Runestone (11 page)

Sean met Nathan’s eyes over her crown of writhing curls. He shook his head hard. “Evangeline, Marcus is dead.”

Suddenly, her eyes cleared. The bright blue depths filled with tears. Her lower lip trembled. “I know. But he’s created an army, and we’re the targets.”

* * * * *

The ancient man, stooped so low as to appear deformed, crossed the dirty floor with eyes only for Evangeline. Sean’s muscles coiled. His shoulders flexed and his hands twitched into fists.

What the hell are you doing? he wondered. Are you going to beat this old man into a pulp for touching your woman?

Despite his thoughts, he edged closer to her.

Acan, the immortal shaman who had Made Maria centuries ago, approached at a pace that defied his withered appearance. Evangeline held her ground, though Sean felt a shiver snake up her spine.

Acan stopped before her and lifted one gnarled hand to her tattoo.

Her knees gave out at his touch, and Sean caught her against his side. Sean ground his teeth until his jaw popped, furious that this man’s touch was equal in intensity to Will’s. Only Will could calm her this way.

But I could too, dammit.

Acan spoke in a rapid way, and Maria came forward, nodding.

“He says your woman is a map,” she told Sean with a hint of a smile. Then she lapsed into the shared language as she gently drew Evangeline’s top off her shoulder to reveal the entire tattoo.

Dante’s deep voice sounded, translating from Maria’s mind. “The runes are in the ancient language, as we knew from Maria. The stars are constellations. Ahh. . . . ” He cut off abruptly.

Maria tugged Evangeline’s top lower, revealing her blood medallion.

Acan pointed a long finger at certain runes, and then to the blood medallion.

“The key,” Dante said hoarsely. “Her medallion is the key.”

Acan turned slowly, his whole body arcing, and he shuffled to a wood chest which sat on a high table. He opened the dusty lid and extracted a string of white shell beads, knotted at the ends with thin leather strips. He hobbled back to her and looped the string about her throat once, so the ends hung down her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her tears spilling down her alabaster cheeks.

Acan nodded, a small smile out of place on his face. “A worthy woman,” he said in a strongly accented English. “You have suffered much pain, but now you’re on the right path. This path leads to happiness. The path of three.”

Evangeline’s eyes flashed to Sean’s. His heart overflowed with emotion.

Suddenly, Acan whirled toward Gracie. She jerked. Acan wagged a finger before her eyes, though she was very tall compared to him. A dark blush crept up her throat and kissed her cheeks. “You have not found your power yet. But when he finds you, you will.”

“When he finds me?”

Acan poked a bony finger into the spot above her breast, where a blood medallion would bloom once she was bonded to her mate.

Her face flamed and she sucked in a breath.

“He will make his mark, and your power will be great over him.”

Acan returned to his wooden box, his head bobbing like his neck was a spring. He brought back another bit of jewelry. He drew the ends of it together and knotted them to make a wreath. Carefully, he bid her to bend down, and he placed it on her golden crown. The strip of leather was intermittently dotted with brightly colored feathers.

He said a word in his native language, and looked to Maria questioningly.

She cleared her throat. A shadow passed over her face. “Songbirds.”

“Songbirds,” Acan repeated carefully, and tapped Gracie’s waist. She gasped at the shock it must have caused, and realization dawned on Sean. Her immortal tattoo must circle her waist—a wreath of songbirds.

She drew a deep breath and bowed to Acan. He patted her shoulder lightly, and then moved off. He caught Maria’s arm on the way past her. He led her behind a patterned curtain, leaving them alone.

Dante followed Maria behind the curtain, and the rest of them clustered together, talking quietly.

Evangeline’s tremors ricocheted up Sean’s arm and into his shoulder. The beads rattled about her neck. Sean’s concern was rapidly escalating to cold dread and absolute helplessness.

“I need some air,” Evangeline said.

Sean tucked her against his side and led her outside. The mountain air was raw and damp, giving him a pang of homesickness for their villa.
Oh, Will, where are you?

A short distance from Acan’s cabin, a small grouping of stumps stood around the blackened remains of a fire. As he drew Evangeline toward them, Javier appeared with an armload of sticks.

Before Sean could veer away to seek privacy for himself and Evangeline, Javier spoke up. “Please. Sit. Let me build a fire. Acan says the smoke might bring your lady calm.”

Darkness was rapidly descending. Fog closed in around them. At least the fire would warm her. He had no idea if the smoke had calming properties, and if it did, he couldn’t hazard a guess at what substance might be burnt.

