Читать книгу Night Quest - Susan Krinard - Страница 11

Chapter 4

Artemis’s lovely face turned utterly cold.

Garret wasn’t surprised. She justifiably believed that she’d been blackmailed into helping him. She’d taken his blood only because she knew she had no other choice, and he would have done nearly anything to get her help.

But he also knew that she had been struggling ever since he’d rescued her...struggling with the same impulses and emotions he’d been feeling almost from the moment of their first meeting. Emotions most Nightsiders denied, believing them to be the bane of inferior humanity.

Yet when she’d taken his blood, he had experienced the kind of intense physical attraction he hadn’t felt since Roxana’s death. He’d been painfully aware of Artemis’s petite but generously curved body, the quickness of her breathing, the deep mystery of her dark eyes. He had held her against him, feeling the heat of her arousal matching his, imagining her soft moans as he stroked her naked skin...

He cut off the thoughts before they could carry him into dangerous waters. In the end, he’d rejected his own lust. As the leader of Erebus’s human Underground, he had always striven to be disciplined, watchful and patient. Roxana had made it almost easy.

Artemis didn’t. What was it about her that stirred his body and soul to such an inexplicable degree? Knowing that she was different from other Freeblood rogues couldn’t account for this strong, almost uncontrollable reaction. What had started out as a compulsion to save an intelligent being from an act of barbarism had quickly evolved into something else, something he didn’t want any more than she did.

If he were making the decision only for himself, he would go his own way and let her go hers. It would be far better for both of them.

But Timon came first. His well-being was a thousand times more important than the relief of any small discomfort his father might experience along the way. No price was too high.

He had to gain Artemis’s trust and keep it. Until Timon was safe.

“I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing his coat. “I should have remembered that we’ll both need to recover before we move on.” He pulled on the coat and zipped it up with slightly numb fingers, aware that he had begun to tremble from loss of blood. The ground seemed to tilt toward him. He’d forgotten what it was like to give so much blood at one time.

“Are you ill?” Artemis asked, a little of the coldness leaving her eyes.

“Nothing that an hour of rest won’t cure,” he said. “And if you move too fast after taking so much blood, you’re likely to have problems yourself.”

She studied him with a frown. “I am in no danger,” she said. “But I see that you are not steady enough to travel. You had better sit down.”

With a brief nod of acknowledgment, Garret slid to the base of the tree and leaned his head back against the trunk, grateful that they’d independently made the decision not to mention what had happened during the blood-taking.

“I don’t expect you to stand guard for both of us,” he said. “Wake me if I start to drift off.”

Artemis chose a tree a little distance away and sat beneath it, holding herself erect and alert. “You are a strange human,” she said.

“I thought you’d reached that conclusion when we first met,” he said, closing his eyes.

“I know why you saved my life and shared your blood, or at least why you claim you did. What I do not understand is why you are so willing to reveal weakness.”

Garret wondered if she was trying to make him angry. She didn’t know him well enough to realize that he’d been through far too much to let pride influence his actions.

“I’ve already put my life in your hands many times over,” he said. “If I didn’t trust you—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I have always heard that free human males believe themselves to be stronger than females in every way, and will do anything to avoid revealing any physical or mental impairment before one of the opposite sex.”

Garret opened one eye a crack. “How do you know?”

“It is common knowledge.”

“The same way it’s common knowledge among humans that all Nightsiders are vicious killers?” He laughed shortly. “Not all human males feel the need to prove that they’re invulnerable.”

Artemis reached for her own small pack and unhooked her canteen. “It would be foolish to attempt it with a female Opir.”

“I’d like to think I’m not a fool,” Garret said.

“Would you have begged for my help, if I had been unwilling to give it?”

“Would that have made you feel better?”

“It would only have proven how much you wish to find your son.”

“Then you have no more interest in having power over me than I do in having it over you. Which makes you exactly what I judged you to be.”

“I still do not accept your ‘judgment.’”

Garret rolled his head to observe the bears, who had apparently determined that the human and Nightsider were no threat and resumed their search for food. “Why didn’t you go after them when you needed blood?” he asked. “It wasn’t fear that stopped you, was it?”

“I was not afraid,” she said, indignation in her voice.

“But something about them made you hesitate.” He straightened, wishing he could sleep but determined to keep Artemis engaged. “They are a family.”

She shrugged, though he could see that he had struck true. “Many creatures belong to what you call ‘families,’” she said. “I cannot spare all of them.”

“Do you know how long the female black bear protects her cubs?”

“I am not ignorant about the behavior of the creatures that live in the wild.”

“One and a half years,” Garret said. “These cubs are less than a year old. They’ll go into torpor with her pretty soon, and then they’ll be with her through the spring. No one can fault a bear’s skill at parenting.” He met Artemis’s gaze. “When were you converted?”

