Chapter 10: The Storm Strengthens.
Maritime Condominiums, 15 November, Dawn
The three men watched AJ's restless pacing. The closer it came to the dawn, the tighter her turns, the paler her face became, and the darker the stain on her bandaged forearm.
"Hidalda! Sit down." Jim growled, as she headed back towards the window. For a second he thought he saw something at her feet – but before he could focus on it, it vanished.
"It's almost finished." AJ murmured, letting Rafe pull her to a halt by the window. She leaned against him with a sigh. "It's almost done."
"Kyrie?" The worried whisper brought her head up, her eyes meeting Rafe's hazel gaze. "You're wearing yourself out."
"Dawn's coming. I'll be fine then." Her words were spoken with a weariness they could feel. She turned to the window, watching the first fingers of light as they streaked across the sky. Instantly she relaxed, the tension vanishing with the spreading light. "It's over."
"Now will you talk to us? Give us an explanation?" This time Jim's voice was soft as he took in the way AJ leaned into Rafe's embrace. Her eyes met his and she nodded, not moving away from Rafe's support. He looked at both of them, noting the exhaustion in their faces. "Why don't you sit down? You look exhausted."
Jim watched silently as AJ glanced back at Rafe before heading for free seat on the sofa beside Blair. As she stepped away from him, the young detective's hand went from her waist to her hand and he let her movements pull him with her. Still without speaking, their hands meshed, they walked over to the sofa. AJ curled up in the seat and Rafe perched on the arm beside her. Jim fought down a grin as he noted the instinctive move that put Rafe between the sentinel sitting in the armchair and the young woman on the sofa.
"Let me see your arm, AJ." Jim forced himself to keep his tone light. He wasn't sure who was jumpier… AJ or Rafe. Again he saw a shadowy blur – this time batting against Rafe's legs. Whatever it was, it was much smaller than his spirit guide. Jim stared at it and it turned, wide anxious feline eyes met his before it vanished again. Immediately, Rafe began relaxing.
"It's not bleeding anymore." The certainty of her answer made Jim frown. Before she could refuse, Rafe gently pulled her arm up to expose the reddened bandage. She protested, "Brian, it stopped. They always stop bleeding when their maker passes over. It tells me of when they are most in need."
"You know that, but I need to see it." Rafe's quiet words silenced her protest.
"Rafe," Blair spoke softly, catching the young detective's attention. "Remember what I said about shaman? We take our responsibilities seriously. Any wound that marks a bond like that one will heal as quickly as it appears."
Rafe looked up and frowned at the anthropologist. In response, AJ shook her head and shrugged. But she didn't try removing her arm from Rafe's gentle grip. Taking her silence for consent, Jim used the first aid kit's sheers to cut away the soiled gauze. No one spoke as he removed the bandage and then cleaned off her forearm. Healthy skin, a bit pale but unwounded appeared. Even though he expected to find it healed it still startled him. Jim ran his sensitive fingers over the healed wound. Other than a slight swelling, he couldn't find what had been a gaping wound.
"It's completely gone." Blair's muffled exclamation brought a rueful smile to AJ's lips.
"Did you not believe me?" She asked, amused by their reactions.
"Even believing your words, it's difficult to resist the proof. Neither of us has ever seen something like this. Blair's told me about this kind of thing… but seeing is believing." Jim answered for them, letting his eyesight dial up as he noted the many scars on her forearm. Five, including the one that had bled earlier were dull white, the normal color of old scar tissue. All of the others glimmered a faint silvery blue to his eyes. "Does each one have a… a name?"
There was a slight pause before AJ nodded, placing her free hand on her arm and letting her fingertips drift across the scars. Her eyes darted over to Rafe before returning to meet Jim's. "Yes. This one is Tito, Ayuane's shaman. This is Enqueri. This is Enqueri's shaman. Each one is a chief or a watchman or a shaman. Each one marks a tribe bound by two to me and mine."
"The bluish ones, they are living people?' Rafe's voice was full of wonder as touched a thin blue scar. "Why?"
"What do you know about tribal covenants? Like the ones Livingston wrote about?" Blair asked before AJ could respond to Rafe's question.
Rafe thought for a moment and then nodded. "In Africa, the tribes used to make alliances that were bound by blood. It was a very rare and important ritual, which left the participants as living contracts between tribes. This is the same, isn't it? Kyrie is part of a living contract."
"Yeah," Blair answered softly. "She is – at least until the day she starts her own tribe."
At his words, AJ stirred restlessly. "Can I have my arm back? Please?"
Reluctantly, both Jim and Rafe released their holds on her arm. Immediately she was up and moving to the window. "I'm going out for some air."
"Hold on a minute, kitten. We've got a lot to figure out first." Jim spoke up. "We need to tell Simon about you and the Hijos del Sol —"
"About what? About me being a sagrada? No." She shook her head. "I won't. I can't. I won't be written into any official reports."
"How about we tell him what little we know about your people's involvement with the Children of the Sun." Rafe replied. "We can skip the shamanism and the stuff that's classified. But we have to tell him."
The young woman looked from one man to the other and frowned other. It was obvious that she was very reluctant to speak to their captain but finally she nodded her agreement.
852 Prospect Ave, 15 November
"Good morning, Simon." Ellison opened the door with a flourish.
"This had better be good, Ellison." The captain growled as he entered the loft apartment. He paused at the sight of a camera bag just inside the door. "Is she in trouble again?"
Jim shrugged and glanced over at Blair. "She's part of the whole thing."
Simon sighed. He knew from experience that when Jim got evasive, life got tricky for the police department. "Where is she? What's she done?"
"She's as good at keeping secrets as Jim is." Blair answered, as he flipped a pancake onto a plate. "Right now, she and Rafe are on the roof taking pictures."
"Rafe? And Fortaleza?" Simon felt his jaw drop and resolutely forced it back into place. "That's a surprise, but not worth dragging me over here this early on a Sunday morning."
"What if I told you she's tied to the scene at the foundry?" The tense words were spat as if they fouled the sentinel's mouth.
"She's part of that damn Cult?" Simon decided the day couldn't get much worse. He looked around the loft. "Why is she on the roof with Rafe and not in cuffs?"
"No, Simon. She's not one of the cultists – she's one of their targets." Jim's voice was a low frustrated growl. "She's been hunting them since she arrived in Cascade – without telling us a thing."
"And you are blaming yourself for not knowing. Jim, I was here when she was delirious and she kept her mouth shut then." Simon shook his head. "You can't read minds."
"Jim." Blair spoke before Jim could reply. "This is about ready. Why don't you get AJ and Rafe?"
The sentinel nodded and walked to the balcony. Stepping outside, he tilted his head and quietly called, "Hidalga? Are you done? Breakfast is ready."
Simon stared, realizing that although he could just barely hear the detective, Fortaleza was obviously responding to the sentinel. The only way she could possibly hear him was if she too had enhanced hearing. He slowly sank onto the sofa. This was definitely not an auspicious start to the day. A cup of coffee appeared in front of him.
