Treasure of the Sun (20 page)

She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember, and right now it seemed more important to follow her instincts than to battle for courage.

Did she rest on land or sea? The bed was rocking, yet she couldn't hear the slapping noise of the waves, nor smell the sour brine-soaked wood. So she was on land, and the nauseating movement was all in her head.

Good. Better fuzzy thinking than a return to a ship.

No, wait. She wanted to be on a ship. She was fleeing Damian, his proposal and his insistence on passion.

That wasn't right, either. She wasn't fleeing him, she was taking the logical, correct step to correct their situation.

Sickness hit her like a wall of water, and a tiny groan escaped her.

"Are you waking up?"

The voice was deep and muffled, and she didn't have to struggle to remain still. Like an animal sensing danger, she lay quiet. She heard the footsteps shuffle across the floor boards, knew whoever it was stood above her.

"Too much chloroform," the voice lamented.

A palm cupped Katherine's chin, fingers pinched Katherine's cheeks, and her head was shaken back and forth.

"Hurry and wake," the voice urged. The footsteps shuffled away.

Shoeless, Katherine deducted. Tall, and strong, to have pressed that cloth over her face until . . . in a rush, the remembrance of fear came to her. Someone had come into her room. Someone had attacked her.

Oh, God, where was she?

The scent of the hacienda wafted to her nostrils. So her head still lay on her own pillow, her body rested on the bed in the boarding house. She fought to recover her self-possession. It was both easier and harder than she expected, for some of her perceptions were sensitized, others dulled.

Through her closed eyelids, she could see a light. Not a bright light like the sun, it flickered, tickling her blindness with little flares and wavers.

A candle. The night still pressed around her, wrapping her tight in its coils, imprisoning her movements.

No. She traced feeling to her fingertips and wiggled them.

Shooting pains stabbed her hands, and she bit down hard on her lip.

Ropes imprisoned her. A cord bound her wrists behind her back and all her weight rested on them. Her shoulders ached, the skin of her arms tingled. Not even the feather mattress could ease the agony.

Her feet were bound, too. Was she tied to the bed?

The noises of the intruder distracted her. Grunts, soft curses in elaborate Spanish, the sound of cloth ripping.

She wanted to look. She wanted to open her eyes and see where she was, see how she could escape ... see her captor. She knew she shouldn't open her eyes, yet she wanted to, so badly. Her palms sweated with her desire; she couldn't control her breathing. She concentrated, wanting, needing to make her breaths slow and deep and even.

What did it mean? Why had someone stalked her? Why had this person gone through such elaborate preparations to hurt her?

God, how she hated Monterey.

A tear of fear and grief crept from her lids and down her cheek, and she grimaced to hold back the flood that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Whore!"

Water slapped Katherine with the force of anger behind it.

She gasped, sputtered and opened her eyes. Like a fool, she opened her eyes.

Her captor stood beside her bed, in her boarding-house room, and said in Spanish, "I knew you'd try to deceive me."

The great flood of water, Katherine saw, was nothing more than the contents of a tin cup, clasped in one big hand and dripping the last of its contents on the floor. She blinked the moisture from her face and squinted against the illumination of the candle. Set on the floor among her bags, it drew her gaze.

As she flinched from the light, her captor callously commented, "Your eyes aren't such a pretty green now."

"What?"

"They're red."

Katherine stared as the intruder placed the cup on the table, making sure the metal didn't clatter against the wood. Clearing her throat, she said, "My eyes are red from the drug. How did I deceive you?"

"You deceived me by faking sleep, but I knew you were awake. I'm craftier than you are." The bizarre figure leaned over her.

"I can't disagree." Katherine peered into the glittering eyes, trying to decipher the twisted features shadowed by the wide brimmed hat. The skin of the forehead and cheeks looked shiny and hard. The mouth had no lips, no tongue, only an ebony gash set deep in dark skin. A line ran from ear to ear across the hump of a nose: Was she hallucinating?

No, she decided. A master with scarves and masks, this villain obscured the features that would betray identity. That would explain the muffled voice, the indistinct words. Was any of that mutilated face real? She couldn't tell.

Was the brawn encased in the black shirt authentic? Were the lumps that widened the waist of the breeches actual rolls of fat? Did a wizard of masquerade stand before her? Certainly the eerie form seemed to have no fear that she would penetrate this camouflage, asking scornfully, "Why do you look at me like that?"

The tension in her coiled tighter. From a pocket in the dark breeches, the intruder pulled a silver chain. From one end of the chain dangled a familiar silver watch. She clenched her hands in a useless fist. "That's not worth much." The watch moved closer to her face, and she stared at it with hypnotic fervor, as if she could whisk it away with her fear for its safety. As it swung before her nose, she whispered, "It's only valuable to me."

"Such a pretty little toy-your remembrance of your husband."

The hushed voice and odd phrasing brought her gaze to her tormentor's face. "How did you know that?"

"I'm no common thief."

The eyes behind the mask burned with relish.

Frantic to soothe the beast, she agreed, "I can see that. But please don't take my watch."

"Take it? No, no. You misunderstand." With gentle stealth, the watch was laid on the table beside the cup. "I'm going to open it."

"Push the button on the side."

