The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(37)
Christan opened it. He stared down at the photos for several long moments.
“As you can see, they aren’t just awakening past life memories anymore,” Phillipe said. “They want more. Florence has seen an uptick in deaths staged to look like accidents, but they’re getting sloppy. And Katerina was last seen in Florence.”
“I hate Florence.”
“Everyone loves Florence. It’s one of the top vacation destinations in the world.”
“I can’t leave right now.”
“I agree you can’t leave your woman where Kace can get to her. It was a reckless thing you did, Christan. I’ve never known you to be so impulsive.”
“You’ve never known me. I was gone before Three adopted you as her pet.”
“Still, we’re grateful you survived.” Phillipe chuckled. Obviously, he knew about the one word debacle, which meant Three did, too. “Take Galaxy. She’s human. If Katerina’s memories are returning, she might be able to help. A woman’s influence and all.”
“She is not likely to accompany me anywhere, let alone half way around the world to Florence.”
“Then you’ll need to convince her, because Kace is no longer in Portland.” Phillipe stood, reaching into his pocket. He withdrew a small computer thumb drive. “This is what we have on Katerina Varga. Go to Florence, Christan. Take your woman, drink some wine, and help ease Three’s mind. Take Arsen as your chaperon if you have to. If Katerina is there, we need you to find her and bring her home. She’s someone’s mate, if not Arsen’s.”
“I hate Florence.”
“She knows you do.”
CHAPTER 15
Wallowa Mountains, Oregon
The flight from Portland to the small airport in Enterprise took an hour. From there, Christan boarded a private plane and sat restlessly through the twenty-minute flight to Arsen’s compound in the Wallowa Mountains.
The complex was nearly invisible to Google Earth technology. The landing field looked like a grassy meadow but wasn’t. If anyone bothered to study the satellite views, they might notice a few outbuildings, sheltered between the pines. Further investigation would reveal a lodge, with eight surrounding cabins, offered for private retreats aimed at executives struggling with team-building fatigue. Inevitably, someone would try to book the rustic cabins. But of course, reservations were filled for more than two years in advance, and the lodge didn’t operate during the winter.
From the air, the view was stunning. The compound was isolated in the middle of twenty thousand acres of private forest land and surrounded by the largest wilderness area in Oregon. Jagged granite peaks rivaled anything in the Rocky Mountains. At the highest elevation, deep fissures remained white with snow. Small lakes were hidden in the blue shadows, secret places that were reminiscent of a time when the world was new, clean, and filled with magic too ancient to recall. When warriors ran with the wind, thrilled to the power that made them and fought with the ferocity and pure joy of exhilaration.
The drone of the plane’s single engine had become a white-noise. The pilot didn’t speak through the earphones Christan wore, and for that he was grateful. He was lost in his thoughts, staring out through the small window to his right and not interested in conversation.
Christan wondered, now, about the curiosity that had compelled him during those early centuries, when he’d watched humans even as he killed them. Christan had not been alone with his fascination. Other warriors found the human contradictions intriguing. Hate and love. Pleasure and pain. Thought and action. Human histories—recalled at night around blazing campfires. Christan longed for what he didn’t understand, realized life could be lonely, deep in the bone. The isolation was what he knew, felt most comfortable with, and yet he still climbed mountains, searched deserts for some need he could not identify.
Perhaps his interests were too complicated. Perhaps it was a way to fill the endless years between the wars. Or perhaps it was a rebellion against the Calata’s power to control his life. There was no absolution, though. Christan knew what he was, what he had done and what he could do again with the right provocation. He’d been trapped then. He was trapped now. And he didn’t want to go to Florence.
But the last photograph Phillipe laid out had narrowed the choices down to one.
He would have to go.
He would have to take her with him.
It would be impossible to leave her alone no matter how angry he felt. Whatever she’d done in the past, she didn’t deserve what Kace would do if he found her again.
The plane skimmed the tops of the trees and landed with a little bump, but it always did. Christan looked down at his clenched right hand, forcing himself back under control. The pilot slowed to a stop at the end of the grass and then taxied back toward the lodge.
As Christan jogged down the metal steps, the last rays of the blood-orange sun were fading from the sky. A storm gathered in a purple smudge, crowding the horizon. He tipped his head back. To return to the quiet of this wilderness was to return to a freedom he could not indulge. The need to shift and run was unbearable. But there was business to discuss, a girl missing in Florence. And an Enforcer he would soon need to kill.
“How was the meeting?” Arsen’s voice was quiet, but curious in his mind.
Christan answered telepathically. “Three has concerns. She sends us a thumb drive with her files.”