Sean took a seat on one low stump and pulled Evangeline across his knees, tucking her tight to his body.

Javier carefully built a pyramid using the kindling, and then he flicked a metal lighter and held the flame to the base. Wisps of smoke appeared at once, curling upward on the subtle breeze. Sean watched them for long minutes before he realized his wife’s shaking had eased.

Whatever the young native had used as firewood was working. In fact, Sean’s bones felt as if they were melting. His head swam.

He glanced up as the rest of the immortals emerged from the small cabin, including Maria, Dante and Acan. Acan was carrying a dark basket, and Sean’s hazy mind puzzled over the contents. More gifts, but for the males this time?

Javier left the circle of firelight for a moment, and when he returned, he was dragging the ice chest from the back of the bus. He popped the top and began to hand out cold beers. When he reached Gracie, she hesitated, but he gave her a crooked smile and twisted off the cap for her, flipping it end over end into the air and catching it on his palm. He displayed it to her, and she laughed.

The flames sparked into the night sky. Sean followed their upward ascent, thinking about the stars they were to follow to Will. In the south, there was no North Star. No Ursa Minor. The sky of the southern hemisphere held its own mysteries, constellations Sean had no knowledge of until they made Argentina their permanent home.

Acan sent a flurry of words into the air, and the fire shot higher. At the edge of the flames, Sean spotted a twisting figure, a male figure. Broad and strong. A body Sean would know blindfolded. He’d worshiped every inch of it.

Will.

Evangeline gasped, her shoulders hunching as if in pain. Her fingers probed her temple, and Sean knew she was Calling to her mate. He hoped to God she broke through to him soon. If she knew his location, they’d be with him within hours if possible. But following the stars? Who knew how long their journey would take.

And deep in his bones, Sean felt that time was running out.

Will ran his tongue over the jagged edge of his broken front tooth. “Fucking immortal.”

Amsdell gave a huff of a laugh, and pressed a cool cloth to Will’s cut lip. “Be glad he used the rifle butt instead of a bullet.”

He dabbed the blood away, and Will issued a hiss.

“What will your woman think of your new smile?”

Will shrugged. It mattered little. But honestly, if he allowed his thoughts to dwell on Evangeline for too long, he’d go mad.

Before the first tremors hit him, Amsdell’s fingers were scraping downward, feeling along his hipbones to his immortal tattoo. The Saxon’s touch on his lower abs sent a simultaneous shock of calm and desire ripping through him.

And he couldn’t help but think of Evangeline with a gut-twisting need. Visions assaulted him. Sean’s dark head between her splayed thighs, his tongue flickering over her swollen clit. His cock buried deep in her as he fed her love words through a long, sucking kiss. His fingers playing over the tight seam of her ass, the tip working into the tight rim of her anus.

“God.” His groan did nothing to take the edge off his pain. He backhanded the sweat pouring from his hairline.

Excitement tinged Amsdell’s features. Will studied his striking face in close proximity. In the past few days they’d been lovers many times over. The man was insatiable, and Will desperate. Though he cared for and desired Amsdell on his own merit.

Will drew him in roughly, letting the bump of their hips momentarily quell his shaking. “Amsdell, you don’t happen to be carrying a razor, do you?”

He searched Will’s face. “Aye, in my kit.” He wore a wide belt fitted with pockets and pouches, stuffed with ammunition. But he also had a few extra packs of those expensive foreign cigarettes and a small first aid kit. “Do you need it?”

Will ran a hand through his shaggy, shoulder-length hair. It was unbearably hot, and he couldn’t afford for it to fall into his eyes and obstruct his vision while fighting.

Amsdell seemed to understand, but his face paled. One of his passions was for the feel of Will’s hair on his abs as he sucked his cock.

Lifting a hand to the thick auburn mass, he compressed his lips into a thin line. “Would a cut suffice?”

Will shook his head. “You can shear it short, but then I want it shaved.”

Amsdell hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

For the first time in days, a smile cut through Will’s steely countenance. The upward bow of his lips felt strange. How had he arrived at this place in his life? Two weeks ago, he was making plans for a smashing New Year’s Eve party at the villa, happier than he’d ever been with Evangeline and Sean.

Again, he rubbed his hand through his hair. He was far from home. Far from the comfort of their arms. Far from the man he'd been two weeks ago too.

“Shave it, Amsdell,” he demanded.

“Thought you’d say that.” Amsdell fumbled with his belt buckle. It fell away from his hips and swung heavily in one hand. He laid it carefully on the moss and located the first aid kit. Inside the small plastic case there was a pair of scissors. He held them up. The aqueous green light gleamed off them. “You sure?”