“What has that to do with—”

“Did you have children?”

Her body stiffened. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember, or have you chosen to forget?”

“Even humans leave the past behind,” she said.

“We try,” he said, thinking of Roxana. His throat felt thick and full. “Do you remember what love is?”

“I...”

Garret unfastened his coat’s padded chest pocket, withdrawing the battered photograph in its transparent envelope.

“This is Timon,” he said. He rose and reached out to hand her the picture, and she accepted it with obvious reluctance. It had been taken before Roxana’s death; Timon was smiling, a ball in his hands, and his best friend and cousin, Alessa, at his side. With his red hair and violet-gray eyes, Timon looked human.

There was softness in Artemis’s face as she gazed at the picture, a softness that Garret had glimpsed only once or twice when she was at her most unguarded. Now she touched the picture with the tip of her finger, her lips curving in something like a smile.

“This picture was taken in a time of peace,” she said. “Who is the other child?”

“Her name is Alessa. She’s the daughter of my sister Alexia and her husband, Damon.” He tucked the photo back into his pocket. “Alexia is half Opir. A dhampir.”

Artemis stared at him. “Your father was a—”

“We had different fathers. I assure you, I’m fully human.”

“But your sister—”

“Was born in the Enclave of San Francisco, after our mother found refuge there. She married a human in the Enclave, and I was the result.”

Wrapping her arms around her chest, Artemis looked away. “I know...” she began. “I know it is an ugly thing, what our males did to your females during the War.”

“It wasn’t my intention to bring up the time before the Armistice,” Garret said, regretting his slip.

“But surely Alexia was an agent for the Enclave, like all those of mixed blood.”

“She left that life long ago. All I want for Timon is the freedom to live as he chooses, when he’s old enough to make that decision. I’d hoped this would help you to understand.”

“I always understood,” she said in a near whisper.

“Then help me track the rogues who stole my son, and then return to your life. I won’t trouble you again.”

Her mouth tightened. “You will not expect me to fight for him?”

“I won’t ask what you can’t give.”

They both fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Garret knew that it didn’t matter whether or not they talked about what had happened between them. It was there, hanging in the air, haunting them, mocking them. An odd sensation seemed to tickle the surface of his brain, and all at once he was reliving the endless moments of lust and desire, hopelessly entangled with Artemis’s need for blood and the memories of saving each other’s lives.

“Artemis,” he said, desperately resisting the urge to touch her, “I swear on Timon’s life that what happened today won’t be repeated.”

It was clear that she understood him. She felt for the tree trunk at her back, fingers digging into the rough bark. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts.

“No,” she said. “It will not.”

They both looked away at the same time, and Garret released his breath. She said that now, and she must truly believe it.

But the connection between them couldn’t simply be explained by the sharing of blood. He had wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted any woman since Roxana, and she’d wanted him. The blood was only the catalyst.

His mind refused to speculate further.

“I think we should go,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “If we walk slowly for a while, I’ll be back to normal in a few hours.”

“Surely you are not ready,” she said. “It is nearly dark.”

“As long as I stay close enough behind you, we can travel at night. It’ll be harder for you by day, and we need to keep moving as long as we can.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “You can hunt along the way, and I’ll do whatever I can to make things easier for you by keeping my distance.”

Easier for both of us, he thought. But Artemis had already turned her back on him and was self-consciously examining her arrows, leaving him to wonder if they could both hold to their promises.

* * *

They started north in silence, setting out along a woodland trail commonly used by both men and Opiri passing through the region once known as the Willamette Valley. Artemis took the lead, casting her senses wide for any trace of Freebloods. The rain had obliterated most animal tracks in the area, and she knew it would perform the same service for any two-legged creatures.

However, she didn’t have to rely only on sight. The scents of the wet forest were almost overwhelming, and she could track the movements of every animal—reptile, bird and mammal—that passed anywhere near them. Ironically, now that she no longer needed to hunt, she could hear tiny feet pattering over the pungent earth, and through the weeds and fallen pine needles, the rustle of wings in the undergrowth and deep among the branches.

But no Freebloods, and no humans.

As good as his word, Garret remained some distance behind. Yet he might as well have been clinging to her back; she could hear his rough breathing, the muffled tread of his boots, even the beat of his heart. And she could smell him, a pleasant scent that seemed to complement the aroma of freshly washed vegetation.

She could also smell his blood. As full darkness fell and he moved closer to take advantage of her night vision, she realized that the situation would not become any easier. One taste of his blood had been enough to make her crave it again. If she didn’t find a way to ignore him, the journey would soon become intolerable.

As intolerable as the memory of other cravings...and the way he had turned her own unwanted emotions against her by asking her about her former life. About children, and loss, and forgetting.

And love.

