Timeless Moon (19 page)

Shit, shit, shit.

She needed out of here,
now.
There were too many of them to fight. Too many to hold if it came to that. Whoever had orchestrated this knew her reputation, and had decided to counteract any magic she might raise with sheer, overwhelming numbers. If surprise didn't work, they'd wear her down by making her overextend her magical abilities.

Another glance at the parking lot showed that Rick's bike was still gone. And she'd crushed the cell phone this morning. Not surprisingly, when she picked up the room phone, it was dead.

The front door was out. The back window was out.

Her attention was caught by the rattle of metal coming from the bathroom ceiling. Looking up, she noticed the entire fan unit moving slightly. There was no
time.
She needed to do something. She glanced furiously around the room, looking for anything that might help. Her eyes lit on the perfume bottle on the nightstand and then she remembered something Rick had told her last night
—a humorous piece of trivia about his saddlebags continually falling over and breaking a bottle of aftershave inside.

There was a trapdoor.

She grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and began spraying it vigorously, filling the air with a fine, potent mist of scent that she hoped would confuse the snakes' senses of smell. She threw open the door to the closet she hadn't even bothered to open before, found the ring, and lifted the trapdoor lid, identical to the one Rick had described.

Ignoring the spiders on webs, shooing away several small scorpions crawling along the ground, she wormed her way inside, flattening onto her back so she could reach up to pull the closet door shut, pull in her purse, and lower the lid to the crawl space. Unfortunately, there was no room at that point to roll over, so she was forced to slide across the raw concrete on her back, her nose nearly grazing exposed pipes and beams. To free her hands she set her purse on her belly. Then, using her hands and feet she began to pull her way through the confined space. The thin fabric of her T-shirt hiked up almost immediately, leaving her bare back to scrape across the rough concrete.

More than once she felt sticky webbing drag against her skin, and the crawling of legs across the exposed flesh of her stomach. She ignored everything, concentrating on using the dim light that came through the ventilation grates to navigate her way to freedom.

She'd gone only a few feet when she heard the sound of footsteps moving above her, followed by
sneezing and the sound of vicious cursing. The footsteps moved in the direction of the bathroom, and
Josette put on a
burst of speed. She heard voices arguing in rapid-fire Spanish, followed by the sound of a door not far from her head swinging open.

She froze, stilling even her breath as booted feet ran past the grate beside her head. It wouldn't take them more than a minute to search the room and find the trapdoor. Here, in this enclosed space, the snakes would have the advantage of mobility. She had to get out of here, into the open where she stood a fighting chance.

Josette
set aside her purse, then, concentrating, shifted into her familiar furred form. With a deft twist of her body, she was on her feet, running toward the grate at the far side of the crawl space. A voice called out behind and above her. The creak of hinges drove her on. She put on a burst of speed. At the last second she turned, taking the impact on her shoulder as she burst through the grate to slam into the corrugated metal side of a sunken window well.

The pain of her dislocated shoulder was intense. Tears mixed with the pouring rain, blurring her vision. Her left front paw hung useless at an unnatural angle. Behind her, in the dark of the crawl space she heard the slithering of scales across concrete.

Desperate, she gathered her power and threw it behind her, hoping to buy a few minutes by freezing the snakes in place as she had done so many times before.
The magic flew out
—she even felt it impact against the strength of the combined force of snakes. Then a draining sensation began. Even without their caster, they were managing a rudimentary siphon spell that was pulling her own power to use against her.

She struggled to cut off the energy drain as she forced her body up onto the grass and into an awkward run.

Voices called out in Spanish from locations around the parking lot. They were converging on her in human forms as the snakes moved with breathtaking speed to catch up with her.

Her body struggled to heal the damage to it even as she ran. Her shoulder moved back into place with an audible pop, and she used that new mobility to put on a burst of speed. She ran in a zigzag pattern, avoiding her pursuers. They herded her toward the wide gulley that served as a storm sewer, moving in a pincher movement. She hissed, glaring at the approaching attackers before turning and gathering herself for a massive leap.

She nearly didn't make it. The muddy bank on the far side gave way beneath her back paws, the water pulling inexorably at her. She struggled, digging her front claws deep into the roots of the weeds that lined the embankment. With a massive effort that tore at her injured shoulder she dragged herself out of the sucking current.

