The Three Fates of Ryan Love (18 page)

“Dad told me I needed to step up and be a man. He was ashamed of me.
I
was ashamed of me, but it killed me seeing it in his eyes. Only time I ever did. But there's no mistaking it.”

She nodded.

“You saw it, too?”

She knew she shouldn't nod again, but she couldn't lie. Not just because he'd sense it, but because he deserved the truth.

“That was the first time I was able to summon a vision of you. I'd been thinking of you so hard and there you were.” Beautiful, golden skinned, face soft with youth but filled with the promise of the man he'd become. “The twins were playing in the water, but you weren't paying attention to them. You were . . . distracted.”

Ryan nodded. “The girl in the purple bikini.”

Sabelle still remembered the flare of jealousy as she'd watched him watch her. “The bikini distracted you.” What was inside it fascinated him. “I knew the twins had gone out too deep and I . . .
pushed.
I shoved my warning at you, trying to get you to look away. But I'd never done such a thing before. I didn't know how.”

Ryan's gaze narrowed. She had his attention now.

“I felt it,” he murmured, his tone mystified. “Like a voice in my head. I just heard it too late.”

She blinked, certain she'd misunderstood. “You heard me?”

“Not just then either. Other times, too. I didn't know what I was feeling, but . . .”

She held her breath, waiting for what he would say.

“I felt you.” He smiled, the smoldering light in his eyes again, traveling over her face, lingering on her throat, dropping to her breasts. “I just didn't know you were . . . you.”

That look made her feel alive. Jittery. Hungry. He knew it, of course. He noticed the way she caught her breath, curled her fingers tight, and avoided his eyes. He noticed everything.

Trying to hide how much what he'd said meant to her, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and forced herself to look up.

“You want to hear something crazy?” he said at last, and the look he gave her was filled with turmoil. “It's like ever since I heard you scream, I feel like I've been flying blind, making all the wrong decisions.”

“What do you mean?”

He frowned, searching for his words. “After my dad died, it was just me trying to raise Reece and Roxanne. You know that? Ruby helped, but she was young, too.”

Sabelle nodded. She remembered, but she had no idea how this related to what went on inside his head now.

“You don't get through being responsible for three kids without learning how to make decisions. Without trusting your instincts. But since you . . .”

Her mouth was dry, her heart fast. He looked up again and his eyes glittered. He leaned in.

“These past couple days . . . I've been lost, reacting without thinking it through. I thought it was because so much was going on. You. The explosion. My dad showing up on the porch . . .” He took a deep breath. “Now I . . . I see I'm not just turned around, I'm drifting.”

Within his eyes she saw the real question. A plea he was too much of a man to speak.

“You're dealing with something that defies explanation, Ryan. You can't decide on a course of action when what you're fighting changes all the rules. It's not that you don't know what to do. It's that everything you do can be used against you.”

“I get that, but . . . it's something more. It's me. It's you.”

Me . . . you . . . but not
us. She craved that word like she did food. She waited, unsure where he'd take it from there. Afraid there'd been blame. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe it wasn't you who made me doubt,” he murmured, holding her gaze. “Maybe it was me.”

She lifted her chin, searching his eyes for the truth. Wanting it to be there so desperately she could hardly breathe.

“Maybe I didn't always do what you wanted me to, Sabelle. But that doesn't mean I wasn't listening. I'm still listening, but you're not there anymore.”

It sounded like he was saying he missed her. Like they'd shared unity, if not worlds. That he'd depended on her guidance. Her partnership in his life.

Her gaze shifted to his lips, wanting him to utter more words like those. “Your instincts have always been good, Ryan. That's all you.”

“But you believed in me.”

“I still do. I trust you with my life.”

An almost-smile curved his lips. “Last year, there was this guy,” he said, voice a velvet rumble in the quiet café. “He walked across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope. I watched every step on TV and I thought, what would make someone do that? Something so irreversible, so reckless. There was no net. Nothing between him and a plunge to death but his belief that he'd make it to the other side.”

She understood what he was saying. She felt it deep inside her. The thrill of it. The danger. The absolute stupidity of taking the risk and letting herself become more involved with him, of believing the other side existed and could be reached.

“Sometimes I feel like I've known you my whole life,” he said.

“The human soul doesn't measure in time,” she answered.

He gave her that
Ryan
look. The one that said,
What new bullshit is this?

She said, “People find each other because they were meant to be together. I see it all the time.”

“Because you make it happen?”

“Because it was meant to be.”

She searched his face but couldn't read his thoughts. Instead she probed, seeking the answer to all things Ryan. Knowing that in a thousand human lifetimes, she'd never really understand him. She didn't care. Every piece of him she uncovered was like a gem she could hold in her hand and cherish, even if it was the last thing she did.

