Beyond the Darkness (15 page)

“What are they up to?” Cheveyo asked, a rhetorical question. “We’ll follow them, wait for a chance to get Baal alone. Getting rid of one of them will help.”

She looked at the people all over. “Is hunting them down here the best idea?”

“No, but it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. None of us can afford to make a spectacle. This is about subversive hunting. Find Baal, knife him, and get out. He’ll revert to dog. People will think a wolf crept onto the grounds and someone panicked. These people don’t want bad press. If they find a slaughtered wolf, they’ll quickly dispose of it. Yurek would also revert to his Callorian form, which looks sort of but definitely not human. There would be an autopsy and investigation, and Roswell all over again. Too risky to hunt him in a public place.”

She turned to Cheveyo. “Give me a second to grab my makeup. I can work up a sort of costume really fast.”

“We don’t want to lose them. As soon as they move, we move.” He opened a small closet and extracted a long beige coat, handing it to her as he reached for the doorknob. “Tuck your hair inside the hood.”

She smeared purple and teal eye shadow over his cheeks as he watched them from the window, hardly any light in which to work. He had great cheekbones, high and prominent.

“They’re on the move,” he said, ducking away from her ministrations.

She did hers on the fly and blind, her most challenging makeup session ever.

They stepped out and walked across the shadowy parking area. He led her to the first booth they came up on, his gaze on Yurek, and bought a burlap-type cape with a hood. He threw it over his shoulders, covering his head, and ducked behind the booth.

Looking like a desert nomad on an alien planet, Cheveyo paused at the rear corner of the booth. “He senses me here, but even Baal won’t be able to pinpoint our exact location in this crowd.”

Both men were on alert, so obviously not there to enjoy themselves. Their eyes searched the crowd, and they didn’t even return the greetings of those they passed. They began moving apart as they worked through the area.

“That’s a good boy,” Cheveyo said under his breath. “Move away from the Callorian.”

They closed in on Baal as Yurek moved farther away. She clutched her knife beneath the coat she’d draped over her shoulders for better movement. Cheveyo was steps behind her, his body in predator mode. Interestingly, he looked as casual as anyone else in the crowd. It was the gleam in his eyes, a shade darker, and the stealthy way he moved. She knew his knife was in hand, too.

Could she stab someone with intent to kill? Her fingers tightened on the handle. Yes, she could. For her friends and family. For baby Vanderwyck.

Yurek must have sensed their nearness. He spun around, raking the crowd with his gaze. She pulled Cheveyo toward her and planted a kiss on his mouth, putting both their faces at an angle Yurek couldn’t see.

“He’s looking this way,” she whispered.

When she checked again, he melded with the crowd and . . . disappeared. No, he’d taken on the appearance of someone else. Her heart tumbled. In the blink of an eye they’d lost him.

“Where is he?” Cheveyo asked, shifting his gaze to search.

“Gone. Sorry.”

They stepped apart, but he kept looking for Yurek.

“I think he shifted,” she said. “One second he was there, and then he was gone. Do all Callorians shift?”

“No. Even fewer can mimic like Yurek.”

Cheveyo was searching, too, without appearing to do so. His mouth tightened. “You watch Baal, I’ll look for Yurek. They’ll probably communicate. A nod, some kind of signal.”

Knowing Yurek was out there, anywhere, scared the hell out of her. She’d had enough of unseen enemies. Baal was easier to keep an eye on, but they couldn’t let their guard down. Whoever Yurek looked like now, his face would be tense, eyes searching.

They kept Baal in their sights, weaving in and out of the crowd. They neared one of the stages where an acoustic band was playing some kind of strange new age music, with one guy chanting or screaming, she wasn’t sure which. Across the expanse of booths a rock band counteracted their sitar with heavy bass and drums.

Arms grabbed her and pulled her toward a sweaty, hard body. With a gasp she had the knife poised beneath her coat, ready to stab him. Except he reeked of alcohol and could hardly stand up.

“Hey, baby, I—”

Cheveyo knocked him to the side, keeping the man in sight as well as watching around them. “Stand back.”

The man wobbled but kept his balance. He took in Cheveyo’s stance. “S-Sorry, dude. I thought she was someone else.” He ambled off.

“I almost stabbed him,” she said, her eyes wide.

“But you didn’t. Come on.”

