Lovers Sacrifice Page 8

  Both women scowled at him, and Mason couldn’t help wondering how wise it was to antagonize two people who apparently carried concealed knives on their persons at all times.

  “Which I say with all the respect and admiration in the world for my two comrades, of course,” Xander added, possibly coming to the same—if slightly belated—conclusion.

  Their flat stares made Mason think that vengeance would likely be extracted at some unknown future date, but for now, they let it slide. Oksana’s gaze met his for the barest instant before darting away. Without a word, she turned and walked back the way they’d come.

  The other woman’s china blue eyes followed her. She met Xander’s eyes, a furrow between her perfectly plucked brows. “I’ll talk to her,” she muttered. “You get things set up with le docteur.”

  With that, she spun on her heel and followed her friend, disappearing into the darkness beyond the floodlights’ pool of illumination. Mason gave Xander a questioning look.

  “What was that about?” he asked, hoping for some clue as to Oksana’s apparent aversion to him.

  Xander flashed a quick smile that did not touch his eyes. “Nothing for you to worry about, mate,” he said mildly. “Now, since we’re apparently heading out into no-man’s land, let’s you and I talk logistics.”

  *

  “I don’t know how to feel about this,” Oksana whispered into the darkness, feeling an unaccustomed need to unburden herself. “If Bael’s minions are really taking children from the front lines, this is going to be complicated enough without him there.”

  “What is it, exactly, that you’re worried about?” Duchess asked, moving alongside to walk at Oksana’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know!” she snapped, her frustration spilling over. “Everything. Nothing.”

  Duchess sighed and tossed her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder. “That’s helpful.”

  “Look,” Oksana said, pulling Duchess to a stop in the shadows of the derelict buildings around them. “I can’t deal the fact that this is happening right now. There’s too much going on. First Damascus, and now this mess with the children and the rebels—”

  Duchess met her gaze squarely, blue eyes glowing. “You can’t escape it, though. This is happening, whether you want it to or not.”

  Oksana frowned at her friend, who looked back with an uncompromising expression.

  “I can see this is hard for you, petite soeur,” Duchess continued, “but you’re strong. You always have been. You can get through this like you’ve gotten through everything else. For, truly, what other choice is there in the end?”

  With a heavy sigh, Oksana looked up into Duchess’ face. “How on earth do I tell him the truth?”

  “The truth? That you were the one who killed him?” Duchess asked.

  “All of it.” The words were a hoarse whisper. Their truth—the truth of Bael, and the evil that was nearly upon them—was knowledge she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy, much less a soul she’d once loved more than her own life.

  “I don’t know,” Duchess admitted, “but perhaps that conversation can wait for another time. He doesn’t need to know any of the specifics right now. Things will make more sense to him after he’s been turned.”

  “What?” Oksana yelped, stepping back in shock.

  “You haven’t thought that far ahead?” Duchess said wryly. “Come, now, ma petite. You need to get your mind back in the game. Think about Tré and Eris. Both of their mates have been turned. With what we know about the prophecy, you need to expect that le docteur will be, too.”

  Oksana made a disgusted noise and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I can’t think about that. Let’s just see if we can find these missing children, and then go from there, all right?”

  Duchess stared at her, but gave in. “You can’t avoid this forever,” she said pointedly.

  Oksana spun on her heel and started walking again. “Watch me try.”

  SIX

  A FEW HOURS BEFORE dawn, Mason finally sank onto a spare cot in the corner of one of the tents they borrowed from the American Red Cross. His eyes itched and burned with exhaustion, but he couldn’t quiet his mind enough to fall asleep. Thoughts and plans chased themselves around his brain, keeping him alert when all he wanted to do was rest.

  Knock it off, he told himself sternly. Forcing his eyes to close and his breathing to deepen, he tried to resurrect the talent for napping that had served him well in medical school and, later, as an overworked resident doctor. After lying completely still for what felt like over an hour, he finally gave up.

  Bugger. Guess I’m pulling another all-nighter.