Still they pursued, the humans running awkwardly
over pavement made slick by rain mixed with oily tar. She didn't wait to watch. Instead, she chose to dash onto the road, dodging between the oncoming cars before disappearing in the tall weeds of the empty lot across from the hotel.

Flashes of lightning lit her way, followed by the ominous boom of thunder. She paused, listening for the sounds of pursuit. She could hear them in the distance. The rain, while cold and miserable, was serving her well, washing her scent and tracks away, so there was little for them to follow. Still, she was exhausted and injured. She needed to lose them entirely and find a place to rest and heal. The adrenaline pumping through her system kept her moving, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep on. Even powerful Sazi had their limits, and she was rapidly reaching hers.

To her left she heard the clang of metal in the distance, followed by the chug of engines and clang of the crossing alarm. A freight train was out there if she could only get to it. She couldn't see the lights, so it had to be some ways away. But it was a chance, possibly her only chance, of escaping her pursuers.

She turned and ran toward the distant sounds. Her muscles burned from the effort she was expending, her breathing grew ragged. She was nearly ready to give up hope when she saw the glimmer of flashing red lights reflecting off of wet pavement, heard the rattle and clank of a train moving slowly on its tracks.

It was a freight train and a long one. Battered boxcars alternated with tank cars and the occasional flat car loaded with stacks of huge metal shipping crates, all emblazoned with identifying information, many decorated with graffiti. The air stank of oil, exhaust, and rusty metal. As
Josette
eased herself out of the weeds and onto the gravel next to the tracks she was convinced it was the sweet smell of freedom. She cast her gaze up and down the line of cars, looking for the shelter of an open boxcar. Instead, she caught a glimpse of her pursuers closing in. She ran, matching her speed to the nearest loaded flat car. Gathering all her strength, she jumped.

She misjudged the jump badly. Her body skittered across the smooth metal top of the shipping container, hydroplaning on a thin film of water. Claws scrabbled against metal with a sound like nails on a blackboard. Still, she slid ever closer to the edge. She was actually falling, the rear half of her body dangling in midair, when her front claws caught purchase on the metal rim of the container.

It took every last ounce of her strength to pull herself up to safety. She collapsed, panting and weary. It was cold, wet, and uncomfortable, but she was alive. Eventually exhaustion and the rocking motion of the cars lulled her into an uneasy sleep.

She dreamed of Rick. It was summertime, and the warm sunshine caught all the colors in his long blond hair. His beard was a little darker, with just a hint of
red. His skin was bronzed from the time spent outdoors working in the fields or on their cabin during the day without his shirt on. It was hard work, and his body was rock solid, every muscle well defined.

The humans who were their nearest neighbors were several miles away. French settlers, they farmed the land using plow animals that the Sazi couldn't Horses and cattle were wild-eyed with terror even if they approached at a distance. Naturally, they didn't socialize much, which was just as well. It would be hard to explain why she and Rick never went hungry, no matter how harsh the weather.

The nights were rilled with hunting and making love in the moonlit meadows or in the still pool where the two of them would bathe and fish. The French Territory of America was an amazing place. The rich black earth would grow nearly anything. Deer and rabbits were plentiful, as were nearly every other kind of prey. Oh, the winters were cold and wet with snow, but she'd loved the changing of the seasons, the bright reds and golds of autumn ceding to the glittering diamond white of winter.

She remembered this particular morning with great joy. It had been one of the happiest of her life. At last their home was finished. The sun had barely cleared, the horizon when she and Rick had carried the bedding and the belongings they'd brought west in from the leaky lean-to they'd been living in.

She was so proud of him. The house was small but
perfect. He'd worked hard, never cutting corners. Every chink in the logs had been carefully filled, every stone of the large fireplace laid to fit together. The chimney drew perfectly. Not a bit of smoke entered the house when the fire was burning.

She'd been carrying in the last bundle of clothes when he'd come up behind her. Laughing, he scooped her into his arms, carrying her up the steps and through the doorway. He'd stopped her half-hearted protest with a kiss, his warm tongue parting her lips, exploring her mouth as his hands explored her body through her coarse woolen dress.