Now they’d lost Baal. He was easy to find again, hovering near one of the roasted meat stands. When the proprietor wasn’t looking, he snatched one of the sandwiches. His eyes watched for them, and his canineness showed in the way he tore at the bread and shoved the pieces into his mouth.

“Didn’t you say Glouks could only take on human form temporarily?” she asked.

“Yes, but I don’t know time limits. He won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, for instance. Or after twenty minutes.”

Baal definitely sensed them. His eyes, beady even as a human, slid over the crowd. She and Cheveyo stayed at the edge of one of the booths, looking like a cozy couple picking out jewelry.

“Ooh, this would go great with the vest I just bought,” she said.

“You’re really thinking of buying a necklace?
Now?
”

“Just putting on the act. Sort of.” It was a rockin’ necklace.

Her hand was sweating where she held the knife, and she switched hands and wiped her palm on her pants. Her chest felt tight, body on edge. Yurek could be anyone, even a child, though he’d likely choose a form that would allow him to kill.

Baal was on the move again, and he led them on a slow-motion chase toward the other stage, where a band was playing Led Zeppelin classics. This time she definitely smelled marijuana, drifting in clouds above the clusters of people listening to the music.

Cheveyo moved closer. “Something’s not right about this.”

“I was thinking the same thing. It’s like he’s leading us into a trap.”

Cheveyo spun around. “But I don’t sense Yurek anywhere.”

Baal drifted to another booth, pretending to watch the band.

“Go with your instinct. I’m sure that’s what has kept you alive all these years.”

Cheveyo snapped his fingers. “Baal
is
leading us, but not to anyplace in particular. See, he’s not watching for anyone. He’d be communicating with Yurek like two predators working together would. So if he’s not leading us
to
somewhere—”

“He’s leading us away. We’re at the rear of the grounds now.”

He grabbed her hand and threaded through the crowd, still watching all around them. Her heartbeat thudded in her chest, tightening her breathing. Was this a setup? Would Yurek be waiting for them at the Tank?

They were nearly at a full run by the time they reached the parking lot. Yurek’s snazzy sports car was gone.

“Hell,” Cheveyo said. “He’s gone after Pope. I’ve got to warn him.”

“Could he have gotten to your place by now? I have no idea how far we are from there.”

He glanced at his watch. “Possibly.”

“You haven’t been alerted by Pope through your connection.” Because if Yurek got hold of him, Pope would have to die. That was their agreement. Her fingers tightened on her knife handle at that thought.

Cheveyo pulled out his phone. Something came at him from behind, shoving him to the ground and sending the phone flying. Baal was on Cheveyo’s back, not quite man, and not dog either. He was trying to hold onto human form, but bloodlust fired his eyes red and his head was misshapen.

She lunged at him. He deflected her, but the blade sliced his arm. He snarled but turned his attention back to Cheveyo, pinned beneath him.

Cheveyo took advantage of Baal’s momentary distraction, shoved up with his knee and then rolled so Baal was beneath him. Now this was the kind of two on one she wanted. Except as she approached, so did a group of people.

No way would Cheveyo change to cat at the risk of someone seeing him.

She said to the group of people, “They’re blowing off some steam. Keep moving, nothing to see here.”

“We’re going to let security know,” one man in the group said. “We’re about peace and love here, man, not rage.”

She stared them down and they slowly moved on. She turned back to Cheveyo. The two men, verging on beasts, wrestled for control. She kept her knife hidden from view as she approached the wriggling, grunting mass and searched for the phone. Hers was in the RV.

“Call Pope,” Cheveyo said in a tight voice.

“I am. Or I’m trying to, anyway.” She found the phone and pressed the speed dial for Pope. It rang. Rang. Rang. Then a generic message announced that the person being called wasn’t available. Waiting for all the outgoing messages drove her nuts, but finally she was able to say in one breath, “Yurek may be on his way. Get out.”

She shoved the phone in her pocket and angled in toward Baal’s leg with her knife. Except the men were moving so much, she was afraid she’d stab Cheveyo instead. There were no lights here.

She saw two men approaching who, while not wearing uniforms, looked to be authority figures.

“Cops are coming!”

Baal lifted his head, his misshapen nostrils twitching. He didn’t want to be caught. That was the one thing all beings from other dimensions had in common, Cheveyo had told her: the desire to stay hidden from the human race. Baal sprang away, and she saw him change to dog mid-leap, out of sight of the approaching group of people.

