Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2) (34 page)

lark stuck one pistol into his holster and blew the whistle. The gangs had been condemned long before Amethyst recruited them on Clark’s vendetta. Gunshots sounded outside and whoops drifted through the walls.

“Blooming gears,” the president yelped.

“You killed the senator. What were you thinking?” Zachariah turned widened eyes upon Clark.

He shrugged. “Once a criminal, always a criminal.” His father deserved revenge and the senator couldn’t be allowed to roam. “We’ll leave. Now. President, see that my father tells you what he must. You won’t have to hear from me.”

The president turned his gaze up from the limp senator. “There’s more going on here in Hedlund than we’ve paid attention to. No one is leaving my sight until we have a plan of action. The truth will be unfolded, and you, Mr. Grisham—”

One of the soldiers lunged forward and his rifle went off. Amethyst screamed, pitching forward. Her pistol flew from her hand to strike the floor.

The world of death closed around her as the oxygen faded from her lungs. The red-gold sand appeared beneath her feet, soft, shifting, as though she stood on a bed, with the sun in the dark sky above her, spinning round until Clark came and—

Amethyst frowned. It wasn’t sand, but her actual bed, the four-poster with the white lace canopy her uncle had purchased for her after she’d seen an identical one at her friend’s home. The darkened sky was her ceiling, muted without light, and she didn’t need to breathe. Why had she worried about oxygen?

Amethyst slid her legs off the bed and padded, barefoot, to the doorway. “Uncle Albert?”

Music drifted from down the hallway, and she wore a gown of black layers, with an emerald green corset for a bodice. Her heels clicked as she ran for the main room. Her uncle stood in the doorway, but he was a young man, no longer elderly, in a smart suite with a red tie. He grabbed her hand to twirl her in a circle, and a ballroom appeared around them. People spun by in a whirl of colors, and Amethyst laughed.

“This is wonderful!”

“I know how much you enjoy dancing.” Uncle Albert rested one hand on her hip as they sashayed across the floor.

“I always wanted to dance with you, but you never could.” Her arms felt heavy, as though she held something, but she couldn’t, only her great-uncle.

“You’ve become a beautiful young woman.” He added a bounce to his step and she laughed. “Do you remember the games we played when you were a child?”

“We played so many of them. Every night, we saw who could make the most interesting picture from our food. You’d let me hide and then you’d come find me.”

“That’s the one I thought of.” He turned so fast she fell against him, smelling that sandalwood odor, mixed with pipe smoke. “No matter where you hide, I’ll find you. That’s what family does. You’ve never been far apart from your parents, even though you lived with me.” He kissed her forehead before stepping back. They should keep dancing, everyone else did, and the music played louder. “I’m happy you traveled out west. I’m proud of you, my little Amethyst Jolene Treasure. Did you know I named you?”

She shook her head. “I’m glad I went too. I found Clark. He’s coming soon.” Her heart told her that, but where was he? This was for her and Uncle Albert, and that odd weight in her arms.

He kissed both of her cheeks, his lips lingering. “My Amethyst. You’ve fought so hard, you’ve made a difference to your own life, and you’ve made a difference to him. Both of you were so lost in life. Do you recognize that?”

“I’ve always had you.”

“And now you have Clark and the baby.”

“What baby?” Ah, right, she was pregnant. She didn’t feel like it in that corset, but she didn’t have to breathe—but why not? Didn’t she usually breathe? How had she made a difference for Clark, when he was the one who’d whisked her off?

They were fighting Senator Horan. Where had he gone? Amethyst turned to find him, but only the crystal walls, the chandeliers of light above, the people she didn’t know, met her gaze. “Where am I?”

“My Amethyst.” Her uncle smiled with brightened eyes. “He is calling for you. Return to him.”

“You’re dead.” She stumbled backward. “Uncle Albert, you died? You were fine. I just saw you!” She should cry, but her face remained dry. Aching.

“A bit of a strain on my poor old heart.” He laughed as though the mirth of it all reached him. “Go be my Amethyst.”

“Mama?” A little girl appeared beside Amethyst, bright yellow ringlets fastened atop her head, her eyes clear blue.

“Who…?”

“Ages hold no meaning here.” Uncle Albert crouched beside the child. “Take her back, Amethyst. Let Jolene have a life.”