Will flopped onto the ground, slinging an arm around one bent knee. With the other hand he gripped the fabric behind his neck and tugged his T-shirt over his head. “Get it over with.”

As the scissors neared Will’s head, Amsdell faltered. His blue eyes almost begged. “What will your woman think of it? Surely—.”

“She won’t care. It gets into my eyes and it’s hot as hell. Besides, it will grow back.”

Amsdell nodded. “All right.”

As the first snip of auburn hair fell away, the dark centers of Amsdell’s eyes widened, the way they did when he spilled his hot seed.

The clipping noise of the small scissors raised chills on Will’s scalp, but he held perfectly still as the weight of his head lightened. The cool air reached his flesh and caressed his newly exposed nape.

Too easily he pictured Amsdell’s iron-hard cock, red with wanting. Will closed his eyes on the image, and concentrated on the scissors working over his head.

When it was cropped very close, Will opened his eyes. Amsdell sat back on his heels and studied him.

“That bad?” Will asked when he spied the crinkle between Amsdell’s brows.

A begrudging smile pulled at his lips. “If you thought to keep me from wanting you, you failed. You’re still fucking hot.”

Laughing, Will cuffed him in the shoulder. “We’ll see how you feel after you shave it.”

“Must I? It’s cropped closely.”

Will ran a hand over his prickly skull. The short hairs caught in the webs of his fingers, and he pictured Evangeline stretched atop him, doing this very thing. “Yes. Take it off. It’s too hot, and I can’t be bothered while we’re on a manhunt.”

“Immortal hunt,” Amsdell corrected softly, fixing a new blade into his razor.

Suddenly, Will reached out and scuffed his knuckles over Amsdell’s unshaven jaw. The fine blond hair was growing in thickly, and Will’s own beard was rapidly sprouting in the tropical heat. But since that wasn’t impeding his vision, he’d leave it for now.

Amsdell drew a deep breath. He lifted the blade to Will’s skull, and then lowered it again. “Tell me about Evangeline.”

The sound of her name plunged Will into a well of despair. She rose in his soul, the link threatening to open. He could almost taste her sweet musk mixed with sandalwood and vanilla. Nearly feel her succulent lips beneath his. And God, to sink into her body—.

No. She was safer without knowing everything that was going down. It was bad enough she knew about the army.

“She’s a musician. A songwriter. Her voice. . . . ” He sighed, longing to hear her in his soul. “She has a voice that can tear out your heart. A single note can make you believe that the world is good and anything is possible.”

“The world is good, Will.” Amsdell stopped shaving the hair away from his temple and looked into his eyes. “Otherwise, what are you fighting for?”

“For Evangeline. For Sean. For the friends who have become my family. For you.” He swallowed around a web of emotion. “I’m well aware of why I’m fighting. I just wish I could find the cell and take it down quickly. I don’t have much time before I crack and let Evangeline in.”

The razor scraped his head, lulling him. The feel of the blade coupled with Amsdell’s strong hand on his jaw, angling him this way and that, soothed him and he was able to forget his shaking for a minute.

The forest was not as dense here as some places they’d traveled, but it was still rough walking. Thick vines and roots riddled the floor. Snakes dangled from branches. And though they’d scoured the area for signs of people passing through, it was impossible to know if they were immortals or natives.

When they’d been ambushed earlier, they’d made the mistake of letting down their guards. Though Will was seated while Amsdell shaved his head, his pistol was within inches of his fingers, and Amsdell wore his handgun on his hip and a rifle slung across his broad chest.

He shaved away the entire front of Will’s hair, and then started above his ear, working in swift, upward strokes. When he’d repeatedly scraped the same spot a few times, he stopped with a jerk.

Will rubbed the smooth front of his head. “What is it? You didn’t cut me.”

“No.” The confusion on his face transferred to his voice.

Will gripped him by the shoulder. He swept the forest for danger as he strained to hear any extraneous sounds. “What the hell’s wrong?”

“Will, have you ever shaved your head before?”

He stared at him hard, a furrow cutting between his brows. “No.”

“Not even in childhood?”

“No. I was born in the age of hippies, man. I’ve always had longer hair. Now tell me what is wrong!” He fingered the handle of his weapon, prepared to blow away any threat.

“You have another tattoo.” Amsdell’s voice wavered.

“What?” He snapped a hand to the side of his head which his friend had just uncovered.

“A tattoo on your scalp. About this big.” He made an O of his thumb and middle finger.