Cheveyo’s eyes were nearly black as he got to his feet. His face was smeared with the dirt he’d been scrabbling in. He grabbed her hand and stalked to the Tank. “Did you get hold of Pope?”

“No answer. I left a message.”

His expression became grimmer.

“How does this connection between you two work?” she asked. “You’ll know if something happens to him?”

“I’ll see it happen. And I’ll be able to find him. His capture activates the connection, like one of those flashing lights on an emergency vest. Until then, I have nothing.”

“So we know he hasn’t been captured.”

“Yet. We’d better get to the house before Yurek does.”

Y
urek made his way down the road where he’d picked up Pope’s Essence, and where Baal had sensed Cheveyo’s scent. Some creature cried out in alarm and scurried away. He broke out of the woods and into a clearing. The lights from a cabin at the center of it glowed, welcoming. He flexed his fingers.

His cell phone vibrated. The Glouk, given the number on the screen. Yurek had gotten the beast a pay-as-you-go phone when he’d come up with the plan to get the hunter and the woman out of the way. It clipped onto a collar.

“They’re on to us,” Baal said. “Be ready for them.”

“I will come back for you when I’m done with Pope. Unless you can get here on your own.”

He heard a low chuckle over the line. “I’m hitching a ride . . . on top of their large vehicle. Be there soon.”

Chapter 12

P
etra sensed someone behind her. She was in the Tank standing behind Cheveyo’s seat, so no one should have been behind her. She spun and screamed before stopping the sound short.

“Pope!”

She couldn’t help it; she gave Pope a hug. When he remained stiff and even a bit at a loss, she stepped back. “I’m . . . just glad to see you.”

His mouth moved into something like a surprised smile. “Thank you.”

He was growing on her. Of all the people who’d abandoned her, Pope never had. He’d certainly never meant to expose her to danger.

Cheveyo pulled off the side of the road and spun out of his seat. “Your skills are getting better?”

No doubt he was thinking she could stay with Pope if that was the case. That might have been her preference at one time, but not now.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Pope said. “It took several minutes to do so, and the process felt unsteady, as though my molecules might splinter. I’m not sure I could do it again.” His eyebrows furrowed. “What has happened to your faces?”

“Oh, our makeup!” She rubbed her hand across her cheeks. Cheveyo’s face was also streaked in dirt. “We were at a festival.”

“A celebratory gathering of people? Now?”

“Not for fun. We—”

“No time to get into it,” Cheveyo cut in. “Have you ever driven one of these?” He gestured to the Tank.

“No, but I’m proficient in automobile navigation and have been trained in all manner of vehicles.”

“Good. You’re going to drive this all over the place. They won’t be able to zero in on you if you’re constantly on the move.” He pulled out a map from one of the overhead cabinets. After spreading it out on the small table, he pointed to a spot on the map. “We’re here. See this triangular loop? Keep driving it. That’ll keep you within reach of us. If you run into trouble, you can take one of these roads, but they’re going to be pretty rough. They cut through the national forest. Petra and I are going to take the bike and head back to my place, see if we can catch Yurek there.” He took out his wallet and handed Pope a credit card. “Use this for gas and whatever else you need.”

Pope shook his head in a tight back and forth motion. “I have plenty of resources. It’s my other resources that I’m lacking.”

Cheveyo paused for a moment. “Maybe I’m feeling your Wave, but something’s not right.” He cut the lights. “Stay inside and away from the windows.” He pulled his knife and slipped out the side door.

Her heart rose in her throat. She couldn’t see anything out there, except for movement by the front window. Cheveyo? She angled herself so she could see out without getting close. Black fur glided by, too graceful to be the Glouk. It made sense that Cheveyo would stalk Baal in cat form. The Tank tilted slightly. Footsteps sounded on the roof. More movement.

The door opened and Cheveyo walked back in. “I didn’t see anything, but I want to get out of here, drive a bit before we leave.” He dropped into the seat and headed back on the road.

Pope remained standing, and so did she. No one talked for a few minutes, and the silence was driving her crazy. She touched his arm, feeling an odd vibration that made her pull back. “You knew Amy was pregnant long before anyone else did.”

“I sensed life inside her. She is doing well?”

