The Burn (14 page)

Slowing the RV, he turned onto a narrow dirt road, feeling the vehicle sway and rumble off the asphalt. They drove along the shallow floor of the valley, floating on a billowing cloud of dust, surrounded by scattered boulders and dry brush. The sun was a hot glimmer above the mountains in the distance.

Seth drove until he could no longer see the highway, until it was safe to assume that they hadn't been followed. Then he rolled the RV to a stop and cut the engine.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Not much time now," she breathed, closing her eyes as if listening to the sound of distant music.

"What?"

"Promise me," she began, opening her eyes to look at him. "That after you see it with your own eyes, you won't go back."

He stared at her, caught off guard. "See what?"

"You know that he's going to try to kill you. Tell me that you know that."

"I know that. Now what is it that you think I'm about to see?"

Her expression grew pained, then she leaned forward and yanked his keys from the ignition. Seth opened his mouth to object, but she had already risen, already pushed her way out the door.

"Shit." He leapt from behind the wheel to follow her, jumping from the top step to run after her as she sprinted toward the mountains. She was fast, her body lean and athletic, her gait as graceful as cat's.

"Miranda!" he yelled, closing on her.

She glanced back at him, then skidded to a stop in the dust and hurled his keys into the sky.

"Ah shit," he cursed, trying to track the arc of their descent and losing them in the last glare of sunlight.

He stopped beside her, grimacing.

She was breathing hard, sucking air through her teeth. Her expression changed as she looked at him, her determination softened by a hint of regret.

"Why?" he asked.

"You're safe here." She reached for him and he caught her in his arms, alarmed by the desperate way she held him.

"Miranda," he murmured, feeling the softness of her hair under his hands, the close press of her body against him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He looked down at her, confused.

Then he saw it, an almost imperceptible fading of her skin. He watched in horror as he lost the solid feel of her, as she became transparent in the fading light.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was a tender slip of breath.

She leaned forward, as if to kiss him, only to vanish as the sun disappeared behind the peaked ridge in the distance.

Seth stared at the empty place she had been, his mind unable to rip itself out of the moment.
Not possible.
She had been right there, in his arms. She couldn't have disappeared. She couldn't have ceased to exist. He heard the hollow noise he made, stumbling back like a man who'd been hit, sweeping his gaze desperately across the desert, still searching for her.

The wind threaded past him, a soft hiss across the sand.

He was alone. She wasn't hiding. It hadn't been a trick, or a hallucination. She was simply gone.

Seth bowed his head, the weight of that realization too much to bear. He dropped to his knees, numb to the cooling sand around him, oblivious to the cold cast of night in the sky overhead.

T
ime passed. Seth felt it slip by, minutes lost in the gentle current of the wind, hours turning in the bright movement of stars over the desert. He watched the ascension of the moon without actually seeing it, remained still as the sand and brush around him become luminous under the blue cast of light.

He had borne the worst of it some time ago, cycling erratically through shock, anger and fear. Then had come an almost blinding sorrow. And now this…a deep calm based on nothing more than exhaustion.

There was no resolution that he could see, no way to piece the world he knew back together again. There was simply a choice to be made, a decision that he could accept a thousand times over without it ever actually becoming real. He could choose to believe that Miranda had told him the literal truth, that what she remembered had actually happened. The Gate was real. The Necromancer was a psychopath who held power over death itself.

He released a slow breath through his teeth.

Accepting all of that meant accepting that Miranda was still a prisoner and that the Necromancer planned on using her to achieve his goals, one of which was Seth's murder.
Why? Why does he want me?

He tilted his gaze skyward, the thought of it more confusing that frightening now. It occurred to him that he might never know the answer. He still had the option of turning away, resuming the life he knew and leaving the questions and the hurt behind him, cover it up in his own mind somehow.

Miranda had ensured that could do that. She had delivered him to safety and tried her best to convince him to go on, abandon her in the process.

It was a brave gesture, one that was worthy of her reputation. Still, he knew what he knew. However far fetched, however impossible, he knew what it felt like to hold her and see the unfathomable truth of the world in her eyes. His life would never be the same for that, either way he went, and leaving the questions, leaving the woman, like this…

A hiss of noise issued from the dirt road behind him, the crackle of tires rolling over sand and rocks. Looking back, he saw two Sheriff's cruisers pull up beside the RV, their light bars flashing with hot color.

The side of his vehicle was suddenly illuminated, clouds of dust swirling in the harsh beam of the spotlights. The passenger door on one of the cruisers swung open. A strong silhouette appeared against the glow.

"Seth!" Pete called into the darkness. "Seth!"

Seth didn't reply. What could he say?

Pete climbed into the RV, searching the interior with the glow of a flashlight. He resurfaced a few moments later, snapping terse orders to the sheriffs before sweeping the beam of light out into the desert.

Seth grimaced as the glow fell directly on him, brightening the sand and the fabric of his clothes. He knew that he should stand up, start talking, do something that indicated he wasn't hurt. Instead, he simply waited for Pete to close the distance, hearing the older man's voice strain with concern

"Seth? Jesus, what the hell happened to you?"

Seth shook his head, ignoring the ache in his muscles as he rose to his feet.

Pete watched him with alarm, then impatience. "C'mon buck-o. Snap out of it."

"How did you find me?" Seth asked.

"By using the GPS locator I put in your RV. Didn't I tell you about that?"

Seth met his gaze. "No."

"We've been tracking you. You start sitting in one place for four hours and we start to get worried. Then we come and find you. That's how it works."

"What about calling me?"

"Cell phones don't work out here. Remember?"

Seth frowned, remembering something.

"Where is Miranda?"

"Gone."

"Gone? Gone where for fuck's sake?"

