Rebel Heart (10 page)

"A prophecy, Savage," came an old wizened voice.

Cameron spun around, startled. His senses always sharp, he could hear the lightest footfall.

But he had not heard Aisling come upon him this night.

Unlike Zaria, Aisling had never worked in the labs. She was old, older than the hills themselves, ageless, and she rarely left the security of her own lands.

She was an outlandish woman, a very puzzling one, Cameron was certain, but her white skin was not nearly as creased as it should have been, nor was she stooped or slow in any way. Not a hint of color tinged her long white hair foretelling her vast age, but it was more than the pure white color that proclaimed her old. It was the cryptic sense of the past and intelligence born from difficult trials that could only come from the passage of time that surrounded her. Her presence awed the people of the village.

"What brings you out, old woman," Cameron replied with a teasing note to his voice yet determined not to be drawn into the old lady's powerful aura.

"It's a mysterious night in the mountains," Aisling replied. She gazed pointedly in the direction the star had traveled. "I think your destiny is beyond. You do not belong here."

"Really?"

"I speak the truth. You will not be staying long, Cameron Savage."

"You are mistaken, Aisling. I will stay here until I have what I came for. The cure must be found.

"The vaccine will be discovered. But you will not find the answers here."

Cameron wanted to dispute her statements. Instead, he felt a strong and cutting sensation of apprehension. "Oh, and where will I find the answers?" Cameron silently cursed his own lack of control. Why was he playing this game?

Because he'd known of this old woman for years, learned of her predictions at his mother's knee. The entire valley spoke of the curious web of enchantment that surrounded her and the truths she spoke of before they occurred. The woman was a witch. She was enamored of the old faiths. She had at her disposal a wealth of medicinal herbs and an assortment of remedies that would astound the federation of City physicians. She knew the folk remedies just as well as she knew the modern practices, and her talent with the surgical knife was remarkable. Cameron had heard tales of her healing prowess since he was a small lad. Yet she wasn't one of the learned, one of the healers.

Aisling grinned knowingly then winked. "I will set you on the right path."

Cameron sighed. "And just how will you do that?"

"Musty books, archaic computer discs, the old ways where the scientific method was revered and all research was shared."

"Then I'm in the right place. I have all that at my disposal."

"Not any more."

Cameron couldn't believe what she was saying, what he was hearing. Not here. Where the hell were they? He had come all this way with the sole intention of utilizing her knowledge and the endless libraries available in the mountains. Although the medical community scorned folklore, branding it as undependable, he knew better, and after finally convincing his superiors, he was allowed access to their knowledge. The mountain people had saved everything they could, transferring information to flash drives when the manuscripts began to fall apart. If the knowledge he was seeking wasn't here, where was it?

"Aisling?"

The old lady closed her eyes and the breezes wafting through the trees overhead grew very still. She chanted softly. Despite himself, Cameron listened, astonished at what the woman could do with her voice, and completely enchanted by the rhythm of it.

"The flower is a lady, small, fragile, delicate, coaxed to grow by tender hands. Petals as white as virgin snow will bring health and life to the one who cultivates its beauty. Maturity will bring sweet laughter and the cadence of life to this woman as well as the planet. Together, minds set as one..."

Aisling stopped. Her eyes were opened now and were as wild as the wind-swept mountains. She was staring at Cameron.

"What on earth? Fine, Aisling, come on spit it out," Cameron demanded. But her words had shaken him. They reminded him of a time and a place he'd tried hard to forget. Reminded him of a girl, no, a woman now, but someone he'd learned long ago to avoid.

"I see pain," Aisling murmured.

"So do I," Cameron muttered. "Get on with it. Finish your story."

Aisling moaned. "I see agony, a horrible suffering anguish. Only the slightest fraction of hope is there. An opponent, offering help. It is not what she wants to do. She is innocent, but...but betraying you."

"Hell!" Cameron ground out irritably. "You're talking nonsense. One minute you speak of a fragile white flower and the next it sounds like a lover's betrayal. Pain and hope. That's all there is any more. Aisling, it has been a long day..." But deep inside he knew her words could easily be true. After all, if he wasn't mistaken, she was speaking of Victoria DeMontville.

"She is the one that holds the flower, fragile, like a delicate porcelain doll, strong as her ancestors before her. He has located her, after all these years of banishment, for there is discord surrounding her; she creates it even as she breathes and her heart beats against her breast. She works passionately for the good of others. They'll come for her, again and again, seeking more than her knowledge, more than her beauty, seeking fortune and name, and all material things."

"A rebel without purpose," Cameron muttered, tiring of her mad ravings, yet knowing full well whom she spoke of.

"But a rebel who could be nurtured into a blossoming flower with the proper care," Aisling prompted.

"Water and fertilizer?"

"You purposely jest."

"Aisling, I know that I must see Drake, and I do not intend to keep him waiting longer."

Aisling's eyes were closed again. "Dove-gray eyes and whiskey-colored hair. A scent of summer sunshine and a cool mountain lake, skin like velvet. She is swimming amidst the waves, breakers toppling over her. Now I see her rising from the foam, sunlight beating against the sand, see the curve of her breast, the tender sweetness of her soul, the length of her legs, the innocent gentle nature of her heart..."

"Aisling, unless you can wave your magic wand and conjure her this instant, be quiet," Cameron said with a hint of annoyance. Yet he was disturbed by everything the old lady had said. Aisling was annoying. Truly annoying. He had easily formed an image of the woman as Aisling spoke and he wanted more than anything to disprove her statements.