  He rolled upright and pulled his laptop out of the rucksack full of stuff he’d been able to salvage from the wreckage of the clinic.

  Luckily, the battery still had some life, and he was able to connect to the Red Cross Wi-Fi. Good on the Americans. He logged onto Skype and saw that his brother was online.

  At least that was a lucky break. He quickly tapped out a greeting on the Instant Messaging app and hit send, hoping that he would catch Jack before he went to get dinner.

  Mason: You busy?

  Jack: Just trying to finish up some work. Nothing important. How ya doing there, brah? Heard on the news you got shook up a couple of days ago.

  Mason paused, his fingers poised over the keyboard. There was so much that he wanted to tell his brother, but it felt like the words were stuck inside him, like there was a block between his brain and his fingers.

  Before he could decide what to say, another message popped up.

  Jack: Isn’t it like 4am there? Or am I off in my reckoning?

  Mason: No, you’re right.

  Jack: What the bloody blazes are you doing up so early? Everything OK?

  Mason: …I never went to sleep.

  As if to punctuate the statement, Mason yawned widely. He felt as if his jaw might crack open, and his eyes watered.

  Jack: What happened, eh? That’s not like you.

  The gentle question seemed to unblock Mason’s brain, and he knew where to start the story.

  Mason: It’s been one hell of a couple of days. First, we were getting ready to do nighttime meds for the kids, and so everyone was up at the office. The earthquake struck just as we started passing out meds and the roof collapsed on top of us.

  Jack: Oh my god, are you all right?! They said it wasn’t a bad one!

  Mason: Yeah, that makes it sound worse than it was, honestly. The office was made of some really shoddy materials, or it wouldn’t have come down. Thankfully, there were no serious injuries. A few of the kids needed help getting out and we have some minor stuff, but nothing too bad.

  Jack: Jesus, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay but damn, that’s bad luck. Especially after the craziness with that kid who got hold of the gun.

  Mason: Yeah, I hear you on that. I need some sanity, too. Because then? Things got REALLY crazy.

  Jack: Something worse than an earthquake and a roof collapsing on top of you?

  Mason tapped his fingers over the keyboard, composing his thoughts.

  Mason: Three strangers ran up to the clinic to help us get the kids out. And one of them was this woman…

  Jack: OMG that is so totally you.

  Mason: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  Jack: *snort* What do you think? Only you would pick up a woman in a disaster zone.

  Mason: I DIDN’T PICK HER UP. I just… I don’t know. She’s gorgeous. Gorgeous, and brave, and great with the kids.

  Jack: You totally picked her up.

  Mason: Not hardly, mate.

  Jack: …

  Mason: … but I can’t stop thinking about her now. It’s like she’s just hanging out in my head. She helped get the kids out and they worked with the staff to get everyone to safety. They spent all evening with us.

  Jack: You’ve got it bad, brah. This sounds like a serious crush if you’re that smitten after only a few hours. That’s not like you, Mister Love-�
�Em-and-Leave-‘Em.

  Mason: Don’t be an arse. Besides, she acts like she doesn’t want to be within a hundred feet of me. It’s probably all in my head, and it’ll be gone after I’ve gotten some sleep.

  Jack: Yeah, maybe. And since you brought it up, when WAS the last time you slept?

  Mason: Uhhh, I got up at 5am yesterday. I think?

  Jack: Jesus. Get some damn rest already!

  Mason: I’ve been trying. I can’t get my brain to turn off.

  Jack: Uh-huh. Thinking about this woman?

  Mason: Yeah, I guess. And some other things, too. So you know those weird stories that I’ve been telling you about? Where the kids go missing and then turn up on some sort of drug making them really screwed up and ultra-violent?

  Jack: Yeah

  Mason: Well, I finally have a plan to get to the bottom of those reports. These people—the ones who helped at the clinic—they want me to go with them to some of the remote villages and get a first-hand account.

  Jack: Going in there to kick ass and take names, little brother?

  Mason: Haha, yeah right LOL. No, we just want to get some information to see what we can find out.