"Are you okay, Simon?" Blair's voice made him look up.
"She heard Jim – is she another sentinel?" Simon shook his head immediately. "Why didn't Jim react to her like he reacted to—" He couldn't say the name to Blair and waved his hand instead.
"No. She's something else entirely." The anthropologist answered soberly. "It's all right, Simon. It really is."
Just then a brisk knock came and the door opened. Fortaleza bustled in, stripping out of her coat and hanging it on a hook. A moment later, she hung Rafe's coat beside hers. She was chuckling at a comment that Rafe whispered to her as he placed her camera in the camera bag.
"Good morning, sir." Rafe acknowledged Simon's presence from where he stood near the young woman. At a low growl, he turned his attention to her and watched as she carefully repacked the camera bag.
Simon looked from one to the other curiously. Even as he wondered how Jim had convinced Fortaleza to allow Rafe to shadow her he saw her give his youngest detection a huge smile. To Simon's astonishment, Rafe smiled back, taking her hand in his. Suddenly it clicked – Jim's evasiveness with his knowledge about Rafe's new lady friend. The same quiet evasiveness from his junior detective. He shook his head, commenting quietly, "I thought you didn't like police officers, Fortaleza."
She immediately turned her attention to him. The wide silver-green eyes he remembered staring at him with fever were smiling happily at him. She shrugged ruefully. "I still get very nervous around people in uniform or when they flash their badges. Police make me more nervous than others. You, however, are a big, warm, teddy bear and Brian… well, he's Brian."
"I'm a what?" Simon knew his growl was threatening so he allowed a grin to slip into view. To his amusement, she took a half step backwards before seeing the grin and rolling her eyes. Even as she froze, the detective took a step forward, his arms coming around her protectively. Simon raised his eyebrows at the gesture and smiled thoughtfully. "So, Rafe actually answers when you use his given name… hmm. Impressive. But you didn't say anything about how you handle Ellison."
Across the room, Jim looked up from the plate he was setting on the table. "Don't even ask her to go there, Simon."
A smothered chuckle burst from the kitchen and Blair reappeared, eyes dancing with mirth. "You missed some really wonderful entertainment a few weeks ago. Jim and AJ showed some really classic forms of sibling non-communication. They both pouted. I'm still not sure which of them won."
"I did." As one, the sentinel and the photographer responded to his quip with frowns. Then they turned to each other and smiled.
"I think breakfast is ready." Jim spoke quietly, puling out a chair. "Kitten?"
Gently pulling away from Rafe's arms, AJ moved over to the table – carefully skirting around Blair. The young man rolled his eyes as Jim seated her. "Do you two see what I have to put up with? They gang up on me."
Simon looked at Rafe who shrugged and spread his hands. "Don't look at me, sir. I have no idea."
Simon didn't ask any questions as they ate. Instead he quietly took notice of the silent communication occurring around him. Whatever was bothering the group, it was pretty serious. Blair and Rafe kept their attention on the silent woman playing with her food while the sentinel watched all three of them. The tension was constant and about thick enough to see. He decided he'd been patient enough and set aside his fork.
"I take it, this can't become common knowledge or be admitted through normal channels?" Simon asked quietly as he sipped his coffee. Four sets of eyes focused on him.
"No, Simon, it can't." Jim spoke up with a quick glance at Fortaleza.
The young woman looked away, fiddling with her fork again.
"I think it's dead, AJ." Blair commented wryly.
She winced at the comment and stopped fidgeting, her face a calm mask, showing nothing. After a moment, she stood and carried her plate to the kitchen before heading to the balcony doors. There she stopped, staring out into the view. Rafe shook his head and followed her.
"Oops." Blair's eyebrows rose at her reaction. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Let's move this to the living room. We might as well explain why we called Simon." Jim spoke up, trying to break through the sudden tension. The other's acknowledged the sentinel's suggestion and regrouped.
AJ settled herself comfortably on the loveseat beside Rafe. Blair perched on the arm of next to her, not quite blocking any access to her. Behind them, Jim paced along the length of the couch. Simon noted the tableau thoughtfully. He wondered briefly whether they were acting to protect her or to prevent her from fleeing the coming conversation.
"It's not the easiest thing to explain, sir." Rafe began, hesitating.
"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Simon prompted. "And how does this relate to the stuff your source gave us?"
"Well, let's see." Jim pursed his lips thoughtfully. "The beginning… that would be Zelinski's disappearance. When he vanished AJ was contacted to come to Rainier and cover for him. My source says that the only known expert on this Cult is Zelinski."
"Do you think his disappearance is related to the Cult's actions here in Cascade?" Simon became all business as he began realizing the possible scope of the situation.
"There is no evidence of foul play." AJ bit her lip and continued. "He was ill. From the information I've been able to gather he was suffering from a bout of yellow fever. In his delirium, he managed to get out of the hospital and disappear."
"No one has seen or heard from him since then?" Blair whispered in concern. "That's not good."
"He is listed as probably dead now." The young woman looked directly at Simon. "Yellow fever doesn't work for the cultists. While they could have had something to do with his disappearance, there is no evidence that they did so."
"What do you know about this group?" Simon directed his question at her.
She shook her head. "Officially? Absolutely nothing."
"Simon, a lot of what AJ has done in South America is classified." Jim came to a stop next to his guide. The sentinel tilted his head as he considered his words before speaking again. "There are more flags on her files than I've ever seen. My source told me that anything Zelinski knew, Fortaleza probably knows."
"Gee, thanks." The sarcastic groan made them look over at the young woman. "I'm going to have to find this source of yours and correct that impression."
Rafe's eyes widened and he asked, "You know Jim's source?"
"Nope. At least, not yet." Fortaleza closed her eyes.
"Why don't you explain what you're really doing in Cascade?" Simon prodded.
Her eyes popped open and she stared at him. Her voice was flat as she spoke. "It was suggested that I come to Cascade. Partly to take over Zel's exhibition and partly to investigate the unsubstantiated rumor that the Children of the Sun had moved their base of operations from the Yucatan to Cascade. If I found any proof, I was to call for a containment unit and get out of the area." She kept her eyes focused on Simon's as she finished. "I didn't find any evidence of their presence. Not until I got the phone call telling me to watch the news Friday."
"Who called you?" Jim asked quietly.
"One of my photography students called me. I had asked them to tell me if anything interesting showed up in the news." AJ looked down at her hands. "I meant for them to keep an eye out for material for their final exams, not for them to get involved with los Hijos."
"Los Hijos?" Rafe asked.
"The Children of the Sun – we call them los Hijos del Sol."
"Have you called your people?" Jim asked quietly.
"There was no answer. They're no longer available." Pain was etched across her face as she whispered her answer. "I took too long. Every number I called is either unavailable or there is no one there who can help."
"What can you tell us about the Cult?" Simon asked in frustration.