“Very.” She pulled out her phone and her fingers flew over the icons as she held it up to him. “The baby.”

His light eyebrows lifted. Of course, he probably couldn’t tell what was what on the sonogram either.

“That’s Cheveyo,” he said after a moment.

She looked at the screen.
“Augh.
”

“Why did you take my picture?” Cheveyo asked.

“To show Amy you’re not a figment of my imagination.” She pulled up the sono and held it up for Pope. “The baby.”

“Yes, I see legs, head, arms. Ten fingers, ten toes.”

She pulled the phone back, studying the blob. “No way. You can see all that?”

“More like sense it.”

Which brought her to exactly what she’d wanted to ask him. “Can you tell whether it’s a boy or girl?” Yeah, yeah, it was cheating. If Amy and Lucas wanted to wait, fine. She couldn’t. And she’d never tell them, not even a hint.

“Girl. I felt the feminine energy when we were together.”

“I knew it!” She spun, her hand on her heart, letting out a joyful squeal. “Frilly dresses, here I come.” Had she promised Amy she wouldn’t buy baby clothes? She couldn’t remember. Either way, she would store them until B-day so as not to spoil their surprise.

Cheveyo said, “Now that we’ve taken care of the important things . . .”

“That was important.” She slipped the phone back into her pocket and beamed a smile at Pope. “Thank you.”

“It’s nice to make you so happy with just a word. Funny how humans respond to something so simple.” Pope looked genuinely pleased, and she felt an odd rush of affection for him.

“Words are powerful,” she said. “Love, for example. Saying ‘I love you’ can change everything.” She tried hard not to look at Cheveyo. “When you mean it. When I was a Hooters waitress, guys would tell me they loved me. They’d ask me out without even knowing a thing about me. It was so superficial.”

Pope tilted his head. “What’s a Hooters waitress?”

Cheveyo laughed. “Yeah, explain that one to him, why don’t you?”

She sent a
hmph
his way before turning back to Pope. “Hooters is a restaurant that’s named after a, uh, word for a woman’s breasts.” She made the universal motion. “Big breasts. Since men can’t seem to call them that, they come up with all kinds of euphemisms for them, like boobs, jugs, and melons.”

“And don’t forget ‘great mounds of joy,’ ” Cheveyo added, though she was pretty sure he was just kidding, given his wry tone of voice.

Pope said, “I find it interesting how humans use these odd words to describe the act of reproduction or the parts used therein. And yet, they use those words to describe each other and situations, too, mostly in a derogatory way. Once, in traffic, someone called me a ‘dick.’ I explained that my name was Pope, not Dick, and that seemed to stymie him. Later I found out ‘dick’ is another word for a man’s penis, though I don’t understand the meaning of calling someone a penis. It serves two vital functions in life, after all. By the same token, you also use words related to religion. God, Jesus Christ, and hell are used as exclamations, and yet humans are extraordinarily sensitive to the nature of religion. It’s baffling.”

Petra said, “I never thought about that, but you’re right. When someone’s being a jerk, you call them an ass, not a foot. Goofballs are called boobs. And yet, a woman’s breasts also serve a vital function in life.”

“As well as being beautiful and not the least bit goofy,” Cheveyo added.

Pope’s gaze drifted to her breasts, but not in a leering kind of way. “I have to admit, I am coming to appreciate the singular beauty of a human woman’s body, at least what I’ve seen of them.” He met her gaze again, a tiny spark in his eyes. “Like the woman in her underpretties.”

Hm, this was getting interesting. But there was something she was curious about. “What do Callorians look like? Cheveyo said, sort of human.”

“In form and general characteristics, yes, a lot like you. We have been conditioned to think of humans as a separate species, a disdained species. In truth, some scientists suspect we started out the same, all living on the surface. Many thousands of years ago, for an unknown reason, a large group descended to live beneath the surface. The theory is, because we lived so much closer to the Earth’s magnetic field, it changed the characteristics of our energy, and thus our bodies. We lost the density of the human form, including the outer shell of skin. The meat suit, as it were.

“Because our energy vibration runs higher, some can change their form or use that energy in different ways.” He held out his hand, probably thinking of the laser beam he used to harness. “Emotions were suppressed even back then.”

“So you don’t fall in love?” Petra asked. “Or marry?”

“We have unions based on common goals or other strategic reasons. Because of my service to the C, I never married.”