“Jolene?” Amethyst knew she should move, she should wake up. This wasn’t the land of the dead. That one had all that sand. This one was perfect, endless dancing with her uncle.

With her little girl.

She could be a mother. Clark would be her husband. They would live as they pleased, as
she
pleased; he would allow that.

“I’ve always loved that name.” Uncle Albert adjusted the little girl’s curls the way he’d done for Amethyst when she’d been that small.

“You named me.” He’d never told her that before. “You picked Amethyst Jolene.”

“You’ve always been my Amethyst.”

“I can bring you back. I have that power. You can raise… Jolene.” Amethyst bit her lip. Her mother must’ve thought like that. Georgette had taken off across the country and left her little girl with the great-uncle. Would Amethyst want that for her daughter?

She
would
have a real little girl, and she would be the mother Georgette had never been. She and Clark would make a perfect family wherever they pleased.

“Maybe someday.” Uncle Albert nudged her shoulders. “Let me have my peace now. Let me visit my family while you get yours together.”

Amethyst reached for the little girl’s hand as her uncle pushed harder, and wind rushed by, and she screamed, and the child laughed, and the ballroom shifted to the sand realm.

“Amethyst!” Clark turned in a circle, waving his arms. She almost laughed, but the horror on his face stilled her. “Amethyst, where are you? You can’t be gone. I need you, Am.”

“And I need you!” She ran although the sand shifted and the child grew younger. “Clark, we’re here.”

He yanked her mouth to his, biting and sucking, his tongue weaving around hers. She moaned as she sagged against his chest.

A baby’s cry stirred her attention. Jolene had transformed into a babe, lying on her back in the sand.

“Clark, we’re going to have her. This is our baby.” Amethyst crouched to pick up the squirming baby and a tiny fist thwacked her in the nose. So much for a romantic confession.

He leaned forward to cup the baby’s back. He must’ve held one before. “How do you know she’s ours?”

“Can’t you tell?” Even without her uncle’s comments, Amethyst could feel a pull to the miniature body, as though they were linked as three souls, tied with invisible ribbon.

“When will we have her?” he murmured, as though the death realm made no difference, so long as they clutched together.

The baby squirmed more and Amethyst leaned toward Clark to trap her between them lest she fall. “I don’t know. How long does it take a baby to form?”

“Your pregnant?” He stroked his thumb over her cheek.

“As if this doesn’t prove it.” She kissed Jolene’s forehead to see how it would feel, wondering if Georgette had ever done that for her, and the baby shimmered, the glitter soaking into Amethyst, ready for protection again.

Clark took her hands as he stepped away. “We’ll go back now.”

“When we’re old, let’s kill each other, so we can die together, and we’ll be trapped forever.”

“Amethyst, that’s morbid.”

“I know.” She laughed. “That’s why I said it.”

methyst swung her leg over Clark’s lap so she could bend down to kiss him, tickling his scruffy cheeks with her fingernails, her skirt riding up around her thighs. He dug his fingers into her buttocks as he pulled her closer, and she felt the hardness of his groin against her softness. Amethyst giggled against his lips before his tongue touched hers, and she pictured lying in bed with him, moonlight reflecting off the diamond ring he’d given her.

“Do you have to do that?” came Jeremiah’s obnoxious, grating voice. “We don’t want to see you being intimate on the front porch. It ruins a man’s appetite.”

Amethyst wrinkled her nose at him. “It isn’t near noontime. Don’t worry about eating.”

Her brother marched up the front steps, slapping his leather riding gloves against his thighs. Alyssa followed with a small smile, her gaze averted from the loving couple, or perhaps she studied her husband’s rump. There had to be a reason they went horseback riding so often.

Clark groaned. “Am, love, we shouldn’t make Jeremiah uncomfortable.” He drawled the words, letting her know he didn’t care a gear for Jeremiah’s feelings.

“You don’t see Alyssa and me acting so indecently.”

“I don’t see you acting like
anything
with Alyssa. Poor girl’s sexually deprived!”

The twit’s cheeks reddened even more under her unladylike burn. “I’m not.”

“Clark, darling,” Amethyst purred while she wrapped a strand of his hair around her finger. “Can we move back to our own home soon? I hate wearing clothes when you’re just so delicious.”