"There are going to be more dead – a lot more." Fortaleza whispered; her eyes haunted. "I tried to get more information for you. It hasn't arrived. I don't know if it will. I've been having trouble getting through to my people in Peru. If it arrives, I'll give it to you."
Rafe wrapped his arm around her shoulders and looked up at the captain. "Kyrie is going to be their goal, sir. They have to get her to join them… willingly."
Simon looked from one man to the other, noting their unhappy expressions and realized they were going give him any more information than they already had. "How likely is that occurrence, AJ?"
She looked at Rafe before turning her face back to Simon's searching gaze. "I don't want to die. I plan on avoiding them like the plague."
"Are you still against the idea of police protection?" He found himself keeping his tone gentle. AJ barely whispered her refusal, but he heard it. Before he could argue, he noticed Jim's silent hand signal to drop the subject. It was echoed by Rafe's pointed headshake and he knew they had already made private arrangements to take care of the problem. He decided to let it go, for now.
The Cascade Museum, Etterman Wing, 16 November, early am.
Kyrie stared at the displays in horror. Every single guy line had been cut. The mannequins had been striped, their clothing lying in a pile to one side. Ceremonial pots were stacked together with a complete disregard to fragility or age. The false jungle canopy had been slashed and in several places formed huge cloth waterfalls that draped down to the floor. The cables and ropes from the rafters were gone, cut down and left in untidy piles on the floor and on the wrecked displays.
Warily, she stepped into the dimly lit hall and looked around. She pulled out her cell phone and hit the speed dial. She had promised the sentinel that she'd tell him about any problems, and this was definitely a problem. A curare tipped dart hit her chest as it rang.
"Ellison."
"Enqueri? Where's Blair?" Her voice shook.
"Fortaleza? Where are you?"
"Musszzzz...." her voice died as the drug did its work.
Major Crimes Bullpen
"Fortaleza!" Blair whirled when he heard Jim growl the name. As he watched, the sentinel focused all of hearing on the tiny phone speaker. "Come on, Chief, we're going. Rafe! She's in trouble."
Rafe let his file hit his desk as he reached for his coat. He followed Jim and Blair out the door. Several heads turned as the three men raced for the elevator. Brown barely got out of their way as they ran past him. He watched them go, surprise lighting his face.
"What's up?" He asked.
"They got a call from Fortaleza and ran out." Megan answered, looking back down at her paperwork.
"Isn't that Blair's anthropologist friend?" H asked. Behind him, the door to Captain Banks' office opened. "So why did Rafe go with them?"
"Fortaleza is Kyrie. And from the looks of things someone doesn't like the new museum show she and Blair are working on." Simon spoke up from his office doorway. "Taggart, I want you and Brown over there now. According to dispatch, every single alarm in the museum was set off by the security guards a few moments ago."
Joel put down his coffee and reached for his coat. Brown was up and at the door waiting for him.
The Museum of Culture and History
Ellison jumped out of the truck and ran for the museum door, Sandburg right behind him. A moment later, Rafe pulled up. They were waved through he side entrance by museum security. Once inside, the anthropologist led the way, taking the fastest route to the west hall. He skidded to a stop just inside the door, staring in mingled shock and horror.
AJ leaned against a fallen display, two paramedics kneeling beside her. One of them sat back as she groggily shoved him away. When she tried to stand, she swayed and the EMT grabbed her arm, holding her steady. Slowly, he lowered her back to the floor. The three men went over to them.
"How is she?" Blair asked.
Rafe knelt down; close enough to take AJ's hand without getting in the EMT's way. She clutched at it like a lifeline. Even as he returned her grip, she calmed, closing her eyes and ignoring the hovering paramedics.
"She regained consciousness moments after we arrived. We removed this from her." The EMT glared at them impartially, then he held up a plastic bag holding a small wooden dart. He blinked as the lead detective took it and sniffed its contents. He'd worked with Ellison and Sandburg before, usually with Sandburg hurt and the bigger man in the way. "Don't lose that, the docs are going to want to find out what's on it. Anyway, it looks like she hit her head when she fell, but she doesn't speak English and keeps pushing us away."
"It's probably the uniforms." Blair murmured to the paramedics. At their shocked looks he smiled apologetically. "Where she's from usually only the cops and the military wear blue or black pants with their uniforms. And neither group is very friendly."
"The dart was coated with curare, a really mild mixture of it." The sentinel spoke softly, his eyes focused on the groggy woman. "Hidalgo? Fortaleza? Can you hear me?"
She turned her head slowly towards him but even then she didn't release Rafe's hand. The unfocused eyes and confused expression made the men wince. "Enqueri?"
Jim spoke to her in Quechua giving her precise instructions. After a long moment, she finally nodded at the end of his words and settled herself comfortably against Rafe. Then he turned back to the others, translating for them. "I told her to let you take her to the hospital. I'll go with you to keep her quiet."
"Jim, are you sure you want to go with AJ?" Blair asked quietly. "She's my responsibility."
"Actually, she's mine." Rafe spoke up. "And she's not about to let go of my hand, either."
"Do either of you speak Quechua? I have to go with her and so does Rafe." Jim sighed roughly. His mind raced over the alternatives but couldn't find one he liked. "Blair needs to stay here and figure out what's missing. I can't do much to help with that. Rafe can't talk to her while she's like this." He closed his eyes momentarily before turning a baleful glare at his guide. "I'll get Simon to send someone to help you, wait outside until they get here. As soon as I can, I'll come back."
While they were talking, the EMT's worked on Fortaleza. She was quickly fastened to a stretcher, waiting quietly for Ellison's next instructions. The big detective looked around again, frowning.
"Don't leave without calling me, okay, Chief? And I don't want to find out that you went climbing up to her place either."
"Gotcha. That gets to wait for you." Blair watched them leave before turning back to the damaged hall. He muttered to himself. "Oh, man, this is a disaster."
"Hairboy?" Detective Brown called out as he entered the hall. His eyes wandered warily across the room, taking in the toppled displays, the piles of artifacts and the draping curtains. This place could easily be a sniper's paradise. "Yo, Blair! Where'd you go?"
"I'm up here, H." Blair's head popped out from the top of a display. His hair was clubbed back, tied with a piece of cord he'd grabbed from a display. Seeing the two detectives, he scrambled down from his perch. "Forensics already cleared this area. Told me to see if I notice anything missing. Like that's a possibility in this mess."
"How long will it take for you to know if anything's missing?" Joel Taggart asked, walking carefully to his side.
"Without AJ's help? A week, at least." The anthropologist looked around wearily. "It took us four weeks to plan this and another just to get it all arranged. Setting up just the anteroom took two weeks, but for that we had student muscle to help out. We can't use their help to find out if anything is missing or damaged. It'll just be us. The dean is giving us student help to clean up and to set the displays back to rights."
"How is she?" Brown frowned at the smaller man. It wasn't often that he got so down. "From what the guard said I thought she wasn't hurt too badly."
"Don't know yet." Blair picked up an urn and studied it critically. With a sigh, he placed it on the display. He looked at it for a moment and adjusted it slightly. "Jim went with her to the hospital."
