Heart of Stone (11 page)

The knowledge kindled an answering fire in his own body.

He couldn't remember the last time a woman had felt genuine desire for him, not since before the accident, not since his fiancée, Becca. Sure, ever since Becca had broken off their engagement, there'd been women. Some. But they'd all been quick, serviceable flings to scratch a sexual itch. Most women interested in the long term took one look at his limp and scars and made a fast retreat. Even Becca. Her leaving had hurt the worst, pouring salt into some already grievous wounds. She'd loved him, he'd felt it, but she couldn't face living life with a disabled husband. She wasn't strong enough.

Last night, Faith's pity had ticked him off. The last thing he wanted was more sympathy, especially from an ex-Mendukati agent. The family had made Faith his responsibility for the length of her stay and, as a precaution against betrayal, had wrangled his promise not to tell her about his empathic abilities. Essentially, he was supposed to empathically spy on her, which stuck in his craw just a bit, though he accepted the necessity of it. It was the only way he'd been able to talk them into letting her come.

Yes, they were fighting a war, but he would do whatever was necessary to protect his family.

His father's warning from this morning rang in his ears. He didn't think Faith had cold-bloodedly killed her husband. Having tasted the crazy of a true Mendukati believer in Jain Criten, he knew Faith wasn't like the rest. Something had happened on that ridge, all right, but he didn't think it was premeditated murder. He simply did not get that vibe from her.

Last night he had felt her heart soften when she'd seen him in the wheelchair. But pity had nothing to do with the way she eyed him now. Even after she saw his scars, he only felt admiration and attraction from her. As he relished the hum of desire, he wondered what she'd dreamed about. If it was the same thing he'd dreamed about.

“Do you always forget your dreams?” Finger-combing his hair, he slung the towel around his neck again, pulled out the patio chair, and sat down at the table with her. He stretched out his bad leg, deliberately bumping her sandal-clad foot with his.

She jumped, scooting her foot away with satisfying speed. “Sometimes.”

“I dreamed, but I wasn't sleeping. It was more of a meditative state.” He leaned back in the chair, folding his hands behind his head and watching how her gaze followed the movement. She didn't seem to be aware of the heat in her eyes or the effect it was having on him. His bathing suit didn't hide much, and any minute his reaction to her flattering perusal could become blatantly obvious. He pulled the towel from around his neck and dried his chest and shoulders before crumpling it strategically into his lap. “So, I was thinking we could get started this morning.”

“Started?”

“Yes, on the stone. Remember, the reason you're here? We could use my workroom to examine it. No one will bother us there.”

“Of course. The stone.” A blush swept her cheeks, and damned if the sight of that sweet pink didn't turn him on even more.

“Why don't we plan on doing that after you're done eating? I'll get dressed while you finish your breakfast.”

“All right.”

He leaned closer, unable to resist her little intake of breath, the swell of emotion—part alarm, part thrill—that exploded from her like tart peaches bursting on his tongue. He made her nervous, but he excited her, too, and the heady mix left him drunk with wanting. What would she do if he flirted with her? Touched her hand? Kissed her? He looked at her mouth, wondered what she would taste like.

“Faith, are you ready to go?”

The swoosh and click of the sliding glass door closing flooded his system like ice water. Darius sat back as Cara crossed the patio, her sandals scraping softly against the tile. He'd been so focused on Faith he hadn't felt Cara coming, but now her curiosity tugged at him like an insistent puppy on a leash.

“Hey there, Darius.” Cara did a quick scan of his face and nodded. “You look better. And apparently in a good mood for a change.”

“Yeah.” Darius frowned, putting lie to her observation. “What's going on?”

“Faith and I are headed out this morning to get her some things. You guys basically grabbed her with the clothes on her back and nothing else.” She glanced at her watch. “We'd better get going, Faith.”

“Wow, I almost forgot. Let me get my purse.” Faith popped a piece of muffin into her mouth and washed it down with a swallow of coffee, not meeting Darius's eyes.