“Or fell in love,” Petra said, feeling both sad and envious for him.

“The words love and hate are also thrown around here, and yet they are supposed to signify deep emotions.”

She slid a glance at Cheveyo. “Unfortunately, love and hate are baffling to all of us.”

Cheveyo’s mouth twitched, but he gave away nothing more on his thoughts about love and hate. Several minutes later he pulled off the road again and looked at Pope. “She’s all yours. Once you hear the bike leave, get out of here.”

He probably wouldn’t take the time to jump her, but she was ready anyway as they made their way toward the back.

It hit her, that this was how Cheveyo had to be all the time when he was on the hunt. Living on edge. Ready to kill. Ready to die.

She jumped on the back of the bike, gripping his chest as the gate lowered to make the ramp. He started the bike and gunned it out. When she expected him to continue on, he spun around and watched the gate go up. Once it latched closed, he rode next to the Tank as Pope pulled away, speeding ahead, turning, and coming back toward it. No sign of anything unusual.

They took off in the opposite direction, hoping to catch Yurek.

B
aal held tight, tucked into the tight spaces of the undercarriage, the pads of his paws protecting him only slightly from the heat. He had quickly learned that the two pipes got very hot and had to reposition himself. When the RV had stopped, he suspected the hunter might have become suspicious. He’d jumped down and run into the woods.

What he’d wanted was to kill the hunter. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of it, his primal instinct hungering to slice through flesh with his teeth, to consume him. But Yurek would not be pleased if he ruined this chance to capture Pope, especially now that the hunter had ridden away. He wanted to please the Callorian, an odd place to find himself. Yurek was the first Callorian to ever treat him with something other than disgust and hostility.

Yurek was a hunter, too, sanctioned by the Collaborate. If Baal didn’t give in to his animal, he could show Yurek that he was valuable as a partner. Equal. Not even his own pack had treated him as such. Alphas ruled their packs with viciousness, and any member thought to be too submissive or too aggressive was expelled. Or killed.

He had found freedom in the Earth dimension. The pack part of his nature, though, was lonely. His pack nature wanted to please Yurek.

As soon as the RV slowed, he would jump down and climb back on top, where he could alert Yurek of their position, and his prize: Pope, all by himself.

C
heveyo parked the bike just out of sight off the road leading to his cabin. They ran parallel through the woods to his long driveway, and he cringed at their loud footsteps. Of course, Yurek would sense them anyway, but he didn’t want to give away their exact location.

Crickets filled the air with noise, which helped. He tuned his senses to his surroundings but picked up no trace of another being. Yurek had to have come here. He wouldn’t have set up the elaborate ruse if he didn’t have a lead on Pope’s location.

They reached the clearing, bathed in moonlight. One light shone inside the house, on a timer throughout the night to welcome him home if he returned after dark. He had no electronic security system, just as his father had none. His senses would alert him if trouble were near. Baal, however, didn’t send off as much of a signal since he was both animal and human. Yurek would, but where was he?

Cheveyo leaned close to Petra, smelling her heat and fear. But he didn’t need to say anything, he realized, didn’t need to make a noise that might alert Yurek.

Petra, I’m going cat so I can see and hear better. Stay with me.

Her eyes widened at his sudden intrusion into her thoughts, but she only nodded.

He had communicated psychically with her before, when they were physically apart. He handed her his phone. Phones didn’t take the change well either, and he had to replace them once a month.

He didn’t like going cat in front of people. It wasn’t embarrassment, but that it separated him from his humanity. Being cat was the edge he walked. He rubbed his ring, feeling the twist in his stomach, and then changed. His vision and hearing sharpened a hundredfold. He heard movement in the woods but knew the sounds belonged to real animals. Occasionally he let his cat free to roam the forest and hunt. The thought of eating raw flesh sickened his human side, but his cat craved the gamey taste, the blood that made his teeth slick. It was that base animal instinct that made him reign in his control even more.

Those hunts, though, made him intimately familiar with the sounds, scents, and habits of the creatures that belonged in his woods. That the raccoon hunted and the owl soared overhead meant they hadn’t picked up an intruder, at least until they sensed Petra.

He circled the house, bracing his paws against the walls to peer through the windows. Nothing inside looked disturbed, and he picked up no change in the energy signaling that someone had gone into his territory.