"He left you here, alone?" The two detectives looked at each other curiously. There was a pause, and then Brown put their question to words. "I'm completely confused. First, I thought Fortaleza was your current girlfriend. Then Simon said she is Rafe's lady. So why did Jim go with her?"
"AJ? And me? Are you kidding? She would probably tear me to little pieces. Or her people would." Blair grinned at the thought and started to chuckle as he caught onto the implications of the thought. Having a sentinel at home kept him busy; dating a sagrada while being a guide would have him beyond busy. "I work with her, I like her, but date her? Even Jim has trouble getting her to behave herself. All we are is friends. Well, she's kind of his little sister, but that's complicated."
"Must be an Amazon if you talk about her like this." Joel joked.
"Nah, just a really good friend. You know, the kind you'd want in your corner if life got rough." Blair responded. He grinned to himself again. "She'd probably take the Amazon thing as a compliment though."
The two detectives watched as the younger man went back to restoring the display. The pedestals were already standing again. As he found the artifacts that he was searching for, he examined them carefully before setting the undamaged ones back one their stands. The damaged ones were gently placed in a group to the side.
After a few minutes, the two men wandered away, taking in the incredible amounts of damage. Brown looked at his partner, sharing an amazed look over the destruction. Most of the artifacts seemed to be fine, but everything else was completely ruined, the mannequins and props hacked apart, as if someone had searched them. He wondered exactly what they had been looking for.
The forensics group was carefully dusting another part of the display. The blue jacketed men and women were gingerly going over every piece as if it might be a clue to what had happened. Brown shook his head knowing that with Ellison and Sandburg involved they weren't going to leave anything to chance.
"Blair?" Joel stopped, looking at one of the walls. "Is this part of your exhibit?"
The anthropologist looked over at them but couldn't see what Joel was referring to from where he was. With a sigh, he put down the clay pot he was examining and carefully headed across the exhibit. It took him several minutes to reach the two detectives. From there he could easily see what had captured their attention.
The east wall had been painted, covered with ancient looking pictographs. Blair studied them curiously and then froze. He turned, ignoring the other men's voices and gazed about the room. Finally, he caught sight of where the display should be and headed over to it at a slow walk. He didn't notice when Joel and Henri flanked him protectively, pulling their weapons as they walked towards the remains of the display.
The young man carefully looked at the display, circling it warily. The canopy near it had been slashed so that it draped around the display, forming a secluded alcove for it. Deciding it was safe; he began moving the heavy material, pulling it over the remains of other displays. Finally, he uncovered the end of a large stone block. The heavy stone altar in the center of the display was carved with hieroglyphics that were similar to those painted on the wall.
Blair swallowed and then pulled the rest of the canopy out of the way, knowing what he was going to find. He gagged and turned away from the view. Centered on the block altar was a shadowed figure. Instinctively, the two detectives stepped forward. The sight of the body made both veteran officers pale.
"Dear God." Joel whispered, closing his eyes. With a shaking hand, he automatically checked for a pulse.
"Aw, man." Brown cursed quietly, pulling out his cell phone. "Simon? Brown. Blair just found a body. You'd better tell the coroners hurry up to the museum... No sir, they haven't picked up the security guard yet. No, sir, there's no chance the person could be alive. Yes, sir, we'll stay with Sandburg."
Blair turned to the two men, his voice shaking as he asked, "Security guard? What are you talking about?"
"After you, Ellison, and Rafe left the Bullpen, the new guard arrived for his shift. He found the man he was supposed to relieve, dead. Simon sent us as back-up when dispatch called it in." Brown answered, eyes still on the body lying on the altar. "Maybe we need to get you out of here until we know there aren't anymore surprises."
"No." Blair reached for the notepad Joel had pulled from his suit pocket. As soon as the older man released it and his pen, Blair began to jot down notes. He refused to allow the two detectives to escort him away from the scene. He was going to catalog the site. In theory, he knew this sacrifice – he just hadn't ever seen it. The fact that the sacrificed body was fresh, not several hundred years old bothered him. But other than that, it seemed to conform to all the information and studies he'd put into ancient Aztec rites. The idea that someone was resurrecting ancient Central American sacrifices in Cascade irritated the young shaman. He carefully took notes on the hieroglyphs, the body's placement on the altar, the wounds.
Beside him, the two detectives traded glances. They usually weren't present when he became immersed in his own work. They had seen Sandburg stand up to Captain Banks to work with Ellison. They had seen him argue Ellison down to get his own way. They knew better than to try and stop him when he wanted to do something. Silently they decided to let Ellison handle the situation. They'd just keep an eye on the anthropologist until he returned.
The sound of his cell phone caught his attention, making him stop taking notes. Blair pulled out his cell phone and answered it distractedly. "Sandburg."
"Blair, what's going on? Simon just called and told me you found a body." The sentinel's voice sounded strained.
"Taggart and Brown are taking care of it and keeping an eye on me, Jim." He had to smile. Even when there was no trouble left, the older man worried about him.
"Chief, you know better than that. It's not just..."
"I know, man. Believe me, I know. How's AJ?"
"She's more trouble than you are, Chief. All she talks about is getting back to the museum. The doctor wants to keep her for the night." Jim sounded almost amused at her antics. "Right now, Rafe is dealing with both of them."
"Real funny. You remember what happened last time."
"Yeah, I do. Rafe's taking her to the loft. And then, since Rafe has to meet with the DA, Megan will be keeping an eye on her." Jim's voice was full of satisfaction. Blair chuckled at the sound of his partner's enjoyment of the situation. Siccing the Australian on Fortaleza had obviously made Jim's day. He frowned as he heard the next words. "Blair, I want you to stay put and leave the exhibit alone. Taggart and Brown will keep an eye on you until I get back to the museum."
"Wait a minute, Jim." He began protesting. "This is my exhibit and I need to know what..."
"Blair, everything that's happened to you and to AJ has revolved around that exhibit."
"I hear you, man." Blair thought for a moment and his mind hit on something he hadn't noticed before. "Um, Jim?"
"What?" the older man's voice got harsh as he heard the trepidation in his partner's tone.
"Do you think that maybe AJ is still keeping something from us?"
"What do you mean, Chief?" The sound of traffic nearly drowned out the quiet voice. When Sandburg got ideas, Ellison had learned to listen carefully.
"Well, during that attack at her place, the thieves kept talking about some collection of knives. But I've checked all my paperwork and there are no knives listed. None, Jim. The displays aren't really damaged, but they were searched. In fact, it looks like the whole place was searched." The anthropologist was pacing, not noticing how the two Major Crimes detectives were watching him. "The only thing that makes sense is that whatever they're looking for is in the Mexican collection that hasn't arrived yet. But AJ is handling that personally and I haven't been able to find anything out about it."