“You can't go alone,” Darius said.

“We're not,” Cara assured him. “One of your dad's security guys is coming with us.”

“Good.”

Faith got up from the chair and finally looked at Darius. “Maybe you can show me the stone when I get back?”

“It's been waiting for centuries,” he said with a shrug. “It can wait a couple more hours.”

She smiled, but he could sense the uncertainty behind it. “I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“Thanks.”

The two women headed for the house, chatting along the way. Darius stood. Faith looked back at him, just a quick sideways peek as they went into the house, but the heat and curiosity in that glance seared him to his toes. As soon as she was out of sight, he tossed the towel on the chair, kicked off his flip-flops, and dove into the cool, bracing water.

And hoped like hell it would wake him up from any more impossible fantasies about the Stone Singer.

*   *   *

Azotay strode into the Mendukati training camp refreshed from his hike over the nearby terrain. It was his habit to rise with Ekhia, the sun, and greet her with a meditation, followed by vigorous exercise. The Warriors of his family had always sought focus in this manner since before great Atlantis had sunk beneath the waters, and he cherished this tradition that linked him to his ancestors.

He needed focus now, for the Stone Singer had eluded the ones sent for her and taken shelter with, of all creatures, the Seers. The foolish one, Erok, had said she left willingly. But had she? What if the Seers held her captive even now? What if they wanted to use her powers on the stone they had stolen?

He had to get her back. Their very world depended on her.

He headed for his quarters. The many trees hid half the wooden cabins from view of the road, and the sun-bleached sign that creaked on ancient hooks over the gate to the compound read
DIEZ
REYES
CAMP
FOR
THE
GIFTED.
Children dotted the landscape in every direction, Atlantean youth working with energy or sparring in a ring, all being trained in their gifts and in the doctrine of the Mendukati. His master, Jain Criten, would approve of the disciplined schedule.

“My lord!”

Azotay stopped as one of the instructors approached him, an Elder named Quillan. Like all Warriors, Quillan had dark brown eyes, but his curling hair held more gray than red these days. He taught tracking and hunting to the youngest boys, preparing them for the more advanced classes that would come later. He had lost his wife and daughter in a battle against Seers and had sworn blood vengeance—
mendeku
—until his dying breath.

“Quillan,” he said by way of greeting, not slowing his pace. He'd learned the identities and histories of all the Elders before he'd left Santutegi to come to the United States.

“My lord Azotay, we have word about the Stone Singer.”

Azotay paused. “Go on.”

“She has been taken to the house in Sedona, Arizona. The one where President Criten was attacked. We also believe this is where they are keeping the stone.”

“I see. As I recall, this house is extremely well fortified.”

“Yes, sir. And my sources report that security has been increased.” Quillan scowled. “Last time, the only way they were able to get in was to use one of the Seers' people against them. And I would think they'll probably be on the lookout for that gambit again.”

“Agreed.” Azotay stroked his chin, traced the scar on the underside of his jaw with his thumb. “Summon the other Elders to meet in my office ten minutes from now. The Stone Singer must have a weakness we can exploit. Bring everything you have on her.”

“Yes, my lord.” Quillan bobbed his head. “We already know of one weakness. A father-in-law. They are very close.”

“The father-in-law, is he Atlantean? Maybe we can turn him.”

“No, my lord. Human.”

“Even better. Capture him, bring him here.” Azotay started to walk away.

“There may be a problem with that.”

Azotay spun back. “What did you say?”

“The father-in-law. There may be a problem.” Quillan visibly shrank as Azotay loomed over him. “Surveillance from yesterday indicates he may be protected by a Warrior.”

“What Warrior would dare?”

“None of ours, certainly. We suspect he might be a member of the lost temple of Mneseus. They've been seen in this area in the past.”

“Mneseus!” Azotay grabbed Quillan by his shirtfront. “Are you certain?”

“No, no, we're not, my lord.” Quillan's hand hovered over Azotay's, though he clearly dared not touch him. “That's what I'm saying. It's all speculation.”