Ryan stood, nodded toward the restroom, and said he'd be right back. Sabelle sat in the quiet, waiting, when a low hissing noise snaked through the deserted café, making her look up. The television in the corner had turned on and the screen flashed white static. Frowning, she stared at it, noticing the dangling cord that wasn't even plugged into the outlet. Suddenly the static crackled and images flashed across the screen. A news desk appeared, with two serious newscasters staring out from the television.

“The Tempe family, famous for their extraordinary near-death experiences, is in the news again,” the clean-cut African American anchorman said, leveling an intense stare at the camera. “First their pub, Love's, was destroyed in an explosion that rocked Mill Avenue around three this morning.”

The perky blonde sitting next to him leaned forward and asked, “Have they isolated the cause of—”

Her voice was abruptly silenced, yet Sabelle could still see her lips moving. For a moment the picture stayed that way, and some hopeful part of her brain tried to explain what she saw right up until the moment when the image changed.

The camera swung to the right and focused on a beautiful dark-haired woman with tilted, cold eyes and a serene expression who had calmly entered the studio. Familiar, hated—feared—Aisa, the most vicious of the Sisters, moved to the broadcast desk and perched gracefully on one of the tall high-backed chairs behind it. On either side of her, the two anchors spoke to the cameras with earnest expressions on their faces and silenced words on their lips. Aisa sat between them, unnoticed, focused only on Sabelle. She stared with a look that made Sabelle's blood run cold.

Aisa smiled placidly as images of destruction flashed in the upper-right corner of the screen and the anchors detailed the devastation on Mill Avenue caused by an unexplained gas leak.

Still Aisa said nothing, but her steady, malevolent stare made Sabelle break into a cold sweat. Her muscles began to ache with the effort to hide the treacherous tremble in her hands, her knees, her constricted lungs. Aisa couldn't cross over to the human world. Not physically, not
really.
But Sabelle was not so foolish as to think that made her safe. The powerful Sister was insidious. She couldn't collect Sabelle herself, but she would use other means. Deadly ones.

Aisa leaned forward on her chair as a new picture took the place of the smoldering street where Love's had been.

Like the footage that had been shown before, there was smoke, but as the camera panned out, Sabelle understood that the scene had changed. From the thick black cloud, a woman emerged. She'd been badly beaten, her face battered and broken, her arms and legs bruised and bloody. Still, Sabelle recognized her. Nadia—her friend.

“No,” Sabelle breathed.

Nadia looked terrified. Tears streamed down her face. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths. Sabelle couldn't look away, but she knew what was coming, and not because she'd seen it in a vision.

“There is only one way to free an oracle,” Aisa said in her dry, clipped tones, drawing Sabelle's attention from the unfolding horror. “One for every day you defy me. A reaper is on the way for your lover. I expect you to make use of his services and return with him.”

The television screen went black, but the sound continued. Meaty, bloody, violent. There were screams and there were pleas. Until the end, when there was only silence.

R
yan opened the car door and let Brandy out to inhale her eggs and bacon. He could feel Sabelle watching him from the front seat of the car and he was rattled by the realizations he'd made tonight. She'd been guiding him and he'd been fighting her for most of his life. At the same time, he'd come to depend on her. She was a sounding board he hadn't even known he'd been using.

He gave Brandy water from his bottle and let her visit the grassy patch again before silently climbing behind the wheel and turning north once more. The itchy feeling that had been under his skin since leaving Tempe was worse now that they'd neared the red rocks of Sedona. It felt as if their destination had sunk tenterhooks into his flesh and towed him inescapably closer to a point that couldn't possibly end well.

The silence between the two of them had become as thick and textured as the night outside their windows. He guessed she'd been doing some thinking, too. She was deep in thought now and as still as a marble statue.

They'd only gone a handful of miles when suddenly she snapped out of it. “Wait,” she exclaimed. “Slow down.”

Ryan glanced in his rearview mirror to make sure no one was behind him before slowing the car. The road was dark. Budget cuts had doused every other streetlight and they were caught between the glowing orbs. The fat moon lent a hand but there was too much night to battle. He almost passed the road that veered off to the right before his high beams picked it out and illuminated it.

“Here. Turn right here,” Sabelle said.

He'd known she was going to say it but it still filled him with dread as he cranked the wheel. The prickly feeling at his nape grew.

“Where are we going, Sabelle?”

She shook her head, but she sat at the edge of her seat, the safety belt trying to hold her back as she leaned forward.

Trees lined the road, some scraggly and brown, cooked by summer heat or frozen by the winter chill. Hard to tell in the glancing beams of his headlights as they drove through. The pitted surface made Ryan wince as he maneuvered the low carriage of Reece's car over it. They'd gone about a mile without a sign of life when Ryan caught the first glimpse of them. Two men stood in the middle of the road, just past the curve, holding high-powered lanterns. Waiting.