"Hold that thought, Chief." Jim's growl was punctuated by the sound of tires and angry horns. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
Jim met the coroners in the hall as they left the exhibit hall. He glanced at their pallor and stopped them. He quickly unzipped the black body bag to peer at the corpse. He frowned thoughtfully. The dead man had not died easily. His dark skin was nearly black from the bruising, marking how he'd fought his killers. Except for the bruising, though, there was no blood on the dismembered corpse. The faint scent of death was almost obscured by the heavy scent of spices and herbal oil. The hollow cavity of the man's chest and stomach had been packed with green leaves.
"Where are his...?" Jim motioned to the body.
The pale coroner's assistant looked at him and shook his head. "Your detectives are still looking for his organs, man."
"What about the blood?"
"None of that either."
The big detective straightened and stalked into the exhibit hall. Inside he quickly found his guide circling an exhibit on the far side of the hall. The heavy scent of crushed herbs filled his senses. He reeled slightly and dialed down his sense of smell. . The anthropologist was carefully sketching the Aztec diorama. Around him, forensic techs were dusting and photographing the site.
"You okay, Jim?" Blair whispered, watching with concern. The sentinel nodded as he stopped beside his partner. For a moment, he could hear drums and chants as he stared at the stained stones.
"Hey, Ellison!" Joel's voice made him look up from his examination of the altar, interrupting his thoughts. "You need to see this!"
Excited at their finds, the two detectives joined the sentinel and guide. Joel held a long bladed, iron knife in an evidence bag. Blair ignored it but snatched the other from Henri. It was piece of yellow notepaper, writing on both sides. Slowly he sat down on the edge of the dais, his lips moving as he tried to read the hieroglyphs through the plastic bag. His thoughts were easily readable, going from surprise to concern to confused incomprehension.
"What is it, Hairboy?" Brown's voice was gentle as he caught the worried frown Ellison directed at his partner.
"It's... all wrong. I mean, it's right, but it's wrong too."
"Come on, Chief. You have to explain it to us." The sentinel crouched near his partner, watching him, using his senses to gage his guide.
"This is written in Aztec and Mayan hieroglyphs. They shouldn't be mixed like this… they are from two different cultures. And no one still uses either of them, not anymore. But these are, I mean... I can't translate them, not all of them. Parts are passages from things, but out of sequence. Others are written wrong, changed from what I learned." Blair stood, moving away from the exhibit, heading for the eastern wall. He pointed to the writing there. "Those are perfect. They announce the beginning of the cycle of sacrifices, the timing and the sacrifice type. The sequence is correct and the forms are literally perfect. The notes on the paper make no sense. At least, not to me. I need to get another opinion."
"Chief, that's evidence." Jim's voice was amused as the young anthropologist headed for the exit.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, Jim." He looked sheepishly over his shoulder at his partner. "Any chance I can take this over to the anthro department?"
"Not this afternoon. It has to be logged as evidence first. Then, you can make copies and take the copies with you."
"Yeah, right man." He handed the evidence bag over to the amused detectives. His face was mournful as he examined again the damage done to the exhibit. "This is a disaster. I won't able to go to the station for a few days, maybe a week. I'll get the copy then."
"Don't threaten us, Sandburg." Joel joked. "A few weeks without you to do his paperwork and he'll be a bear to work with. Hey, looks like the forensics team is about finished. We'd better go give Cassie a hand."
"If you need help, Chief, all you have to do is ask." Jim murmured quietly, as the two detectives walked away.
"I'm begging, man. This is going to be hell." Blair whispered dispiritedly.
"It can wait until you have the help you need. Let's get out of here." Silently, Jim turned his guide, ushering him past the destruction.
852 Prospect Ave, Apt 307
"Please, Detective Connor. I at least need to go home and get clean clothes," AJ wheedled the Australian. She watched the other woman closely and knew that she was about to yield. "I am *not* wearing either Ellison's or Sandburg's clothes. They already treat me like a kid sister, that would be the last straw."
"All right, don't get in a wicket. I yield to your persuasion." The older woman laughed, raising her hands in surrender. "Call me Megan."
"AJ." She pulled on her parka and stood, waiting patiently by the loft door. She already had the woman's cooperation and she didn't want to antagonize her.
"Right-o. Shall we, AJ?" Both women smiled in unison and walked out the door.
Rainier University Apartments
They had barely entered the door when the phone rang. They looked at each other, grimaced and walked over to stand beside the answering machine. Megan pulled out a five and held it up with a question on her face. AJ shook her head and held up a ten. As one, they spoke a name, " Ellison."
A rough voice began speaking to the answering machine. AJ grinned and grabbed the phone. "Hello."
"What are you doing there?"
"Packing my overnight bag?" She asked him, trying not to laugh aloud.
"You should have stayed at the loft until I could take you to the apartment." The sentinel sounded tired. Beyond that he seemed worried about something, distracted. "Is Connor still with you?"
"Of course. What happened? Is Blair okay? What about the others, Taggart and Brown? Weren't they at the museum?" Her voice cracked as she tensed, trying to read the older man's tone. If something had happened to Blair, she'd lose it. Megan straightened, her smile disappearing as she heard the younger woman's panic.
"Take it easy, kid. They're all fine." Jim's voice became soothing over the phone line. "We found a body at the museum and it was a bad scene."
"Where?" AJ felt her face pale; she really didn't want to know. She didn't want to confirm her fears. If she was right she knew who was next on the list to die. To prevent that from happening, she would have no choice but to give up everything she'd ever wanted.
"Hold on a moment." Ellison passed the phone over to someone, whispering words she could not quite hear.
"AJ?" Blair's voice came on over the line. "It was at the Aztec diorama. I'm not certain, but I think the message was for me and Jim."
"What did it say, Blair?" AJ sat slowly on the edge of a chair, grabbing a pencil and paper. She never noticed as Megan placed a hand on her shoulder, instinctively trying to comfort her.
Blair slowly read off several characters from the wall and the display. AJ listened carefully, taking notes rapidly and sketching the hieroglyphs. After a moment, she sat quietly, staring at the figures on the paper. Absently, she kept writing as she finished the unfinished sequence, underscoring it heavily. Then she looked down and realized what she'd written.
"Blair, please put Jim back on the phone." She quietly interrupted the anthropologist.
"Enqueri. It was a formal sacrifice of the Hijos del Sol. The first major sacrifice of a series, to prepare the world for the return of the sun. The next will be in six days. Have them look for a tattoo on his left arm, a golden sun surrounded by red dots. If it's there, then he was killed by the Cult. Was the victim male, about 24-30, built like a warrior?" The young woman stood and began pacing the length of the phone cord. She looked off into the distance, not seeing the wall in front of her.
"Yes." Jim's terse reply was what she expected.
She took a deep breath and slowly released it. Now came the hard part. "OK. IF they follow the pattern, the next person will be a religious or shamanic person. To keep the ceremony intact it would be best for there to be some sort of connection between the sacrificial victims, but that's not necessary. At this point it does not matter if the sacrifices are willing or forced. That means that you cannot let Sandburg go *anywhere* without an escort of some type. He's exactly what they would be looking for if they don't already have the next victim." She closed her eyes and spoke the words she dreaded to say. "There's a real good chance they already have their next sacrifice, but I have to check before I can tell you if Blair's safe."