"She asked me to pull over here then stole my keys and threw them somewhere. Then she disappeared, vanished into thin air."

"Vanished?"

"Instantly."

Pete hesitated, then glanced over surrounding the desert once. "She asked that you pull over right here?"

"Yes."

"Did she ask what time it was before that point? Is there a watch on the dash of your RV? Was it possible she was trying to meet her ride back?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "She disappeared into thin air."

"Uh huh." Pete focused on the road leading back to the highway. "She told you it was going to happen like that?"

"She told me that she something was going to happen. She didn't specifically mention melting away to nothing before my eyes."

"Can't trust your eyes, sport. Not with these characters. When something weird happens, you have to question how it might reasonably have happened."

"This was Miranda. She didn't use anything. She didn't drug me."

"Maybe she didn't need to. It's been less than twenty four hours since you were dosed originally. Depending on the drug, you could suffer hallucinogenic side-effects for days. Maybe all she needed was the power of suggestion."

"It wasn't that."

"Sure. But until we sort that part out, we're just going to have to look for her in the most likely place, which is the Rathvam camp. I mean, she knew what she was doing, right? She wanted to ditch you out here."

Seth released a slow breath. "Yes."

"And she wanted to get back to the camp."

"She thought she had no choice."

"But you don't think she's wandering around, lost? I mean, I could call out Search and Rescue."

Seth heard the frustrated noise he made. "I don't think you're going to find her in the desert, no."

"Right, well, we'll consider it 'Plan B'. The first order of business is to get you back there, see if she's with them again. They've been looking for you."

"I'll bet they have."

"And it's gotten more complicated."

"More complicated how?"

"Well, ah—Logan has disappeared. After that little scuffle you had with him, he went back to the Sheriff's compound and filed a report that stated he was too close to the investigation and he was cutting out, going home. The problem is that I haven't been able to reach him since. He should have been in a place with signal range for hours now, if he had really left."

Seth shook his head. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I never got the chance to tell him that we were taking Miranda out. I'm saying that by the time I got back to the compound he was gone, after leaving a written report and declaring that he was leaving."

"You think he went into that camp alone, to get Miranda."

"I know he did. He would never have skated on me like that. He would, however, take matters into his own hands if he thought I was fucking things up. I think he went into that camp to get her and bring her out himself. I think he's still there."

"So why don't you send in one of your teams?"

"Remember the note? The room full of deputies that can now say he was pissed off and leaving? He took my balls out. I can't go in there now. Based on what? To the brass, it looks like Miranda wants to be there and Logan went home because she's sleeping with you"

"So now, you're my only hope, cowboy. I need you to help me get my agents back."

"By going in there?"

"Not alone. Not if you're still seeing things. I'm going in there with you."

Seth rubbed his hand over his face. "Don't they know who you are?"

"Don't worry. I've got a disguise. They'll never suspect."

"I think they might."

"I can pull this, understand? I'm going in there with you and you'll be happy I did, especially if push comes to shove and the Glock comes out."

"You don't know what's in there."

"You're right," Pete admitted. "So let's you, me, and the Sheriffs all locate your damn keys together then go find out."

Seth grimaced, feeling the moment of decision bearing down under the stars, the world around him suspended and listening.

He shook his head, wanting it be about reality, about the things he could do and the things he couldn't. But the only thing that came to his mind was the way she had held onto him in that last moment, the pained whisper of her voice.

I'm sorry. . .

He closed his eyes. "There's a spare set in the RV."

Pete laughed under his breath. "Spare set of keys? Great. So you've been what? Sitting out here pondering your existence?"

"Something like that."

"Fucking artists. So you done yet? Or are you just planning on sitting here and letting her go?"

"I'm done," Seth said, narrowing his gaze on the starlit horizon. "And I can't let her go."

* * *

Miranda materialized inside the dark corridor, walking slowly past the symbols on the wall as they whispered in welcome. Power echoed in the narrow space around her, humming through heavy bulkheads and warm floor grates. She sensed now, more acutely than ever, the secrets hidden here. She was home. Her dagger had returned to her side, her chainmail skirt glittering softly in the darkness.

From the shadows ahead, the door to her chamber hung open. Its golden light beckoned, calling her to surrender to the lulling song of the Gate, slip into the meditative state that would allow her to merge with it, even for a short time.

Miranda grimaced, an image of Seth burned from memory, his arms closing around her as she faded, the disbelief in his eyes as he tried to hold onto a woman who was already dead. She buried her face in her hands, issuing a pained whisper in the dark. "Don't look back. Please, Seth. Go home. Go back to your precious Sedona and stay there."

"Andie?" A familiar voice rose from the corridor.

Andie?

Miranda opened her eyes to see a tall man in the tight hallway beside her, his outline shadowed against the thin glow of lanterns. His breathing was hurried and desperate, a cold sheen of sweat on his skin.

"Andie, Jesus," he murmured, stepping into the light. "What have they done to you?"

His face was pale and grave, his dark eyes searching. He was dressed entirely in black, the outline of his shoulder holster visible under the open zipper of his jacket. He held a Sig Saur .45 in his right hand.

"Logan," she said his name, the memory of him becoming real as he stood before her. "What are you—?"

"I'm getting you out."

"You can't be here," she said, struggling to find some explanation that would make sense to him. "You have to leave before they find you."

"Let them find me," he replied harshly, a strange intensity burning in his eyes. "You think I'd hesitate for a second to take these guys on?"

"Don't—Don't say that."

"You were my wife, Andie. Maybe I was never the perfect husband, or the perfect man, but I've lived with your disappearance every hour of every day for the past year. That should count for something, shouldn't it?"

"Logan," she breathed, responding to the pain in his voice. "I'm not Andie anymore, can't you see that? I don't exist as the same person."