The Burn (5 page)

Cecilia stared at him in horror, then rage.

"It was just a kiss."

"It doesn't look like it was just a kiss."

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, looking her in the eyes. "I mean that."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes."

"You're sorry!" she yelled at him.

"It isn't working between us. It hasn't been for some time. I think you know that."

"And that's your excuse?"

"No. I'm not making excuses."

"Oh, okay. You're just breaking up with me."

"I'm asking you to be honest about what you want."

"I'll show you what I want!"

Rising from her chair, Cecilia batted off his cowboy hat and slapped him hard across the face, leaving the skin stinging. Grabbing the bottle of water, she took it with her as she stomped off into the RV.

The blonde waited, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Seth nodded, rubbing his hand once over his jaw. "Please tell Miranda that I'll be there in a bit."

* * *

Miranda woke on the altar, drawing a deep, desperate breath. She winced in pain. Her muscles ached, her body feeling heavy and her mind sluggish. She swallowed dry air and pushed herself up from the surface of the altar.

Someone had been there with her.

She was clothed in a flowing dress of opaque white fabric, heavy bracelets on her wrists, a thickly jeweled necklace at her throat.

Pressing her lips together, she slid off the altar and glared at her reflection in one of the polished metal panels. They had applied shimmering paint to her eyes, threaded gold strands through her hair.

"You're ready," Julie stood in the doorway, looking pleased. She had abandoned the dark cloak of the previous night in favor of a short white dress, its style simple and pleasant.

"It's time for you to make an appearance," she said. "Everyone who sees you will be drawn to you, to us, to our camp and our celebration tonight. It's important that we have as many people here as possible."

Miranda let a slow breath through her teeth. "Who dressed me? Who did all this?"

"Your servants."

"You?"

"And others. We were honored."

"Why don't I remember it?"

"You were meditating."

"Meditating," Miranda repeated, raising one brow.

"The Necromancer helped you. He visited you last night."

Miranda held her gaze, feeling her teeth clench.

"We have to go," Julie said. "Seth is waiting."

"The guy from last night?"

"Yes."

"I told you not to involve him."

Julie frowned. "I can't change his destiny. He's your champion. If he weren't, he wouldn't have been able to awaken you, right?"

Miranda resisted the urge to slap her.

"He's waiting for you."

Miranda nodded, knowing that this was not the time to react. Julie was the key to all the answers. Cultivating a relationship with her was the safest way, maybe the only way, to discover the truth of what they had done to her.

Before she could focus on that, however, her 'champion' needed to go. Seth needed to be distanced, forced to leave on his own. They had some expectation for him, as her lover, or her champion, and that put him at serious risk. She couldn't protect him if she couldn't even protect herself.

She straightened her shoulders, hoping like hell she could pass herself off as a goddess. "Where is he?"

* * *

She followed Julie down a series of metal corridors and over a bridge made of stage scaffolding. Ducking under a thick vinyl curtain, the woman led her into the glare of sunlight outside. They stood at the top of a stair platform, overlooking the dusty mass of tightly huddled camps below.

Miranda glanced over the surrounding area, realizing that the Divine Gate was entirely covered by a vast tent, painted to create the illusion of an ornate temple in the desert. People mulled in friendly circles at its base, lazing in lawn chairs or talking. Most wore beads, or colorful hats, or costumes. Some wore nothing but paint.

In the open sand beyond the camps, huge statues had been erected under the sun. Dreamlike cubes, large plaster faces, elaborate metal birds and fabric dragons stood against the wide open sky. People sat together in the abstract shadows created by the art pieces, sharing drinks and hiding from the heat.

"The Burning Man Project," Julie murmured. "The power of human expression, one of the most impressive art festivals in the world. These people are here to celebrate freedom, beauty and life itself. You are life, Goddess, a part of life that is beyond the wildest of their dreams, the promise of life that is beyond mortal comprehension."

Miranda cut her gaze back to the woman. "This isn't your first time here."

