Embrace The Night (27 page)

“Any time,” she replied coolly. She didn’t look at him, for fear he’d see what was in
her
eyes.

“Everything go all right today?” he asked.

Was he trying to drive her crazy?

“I’m just a little tired,” she replied, noticing that Dawn, one of Sharon’s friends, seemed to be fascinated by their low-toned conversation. “Maybe your sperm’s already in action,” she added, loudly enough for the other woman to hear. He flashed her a look that would have been amusing in its acute discomfort if she hadn’t been so annoyed with him.

Even though all she could think about was twining her body with his, and kissing him, touching him…at the same time, she wanted to string him up by his toes and swat the hell out of him.

Or hide in a corner and cry from shame and frustration.

For the time, she opted to feel annoyed rather than rejected and hurt, because it was easier. But sooner or later, she was going to have to examine those feelings and figure out what it was.

Instead of looking at Simon, she engaged herself in conversation with Dawn, and Sharon, who’d arrived late. She tried not to notice every time he bumped against her thigh—which wasn’t often—and attempted to block out the deep timbre of his voice as he chatted or laughed with the others at their table. Why, though she was angry with him, did the mere sound of it make her want to cuddle in next to him?

The meal was interminable, yet the expectations were palpable. As Sage looked around the large community, the entire settlement—not a portion of it—that had gathered here in the dining area filled with tables and spilling outside through the open walls, and she remembered other times with the same sort of feel to them.

The whispers, the watching, the anticipation. The joviality that nevertheless seemed a bit forced. Beneath the revelry, Sage sensed something else. Fear? Trepidation? As if the people of Falling Creek knew the arrival of the Strangers would be exciting, yet horrifying.

Or was she simply making all of this up?

Sage had never credited herself with an overly active imagination, but now as she thought about it, she realized she’d been wrong. After all, someone who researched and investigated information the way she did, in a cobbled-together Internet, had to be creative to find ways to do it.

Then finally, it happened. The wave of whispers rose followed by the sounds—unfamiliar to the residents of Falling Creek—of a vehicle’s engine approach, heralding the arrival of the Strangers.

Sage found herself sitting up expectantly, her heart thumping in her chest. She might have seen them before, years ago when she lived here as a girl—her memory was foggy—but she hadn’t seen one of the immortals since then. She knew they looked like any other human, except for the powerful crystals they wore embedded in their skin.

And now that Quent had identified one of the Stranger leaders as his father, Parris Fielding, they had all come to the conclusion that the Strangers were humans who had lived before the Change, and had taken on the crystals of immortality. And, according to Lou and Theo, had somehow caused—or at least enabled—the Change.

Because of their relation to the Cult of Atlantis, and the fact that crystals were widely believed to be part of the Atlantean legend—along with the fact that a continental-sized landmass had appeared in the Pacific Ocean, possibly risen from the depths—the Strangers were thought to have some connection to Atlantis. Either they were looking for the lost continent, or had somehow found it, and its powerful, life-force crystals.

The Strangers were greeted by the two eldest Corrigan men, and brought to the front of the room, not far from where Sage and Simon were sitting. She watched, waiting for a wave of recognition to sweep over her—but when she saw the two men and one woman, Sage wasn’t prepared for the shock of that identification.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, reaching automatically for Simon’s arm. “That woman…that’s Tatiana. The actress! Isn’t it?”

His arm was solid and taut beneath her fingers, and she felt waves of tension rolling from him. Instead of watching the Strangers and gaping at them as the rest of the room was doing, he was looking slightly down and off into the distance.

“Do you see her?” she whispered, looking at the woman.

“Shh,” Simon growled behind a tight jaw, and Sage tried to relax, even as she stared at the three immortals.

The woman seemed to be in charge, and Sage definitely remembered seeing her before, when she was younger. But at that time, she had not recognized her as the actress famous for her real-life rags-to-riches story, and the sharp, seductive roles she played in films. Perhaps the leaders of Falling Creek had made certain there were no Tatiana movies available in the settlement.