  Jack: And you’re going with this mystery woman? What’s her name?

  Mason: Oksana, and yeah she’s going.

  Jack: OK, so here’s what you have to do. 1) Don’t fuck it up. 2) Send me a picture of her ASAP.

  Mason: LOL all right, fine. I’ll get with you once we come back.

  Jack: You do that, brah. Be safe and let me know how things are.

  Mason: You got it, J. ttyl.

  Mason turned the power off to conserve the battery and set the laptop on the floor next to the cot. He leaned back, finally feeling like he had siphoned off enough of his swirling restlessness to sleep. As soon as he got settled and pulled a blanket up over his shoulder, though, he heard some of the boys around him starting to stir.

  Argh, no, please just go back to sleep, Mason thought, a bit desperately.

  Unfortunately, his wishful thinking was not enough to quiet the boys, who were now clambering around and talking to one another.

  “Dr. Walker,” one of them whispered.

  When Mason did not immediately respond, he felt a couple of jabs on his shoulder.

  He let out a sigh and cracked open one eyelid. “This had better be an emergency.”

  “We’re hungry,” the boy said earnestly.

  By the time he had scrounged up a meal for the boys and the other children who had started to wake up, he had long given up on the thought of sleep.

  Maybe I can catch an hour or two this afternoon, he thought, stifling a yawn.

  *

  Oksana, Xander, and Duchess showed up as Mason was helping Gita settle the boys after the evening meal of rice. Mason had to wonder what business they had that kept them occupied during the day—he realized that he’d only ever seen them after the sun set.

  Xander tossed him a sturdy rucksack.

  “Here,” he said. “We packed one for you.”

  Mason caught it and hefted it, testing the weight. He rifled through the contents and found a medical kit, satellite phone, several bottles of water, and some snacks.

  “It should be enough for a day or so traveling light,” Xander commented as he hefted his own rucksack over his shoulder.

  “What are we doing for transportation?” Mason asked.

  “I have some contacts,” Oksana said, not looking at him. He watched her curiously as she stuffed several packages of pretzels into her bag.

  “Closet pretzel aficionado, then?” Mason asked conversationally. He wanted to learn everything he could about the woman standing before him, and right now, he knew almost nothing. He felt inexplicably drawn to her, more so than he could ever remember feeling toward a woman. The instinct to reach out and touch her was nearly overwhelming—

  Jesus, mate, get a grip, Mason thought, mentally shaking his head at himself. A pleasant buzz that had seemed to creep over his entire body as he looked at her, but his was no time for fantasizing. There were kids’ lives in the balance, for god’s sake.

  “Among other things,” Oksana said, still not meeting his eyes.

  Mason blinked in confusion, having completely lost the thread of their conversation. It took an awkward moment for his brain to catch up with her words.

  “Oh,” he finally said, remembering the snacks. “So you’re a non-denominational snack food lover, then?”

  “Oksana considers herself a connoisseur of all things that come in crinkly plastic packages,” Duchess said.

  Mason thought he saw Oksana elbow the other woman in the ribs, but it was so quick he couldn’t be entirely certain. “Hmm. It’s a trap, you see,” he joked. “They get you hooked on one snack, and then it leads to another, and another, and another…”

  Almost despite herself, she bestowed a quick smile on him that made his heart soar, before she abruptly turned back towards the others.

  “Are we ready?” she asked. “I think I hear our ride approaching.”

  “Yes, I believe we’re good to go,” Xander said, after a quick glance around.

  “Yeah, we’re ready,” Mason reiterated, eyeing the battered Land Cruiser that pulled up with some trepidation.

  It was well founded, as it turned out. Any thought he had of sleeping on the ride was quickly dashed. Oksana’s contact took them along back roads and rutted tracks. The potholes and damaged parts of the road pitched and tossed them like dinghies on a stormy sea.

  The experience was not helped by the darkness, broken only by the crazily bouncing yellow beam of the single working headlight. By the time they finally arrived at their destination, many hours later, Mason felt mildly queasy. He rubbed his neck, which ached from being jerked around so much.