Will scratched at it, wishing he could tear it off and examine it. He was far from civilization and the aid of a mirror. “What the hell is the design?”

“It’s a medallion of numbers, written out like. . . . ” He made a soughing sound in his throat. “Almost like latitude and longitude.”

Will clapped both hands to his head. “You’re kidding me,” he cried, but the expression on Amsdell’s face was far from joking.

He shook his head.

“Hurry, shave the rest. There might be more markings.”

Amsdell took up the razor once more, scraping faster and faster, until the hair was shorn away and lay in a pile around them. He sat back on his heels and examined Will intensely. “No. Just the one tattoo. Will, what do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. Dammit, if only I had a mirror!” He jumped to his feet and paced around the small clearing as if he’d spot one on the back of a tree. Then he thrashed back through the brush to where Amsdell stood with the razor still in hand. “Look closely and tell me what you see.”

Amsdell cupped Will’s skull as he studied the spot on the side of his head. The spot seemed to burn under his gaze as if he’d been freshly tattooed using real needles. Or as if he’d been branded.

Branded.

Thoughts of Evangeline and Sean poured into his mind, and suddenly a Vision was upon him. Evangeline standing statue still in the heart of the rainforest, Sean supporting her shaking body as two sets of dark eyes loomed over her, alternately reading her tattoo and contemplating her blood medallion. Dante and Maria.

“It’s part of the map,” Will rasped, dizziness washing through him. Tears bit into his eyes and twisted his mouth.

“Evangeline’s map leading to you?”

“How do we know her map leads to me? I can’t read runes, though I know the symbols of her tattoo like I know my own heartbeat.”

Amsdell dropped to his knees and fumbled through one of the pockets on his abandoned waist pack. “I have paper. If you can draw the symbols, we can find someone who can read them.”

Suddenly, blood surged to Will’s fingertips and face. “Amsdell, her blood medallion has numbers as well as stars. A mixture of us.”

He released a low whistle. He pulled a small notepad and miniature pencil free and leapt to his feet. “Her runes hold the instructions, and I’d bet my life the numbers on the side of your head are coordinates. Which means the stars and numbers of her blood medallion are what?”

Excitement doused with a generous dollop of dread merged in Will’s gut. “The key. It’s the key. Hurry, man, copy the numbers and then hand over that paper.”

* * * * *

Scraps of paper littered the ground with small rocks weighting the corners. Will had drawn out Evangeline’s tattoo on several sheets and arranged them to perfection, as well as a depiction of her blood medallion. Amsdell had scratched a series of number on another sheet so Will could see what had been hidden from him all these years.

“Do you suppose the tattoo appeared when you were Made?” Amsdell asked without looking up from the documents they studied. His arm was slung around his knees, but one hand was on his weapon as always.

“No idea. Look here.” Will pointed to two sets of matching numbers. “Evangeline bears these numbers as well as me.”

“But what do they indicate? I’ve spent a lot of time with maps in my life, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Will.” He cringed as if Will would club him for what he was about to say. “I think we need Evangeline with us.”

An immediate retort scalded his throat. “No! No fucking way. Bring her into this?” He swept the air with a hand. “Trudging through the rainforest where she could be k—” His word was choked off. “Killed any moment by more sick fucking immortals with supremacy on their minds? No, Amsdell. No.”

“All right. Calm down, man. It was a suggestion. So you don’t bring her to you. But you can communicate with her and through your link see if you can discern a plan of action. You said your Vision revealed a couple friends were with her, and they were studying her tattoo and medallion. Maybe we need everyone’s efforts to decipher this puzzle. Will, we could destroy this army quicker if we had insight into where they’re located and what we’re dealing with.”

He swiped a hand over his face—a habit born from years of brushing his hair away from his eyes. But when his fingers met smooth scalp, he dropped his hand abruptly. “I can’t let her into my mind. Amsdell, please understand. She’s my universe. I can’t put her at risk. If she dies, you’ll have to take my life.”

Amsdell glared at him. “Fuck that.”

Despite himself, Will released a huff of gritty laughter. “Exactly what I thought. Now we find out the meaning behind these three puzzles or we go forward with our original plan of laying traps and rifling the dead immortals’ pockets for information. But I refuse to bring my mate into this war.”

“What about your other immortal friends? Is there a way to contact them for help?”

He swallowed hard. He could possibly call Nathan or Dante via cell phone, covertly asking for help with decoding the mystery of the runes, stars and numbers. But to do so was risky. If Evangeline found out, or they told her, she would be further maddened. But it might be worth the risk, if they shared their information.