Tatiana stood at the front, speaking with the community leaders. Her two companions, the very faint glow of crystals showing through their shirts, stood deferentially behind her. While Sage vaguely remembered seeing them as well from the Strangers’ previous visits, she didn’t recognize them. She memorized their faces now, though, so she could search through the list of Cult of Atlantis members and try to identify them when she returned to Envy.

Tatiana, of course, as an immortal, had not changed since her films. She wasn’t tall, but she had a commanding presence and what Lou would call a killer body. Ink black hair cascaded down in a straight waterfall around her shoulders, nearly to her hips, causing Sage to wonder if the hair and nails grew on Strangers. And if they could bear children.

Maybe that was why they liked to take young women from Falling Creek…to use them for procreation purposes?

Sage shook her head to clear the morbid thoughts. Simon was going to help keep them from taking any young women this time, if that was indeed what they’d come for. She found herself reaching automatically toward him, wanting desperately to touch him—for stability, strength, and comfort…

Certainly she wouldn’t be a candidate for the Strangers to take—she was too old, and was presumably already married—and even if she were, she knew Simon would never let it happen.

But something unsettled her, and that feeling of trepidation grew as Tatiana spoke congenially with the leaders, who fairly slathered over her hands, they were so reverent. The room had fallen completely silent except for the low hum of their voices. As she conversed with her hosts, Tatiana scanned the room, and even from where she was sitting, Sage could feel the chill of her gaze. She knew from the films that the actress’s eyes were brown, but they’d been warm and sparkling in movies like
The Girl Can’t Go Home
and
Stand Down or Die
. Now, she recognized flat chilliness that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

Tatiana finished her conversation abruptly, and the settlement leaders seemed to be surprised, for she was walking away from them, and coming down into the rows of tables.

Sage didn’t remember that happening before, and from the expressions on the faces of her fellow diners, neither could they. The settlement leaders appeared confused as well.

Every eye was on the woman as she walked through the room, moving with a purpose, her long hair shining and shifting, her eyes focused…on Sage? No, not on her. But…

Sage felt Simon’s entire body tighten next to her, the tension pouring from him, yet he didn’t move.

Tatiana came to a stop right in front of their table, and now Sage could see the brilliant glow of a pale blue crystal from beneath the woman’s sheer white shirt. Heart slamming in her chest, palms damp, she looked up into those eyes, and found them trained not on her, but on the man next to her.

Tatiana’s voice was low and throaty when she spoke. “Well, well…Simon Japp. It
is
you. And you haven’t changed a bit in fifty years.”

March 29

Nine months later.

I still can’t believe this. About three weeks ago, Thad Marck blew up at a city council meeting and they got into a big fight.

I guess they were done with him, because the entire council, along with a bunch of other men kicked Thad and the rest of us out of Envy!

Well, they didn’t kick me out, really, but I decided to go with Kevin. He believes in what Marck wants to do—which is to organize the repopulation of the world, and really focus on making it happen efficiently instead of haphazardly.

I think his basic ideas are all right, I just think he went about it a little too harshly. But anyway, I had the choice to go with Kevin or not, and I just didn’t want to lose another man I love. I mean, it’s been so hard.

So I decided to go with them, and Kevin and I have gotten married. Is that wrong?

[_ There were about twelve of us who left that night, and they gave us food and water and didn’t even wait till sunrise to make us leave. I heard people saying that Thad had gotten violent in the meeting that night, that he and Kevin and Robert had knives and bombs??? That someone almost got killed…but I don’t believe it. It’s just not like them. _]

I think they just wanted him out of Envy because Mayor Rowe didn’t support his ideas. Whatever.

Anyway, we’ve found a place to live. It’s called Falling Creek, and it’s a much nicer place than Envy will ever be.

—from Adventures in Juliedom, the

blog of Julie Davis Beecher Corrigan

“Hello, Florita,” Simon replied, keeping his voice cool and even.