  “Well. That was certainly unpleasant,” he said as he stood and tried to stretch the kinks out of his spine.

  Oksana looked sheepish, but surprisingly unruffled by the jouncing. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I should’ve warned you that this gentleman has an aversion to driving the more well-traveled roads.”

  “What’s the problem with at least using a gravel road?” Mason couldn’t help asking. While this village was remote enough that there would have been at least some rough travel regardless, they could certainly have used the better roads to start with.

  “He tries to avoid drawing too much attention,” she answered, her tone evasive.

  Mason raised a curious eyebrow at her retreating back before his attention settled on the sway of her hips. He blinked himself back into awareness of his surroundings and followed behind her, only to have his gaze caught Xander’s knowing eye.

  “What are you staring at?” Mason asked, a bit defensively, feeling his face heat up despite his best efforts. Good god above—what had gotten into him?

  “Nothing at all, Ozzie,” Xander replied blandly. “Nothing at all.”

  Right, Mason thought. So much for subtlety.

  “Look—” Mason began, but Xander interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

  “Say no more. You’ve got nothing to explain to me, old chap,” he said.

  Mason scowled, trying to get a read on him, but he was distracted when he realized that Oksana and Duchess had led them past the center of the village and were heading towards a run-down building, barely visible in the starlight.

  Mason increased his stride to catch up to Oksana. “Have you been here before?” he asked.

  She didn’t turn to look at him. “Yes. This is Mama Lovelie’s place.”

  “Mama Lovelie? Who’s that?”

  She did meet his eyes, then—but only for an instant. “You’ll see.”

  With that, she knocked twice. There was a short stretch of silence, but then a sharp command to enter issued from the back of the structure, despite the ungodliness of the hour. Oksana pushed the door open and stepped inside, not waiting for anyone to appear and let them in.

  Still feeling confused and out of his depth, M
ason followed Oksana inside, with Xander and Duchess right behind them.

  “What are we doing here?” Mason asked, lack of sleep erasing the filter between his brain and his mouth. “When I was here before, I spoke to a man on the village council. Will this woman know anything about the missing children?”

  Oksana was a black silhouette against the dark gray of the unlit room.

  “Mama Lovelie is a mambo—a vodou priestess,” she said. “If we’re going to embark on such a mission as this, we should have the blessings of the vodou spirits—the loa—first. As a mambo, Mama Lovelie has a direct connection with them, and can appeal to them on our behalf.”

  Mason regarded her, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Do you really believe in spirits?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  Oksana hesitated, throwing a look at her companions, who were still standing near the door.

  “Yes,” she said. “I do believe in spirits. I don’t know if they are exactly as we Haitians believe them to be, but it certainly can’t hurt to ask for some good fortune with our quest.”

  Could it hurt? No. But superstition wouldn’t help them, either. Still, there was no reason for him to trample on anyone’s beliefs, even if he was sleep deprived and impatient to get started with what they’d come for.

  “I suppose that’s true,” he said neutrally.

  A derisive snort came from across the room. They turned as one to see a small woman with dark skin leaning against a doorframe, holding a lit candle. She had short, iron gray braids covering her head, and there was an odd expression on her face.

  “Mama Lovelie, I don’t know if you remember me—” Oksana began, only to be abruptly cut off.

  “I know who you are,” Mama Lovelie said. “Or, rather, I know what you are.”

  Oksana blanched, her cafe-au-lait complexion going pale in the flickering candlelight.

  Mason glanced towards the others in confusion, only to find that their features had gone cold and wary.

  “I know what you are,” Mama Lovelie repeated in a quieter tone. “Why have you come here? You see, at my age I don’t have a lot of time for small talk. Not when there’s work to be done!” She tipped her chin up, looking down her nose at them despite the fact that all of them, except Oksana, were several centimeters taller than she was. She lifted an imperious eyebrow. “I’m a very busy woman, you know.”