“I don't like the look of this,” he said, slowing the car as they rounded the bend.

Sabelle asked, “Who are they?”

“Got me. This is your show.”

He stopped about a hundred feet in front of them and got out. Far enough away that the two men would have to sprout wings and fly to reach them before Ryan and Sabelle could scramble back inside the car. Close enough to hear what they had to say.

The high beams threw the two men into the spotlight and kept Ryan and Sabelle in shadow. Aware of Sabelle getting out on the other side, Ryan clicked his tongue for Brandy and crossed in front of the hood to meet her. His dog padded at their feet, her head high, tail straight as they approached. Alert, ready for trouble. She gave the two men a warning bark that filled Ryan with pride. When roused, a German shepherd can radiate menace. He was never more thankful to have her at his side.

The older of the two men was in his fifties, had steely hair, fair skin, and deep lines on his face. His buzz cut said military. The hard look in his eyes said commander. Dressed in dusty blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a denim shirt that looked like it had been washed a thousand times, he might be masquerading as a hired hand, but Ryan wasn't fooled.

He leveled a stare at the three of them that was as cold as the night and alive with a hard glint of cunning. Even from a hundred feet, Ryan could feel the man taking in every detail of his appearance, assessing his threat potential and evaluating options should it come down to a fight. The old guy looked tough, hard with muscle that hadn't withered with age and with the kind of readiness that said he wouldn't hesitate to use deadly force. Not for a second.

In contrast, the man next to him had a cool, sophisticated air. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Tall and trim with polished black skin, he made Ryan think of a
GQ
ad. The kind that juxtaposed expensive city clothes against the rough-and-ready West. The commander looked like he'd been working since sunrise; GQ had probably spent the morning deliberating between blue socks or black. Or so it might seem. Ryan truly doubted that either carefully constructed image was real.

The commander held a baseball bat. GQ had a smile. Ryan knew which one he'd take at face value.

He grabbed Sabelle's hand when she would have approached and pulled her back. “Stay behind me.”

“Why?”

“If the old man starts swinging, I stand a better chance of walking away.”

“State your business,” the commander said in a low, hard voice.

“Joel,” GQ reprimanded. Still wearing the easy smile, the tall man took a step forward and held out a hand.

“I'm Elijah Douglas,” he said. “This is my partner, Joel Kesher.”

Ryan stayed where he was, ignoring the hand. Brandy revved her engine and flashed her canines for good measure. GQ's smile faltered. Behind him, he felt Sabelle shift restlessly.

“You're Ryan Love,” Elijah said.

Ryan didn't know why he was surprised to hear his name. He'd known the minute they turned down this dirt road that what they'd find at the end would be every bit as strange as Sabelle's appearance in his life. Still, it shook him. Made him feel like he lived in a cage and everyone who walked by had the need to rattle it.

“Wa Chu,” Sabelle said under her breath.

Yeah, Ryan had figured that out, too.

The commander gave Sabelle a hard look. “You've made a mess of things,” he said.

“Joel,” Elijah admonished. “Take it down a notch.”

Surprisingly, Joel nodded, and the bat he'd held clenched at the ready eased to his side. He kept a tight grip on it, though. The stretched knuckles said it all.

“What's your name, honey?” Elijah asked.

“You don't need to know her name. We're not here to make friends,” Ryan answered, wondering why they'd known his and not hers.

“Ah. So you're just passing through?” Elijah asked with a pointed look over his shoulder at the barren stretch of dirt behind him. “Or did you come because you felt like you should?”

“We got your invitations,” Ryan acknowledged.

Joel made a strangled sound. Elijah shot him a look that had a lot to say. Unfortunately, Ryan didn't speak the language.

“I'm glad to hear it. I'd like to hear more, as a matter of fact,” Elijah told Ryan. “But this isn't the place for that conversation. Not in the open.”

“Why not?” Ryan said, irked by this cat-and-mouse game.

“Because that's the way it needs to be,” Joel said coldly.

The bat moved up a few inches. Elijah reached over and pushed it down. He angled his body so Ryan and Sabelle wouldn't see his face and said something to the older man in a low voice. Joel responded in kind, tension radiating off him in waves. Elijah rested a hand against the side of the other man's neck and touched his forehead to Joel's.

Ryan glanced at Sabelle, who watched with wide eyes and parted lips. After a moment, Joel relaxed, gave a small nod, and Elijah stepped back. Ryan realigned his opinions of the two. He'd thought Joel was the force to reckon with. Apparently he had it wrong.

“Come with us,” Joel finally said, lifting his lantern in his other hand.