As she walked, she concentrated on rebuilding the crumbling barriers inside her mind. By dividing her consciousness between observing their surroundings and reconstructing her mental shields bit by bit, she could almost forget Garret for minutes at a time.

After several hours of unceasing rain, stillness fell over the woods. Artemis slowed her pace. She knew this area well; after her expulsion from Oceanus she had lingered here, well outside the borders of the Citadel’s territory, hoping that she might locate other exiled Freebloods and persuade them to accept her philosophy. She’d soon discovered that the outcasts had no interest in anything beyond survival.

She looked over her shoulder as she and Garret passed through a clearing where a cluster of ruined buildings stood, relics dating to sometime before the War. Garret was moving unsteadily, though his pace had never flagged. She came to a halt and waited for him to catch up.

“It’s after midnight,” she said as he drew level with her. “We should stop so that you can rest and eat.”

He met her gaze from underneath his hood. “I’m not tired,” he said.

“Nevertheless, you must have food. Wait here. I will hunt.”

Before he could protest, she slipped away into the darkness where he couldn’t follow. She brought down two rabbits in rapid succession and carried them back to the abandoned buildings.

Garret looked up, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “The goddess of the hunt returns,” he said.

There was a complex note to his statement, not mockery but something more lighthearted. Belatedly, she remembered what it was. Teasing. And there was real admiration behind his words.

Admiration that deeply unsettled her.

She laid the rabbits down on a broken chunk of concrete and crouched beside it. “If I were a goddess,” she said, “I could guarantee that a fire would be safe. As it is, I can only suggest that maintaining your strength is probably worth the risk.”

“My future strength is worth nothing if we attract a pack of Freebloods or militiamen,” he said. “Did you see or hear anything?”

“Freebloods have passed this way, but not in many nights.”

“Then I’ll risk the fire.”

He removed a lighter from his pack and began to gather kindling. She went to look for fallen branches, and by the time she returned he had a small fire going. With quick, efficient movements, he skinned and cleaned the rabbits and suspended them from a long sharpened branch over the fire.

“You’re welcome to share this with me, if you have an appetite for meat,” he said, the firelight dancing in his eyes and carving his face out of the shadows.

“There is little enough for you, and I am not hungry,” she said. “Eat, and I will patrol the area.”

“Thank you, Artemis.”

She ducked her head and pretended to examine her bow. While he finished cooking his meal, she paced out several wide circles around the ruins, listening as much as watching. By the time she returned, the fire was out, the remains of the rabbits had been buried and Garret was fast asleep.

He trusts me, she reminded herself with more than a little wonder. It was likely that he hadn’t intended to sleep, but his body had insisted, and his instincts...

His instincts told him that she would be there to wake him if any danger threatened them.

Squatting beside him, she studied his face. Now that he was asleep, she was even more aware that his usually calm demeanor was only a kind of mask. He mumbled something that sounded like a name. She couldn’t quite make it out, but his muscles were tense, and she could feel distress radiating from him along with his body heat. Grief beat against her new and fragile mental barriers.

“Garret,” she whispered. “It is only a dream.”

His eyelids fluttered. He expelled a short, harsh breath and then relaxed into normal sleep. The pressure inside her head disappeared, and she realized that learning to block him was no longer a matter of mitigating the uncomfortable turmoil his emotions created in her thoughts. It had become a necessity.

Still, a part of her longed to stroke the damp hair from his forehead, to tell him that all would be well and there was no need for bad dreams.

If she surrendered to such impulses, anything that happened afterward would be entirely her own fault.

An owl hooted somewhere above her and glided out of the trees. It dived into the tall brown grass, and something squealed. The strong taking the weak. The world fell into a deep hush, as if in mourning for the fallen. Another sound came faintly to Artemis’s ears. No animal had made it.

She entered the woods on the other side of the ruins and listened for a repeat of the cry. It came again, softer than before, a moan of someone in pain.

Unbearable pain, forcing its way into Artemis’s mind. She paused to brace herself and searched for the source.

She found the Freeblood lying half tangled in a mass of blackberry bushes, one arm caught in the brambles and his body twisted awkwardly. There was a gaping wound in his neck, too severe to heal on its own. The bite of another Opir.

Dark eyes rolled toward Artemis as she approached cautiously. He made a sound in his ruined throat. Most Opiri maintained the appearance of the age they’d been when they were converted, and this one appeared to have been turned in his late teens. Perhaps, she thought, after the end of the War.

“I will not hurt you,” she said, though she knew such an assurance would probably mean nothing to an exile. He jerked as she drew nearer, his hands clenching and unclenching.

She didn’t try to ask him what had happened. She could guess well enough. He might have been dying for hours, and his body’s attempts to heal would have driven him to starvation.

“Brother,” she said, dropping to her knees beside him. “Can you hear me?”

If he did, she thought, she had a feeling that things were going to get a lot more complicated.