Where We Stand Read online

  There’s more, he realized. A lot more.

  “She performs minor miracles daily,” the demon stated, tone slightly admiring. “Tonight, she brought a man back from the dead. Did you think there wouldn’t be a price?”

  Marc’s mouth stayed closed, but in his heart, he knew it was only a matter of time before he began talking with the ghost inside. The demon had information he needed.

  Angela stirred briefly, arching a bit. “Unbutton me, will ya?”

  Marc eagerly slid both big hands around her waist and up to her bra. He rubbed as the hook sprang free, but she was already asleep.

  Marc covered her up and sat on his side, thinking. In a bit, he would clean his guns and maybe run over for a hot shower. Right now, he had to decide if it was worth the trade to have the demon in his life. He had a lot of doubts about being able to hide it once he made that choice.

  “Marc…”

  Angie’s call was sweet, comforting, and the demon faded to allow Marc this moment alone.

  Once in the rear halls, the demon chose the door with the information scrolls. He couldn’t go far, only as much as Marc’s impenetrable cell would allow, but the words had always been in reach.

  Bitter over his imprisonment, the demon had spent decades learning from the inherited data stores. When his chance came, the demon planned to know what to do with it. If he were useful, he wouldn’t be locked up again. Marc was cruel enough to keep him in here forever, but not if there was something to deal with, and the demon went straight to the section on recovery.

  Marc settled down next to Angela’s warm body with a shudder of perfection. Her legs tangled with his, body melting against his hip, and the feeling of rightness increased. Even innocent contact between them created a feeling of isolation that Marc wanted to drown in. He drifted off thinking of the trip here, when it had been just them against the world.

  Angela, drained and hungry, let the Witch out to roam as she felt herself falling into a deeper sleep.

  “May I take from where I want?”

  Angela agreed sleepily. “Just leave Adrian alone for a bit.”

  The Witch laughed softly and vanished.

  Marc’s arms tightened unconsciously and Angela let the darkness claim her, securely locked in Marc’s dreams.

  The Witch didn’t go far, only to the information banks. There was someone she’d never been able to reach until now, not fully. She’d wanted to for decades, but hadn’t ever been able to get Angela’s permission to roam. That was the only way to open the doors between demons.

  As she slid silently into the dimly lit library, Marc’s demon froze, stunned at the sight of her. He’d never viewed his own kind before.

  The Witch cackled, gliding toward the far wall. She paused in front of a door that the demon had never been able to open.

  The Witch pushed the door gently and it slid a crack, revealing a blue light.

  The demon behind her gasped. And then came closer.

  The Witch wasn’t ready to go further with her newest access point, at least not alone, and she turned slowly. Orbs glowing deep crimson, she appraised Marc’s magical center ruthlessly.

  The demon felt her evaluation and held still under the promise of adventure he read from the charged atmosphere. The attraction he’d expected if they ever met was there, as well as a raw sense of dangerous power, but the lure of a friendship was what had him agreeing.

  “I bind myself to you for…” he paused, questioningly.

  “One day. They can manage that long,” the Witch filled in.

  “I bond myself to you for one full day,” the demon repeated gruffly. The sound of her voice was pure power–the kind he would never provoke.

  The Witch held out a hand, observing him closely, and the demon snatched her up against his chest in a tight, hungry grip. “Let’s go.”

  The Witch cackled again, turning a bit to reach the door, and they vanished into the unknown with Marc’s demon swelling in happiness.

  His light, as it grew, was bright gold.

  10

  “Home...”

  Kendle rolled over, her sleep restless. She bumped into the sharp, cold corner of the seat and jerked awake.

  They were home.

  Except, it wasn’t, not anymore. Somehow, while she wasn’t looking, Pitcairn had become her home.

  The sound of the engines coming pulled her into alertness and sent a hopeful fear into her heart. People!

  “Luke!” she whispered urgently, a bit surprised he hadn’t stirred.