Beside her, Megan stirred, listening closely to AJ's words. Her eyes widened as she realized their import. Although the Australian officer had once thought that Ellison was psychic, she'd never considered the fact that his partner was anything more than his guide. She had to admit that the idea of Blair being a shaman easily fit what she knew about the younger man. Megan nodded thoughtfully to herself… she was definitely going to have to finish reading the Burton manuscripts.
"Fortaleza." Ellison growled. He could hear Megan behind her and he wasn't happy about the fact that the other officer now knew about his partner's shamanic abilities. It was enough that the Australian knew about Jim's sentinel abilities. "We'll talk about this later tonight."
"No. You need to keep your attention on protecting him. You consider him to be a 'trouble magnet', so you don't need me there too. They will try for him in the next three days because the sacrifice has to be purified for three days before the event. You take care of your Shaman."
"You agreed to stay at the loft if any trouble came up." Jim was growing tired of arguing with her and was beginning to lose his temper… his voice growing colder and angrier as he spoke. "You are one of the targets.
"That was before this. Not now. Your duty is to the shaman first, tribe second. I need to research some things about this and Sandburg doesn't have what I need at the loft. I'll make arrangements for someone to stay with me here." AJ pulled several books down from the shelves and began laying them on the dining table. As she sat down, she grabbed her pen and a notebook. She understood his reasoning but she couldn't let him bully her into obedience. It would only risk them. "Anyway, if they could have taken me at the museum. By tradition they cannot force me to join them. They cannot steal me. They cannot drug me. I'm safe as long as they can't coerce me. That means you have to keep yourself and Blair safe. To be able to do that you need to be able to focus and I'm a distraction. Tell me I'm wrong, Enqueri."
The sentinel sighed over the line, knowing she was right. From the moment she'd said Sandburg was a possible candidate for the next victim, all of his senses had gone to full alert. He thought frantically, wanting to keep her under control as much as possible. "AJ, put Megan on the line."
AJ sighed and handed the phone to the Australian officer. As the detective began speaking, she tuned out the two voices and opened her books. It only took a few words before she was lost, researching the pictographs from the museum wall. Between the open books and the search she initiated on her laptop, it took Megan quite an effort to drag her back long enough to accept the phone.
"Hmm?" she murmured, pen gliding smoothly over the notebook.
"Look, Megan agreed to stay with you tonight. Tomorrow we can make arrangements for—" Jim explained patiently.
"No." AJ interrupted. "I am not without my own resources. How many times do I have to tell you I'm safe from them? Megan will be leaving shortly and I'll lock up."
"Listen to me." The taut undercurrent of anger in Jim's voice made the young woman pull the phone away from her ear. "I want to know that you're safe."
"Fine. I'll make my own arrangements but I am not going to let you dictate my life." She rubbed her temple thoughtfully. "I'll call someone I'm sure can protect me if necessary. Is that good enough?"
"Fortaleza." Ellison's voice made her wince. "Rafe won't be able to get there until late."
"I'll be safe. Take care of Blair. See you as soon as I have more information for you." AJ hung up the phone, not noticing the stunned look on Megan's face or the strained voice still talking at her over the line. As soon as she disconnected the line, she began dialing a number from memory. When the voice mail answered, she hissed in frustration, but her voice went soft when she left her message on Rafe's answering machine. "Hey, you. It's me. I need to talk to you. Call me as soon as you can."
Megan cleared her throat. "Listen, AJ... maybe..."
AJ didn't even look up. "No. I really have a lot of work to do and so do you. You need to get back to the station. I'll lock the doors and stay home. No ordering food delivered. No walks through the snow. Just me, the books, and my computer until Rafe gets here."
"Jim doesn't usually overreact. If he thinks you're in danger, you are."
"Fine, he may very well be right. But I don't have to obey him." She stood and walked to the bookshelf. Stretching, she pulled down a blowpipe and a quiver of darts. She laid them down on the table beside her books. A set of throwing knives soon joined them. "No one will be able to get at me. Go back to work, Megan."
Megan started to protest when her cell phone rang. She answered it reflexively. "Connor... Yes, sir. Yes, she's right here."
AJ rolled her eyes and took the phone. "Hello, Capítan Banks... No, I do not want police protection; in fact I refuse it... No, sir, I will not go to the loft." She paused and listened. "Are you threatening to place me in forced protective custody? But I saw nothing... I remember nothing. Yes, sir, I would definitely be a hostile witness. Thank you, sir."
She handed the phone back to Megan. The other woman listened momentarily and sighed. "Yes, sir. But you get to tell Ellison she refused."
AJ stood and walked the detective to the door. "Have a good afternoon, Megan. If Jim yells at you too much, have him call me."
"I'll take you up on that." Megan smiled at her as she slipped out the door. "Lock up, okay?"
"No problem."
Rainier University Apartments, 7 p.m.
Rafe quietly let himself into the apartment, blessing his skill with lock picks. The living room was dark, all the curtains pulled closed. Frowning, he closed the door behind him and relocked it, hooking the chain thoughtfully. He'd never seen the place when it wasn't well lit or with the curtains open for Kyrie to enjoy the view. Reflexively, he pulled his gun from its holster as he noted the untidy pile of books and papers on the table. This was definitely out of character. Then the sound of muted laughter came from the back room. He followed it, returning the gun to its accustomed place under his jacket.
The sight that met his eyes was enchanting. Kyrie sat on the bed, wrapped in a gossamer robe, facing away from him. She held the telephone to her ear with one hand, while slowly pulling a wooden comb through her wet hair with the other. Scented candles cast a soft light from her dresser, throwing flickering shadows across the room.
"I'll be fine. No, I do not want to go there... No, I don't want company." The other person kept her silent for a long moment. "Well, actually, if you want the truth, I can hear Rafe in the doorway. No, I won't change my mind. No. Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."
The next exchange made her laugh. As she was laughing, she saw him in the mirror and smiled. Rafe walked across the few feet that separated them and knelt beside her on the bed. His hand was gentle as he ran it across her cheek, enjoying the softness and the way she leaned into his palm. He took the comb from her hand and laid it down, kissing her neck as he did so.
"I really need to go now. That does it!" Her voice rose slightly as she teased the person on the other end. "Look, what I want is for Enqueri to drag you out and feed you. I know you. You've been working on the museum and forgot to eat again. Yes, those are definitely direct orders! Good night, dear heart!" She laughed again as she hung up the phone.
"Hello, love." Kyrie turned, whispering, as she kissed his palm. "I've missed you."
"I missed you, too." He barely got the words out before his mouth dipped down to meet hers. There was no hesitation between them. His hands cupped her jaw, tilting her head for better access. Her lips parted under his assault, allowing his tongue to dive into her welcoming mouth. Kyrie's hands tugged on his shoulders, pulling him down onto the bed. With a soft sigh, she curled her body into his.