Julie hesitated. "No."

Miranda nodded, looking out over the long stretch of flat desert, to the shadowed mountain ridge in the distance. A feeling of familiarity settled in her stomach, something vague and uncomfortable.

"It's not my first time either," she said, realizing the truth of the words as she spoke them.

"No," Julie said quietly, her expression darkening for a moment.

Along the sand of the road, a troupe of four men in white had gathered, carrying a large, canopied litter. The litter had silky fabric draping and gold silk pillows, obviously meant to draw attention as it was carried across the desert.

"That's your ride," Julie said. "And your champion."

Miranda frowned.

Seth stood beside the litter, taller than the others, his muscular shoulders tanned and his chest bare. He wore a cowboy hat that covered his dark hair and jeans faded with dust. He looked up at her and tipped the brim of his hat.

"Come." Julie smiled. "He's waiting."

* * *

"Hey there," he said as she approached, offering his hand to help her up into the litter. His hazel eyes seemed to glow in the heat, flicking over the curves of her body under the thin gauzy fabric of her dress. "Nice day to get carried around."

His words were warm, his expression intent with meaning.

Miranda accepted his help as she climbed into the litter and settled on the cushions. Her bearers lifted her off the ground, leaving Julie and the cowboy to walk beside her. The troupe began to move toward the open desert, heading for the throng of bicycle riders and thumping art cars.

People stared, smiled and whistled. Julie began approaching the crowds right away, passing out handmade necklaces and inviting them to the camp for the night's festivities.

Miranda frowned, turning her attention to the man walking beside the litter. "Is this is a game to you, Seth? What you did last night…you being here now. Is it all just part of the fun for you?"

"No. I wouldn't put it that way."

"What way would you put it?"

His eyes strayed to the men carrying the litter, as if he were considering what he could say. "I want to know more about you. I want you to know more about me."

She considered him for a moment. "What about you? Who are you? What is it that you do, when you're not trying to put your tongue where it doesn't belong?"

He cleared his throat, then shook his head, trying to hide the ghost of a smile. "I'm a sculptor. I work with metal."

"That's it?"

"Takes a lot of time to do it right," he said, slanting a meaningful look at her from under the dark brim of his hat.

She felt the color rise in her cheeks.

"I live in Sedona. You ever been there?"

Miranda grimaced, feeling a stab of panic. She couldn't remember. Her life, all of her experiences, seemed to call to her from some place that was too dark to see, too far away to reach.

"Sedona is a different kind of desert than this," he continued smoothly, choosing to overlook the fact that she hadn't answered. "This place is a lot starker, in my opinion. Not even a single tree or blade of grass, just this long stretch of white sand, like a canvas."

She nodded, still feeling lost.

"I used to live in the city," he told her. "Very different place, but then, I was a very different person there."

She looked down at him from the litter.

"We all have our past lives," he said, meeting her gaze. "Don't we, Miranda?"

She pressed her lips together, catching the emphasis he had placed on her name. It had been done with purpose, as if he were trying to reach her without provoking suspicion, as if he knew she was being held against her will.

She shook her head, staring into the warm hazel of his eyes.
Who are you?

He broke into a relaxed smile. "You alright?"

"I—"

"Miranda?"

She looked away from him, her attention drawn to the towering sculpture ahead. It rose from the center of the desert, an alien version of a man with straight limbs and a triangular head, faceless as it scanned the pale horizon.

The Burning Man.

Miranda stared at it in horror, the brutal line of its shoulders haloed in white sunlight, its blank face calling images from her soul.

Don't be afraid, beautiful Miranda.

She lost her breath, the terror now all consuming. There had been so much blood, slick on her skin, dripping into the sand, no way to stop him…

"No," she breathed.

"Miranda?" Seth spoke her name again, concerned.

"No," she repeated, tears welling in her eyes.

Clenching her teeth, she rolled backward and leapt from the back of the litter. She felt the drop in her stomach, the weight of her fall jarring as she landed on her feet in the harsh dust of the playa.