  She looked over to find him huddled against their backpacks, and even in the darkness, she could see his skin had a sheen of sweat. He was worse.

  “Shit!”

  Kendle pulled the gun from her belt and slowly inched over to the window.

  “Please be good guys. Please be good guys...”

  All she could see was headlights, at least ten of them. Five trucks circling the plane like they knew she and LJ were in here. Shit!

  Kendle sank down, racing for a solution.

  “Come on out of there.”

  Make a deal!

  Kendle slowly stood up, hoping she had the courage to get them through this alive, longing to see a group of uniformed authority to help them.

  The sky was just beginning to lighten as she climbed down, the wind chilly and the sky ominous.

  The vehicles turned their lights off all at once, throwing them into darkness.

  Kendle stopped at the bottom of the short stairs, gun in her hand.

  “Two of us are coming over. Don’t shoot.”

  The fact that the voice was female went a long way in calming Kendle’s fears. “I won’t.”

  Gravel crunched as the vague shadows got closer. Kendle was able to make out hands holding lanterns that hadn’t been lit and guns on hips.

  Kendle stared at the wild women, eyes adjusting enough to show her men’s clothing and weapons, and a hardness she’d never seen in American women before.

  “You fly in?”

  Kendle nodded stupidly, staring as a lantern was lit.

  Carol motioned toward the train. “Guess you’ve figured out what happened.”

  Kendle forced herself to confirm it. “The whole country?”

  Marsha grunted, eyeing the plane. “Yep. We finally did what everyone joked about.”

  “A few times over,” Carol muttered, studying Kendle. “What ya got in the plane that you felt the need to defend?”

  Kendle reacted the way she’d been scarred. Fight or die. “My man. Why? You thinking about taking him?”

  Both women blinked at the hostile tone.

  Carol held the lantern up, now studying Kendle and her scars, as well.

  “Where you from, Hard-ass?”

  Kendle slid the gun into her belt. “Maybe that’s information I don’t care to part with.”

  Marsha glowered. “If we wanted your man, we’d take him.”

  Kendle took a step forward and growled.

  It wasn’t a warning sound or even anger. It was a victim in the corner about to spill blood in an attempt for freedom. It was a noise the two caravan leaders knew well and they both took a step back. This wasn’t the easy prey they’d hoped for when they saw the slender shadow through the plane window.

  Kendle took a deep breath, pushing back the need to kill. “You should go now.”

  Carol opened her mouth, maybe to offer a little encouragement.

  “Kendle?”

  Marsha and Carol both took another quick step back.

  “He doesn’t sound good.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  Kendle was torn–clearly they could be trouble–but she had no idea what to do to help Luke.

  “I’m not sure,” she said finally, shoulders slumping. “He was fine when we landed.”

  Marsha and carol exchanged a glance. In it, they asked if they wanted to take the chance on helping a stranger. In this new world, that wasn’t a good idea.

  “What ya got to tra
de for medicine?”

  Kendle thought fast. Not the gun, food, or water. “Blankets, a couple packs of batteries, box of candle...”

  “What about the plane?” Carol asked, eyeing the metal. It wasn’t rusting like everything they found now and it would make a good material for increasing the strength of their caravan.

  Kendle slowly nodded. “I’ll get our gear out. No gas in it, though. We coasted in on fumes.”

  Marsha had been thinking about a plane all along. This land was dead. Staying was another bad idea, but those leading their little group had outvoted her. “Stand aside and we’ll check him over.”

  Kendle moved reluctantly, praying she wasn’t making a mistake.

  The two big women climbed inside, eyeing the gear and the well-built man shaking on the floor.

  “Feverish, rapid pulse,” Marsha observed, kneeling down.

  Carol nodded, doing the same. “No puke or shit, though–not a virus.”

  She looked over to where Kendle was standing tensely in the narrow doorway. “How long you guys been here?”

  Kendle added. “A week or so.”