“I don't think so,” Ryan retorted.

“Told you he'd say that,” Joel muttered to Elijah as he turned his back and started walking toward a path that wove its way through the dense woods. He didn't wait for a response or even look back to see if anyone followed.

Elijah watched him go with a shake of his head, but there was an amused look on his face when he turned back to Ryan and Sabelle.

“We have a rental house about a quarter mile down the road,” he said. “You can't miss it.”

“We can if we try.”

Elijah smiled. “Did you come all this way just to turn around and go home? Or did you come for answers?”

Sabelle squeezed his hand, her expression excited and eager. Here at last was what she'd been looking for. The
X
that marked the spot where her questions converged.

“You're going to want to hear what we have to say, Ryan.” Elijah cast his dark eyes on Sabelle. “About her.” He paused for effect. “And about a certain twisted Sister who's decided you're expendable.”

Ryan felt cold all over. He gave Sabelle an uneasy glance and caught a look of dismay on her face. He'd known all along that she had secrets, but some messed-up part of him wanted to hear them from Sabelle, not these two strangers he already didn't trust. But answers about the Sisters who made Sabelle tremble, he'd take any way he could get.

Elijah tossed him a key ring and Ryan caught it automatically.

“I know you're thinking you must be insane to even consider following two strangers into the woods. But tell me something, Ryan. Has anything in your life been sane since she came into it?”

Ryan hated to admit that he had a point. “Adding another level of crazy isn't going to make things right,” he said.

“But wouldn't it be nice to have your questions answered?”

“Why should I believe anything you tell me?”

“Because I've walked in your shoes. Because on a clear day, I can see the future. Because you need our help, whether you want to believe it or not.”

With a knowing look, Elijah turned and followed Joel into the forest. Over his shoulder he called, “We've got a full kitchen and cold beer already stocked in the fridge. Amstel Light, Ryan. And a fresh bottle of Reservoir Rye.”

Ryan's favorite.

“I only drink with people I like,” Ryan said.

Elijah turned and walked backward. “You're going to want to rethink that.”

Ryan cursed under his breath. Brandy made a high, whining sound and Sabelle cast him a worried glance. The layers of darkness rushed the edges of their headlights as Elijah disappeared and a gust of wind came from nowhere, whisking through tree limbs, turning the forest into a symphony of creaks and commotion. Instincts older than caves told Ryan shelter—any shelter—needed to be found. Now.

“A drink, Ryan,” Elijah's disembodied voice carried back as his lantern bobbed in the distance. “Hear us out. Be on your way if you don't like what we have to say.”

Ryan looked at Sabelle. “What do you think?”

He saw wariness in her eyes, but she said, “I don't think we can afford to turn our backs on someone who might help us.”

She was right. They'd answered the invitation. He'd turned when she'd said
Here
, and driven down a dark road with no idea what waited for them. It seemed ridiculous to turn around now just because Joel had rubbed him the wrong way
.

But it wasn't just that. Ryan realized a part of him was afraid of the answers the two men would give. About Sabelle, who'd somehow become important to him in the span of a couple of days. More than important. Vital.

Besotted
.

“You get ten minutes to convince me,” Ryan said loud enough to be heard. “After that, we're gone.”

“It'll only take five.” The light quit bobbing. Elijah was standing still now. Not far away, but still obscured by the gloom. “This path cuts straight through. I'll be there before you are. The road passes our house on the left. Once you see it, keep going for a bit. The road snakes back on itself before straightening out again. The cabin's on the right.”

With that he was gone. Ryan watched the light disappear, hating that itchy feeling telling him he'd just been jobbed. Behind the wheel, he hesitated.

“You think they mean us harm?” Sabelle asked before he started the engine.

Ryan didn't know how to answer that. He couldn't shake the bad feeling that they'd been baited, but he was wound too tight to base decisions on his gut. Years of fighting had taught him to trust the doubt as much as the instinct. “They knew my name, but they didn't know
yours.
That doesn't strike you as odd?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Who am I to say what's odd?”

They followed Elijah's directions past the large ­A-frame on the left and through the loops of the winding road to the smaller cabin he'd told them about in a secluded cove just beyond it. The cabin was all lit up inside but both men waited on the wide porch in front of it.

Split rails and river rock worked in tandem to make the dwelling solid while blending it with the rustic surroundings. Pine and oak trees circled it like a snow-dusted posse. A high-wattage light gave the gravel drive a bright glow and the moon had finally lifted its head above the treetops. Lurid dark pooled in the distance and slid through the forest like a toxic mist held at bay by illumination.

Ryan parked, opened his door, and took a deep breath of wintry air. Sabelle stepped from the car on the other side, cheeks pink and her breath pluming in front of her.