The litter came to an abrupt stop in front of her, the men glancing back in confusion.

They had hurt her. They had…

She shook her head, glaring at the litter, at Julie as she appeared from the crowd.
Who are you! Who am I?

Memories, vague and thin as the dry breeze, filtered from some place deep inside her. Pain. Fear. Helplessness.

She shook her head, a dark and uncontrollable anger flooding through her veins. She'd been taken prisoner. She had been subjected to something terrifying and these people were responsible. The Necromancer was responsible.

Her own words whispered from the past.

I came here to stop you.

"Goddess," one of the bearers of the litter ran toward her, his expression pinched with concern. He reached for her.

She ducked under his arm, grasping onto his meaty wrist with both hands and twisting it behind his back. He howled in agony and she tripped him from behind, leaning in close as he crashed onto his shoulder in the dust at her feet.

Miranda stood above him, holding his wrist in a painful lock. She gritted her teeth, breathing hard, a thin sheen of sweat prickling over her skin.

Balancing her weight, she placed her sandaled foot on the man's neck, forcing his face deeper into the sand.

"Never touch me," she hissed.

"Yes, Goddess," he cried. "Forgive me!"

"Miranda." Seth appeared from the white glare of the desert. He stopped an arm's length away, his gaze never leaving hers. He made no move to interfere.

"Easy, baby girl," he said, his eyes intent. "You've put on quite a show and now people are watching."

Miranda glanced at the crowd, seeing alarm in the faces that had gathered around them. People in vibrant costumes stared back at her, their painted faces, horns and glittering wings forming a sickening kaleidoscope in the heat.

She drew a ragged breath. "He tried to touch me."

"I saw that. But I think he's learned his lesson and we can let him go now."

She watched him for a moment, uncertain.

Seth took a step closer, relaxed as he moved to stand beside her. "May I?" he asked, gently touching her wrist. "That's it, just let go."

His body was warm and muscular at her side, the faint scent of spiced soap mixing with the salted heat of his skin. An entwined Celtic tattoo wrapped around his toned bicep, shining darkly in the sunlight. His fingers coaxed her hand loose, her captive's wrist slowly dropping from her grasp.

The man gave a pained sound of relief as he collapsed beneath her. Breathing a heavy sigh, he pushed up from the dust and stepped back, rubbing his wrist with a contrite expression.

Seth placed his hand lightly on her back.

"Little breeze might help," he suggested, turning her toward the open desert and leading her away from the dispersing group of onlookers.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

"You shouldn't be here, Seth," she said under her breath. "These people aren't what they seem."

"Maybe you should leave with me."

"I can't."

"Why is that?"

"Because I can't. They've done something, something to me, and there are others. You don't understand."

He shook his head. "Miranda—"

"You have to stay away from them, and from me."

"You expect me to just walk away?"

"You don't know me. And I don't know you."

He nodded, squinting into the hot sunlight, his black hair shining thickly under the brim of his hat. "You might be underestimating me a bit."

"Your involvement?"

"My character," he replied, looking down at her.

She shook her head. "You think just because of what happened last night, there's something between us? Can't you see that's what they want you to believe? You're being manipulated. It's not just me they want."

He frowned, concern surfacing in his eyes.

"Goddess!" Julie approached her, breathless. "I am so sorry. You must need rest. The Necromancer will be furious with me for having exhausted you. Please, we'll go back right away. You'll have plenty of time to prepare for the party tonight. He'll be so angry with me if you don't feel well enough to attend."

Miranda struggled for composure, knowing that she couldn't afford to distance the younger woman now. She had to play her part. She had to force it, hold it together.

She cut her gaze away from Seth, walking past him toward the litter. "Take me back. I want to go back now."

"What about Seth?" Julie asked, looking confused. "Surely he will come too. Or tonight, he can—"

"I'm choosing a new one."

"What?" Julie sounded horrified. "You can't!"