Reluctantly, he pulled back, watching her face as he did. Slowly her eyes opened. They watched him curiously as he sat up, pulling her up as well. His fingers lingered on her shoulder before creeping up to her cheek.
"How's your headache?" He murmured quietly. She shrugged and they both chuckled as her stomach protested loudly. "Sounds like I need to feed you, sweetheart."
Kyrie rubbed her cheek against his fingertips and grinned impishly. She looked him over and raised an eyebrow. "Is that really what you want to do, Rafe?"
"It is. Do you like Chinese? I know a great place that delivers."
"I love good Chinese." If he wanted her to behave herself, she would. Kyrie wanted him, but she would not ruin what they had found together, so she would let him take the lead. She wanted to enjoy every moment of time that she had with him. She stood and walked towards the closet, but his hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.
Rafe stood, gently pulling her hand until she was standing next to him. He ran his fingers across her cheek, whispering softly as he did, "I want to go very slow, love. I want everything to be perfect. We both deserve it to be perfect."
Kyrie raised her own hands to his cheeks. Slowly she let her fingers trace his jaw line, feeling the first edges of the beard appearing there. She met his eyes as she whispered. "It already is perfect."
He dipped his head to meet her lips. The moment they touched, the hunger that he'd been keeping at bay raised its head. He let his lips caress hers, his tongue tracing the line where her lips met. Her tongue met his, dancing and tangling with his. She rose on her toes trying to melt into his skin. It took a concerted effort for him to pull back. His eyes wandered over her body, taking in the curves that the glowing candlelight softly accented. His voice was husky as he led her out of the room. "Almost perfect, love. Right now you're recovering from the drugs on the darts as well as hitting your head on that wall. I won't take advantage of that. We'll make it perfect later, when there aren't any extenuating circumstances."
Rainier University Apartments, 17 November, 4:15 am
Rafe wasn't quite sure what woke him. He opened his eyes cautiously, trying to figure out where he was when he heard the quiet murmur of a voice. He had gone to sleep on Kyrie's couch around midnight. He glanced at his watch before standing to peer into the bedroom. He saw Kyrie speaking into a small handheld tape recorder.
"Same dream only more detailed," she whispered, eyes closed. "If this is a premonition, I wish I could see enough to know where and when. If it isn't, I wish it would go away. I'm not sure which is worse. The knowing or not knowing."
Curious, Rafe watched her, barely able to see her in the dim light streaming through the window. The young woman was sitting on a small mat beside the bed, her hair draped around her like a shawl. Only the whispered words gave any indication that she wasn't deep in a trance.
"...the room is full, mixed believers and non-believers. They haven't drugged them. Their fear, it rises off them and clouds the room. One of the faces, I know it. I'll have to double check my class roster to see if I can put a name to the face." Her voice caught suddenly. "If this is premonition, Zel is in Cascade, somewhere. But I don't know how much longer he'll be alive. I can't see enough to know which ceremony is being performed. The only thing I'm sure of... they have the rest of the knives. Not the king knife, but all the others. I can see them, laid out in display. They have a silver thing where the king knife goes. I don't know what it is. I couldn't see it well enough. When I tried to focus, to force the dream, I woke. One other note. I saw the high priest. It was Mattheson. If that's correct and not just my dislike of the man, the entire mission is a scrub. I still haven't figured out how to warn anyone without breaking the court orders on the subject. I've alerted the only other person I know who might be able to do something. But I don't know if that's enough. I hate this. Silence Two. 17 November."
Rafe closed his eyes as Kyrie thumbed off the recorder. To him her words sounded almost like a briefing or a report to someone. Even with all they'd gone through, it was obvious she was still not telling him, or Jim and Blair, everything. He listened as she stood and began to pace. A faint crackling sound made him open his eyes. She was spreading out a well worn map, studying it intently. After a moment she marked in red ink the museum. It stood out against the pale green highlighted areas. On the other side of the map, red ink marked the foundry site. Then she turned to face him.
"Hi." Kyrie's voice was sad as she watched him.
Rafe's voice was rough, as he stared at the woman kneeling by the mat. He glanced around the room, looking for something, anything to explain what was going on. "What are you hiding from us?"
Kyrie folded her hands and looked away. "Go ahead and search the apartment. There is nothing hidden here. Anything you find I'll explain, as much as I can."
"Kyrie." He sighed, crouching near her, his fingers lightly tracing the highlighted area of the map. Then he tapped the tape recorder. "What is all of this?"
Bright eyes, more silver than green in the faint light, glanced from one item to the other. She shrugged nonchalantly. "The tape recorder is how I keep track of true dreams. I normally record them if I remember them. Since Blair ordered me to stop drinking the preventative this morning, I'm trying to remember what I dream."
"Do you normally remember your dreams?"
"Only the very bad ones and only some of them." She frowned. "I rarely remember more than 7 or 8 in a year. The watchman I happened to be traveling with would normally record them for me."
"And the map?" Rafe prompted, shoving the information into the back of his mind to be considered later. "What is it for?"
"To track where I've been. Places I've checked for signs of the Children of the Sun." She stretched in place, eyes watching him curiously. "Do I need to turn it over to you?"
He shook his head, studying the dates written on the highlighted areas. "No. If I need the information, I'll ask. Who is Mattheson?"
Kyrie pulled back, eyes quickly becoming shuttered. "I can't answer that. I'm sorry."
"If it's important to finding the cult, you have to tell me who Mattheson is."
"I can't talk about him. It's classified."
"Classified? What does that have to do with your 'mission'? Whom are you really working for?" Rafe almost wished he didn't have to ask.
"The first questions I cannot answer. As for whom do I work for, well, I work for the university."
"That's not what I'm asking about and you know it." Rafe kept his voice even – trying to avoid letting his frustration show. He let his eyes trace the pattern penciled on the map. It finally clicked. He thought back to the conversation at Ellison's loft and another puzzle piece fell into place. "You've been quartering and searching Cascade. From the looks of it you started right after arriving. You said you were trying to get information for us… I know Jim's source volunteered the information he got Friday, so I bet that came from one of the people you contacted. That means you work for one of the alphabet agencies."
"I don't work for one of your 'alphabet' agencies." A grin quickly crossed her face as Kyrie responded to his comment. When he began to speak, she shook her head, the smile fading. "I have never worked for any government agency or department. I may have helped them with something, but I'm not on anyone's payroll."
"Who is Silence Two?"
"I am." The resignation in her voice took Rafe's full attention from the map to her face and the fear that he saw there shook him.
"You can't talk about it, can you?" The discomfort in her eyes and the rigid way she held her shoulders told him the answer to his question. Rafe understood her reaction. He'd been where she was right now, not knowing how far she could trust someone with the truth and having to find ways to avoid revealing confidential information. "You told me you'd answer my questions – at least as far as you were able. I understand more than you think." He smiled ruefully at her pained expression. Deciding that he didn't want to spend the rest of night talking to her on the floor, he stood and extended his hand. "Come on, we may as well get comfortable for this."