A pain-filled shuddering swept through him. He discovered himself angered once more with Victoria DeMontville, with this woman who was destined to betray him. And he had no intention of joining with her, mind or body, on this quest of discovery.

Yet still, when Aisling had described the woman...

He had felt the most puzzling sensations, as if their destiny was truly intertwined.

He tensed his muscles, fighting the illusions hovering in his mind, battling the nightmare that threatened the cities and the ghosts haunting his soul.

"There is a foe to conquer. Move with caution and speed. Watch behind you and guard the girl with your life," Aisling warned.

"Aisling..."

"Sleep well, Cameron Savage," Aisling said as she turned to leave.

Then just as she had come, she silently evaporated into the mist of darkness and forested mountains.

"Damn." With long forceful strides, Cameron moved directly to Drake's lodgings.

One of Drake's guards stood at the gates. "Cameron Savage?" the man asked cautiously. "I was told you were coming."

Cameron arched a brow and strode past the guard. "Were you now?"

"Savage," Drake boomed out.

The tension in the room was brittle. Drake paced. Silence overrode all the revelry outside as if it were a carefully planned diversion for the news Drake waited to hand out.

Drake was a formidable man. He was tall, with a head of deep chestnut hair and a handsome, well-sculptured face. His eyes were a clear hazel, a color that added a touch of humanism to an otherwise dangerous looking man. By nature, he was considerate, except when someone or something he held dear was threatened. Drake hesitated in his pacing, pointing to the table where documents and manuscripts had been strewn, but where now, atop those papers, lay all types of correspondence.

Cameron did not move as he studied Drake. Drake's change of mood was oddly disconcerting.

"Something wrong?"

The calm facade seemed to dissipate from Drake. The lines of his brow drew together in a deep frown and he lifted a paper off the top of the stack. "Jonathan is concerned. He is weary of playing emissary and peacemaker in this deadly game. After all, if he fails, chaos will reign in the cities. The fear, Cameron. It is the fear, not the diseases, that creates the weakness."

"I'm doing all I can. I'm not a diplomat, as well you know," Cameron reminded him.

Drake poured him a glass of burgundy then slowly sipped his own, deep in thought for the moment. Cameron waited for Drake to continue.

"Leave the fate of the entire nation to one man?" Drake asked then shook his head. "I know Jonathan is not the only clear-thinking man in the advisory committee, but he is the only one who speaks in favor of the Outsiders and maintains a level of consistency. Politically speaking, none of the others can be trusted. Civil war could erupt once more. Morray has come to the forefront and he is not without his followers."

Cameron kept his silence. Quentin Morray was evil and treacherous. If he had followers, perhaps Drake's concern was warranted.

"How powerful?"

Again, the furrows deepened across Drake's brow.

"Enough to cause worry among the council of representatives. He's a voting member now."

"Could he sway the assembly?" Cameron asked.

"Not yet, but he does have lobbyists, powerful ones waiting in the wings. Cameron paused. It was not his concern. If a vaccine was found, all Morray would try to do would be for naught. Without the debilitating fear of sickness, the City Dwellers would rally against him and his kind once again. The senate would be strong and listen to reason.

But until that time Morray could squeeze the life from the people, and Jonathan, faced with a hungry foe, would have to scramble. Morray didn't hold all the power yet. He needed a catalyst within the City, someone the people loved and respected.

A vacillating situation. Dangerous.

"Morray will stop at nothing," Cameron said bluntly. "He's already one of the most powerful overlords in the country. But the coalition has no proof."

Drake nodded. "I'm glad you agree with me. We must protect not only ourselves but the City people as well." Drake hesitated a moment. Then he said quietly, "That's exactly why you're going to team up with Tori DeMontville."

Cameron laughed outright. Then he quickly downed his wine. "But I have just set up my lab; painstakingly, I might add."

"True. I'll keep it running while you're gone," Drake said flatly.

"I'm on the verge of a breakthrough. I've spent years getting to this point." Cameron's hold on the fragile stem of his wine glass threatened to snap it in two.

Drake did not back down.

"The news from Tower City bothers me more than any argument you could come up with. Too many thieftakers are growing far too bold. Outsiders, disillusioned with their lives, would trample their heritage as well as the cities into dust. Morray aligns himself with these men, slowly gathering them into a powerful force. It is a volatile situation and Tori is the catalyst he seeks. Cameron, you have worked hard the last two years, isolating yourself from all. Now you must do an about-face. You must cast yourself into the political arena. Remember your duty and your pledge to the late DeMontville."

"A vow I was coerced into making."

"And you are honor bound to keep."

Cameron clenched his fists and sank into a chair. He could refuse this mission. Certainly. But then Drake would toss him from his lab. Drake's mind was set. "You needn't remind me," Cameron retaliated, his tone hard.

"Endless possibilities await you on this path."

The expression in Cameron's amber eyes turned guarded. "Very funny."

"Hardly. Tori DeMontville will be in Tower City when you arrive. All her research notes will be there also. Isn't that what you've secretly wished for? Access to her files? You knew this time would arrive."

"This is all based on the theory that Tori DeMontville will cooperate," Cameron commented. "Do you truly think she'll allow me uninvited access to her data banks?"

Drake grinned. "Now that sounds intimate. Perhaps you should try a little honey instead of the vinegar that flows from your mouth, and you'll have more success."