, he noticed that the creature had four arms, each ending in four claws that dripped blood and flesh from its last victim. There were no eyes, at least none that Cameron could discern.

“I am the demon Tirid.”

The sound was so loud that it burst both of Cameron’s eardrums. Blood ran down his cheeks. Inner ear damage muffled the rest of the sounds he heard. He was too stunned to say anything in response to Tirid.

“My Ageless slave Elizabeth was advancing your plan at my direction. She no longer lives. A valuable asset has been lost because of you.”

Cameron summoned what presence of mind he had left. “I . . . I had nothing to do with her death.”

He’d only recently learned that she was dead. The information came as a shock to him, as the most promising path to the Oval Office had just crumbled beneath his feet.

Tirid roared with anger. Cameron was unable to cover his painful ears, unable to protect himself in any way. The demon’s claws clacked together in a menacing way.

“It matters not what you did or did not do. You are at fault. I do not tolerate the loss of my slave from any hand but my own.”

An odd calmness took hold of Cameron. He was doomed and there was nothing he could do about it but silently curse the day Elizabeth had stepped into his life.

Tirid moved close and began to use his claws to rend the object of his anger.

I failed
, Cameron thought, and then thought no more.

Chapter Forty-One

A
maro arranged Maliha’s pickup for medical evacuation to the Clinic des Montagnes, where Dr. Corvernis tsk-tsked over her, asked no questions, and supported her recovery with his medical skill, his dry sense of humor, and the clinic’s excellent cuisine. Mickey went back to the States.

Either Mickey was with me all along or he was forced to work for Elizabeth and took the opportunity to help eliminate his tormentor. Either way, he gets a passing grade with me.

The morning after she arrived, Hound came limping in holding a computer printout.

It was the headline of the
Chicago Tribune
: V
ICE
P
RESIDENT
D
IES IN
R
OOM
P
ROTECTED BY
S
ECRET
S
ERVICE.
Then he showed her the
Enquirer
version: VP G
OES TO
P
IECES!!

“I think I know what happened,” she said. “Elizabeth’s demon blamed Cameron for her death. He was taken to the Midworld, ripped apart, and put back in his office.”

“Gotta love those demons,” Hound said.

Maliha glared at him.

“Well, you have to admit this saved us some trouble.”

“I see your point,” Maliha said. “But don’t start admiring demons. Roger Cameron died a horrible death. A bullet to the head would have accomplished what I wanted without all that torture.”

If I’d killed the bastard, I would have gotten a bonus from Anu. This way I didn’t get any credit.

“You getting soft in your old age?” Hound said.

“Not at all. Just getting some perspective.”

“The considerate assassin,” he said.

“The considerate seeker of justice.”

“Now we’re getting politically correct. You can use that shit on the others. I’ll stick with assassin.”

She shrugged. She was happy Cameron was gone, and Hound was being Hound. He kept her company telling stories from his Vietnam days, all of which she’d heard before. He had a smile on his face these days, since Glass was back at his side, staying at the clinic. His injuries weren’t severe, and soon he was complaining, impatient to get away from revealing hospital gowns and back to his work as a private investigator.

Yanmeng was mending, at least physically. He’d lost a hand, which would be fitted for a smart prosthetic when the time came—one that reacted to his thoughts. His foot replantation looked good so far and he was starting to regain some control, but it would be a long haul to full recovery—and there was no guarantee of that.

The missing strip of skin had been replaced with artificial skin, and it was taking well. The remaining lower layer of Yanmeng’s skin was growing upward into the scaffolding of the artificial skin. Growing in the lab was a sheet of real epidermis, the outer layer of skin, started from Yanmeng’s cells. At the right time, real skin and artificial would meet and marry.

Jake. He’s going to visit me. What do I say?

She pushed the thought aside. She’d have to wing it when he arrived, depending on what he said and how he acted. She didn’t have long to wait. He showed up the next morning with a huge bouquet of flowers. Hound was in the room with her, but he left immediately when Jake walked in.

“Hi, Jake,” she said.

Hi, Jake—there’s an impressive opener.

He kissed her on the forehead and pulled a chair up to the bedside. An aide appeared with a vase already prepared for the flowers.

The efficiency of this place can get on my nerves.

“How are you feeling?” he said.

“I got my arms slashed and a knife in my side. I’m healing okay, though—just not as fast as you would.” She smiled.

She searched Jake’s face for signs of the monster Master Liu described, and then checked his aura. It was the same as the last time she’d viewed it, similar to hers. Black with the stain of killing, but streaked by a desire to see justice done and an urge to help people.

If this man is a sadistic killer, then I could be one myself. How is he hiding his cruelty and disregard for life?

“You’ll be better soon. I thought we might take a vacation. Get away from work and go somewhere romantic, just the two of us.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Alone with him for days? Not unless I call Master Liu a liar, and the jury’s still out on that.

“Good. I’ll make plans.”

Maliha decided to test the waters and see what kind of reaction she got. After all, it was hard to believe Jake would pull anything at the clinic.

“Jake, can we talk about Abiyram again?”

“Sure.”

“I had already told Abiyram that he might be able to join my team. He was optimistic about it, waiting to hear the details. Why would he, as you said, be plotting to get on the team when it was going to be freely offered to him?”

Logical question. Just a clarification needed. Certainly not offensive.

“I guess he wanted to be certain. His focus was that he wanted you and wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of having you to himself. Who knows what an old human like that thinks, anyway?”

It just didn’t ring true. She’d worked with Abiyram a long time, and he’d never once let his heart rule his head. When they’d worked together, if she’d gotten caught, Abiyram would save her if he could, but not at the expense of success of the mission. It was his training and his personality mixed together, and it had nothing to do with having a woman as a partner.

