Dirk And Steele: The Wild Road Part 25

The policeman still looked at Lannes and Koni. "You sure you're okay?"

This time she found it easier to put a smile on her face. "Positive."

"Okay, then." The officer took a step back toward his car, which was crackling with radio chatter. "If you don't mind, ma'am, I'd like all of you to come to the station with me. I need to let people know they can call off the search. And you should call your parents."

Parents. Family. She felt dizzy. Terror clawed up her throat.

No, she thought. No.

Lannes swayed toward her, the edge of his wing brushing her arm. "I don't suppose she could make her calls from the hotel, could she? You can call off the search, but as far as letting her family know... the hotel would be more private."

"I'm sorry," the officer said, still moving backward toward his car. "I need to call this in."

At the back of her mind, the anchor stirred. That voice. Runa.

The dead woman's presence poured up from the abyss of Lethe's lost memories like a flower blooming in fast motion, filling her, but this time not in complete control.

Do it, Runa said. Stop him.

No, Lethe replied. I won't hurt him.

No, the voice explained. Like this.

And then Runa did take control, but only just, and before Lethe could resist she felt herself plunge into the police officer's mind and rip out his memories.

She didn't take all of them, just the past ten minutes. It felt like sc.r.a.ping a spoon along the inside of an avocado to dig out the flesh, and it was the most horrifying, d.a.m.ning thing she could have imagined doing to anyone. But in less than three seconds the deed was done. And the officer was down on the ground, alive but unconscious.

Lethe collapsed to her knees, digging her fists into the concrete. She sc.r.a.ped them so hard her knuckles bled, but she did not mind the pain. She wanted the pain.

There, said Runa. You see how it's done. Again.

Go to h.e.l.l, snarled Lethe. f.u.c.k you.

I know what you are planning. That you wish to kill me, or break us apart. Do as you wish, but you will not harm me. You cannot. Not until we are done.

Lethe screamed at her, except she was suddenly not screaming in her mind, but with her voice, and Lannes was there, holding her tight. Koni-and Rictor, who had reappeared-were placing the police officer into his sedan.

She could not breathe. Her heart was going to explode. She lay down on the parking lot, pressing her cheek into the cold concrete, sobbing. The sensation of tearing out those memories felt like poison in her brain. Like she was going to choke to death on them.

And for a moment-just one-she realized she could take out those memories. Her own memories.

Again, Runa had said.

Lannes dragged her into his arms. He stood, curling her tight against his chest, his wings draping over her body, and she clung like it was him or death.

"He has a camera in his car," Lannes rumbled.

"Taking care of it," Koni said.

Lethe felt herself carried some distance away, and then Lannes set her down just for a moment against the Impala. He opened the door. Helped her in. But she did not loosen her grip around his neck. She could not.

"I took his memories," she whispered, hardly able to speak past the tears. "I took them. Of us."

"I know," he said heavily, kneeling outside the car. He brushed his lips against her brow, and then her lips. "She was inside your mind. I felt her take control."

"Lannes," she breathed, drowning in horror. "I think I did this to myself."

His gaze was impossibly grim. Rictor appeared behind him. "We're ready to go."

Lannes did not look at him. "We'll be right on your tail."

Lethe kept her eyes closed while they drove. Lannes was a constant presence in her mind, but his warmth did nothing to a.s.suage her guilt. She had killed an old man with her bare hands, but somehow, as horrible as that act had been, it did not feel nearly as obscene as what she had just done to that police officer.

Even if Runa had made her do it. Even so.

"Talk to me," Lannes said roughly. "Lethe."

The leather seat smelled like blood. "You knew that other name, didn't you? The one the officer called me?"

"Ali-"

"Don't say it," she interrupted fiercely.

Lannes hesitated. "Koni and Rictor told me."

"Who was she?"

He took a moment to respond, and she realized it was her wording that had stopped him cold. Who was she?

And not, Who am I?

His voice was hoa.r.s.e when he spoke, almost broken. "I don't really know who she was. She was hurt by some members of her family. Kidnapped. I guess...Koni met her, after she had been...rescued from them."

Lethe rolled those words around, finding herself too numb to appreciate them. "That wouldn't be enough to commit the suicide of your memory. Unless there's something else you're not telling me."

There was. She felt it in that instant. There was a secret. It was burning him up. She remembered the hotel, and his eyes when she had walked into that room. His grief, his desperation.

Because of her. Something they had told him about her.

"Say it," she whispered.

"I don't want to."

"I hurt you, is that it? Something I did-"

"No," he rasped, as the Impala swerved. "It was your family. Your great-aunt. It was her. She captured us. My brothers. Me. She was the one who tortured us."

Of all the things he could have said, that was the least expected. And the most horrific. It was so awful that all she could do was stare at him, numb, blood roaring in her ears.

"No," she said. "That's impossible. They're wrong. They must be wrong."

"I don't think they are."

"Did they give you proof?" Her voice broke. "Pictures?"

"They recognized you. They knew your face."

Lethe closed her eyes, shuddering. Lannes swore, and pulled off the road. The Impala bounced, something crunched. Ahead of them, the Humvee also pulled over. She saw a faint light out the window. Eastern sky. A hint of dawn.