She kept her face expressionless as she let him draw her to her feet. Rafe wondered what was going on behind the mask she was showing him. Whatever it was, he knew he was going to have to steer the conversation very carefully to avoid all the traps and pitfalls he knew were out there, for both of them. He settled himself comfortably against the headboard, pulling her down to sit next to him.
"You've been more than patient," Rafe began, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Kyrie half turned, her eyes meeting his curiously. He didn't want to dredge up his past – it was a painful, unhealed wound, a subject he avoided at all costs. But how could he push Kyrie for answers about her past if he hid his past from her? "You've told me stories about the people you've met and were raised among. But you never asked about my past. I've seen the questions in your eyes when I change the subject or stop in mid-sentence."
"Bri, you don't have to—" Kyrie's words went silent, as Rafe's fingers covered her lips.
"Yes, I do. If we want this to work, both of us need to stop keeping secrets. It may be painful, but it's necessary. You told me most of your history. It's time I told you mine." With a quick mental prayer for strength, Rafe began, uncomfortably aware of her steady gaze. "My family wasn't the best. In South Africa we aren't hailed as evil, but we aren't considered respectable either. My father's family… the O'Raferty family is still pretty well connected arms dealers and information brokers. My mother's family, the Van Holdens, isn't as bad, but it's pretty close. They were married as part of an alliance. All of us worked for the family interests – and we started young. My parents became disenchanted with the rest of the family after Grandfather's death -- I was fourteen. My uncle, Veiden and his son, Andrew Thomas, inherited the leadership of the family business. They are cold men, Kyrie, the kind that have no remorse for any of the things they do. Within a year, the O'Raferty family went from being arms dealers to supplying weapons to terrorists and worse."
He closed his eyes, feeling the pain of that summer so long ago. "Da decided we were going to make a break with the family. That's part of why I married Angela so young. I wasn't going to leave her behind for Andrew Thomas and the others. But they knew. Andrew left a message for everyone to see… one that no one could mistake. The flames had already claimed most of the house. My uncle James kept me from running into the house. He got me out of Langebaan. We barely out ran the people hunting us. For over two years we ran from one brush fire war to another. Until my Da's contact with the US government finally tracked us down."
"We bought our way into the US with the information we gave Interpol and the CIA." Rafe grinned at the memory. "My Da, he had me memorize a list of every police, Interpol, MI-5, and CIA agent the O'Raferty clan owned. It felt so good to turn that information over to them. Uncle James thought I was mad to give them the whole list at once but I did. The next day I was on a military flight to DC with a new identity and a future. Most importantly, I had a goal, a reason to stay alive. I wanted to stop people like Viener and Andrew Thomas, before they became too dangerous to handle easily. Uncle James got himself a position as a tracker for the US Marshals service and I went to college to get my criminal justice degree."
"So you became a policeman to stop them."
"I didn't want to join the big agencies." He watched as thoughts seemed to flash across Kyrie's face.
"You were allowed the choice."
She seemed so far away that it puzzled him. "What do you mean?"
"I've always done what I was assigned." Kyrie's voice was wistful. "I get to my assigned place, gathered information, learn what I can, turn it over to the proper people, and then get a new assignment. Because of who and what I am – I am placed in the most advantageous spot available. I've never had a choice."
She smiled up at him – a sad, half lost smile. "Even when I was little, I had my assigned place. First as Zel's 'ward', later as a valuable tool for befriending the locals, and finally as a tool of its own strength. If I'm not gathering information for someone, I'm gathering allies for Walks Through or I'm training for something else."
Rafe was silent. The pain in her unguarded eyes caught him by surprise. For the first time, she wasn't hiding anything. He found himself whispering, "If you had a choice, what would you do?"
"If I were free… no debts to honor, nothing held over my head, no one able to show up and order me to obey?" She shifted uneasily. "I don't know. I was handed over to Zel as part of some old debt for him to repay. I overheard his instructions – he was to keep us alive and south of the border. He taught me everything I know, but I don't know if that is what I want to be. I am trained for one thing… and everything I was taught was to help me be better at it. Until I met you, it never occurred to me that I could have friends who expected nothing more than my friendship. I never expected to be able to have a real life."
"What about Jim and Blair?" The depth of her belief in what she was saying startled him.
"I was assigned to Blair and he was assigned to keep an eye on me." Her chuckle was bitter. "If not for that, Jim would have found a way to keep Blair as far from me as possible. He would have taken one look at me and seen a threat. Instead, he couldn't argue with the Dean's assignment and by the time he decided I was dangerous, Chopec law made me safe."
"Kyrie, Jim isn't that bad!" Rafe shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't sure why she was so convinced, but he knew better. From his observation, Jim Ellison didn't treat obligation the way he treated Kyrie. In fact, he knew from the warning phone call he'd gotten earlier that evening that Jim and Blair both considered her family. He just didn't know how to convince her of it.
"Isn't he?" She shook her head at him. "No one threatens Blair, not even by accident. Even among your fellow police officers, how many openly disparage him? Would they dare?" As he nodded his understanding, she smiled again. "All my life, I have been accepted because of my acquaintances or because of my status. I've heard the whispers, 'That's Silence Two, shut up and make friends or the others will leave you in Injun country.' 'Don't you know who that kid is? That's Zelinski's kid… get the kid on your good side and you've got it made.' 'This is the sagrada come to us from the Walks Through Tribe, you will be her sister while she is here.' And when they thought I couldn't hear them, I'd hear the complaints about having to accept me as one of them. And then I came to Cascade and literally ran into you. For the first time, it didn't matter who I knew, to whom I was connected, or what I was. You wanted to get to know me – because you wanted to meet me. Beyond the normal," and here Kyrie winked at him mischievously, "physical attraction, there was no reason for you to want to meet me. And nothing scared or shook you off."
"What about your friends, Kyr?" Rafe couldn't let this go, he knew there had to be someone who had been her friend. "What about your students? Don't they count?"
"I earned their friendship, Brian. The hard way, through war, trial, pain, and blood. I can trust them at my back. I have people I will fight for because that is my promise, my debt to them." She looked away. "Most are my friends due to a debt owed, a debt given, or blood spilled. My tribes are mine only because I am their sagrada – someone who only the watchmen and shaman dare befriend lest they join her on the altar. They are my people and will fight for me. I know their names and their children's names, but I don't know what they like to do or who they are. The students -- I'm their teacher, their mentor. I can't let them get close or they become targets. I can't risk their friendship."
"I'm not here because of a debt or blood, Kyrie. And you can't chase me away to protect me." Rafe tilted her head with his hand, making her meet his eyes. The sadness in the silvery green eyes drew him and he stopped resisting it. He leaned forward, his lips not quite touching hers as he whispered, "I'm here because I want to be here. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow."
Kyrie's eyes grew dark as she drew him closer. "I believe you," she murmured, her lips sealing the unspoken promise between them.
Storm Page
Storm Chapter 11