  “Land sickness?” Marsha asked.

  Carol shrugged. “Could be. He’s strong, still.”

  Marsha glanced at Kendle, able to see more of the bite-marks as the sun rose. “He do that to you?”

  Kendle shook her head, trying not to shudder. “No.”

  “The person dead now?”

  Kendle grinned, answer enough.

  “We’ll give him a dose of antibiotics and give you the bottle. See that he takes three of the capsules every day and don’t hide any back for the next time. If he has an infection and you don’t give him all the meds, there won’t be a next time.

  Luke struggled beneath the rough hands, hearing voices, but unable to make out the words. He’d never gotten sick so fast.

  He opened his eyes to see Kendle leaning over him in concern.

  “Let the medicine work. You’ll feel better.”

  Luke didn’t argue. He was too tired from listening to that ticking clock in his head again.

  Kendle stayed by his side as the caravan set up a tight camp around the plane and began to settle down for a few hours sleep. As soon as Luke was able to be moved, she would load him into the small jeep she’d bartered for their remaining fruit–the sight of which that had sent the group of all women into fits of drooling and shouted bids. The currency of the world had changed.

  Chapter Five

  1

  “What has he really been doing here, Angie? What’s the secret goal of Safe Haven?”

  Angela tilted the book toward Marc so that he could read the title on the first page.

  How to fix our world, one motion at a time.

  Marc opened his mouth to scoff–to make light of that impossible goal–and found only awe. Talk about high ambitions. He settled on the question that mattered most. “Can he?”

  Angela flipped the page, leaning closer so that they could both read.

  Step one: Write out a complete solution for all problems that cause murder.

  Two: Explore every possible outcome and account for them.

  Three: Go over each of these steps again.

  Four: Record the chosen results.

  Five: Put number four in the proper order according to consequence ripples.

  Six: Consider all worst-case scenarios.

  Seven: Repeat steps 1-7 until you’re 95% sure. Fate will cover the rest.

  There was a lot more listed under that one, but Marc wasn’t ready to even skim it. He leaned on the mattress instead, stretching out. He had no doubt about what was in the stack of notebooks now. Adrian had repeated steps 1-7 until he came up with a plan. And then he’d begun to follow it, line by line.

  “Who the hell is he?”

  Angela sighed unhappily. “Mankind’s last hope.”

  Marc let his hand caress a curl. “I thought that was you.”

  Angela dimpled. “I’m an advisor. He’s the light.”

  Marc tossed out a wave of need. “You’re my light.”

  Angela’s smile took his breath and replaced it with hunger–the kind that had to be satisfied.

  Marc gently pulled her down onto the bed.

  2

  “Again today?”

  Charlie denied the request regretfully. “No. We’d get caught.”

  Tracy ignored the disappointment. “You let me know when and I’m there.”

  Charlie stared at her, young heart racing. “We could do something else together.”

  Tracy started to say no and found herself asking what he had in mind.

  “Puppy duty, tray delivery, and babysitting are all on my list,” he said carefully, watching her reaction.

  Tracy sighed. “More FND, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlie didn’t add anything more. Tracy was smart enough to know what he was doing for her.

  “Something fun afterwards?”

  “What would you like to do with me?”

  Charlie’s happiness gave his words a deeper ring than what she was used to and Tracy froze as an unexpected chill of desire ran over her skin.

  Sure he hadn’t meant it that way, she searched for a proper answer. “Whatever we can do alone.”

  Now Charlie froze. The images hitting him were… indecent, and he struggled to keep her from knowing.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Tracy took in the red cheeks and stiff stance with understanding. He had remarkable control over his new hormones.

  “Okay… You sure your mom isn’t going to flip out? She has a mean swing.”

  “Over me, it would be the gun,” Charlie joked.

  “All the more reason for us to be alone,” Tracy retorted. And then flushed. “Leave it alone, I mean. We should give this up.”