He felt Sage’s shock and confusion emanating from her rigid body, but dared not take his eyes from the woman in front of him. The moment she and her companions had appeared, he’d recognized her.

He’d gone cold and blank, and a wave of memories rushed over him, bringing him back to the nightmare, the lost, suffocating nightmare of his other life. It had paralyzed him for a moment, swathing him in darkness and loathing, until he pulled himself beyond the night, and his strength and purpose came roaring back.

He was not that same person. He’d been given another chance.

Now, Florita Tatiane—now known by her stage name Tatiana—looked down at him with the same dark eyes filled with fascination and lust that she’d trained on him more than fifty years ago. Almost fifty-seven, if one were counting.

She looked the same as she had on the poster of her final movie and the cover of her last magazine shoot—thanks to Hollywood, more physically perfect than she had been when he knew her as his boss’s mistress. The only difference was the small blue crystal. The collar of her tight white scoop-neck shirt had shifted as she bent toward him (old habits died hard, apparently), giving him a clear view of her impressive cleavage and the glowing, faceted gem embedded in the soft part of her skin, just below her collarbone. The power that kept her preserved at the height of her youth and beauty.

A jewel for which the rest of the world had paid an incredible price. Loathing burned through him as he looked up at the woman he’d known as Florita.

“What a small, small world,” she said.

Interesting. Even through his horror and discomfort, Simon was able to pare through his reactions to recognize both shock and confusion in the layers of her voice. After all, he’d known her very well when he was working with her. Not as well as she would have liked, but well enough.

She was just as surprised at their reunion as he, and she wasn’t certain what to do about it. Simon knew that was to his advantage, and he’d play it more carefully than he’d ever bet on a hand of life-or-death poker.

Starting by keeping his feelings for Sage obscured. Which meant he should get the hell away from her before Tatiana made the connection. If she even sensed the possibility of a rival…

“The world’s become a lot smaller in the last fifty years,” he replied, still cool, still flat. “Thanks to you and your cult friends.” He had no reason to hide his revulsion for her and the other Strangers. Now, more than ever, he was prepared to do what it took to bring these survivors to their knees. His last, most important, job.

Florita’s full lips had tightened at his comment. Her eyes narrowed, then relaxed, and roamed over him, as if checking to see if he was still the specimen she’d tramped after half a century ago. “Indeed it has. I think we have very much to catch up on, Simon,” she said in an unmistakable purr.

Over my fucking dead body.

“Where’s Mancusi?” Simon asked.

Now her eyes widened in honest surprise. “Why, dead, I presume. Unless by some
other
miracle,” she encompassed his youthful appearance and survival with a single gesture, “he survived.”

That, at least, was a positive.

“Well,” Simon said, standing. He looked down at her, at her glossy black hair and unbelievable body. He expression was flat and forbidding.
Don’t fuck with me, Rita. You know better.
“Pardon me if I say I’m not terribly interested in catching up. If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a tiring day.” He gave her a brief, polite nod and turned to walk away.

Would she let him? Was she sufficiently off her game to allow it?

But after all, she couldn’t stop him. She might have strength and immortality, and even her cabana boys with their own crystals, but Simon could disintegrate into nothing.

Catch me if you fucking can.

He dared not look at Sage as he left, dared not acknowledge her in any way, for once Florita had her competitor—real or imagined—in her sights, she became worse than a Medusa.

“Simon.”

Her voice came from directly behind him—Florita’s, not, thank God, Sage’s. He paused, knowing he had to play this out, despite the fact that every hair on his body had risen, every cell of his being screamed for him to ignore her, keep going,
keep going. Get out, get Sage out, dis-a-fucking-pear!

She’d come around the table and met him at the end, near the wall at the edge of the room, and now her fingers, cool and strong, bit into his arm. Simon turned on her a steady, derisive look, and she dropped her hand. Yet, the expression in her eyes burned with cunning and determination.

“I don’t think so, Simon,” she told him.