Bone Deep(73)

“Leave,” he told her, “and I will not follow you. Not yet.”

She shook her head, the pain she’d been begging for nearly sweeping her off her feet. “Do not follow me at all. We will end it here.”

“I will not fight you,” he bellowed.

She took another step back, then another. Birds took flight from the canopy, disturbed from their night nests by his vehement denial.

“He’s coming,” Nameless said softly. “I can feel him.”

Bone glanced at the woman who still lay on the ground. Dmitry ran to her, helping her stand.

It was over.

“Run,” Dmitry said. “I will find you.”

“Do not seek me, Asinimov. All you will find is death,” she promised.

Joseph was coming, the sound of jeeps heading up the pass sounded clearly. Dmitry headed into the forest with Nameless.

Bone did not rub the ache in her chest. She did not allow herself to break. She put one foot in front of the other as she had always done and she made her way from the cabin, away from her past, away from Arequipa.

She stopped only once to contact Blade. She told her what had transpired and waited.

“Thank you, sister. But you must know she is not Ninka. Ninka died in that clearing and we buried her in the bone yard. She is gone to us. Whoever Nameless is, she is not ours,” Blade assured her.

Blade was in play now, searching for Nodachi and the boy and setting up the final kill that would render Joseph powerless.

“It is as it should be,” Bone whispered and hung up. She called Bullet and Arrow and whispered those same words, not giving either sister time to speak simply hanging up afterward.

In the end it did not matter that Nameless lived. Whether she was Ninka reincarnated or Ninka herself, Joseph and The Collective were going to perish.

There was more to do but Bone needed the sun and sands of her birthplace. So home she would go.





Chapter Twenty-Seven


Her walls had crumbled much as the walls of her beloved city, Jericho. She was aimless, lost, and just a crack away from being broken completely. Her world had been turned upside down by Dmitry Asinimov. He had taught her that she could feel the softer emotions and then he’d stomped on her, showing her that in the end the only thing softer emotions earned you was pain.

She walked along the banks of the Jordan River and knew no peace. She walked the city bazaars in the heart of a bustling Jericho but it did not succor her.

It wasn’t until she’d stepped onto the plains of Jericho that she knew she must go to Masada. She stood on the sands of the plains until her feet burned and her skin was fire. She soaked up as much warmth as her cold soul could carry and then she set out for Masada.

She walked for five days, taking care to remain as far from civilization as possible. She kept the Dead Sea to her left and the rest of the world to the right and on the fifth day, she came to her beloved rock.

The high, barren plateau had called to her and she answered. She waited until the tourist groups left each day and then she ventured into the ruins, touching walls she left long ago and remembering the pain of her parent’s betrayal.

It was similar to Dmitry’s yet different. She had never loved her parents. They had not surprised her with their actions. Dmitry had.

But wouldn’t she have done the same thing for her sisters?

At night, she slept in a tent she’d purchased in Jericho. She stayed far away from the camp where her parents had been killed but resolved that she would eventually need to visit the place. She would never have closure but she could fight with the ghosts of her past—maybe purge some of the hate that continued to build.

The nights at Masada were filled with conflict. She did not pray as there was nothing left to pray for but she stared up into the twinkling eyes of God and she talked to Him. Sometimes she raged. Sometimes she taunted. But she returned every night and left every morning hoarse from the discourse.

She did not find her peace because she realized she would never know that until Joseph was gone from the earth. But as close as she’d come since she’d lain in Dmitry’s arms, she knew a form of tranquility and it was good.

She’d been there for ten days when she recognized the itch at the base of her skull. She scouted to find her pursuer but found no sign of anyone. Perhaps it was Arrow’s demons seeking her out. Maybe her time was close.

Another day passed, more tourists came and Bone decided she would stay here for as long as it took. Blade would call her SAT phone when it was time to meet her sisters. Until then she would remain.

She longed for her journal. The ancient Torah had been her great-great-great-grandfather’s, passed down through the generations and she’d snuck it into the single bag Joseph allowed her bring with her when he took her.

She longed for her bag and the items it held but they were gone—lost to a war she’d helped begin. Lost to her cause.

She did not visit Masada that night. The clouds blocked her vision of the sky and she couldn’t stand being cut off from His eyes. It was as close as she’d ever come to Him.

So she lay down on the sands of her tent and she rested. Tomorrow she would visit the place where she had been formed.

?●?

She was well off her game. He’d been hovering on her periphery for two days and though she had to feel his scope on her, she’d simply scouted once, not really looking for his sign and then she’d given up searching altogether.