Her advice earned her a withering glare. "I'm opening the back." A thin file appeared in one black-gloved hand and slid into the groove that circled the silver watch. A twist of the wrist and the back fell off with a ting. The intruder twirled the back, then lifted the exposed works and examined them. They ticked loudly, undisturbed by this baring of their secrets. The intruder cursed and carried it towards the candle. Katherine raised her head, staring at the retreating back. The intruder probed the works with one finger; she heard a disgusted mumbling. Like an accompaniment called forth by impatience, the love song clicked on and the music tinkled.

"There grew up a rose from Barbara Alien's breast-" Katherine blinked. She sang the words before she'd even thought, and the room spun on its axis as she fought the drug's effects.

"Bastardo." The music clicked off, the watch was tossed onto one of the carpet bags. "There's nothing there."

A protest tore from Katherine. ''It's delicate."

"I ought to smash it-" a grotesque smile advanced on her "-but my own kindness forbids it."

Katherine didn't believe that, and an absurd confidence stirred her dazed mind. The lady of the house slept down the hall. This intruder didn't dare make a noise. If she screamed, help would arrive. "What did you expect to find? Why are you doing this? I have nothing in my bags to interest you."

"Don't you?"

"Of course not. I'm a poor American widow."

"The widow of Tobias." The voice of her captor thinned; the mask couldn't disguise the avarice and the threat.

"Tobias ... " She faltered. Was this the one who'd killed Tobias? She shifted to test the strength of the bonds that held her.

"You'll never get free," the intruder observed with pleasure. "I'm not trying to free myself," Katherine lied. "The ropes hurt me. Why are you interested in Tobias's widow?"

"Tobias was a very smart man. Too smart, in some ways. Too innocent in others. He found something I want."

Staring in fascination as the wrapped mouth spoke, Katherine almost missed her cue. "What is it you wand"

"As if you don't know. As if that sly man from Switzerland wouldn't have told you."

Even the scarf across the mouth couldn't constrict the flow of malice.

Katherine answered, "We were only married a week, and mysteries weren't a topic of conversation."

''That would be too bad for you," the intruder said casually, "even if I believed you."

Katherine glanced around the room and saw the jumbled mass of her belongings tom from her bags. "Oh, no, why did you-" She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her wrist; she jerked and groaned. Twisting, she managed to scoot onto her side and relieve the worst of the pressure on her hand.

"Do you think all this nonsense is going to make me pity you?" the intruder asked in amazement.

"Not at all." Katherine wiggled her toes, trying to encourage circulation. "I'm doing it for my own edification. Why did you destroy my clothing?"

"I didn't destroy much."

The trace of defensiveness encouraged Katherine, and she asked, "What was so important that Tobias would tell me about it on our wedding night?"

"The treasure occupied Tobias's mind as much as it occupies mine, and he trusted you. He trusted you and I know it. He told me so often enough."

Staggered by the information thrown at her in such casual disregard, Katherine sputtered, "Treasure?"

"The treasure of the padres. The gold of legend, waiting for me to rescue it from obscurity."

"Gold?" Katherine gaped at the absurd face before her.

"So much gold. So much influence and freedom can be bought with gold." The palms in the black gloves rubbed together. "I will be all I have dreamed of being with the gold."

"Gold?"

"Tobias had the key." The intruder leaned over her, giving Katherine a clear view of the mask and scarf that created such an effective disguise. "Where's the key?"

"Key? A real key?"

"You play innocent. You fool everyone, except me." "I don't have the key."

"Then you have the treasure. You're fleeing Rancho Donoso.

You're in Monterey, avoiding people who call themselves your friends. You're seeking the first ship out."

Guilt spread over Katherine's face. "There are reasons." "Why else would the de la Solas send a message to the captain that you must be delayed?"

"What?" Katherine struggled, her discomfort forgotten.

"That deceiver of innocent women-"

"Who? Damian?" The intruder flicked one forefinger into the air in disdain. ''It's treasure he seeks. He's always been fascinated by the treasure."

Katherine froze, hurt at being dismissed so casually, hurt by the assurance with which the intruder spoke. "Don Damian protected me. When I first went to the hacienda, he kept my presence a secret."

"I knew where you were," the intruder said with scorn. "I didn't choose to risk my life at the hacienda for you."

"He guarded me."

"Would he do any less for the least of his servants?" Stricken, Katherine collapsed onto her back, and the pain reintroduced rationality. Who was this person who knew Damian so well? Who was this person who understood Tobias and the desires of his soul? Again she examined the tormenting figure, trying to see beyond the camouflage. Disgusted with the relentless masquerade, seeking to draw out the facts, she taunted, "Couldn't you find this key on your own?"

"I thought I could," the intruder admitted.

"I don't know what the key is. I don't know where the treasure is. I've never even heard of this treasure. How are you going to find the key if I don't tell you?"

A knife appeared in the intruder's fingers. The handle was dull black; the blade was obsidian and shone in glints like broken glass. It looked uncivilized, barbaric, like a knife used to sacrifice virgins in the rites of old. At. Katherine stared, it flipped and twirled with a life of its own. Then it settled into the gloved palm, and touched her throat. "I'm going to kill you if you don't tell me."

Such plain words. Such an expressionless tone. Such a bloody image.