Azotay hauled the other Warrior closer. “Get me facts!” Shoving Quillan aside, he stormed down the path. “My office! Ten minutes!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Mneseus. The name echoed through Azotay's mind, waking dark memories from a cold, forgotten place. A young boy. The mother he adored. The father he longed to please. And
him,
Prince Perfect.

His hands curled into fists. Mneseus. He would take pleasure in destroying the temple and everyone in it—especially the prince himself.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

Adrian Gray opened his eyes as he came back to himself, his mind, body, and soul at peace with the completion of his meditation. Poised on one leg, the other bent at thigh and knee, and his arms reaching toward the sky, he'd held this last position of the
orekatu
until he'd finished fully balancing his energies. He'd have to be at full strength for the coming battles.

He lowered his leg and arms, shaking out his straining muscles, and reached for the towel he'd draped over the rail of the deck. The exquisite precision required of the ritual not only worked his body but also honed his control over the tiniest of movements and enhanced his ability to remain utterly still. Despite the chill in the early morning air, sweat misted his skin. He rubbed the towel over his face, then down his bare arms and chest.

The peaceful energy of the pueblo settled over him. Whenever he came to visit a friend here, he stayed at this inn for that very reason. Not that it was silent. Beyond the inn, he could hear the high-pitched calls of children as they headed for the school bus stop. The crunch of tires on dirt roads. Birds calling. The barks of the many dogs running loose throughout the pueblo. Absent were the intrusive sounds of the urban city: no car horns, shrilling cell phones, or street vendors. Delicious smells came from the main building of the inn, where breakfast for the inn's guests was being prepared.

His stomach growled. Blue corn pancakes, the inn's specialty, sounded really good about now.

He slung the towel over his shoulder. Footsteps sounded from the courtyard below him. He froze, listening intently. Though there were three other rooms that had access to the wooden deck of the inn, no one had disturbed him thus far. The deck was on the second floor and was surrounded by trees, so it offered some privacy, but it could also hide anyone sneaking up on him. He stayed still until he heard the murmurs of a male and a female voice, the squeal of a child. One stealthy step got him to the rail, where he was able to peer through the trees to the courtyard. The family of three walked along the pebbled path toward the main house, where breakfast awaited.

He smiled. No threat there. He headed back to his room, a shower and pancakes on his mind. His cell phone was ringing as he entered the room. He reached for it, but it fell silent. He checked the missed calls list, noted the familiar number, and hit redial, mentally moving blue corn pancakes further down on this morning's to-do list. If his superior at the temple was calling him, it had to be important.

The call was answered immediately. “Hey, Adrian. I was just leaving you a message.”

“Now you won't have to. What's up, Von?”

Von's voice grew heavy. “A family of Seers was killed yesterday.”

“Who?” Adrian sat on the edge of his bed. “Not the Montanas?”

“No, a relative. A cousin of Maria Montana's, Lorinda Torrez.”

“What happened?”

“She and her husband were taking their twin boys out for pizza after basketball practice when their van exploded.”

Adrian hissed a curse. “Are they sure it wasn't just mechanical failure?”

“The van was brand new, and witnesses reported smelling sulfur.”

“Flame Walker. Damn it.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Von said. “The Mendukati have been training Flame Walkers as assassins for years. Where are you now? Still in Arizona?”

Adrian got up and began to walk around the room, cooling down his recently worked muscles. “No, New Mexico. The Stone Singer is safe with the Montanas in Sedona. I'm guarding Ben Wakete.”

“Wakete? The father-in-law?”

“There's a strong possibility the Mendukati might leverage him to pressure Faith into helping them. I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen.”

“Glad you're on that,” Von said. “Because guess who's in town? Azotay.”

Adrian halted. “Where?”

“Your neck of the woods. New Mexico area.”

“Hell, Von, you got any more good news for me? Maybe an asteroid is going to hit the planet?”

“Not that I know of. Just keep your eyes open, Adrian. You know how slippery that bastard is.”