I think Jake might be talking about himself, not Abiyram. There’s a lot of disdain in that crack about old humans, too.

She hesitated with her answer.

“Is there a problem?” he said.

“Not really. Well, maybe. I just don’t see it the way you do. From working with Abiyram, I don’t think he’d let his attraction to me cause him to do anything stupid.”

“So he was more important to you than I am?” Jake took her wrist and held it tightly enough to hurt a bit. There was an expression of concern on his face, concern with anger creeping in.

“I asked you before, is there a problem?” he said.

“The problem is you’re hurting my wrist.”

He didn’t let go. “What is it with this Abiyram? You’re going on about him and I can barely remember his name. He’s not a problem anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

His hand subtly tightened around her wrist. “I’m saying that the old man won’t bother you anymore. Or try to take you away from me.” Furrows formed on his brow. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to know?”

Did you kill him? Did you kill my friend? Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Maliha said.

Isn’t it time for my blood pressure to be taken or something?

“I mean, is there a problem with Abiyram out of the picture? You love
me
, don’t you? Not him? We’re going to get married.”

Hold on. I never agreed to that.

He twisted her wrist so hard that she thought it would snap. Anger got the best of her.

“Let go of my damn wrist or I’ll scream.” She pressed her lips together in a line and glared at him, daring him to take any action.

He eased up enough to take away the sensation that her wrist was about to break.

“Master Liu told me why you didn’t take the pledge to his school,” Maliha said.

I shouldn’t have said that.

“He shouldn’t have said that,” Jake said. His voice was cold.

Maliha viewed his aura again. His voice might have been cold, but his aura was raging hot. Brilliant flares of red anger and violence nearly drowned out the black.

That’s how he does it. He controls his aura somehow—until he gets angry and his control slips. Then his true colors show.

Maliha lifted her chin. Her eyes were bright with defiance. “He warned me about you. He said you’d kill me when you got tired of me. My friends, too.”

A knife appeared in Jake’s hand.

Call for help? Anyone who came in here now would be slashed to ribbons. He’s my problem. I brought him in, I’m the one who has to take him out.

She sat up a little straighter in bed and kissed the hand that held the knife. “But Jake, we love each other. That’s all that matters.”

He smashed his hand up into her face, leaving her nose bleeding. “Cut it out, Maliha. I see you now for what you really are, a scheming whore. Are you really rogue or still working for Rabishu?”

He leaned over her on the bed and the knife went to her throat. He made an experimental slice on the side of her neck to see if she would heal instantly. It was all Maliha could do to hold still.

“What happened to ‘I don’t want to lose you’?” Maliha said. She struggled to keep her voice from trembling. She was stalling for the right moment, the correct position of her body relative to his, and she couldn’t make any sudden moves until she was ready. She was only going to get one chance.

“Shut up.”

He lifted the knife a fraction of an inch. A minute passed quietly as Jake waited for the cut on her neck to heal. It didn’t.

“Son of a gun. You really are a rogue.”

He started to sit up, and that’s when she took the biggest risk of her life.

His hand still held her wrist, but not gripped as tightly as before. She stiffened her fingers and rammed them into his eye, then slid her fingers back through his encircling fist as he dealt with the pain of her surprise move.

Free!

She grabbed the wrist that held the knife, pulled it to her, and bit it as hard as she could. Tasting blood, she knew she’d severed the radial and ulnar arteries used to commit suicide. They were close to the surface of the skin on the inside of the wrist. It wouldn’t be more than a distraction to Jake, but a distraction would be helpful.

They struggled in complete silence, neither one wanting to attract outside attention. Jake dropped the knife on the bed and Maliha lunged for it. It was slippery with his blood, but she grasped it and plunged it into his heart. Pulling out the knife, she bent her legs and kicked out at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. She felt her own wounds respond to the action with fresh bleeding, especially the wound Elizabeth had given Maliha in her side. There was no time to consider body damage. At this point, she held not only her own life in her hands, but also the lives of her friends.

She dove from the bed and landed atop Jake. To weaken him further she broke both of his arms. The cracking of bone sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room. She straddled Jake and put the knife to his throat.

How could things go this wrong? I was ready to marry this man—until he asked me.

“We’ve been through this before, you know,” Jake said. His voice held only a tinge of pain.

“In my haven,” Maliha said. “I was ready to kill you.”

She stabbed his thigh as she went by, then she hit the wall of the weapons cache and spun around with a sword in her hand. She felt a little less naked.

Jake was down. Against the odds, she’d surprised him and landed a blow. She shoved off from the wall to press her advantage. Half a second later, she was on him, her sword balanced at his throat. Her chest pressed against his and she could feel his heart thudding. The edge of her weapon drew blood. All she had to do was lean her weight on the sword, sending the edge deeply into his flesh.

She’d delayed so long that by now he should have thrown her off. Instead, he went still beneath her.

She saw his lips move, forming the shape of her name with no sound.

Her hands weren’t obeying her mind, they were taking orders from her heart. The blade broke the skin in a short line that welled with blood but went no further.

She rolled off him, kept going, and came to her knees a short distance away. Then she rose to her feet and dashed back toward the door.

“I love you,” came from the man down on her floor.

“You couldn’t do it then and you won’t do it now,” Jake said. “I love you.”

You are one hundred and ten percent crazy.

She leaned her weight on both ends of the knife and kept pushing until the blade reached the carpet on the other side of his neck. She pushed his head a foot away. She wasn’t sure, but she thought if she left the head in contact with his body, his Ageless healing ability would reattach it.