His skin was so warm beneath his homespun shirt She slid her hands over the muscled flesh and coarse hairs, tracing the fingers of her right hand lightly over the raised scars until they found the hard flesh of his nipple. He groaned then, pulling away from her mouth to press a trail of kisses along the line of her jaw to her throat as his hands struggled with the fastenings of her dress. She, meanwhile, had used her left hand to unknot the tie at the waist of his trousers so that she could reach inside and stroke the long, hard, length of him, feel his throbbing need as his breathing grew ragged.

"Je t'aime, mon couer. Je t'aime,"
he whispered the words in French. It wasn't his language, but he was struggling to learn it
—in part because many of the locals used it, but more as a gift to her. It was a small thing, but it and dozens of other small things were in part why she loved him so very much.

He slid the cloth away from her body, leaving her lying bare atop the homemade quilt, warm sunshine playing with the dark gold curls of her mound. He tossed her clothing aside without so much as a glance. His gaze was all for her, golden eyes gone dark and knowing as they explored every inch of her body. His callused hands were both rough and gentle as they cupped her breasts. He teased her nipples with his thumb and forefinger as he moved his head slowly downward. Warm wet kisses and the rough scrape of his beard over her tender flesh made her ache with the need to be touched. She whimpered, writhing, her hands clutching at the quilt, her back arching as his tongue traced lazy circles around the core of her, never quite touching what she wanted, needed, most.

Over and over he brought her to the edge, pulling back at the last, breathless instant until she screamed with frustrated need. Only then did he part her lips with his fingers, slowly sliding the long hard length of him inside her, so that each glorious inch dragged against her inflamed clitoris.

The pleasure built and built, their combined powers building with it until the room swam with warm, flowing energy. Rick's shields vanished, so that as he moved within her she could not only feel his flesh in hers, but her flesh squeezing his, welcoming each thrust. They climbed together, each feeling and feeding the other's need in a breathless spiral until a single
massive
orgasm exploded through the two of them leaving them breathless, exhausted, and shaken.

She woke when her head slammed against the metal crate. She almost lost her balance. Only instinct and the reflexes of her cat form kept her from sliding off the edge to fall beneath the wheels of the train. It was slowing, preparing to stop. At the slower speed the rocking seemed even more pronounced.
Josette
shook her head, trying to clear it of the cobwebs that seemed to have formed between her ears.

Her mind lingered over the dream, unwilling to let the moment go in favor of harsh reality. But like all dreams, it faded. With a sigh, she took a look around.

It wasn't particularly encouraging. The rain, at least, seemed to have stopped, although the sky overhead was uniformly overcast and gray, giving her no clue what time it might be. She didn't panic. Not knowing when, or where, she was had become an all-too-familiar sensation after years of dealing with her gifts. She stretched, arching her back to ease her sore muscles before jumping nimbly onto the gravel area between one set of tracks and the next.

She'd have given a good deal for a cup of steaming coffee right now. She was cold, tired, and her body ached. That was just
…
wrong. She had been resting for hours, granted, not under the best of conditions, but resting. Her body should have healed itself to the point where she felt fine. Instead, exhaustion dragged at her, making it hard to focus her mind and keep moving.

Picking her way across the railroad yard she avoided all of the workers with ease. They were bustling about, doing their jobs, calling to one another on handheld radios as they dealt with their usual routines. A few yards away she could see an Amtrak train, stopped in front of the station house, its passengers already loading. Signs near the red-roofed station house told her she was in Albuquerque. She began wending her way inexorably toward the station house, using what little energy she could muster to cast the illusion of a kitten. If she was lucky, someone would slip her food. If not, she would be forced to resort to digging in the garbage. Because if she didn't eat soon, she was going to collapse. She couldn't afford that. Lives were at stake. Somehow she had to meet up with Rick and get to Grodin. She just didn't know how.

With fierce determination, she stumbled forward, but walking was harder than it should be. Every time she raised up a paw, it felt like lead. By the time she reached the back door of the station, her head was swimming and her movements were wobbly. Even inhaling was difficult. She'd just stepped behind a tall bush to catch her breath for a moment when without warning, the ground suddenly raced toward her head and darkness enveloped her mind.