  “No.”

  Charlie’s firm tone wasn’t one she had the heart to argue with yet. Tracy still hesitated, though. Right now, it was innocent–he was helping her build. When he’d offered, she hadn’t hesitated.

  “Because you like being with me, how I make you feel,” Charlie blurted. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

  Tracy didn’t mind the mental invasion, but refused to allow the lie. “Don’t you, kid?”

  Charlie didn’t lower his glowing orbs. “I only expect things from myself. It’s easier that way. Especially since I know what I’ll be capable of.”

  Tracy’s voice softened. “But you hope for things.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” he hedged uncomfortably.

  “Yes,” Tracy conceded. “I supposed we all do that.”

  She let him lock their gazes. “And you’re prepared to be disappointed?”

  The teenager grinned. “I’ve already gotten what I hoped for.”

  Tracy gazed back steadily, mostly ignoring his weak pull. “Time with me?”

  Charlie pushed out that magnetic flame and sent it rushing over her body like he’d observed Adrian do. “It means more to me. You mean more.”

  Tracy suddenly couldn’t breathe. “How do you figure?”

  “Because I’ll still want you after.”

  “Don’t do that!” Tracy snapped sharply, body lighting up as if she were with Adrian.

  Charlie took a step closer. “Everything will be better with me.”

  Tracy felt a light brush along her lips, a mental caress, and shuddered in need. “Please don’t.”

  Charlie pulled the heat in, proud of himself. He’d practiced it on several camp women before attempting this moment. He waited for her to get control of herself, aware that he might have gone too far.

  “How do you do that?”

  Charlie kept his tone light. “It’s a long story, complicated.”

  Tracy snickered at the defensively eager answer. “Better to show, right?”

  Charlie flushed, but didn’t deny it.

  Tracy giggled. “I think we’ll save that for later–much later.”

  Charlie stiffen
ed at the words and sent out another blast of heat as he spoke.

  “Will there be a later, Tracy?”

  Electric sparked and Charlie came closer as she thought about her answer. He put a hand on the stall door, leaning in. “Please?”

  Charlie pushed out the magic and Tracy sighed in defeat. Charlie begging–she held no defense against that power.

  “Yes, if you still want me when it’s legal.”

  “To hell with legal,” he muttered, bringing them within a foot of each other. “I’ll be at your flap the day I make a team.”

  Tracy struggled to fight the attraction, to form words. “I won’t… I can’t… Stop that!”

  Charlie lifted his hand, wanting to feel her skin.

  “Excuse me.”

  They both spun from the powerful moment to find the new boy–Conner–leaning against the door.

  “You done? I gotta piss.”

  Flushing scarlet, Tracy hurriedly ducked under Charlie’s arm and fled the camper, forgetting her cleaning supplies.

  Conner limped toward the stall and Charlie went to help the wounded teenager, trying not to be angry about the interruption.

  At least he had finally let Tracy know where he was going with things. And she hadn’t exactly said no. He’d had to let her in a little to reach her. Sometimes that was hard to do here. So many of the refugees had ugly, greedy minds that hurt him. It was a relief to discover that Tracy wasn’t corrupted. Her concern was for hurting the dream

  “Or you,” his Witch offered. “She doesn’t want you risking your neck for her.”

  “Too late for that,” Charlie murmured, waiting for Conner to finish.

  “She’s hot. Yours?”

  Conner’s question was blunt, curious, and friendly. Charlie didn’t pick up any disapproval and it made him careless.

  “Before the year’s out, she will be.”

  Conner took in the determined fire and recognized the common-soul. Charlie was like him… was Adrian his father?

  Charlie didn’t correct the thought, but he did bring up a thick wall. He now had secrets that he would defend, harshly if provoked.

  3

  Angela flushed as she came from the tent. “How long have you been waiting?”

  “Just got here.” Kyle chuckled at what was clearly a lie.

  “Uh-huh.”