Lannes undid her seat belt and dragged her into his lap. It was uncomfortable-the wheel dug into her back-but his arms were strong and his voice rumbled like thunder in her ears, in her mind.

"It wasn't you," he whispered again and again. "It wasn't you."

"Close enough," she replied, ragged and soggy, unable to breathe through her nose. "I don't... I don't know the details of what you went through, but I know it was bad. How can you be near me and not think about what happened?"

"Easily," he said. "You make it better."

A sob rose up her throat. She could not choke it down. Lannes cradled her against him.

"You asked me if you were a good person," he said quietly. "The answer is yes. You were a good person, Lethe. Memories might shape you, but they don't make you. Not where it matters. Not here." He placed his hand over her heart.

He was not lying. He meant every word-she could feel it in him. If the link had not been there, she might still have believed him. He could hide nothing in his eyes. Despite his mask, he was guileless.

So are you, he whispered inside her mind.

I'm not safe, she told him. There must be more to why I destroyed my memories.

"You're a.s.suming too much," he said out loud. "What makes you think you had a choice?"

"Because I did," she said, certain of it. Ahead, a car door slammed. Rictor appeared. Lannes rolled down the window. Lethe buried her face in his chest.

"Everything okay?" asked Rictor.

"Just need another minute or two. Where are we going?"

"Charlie called Koni. He came through with the address and number for Ed. He lives nearby."

Lannes frowned, and Lethe could feel in his mind a hint of confusion that his brother had not called him directly. "Okay. Like I said, another couple minutes."

Rictor seemed to hesitate before walking back to the Humvee, or maybe that was Lethe's imagination. She felt him look at her though-a glance that broke through her like she was made of air and gla.s.s. It made her uneasy. She wondered what he knew about her.

Lannes rolled his window back up. "Will you feel like talking to Ed?"

"I have to," she said. "I don't think he trusts you guys as much."

"Then let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, and helped her sit back. He dragged a box of tissues from the backseat, and she blew her nose while he got out of the car to dig around the trunk. He came back with a clean rag, a bottle of water and a teddy bear.

Lethe stared at the bear. Lannes said, "My niece. I bought it for her."

A smile bubbled out of her, a weak one, and he said, "There. Good. Hold the bear."

"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, but she took the stuffed animal and hugged it to her chest, watching him as he dampened half of the rag and began washing her face. She let him do the first few strokes, just because it was the first time she could remember being babied, but then it started to feel like he was going to sc.r.a.pe off her cheeks. She took the rag from him, and he sat back, watching. His eyes glittered in the shadows.

"Feel better?" he finally asked.

"Better," she said. "Thank you."

Lannes nodded roughly. Ahead of them, taillights winked. He leaned over, planted a hard quick kiss against her brow and then started the engine.

Ten minutes later, they drove up to Ed's house.

The old man lived on a back country road that was more gravel than concrete. It was still dark, but the sky had lightened enough to illuminate the individual silhouettes of trees, and fence posts that bordered large meadows filled with vague dark blobs that were probably cows and horses.

Ed had a long driveway, and they parked at the end of it. He lived in a manufactured home that had been neatly maintained. He was up-or at least his light was on. Through the window Lethe saw the old man puttering around, dressed in pajamas.

The predawn air felt cold and good on her face. Koni approached and gave her a long look that was surprisingly kind. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said, trying not to think about the fact that he knew her-the other her-and had not said a word. Although, in hindsight, the way he looked at her had been revealing enough.

"I called ahead," Koni said, as Lannes tucked Etta's shoe box under his arm. "Told him we were checking out early but wanted to say good-bye."

"I like him," she found herself saying, as if it would bring her comfort. And it did, in a way. She liked Ed. She. Now. She was still a person, her own person, and no matter what had happened in the past, no matter whom she was a.s.sociated with, her future was her own.

More or less. If she kept telling herself that, maybe she would finally believe it.

Ed disappeared from the kitchen window as they walked up to the house. An orange cat appeared from inside a small doghouse and started purring like a freight train. The cat was especially taken with Rictor and kept jumping in front of him, wildly leaping to rub against his legs.

Koni grinned. Rictor glanced at him. "Not one word."

"Wouldn't dream of it," the tattooed man replied.

Lethe raised her hand to knock on the door. It opened before she could, and Ed greeted her with a gentle hug that left her breathless.

"You've been crying," he said, holding her at arm's length. The porch light felt hot on her face.

"It's why we're leaving early," she said.

Concern flickered in his eyes. "I'm sorry. Come on in. I'll make you all some coffee. Or do you prefer tea?"

"Anything," she said, while the others made polite little grunts of vague approval. The cat followed them in, meowing plaintively at Rictor. It was rather big, with white socks, a round tummy and a stubby tail.

"Roxanne," Ed said. "Hush."

The cat only got louder, standing on its hind legs and digging her claws into Rictor's leg. Koni covered his mouth, facing the wall and a long line of photographs that seemed to consist of young children under Christmas trees or standing in the gra.s.s surrounded by dogs and the legs of adults.

Ed's home was simple but cozy. It had tan carpet, a small dark green couch and a coffee table covered in magazines and books about World War II. The American flag, hanging from a pole, had been propped up in the corner, and beside it was a box filled with wrapped presents, lovingly covered in glittery ribbons.

"Christmas shopping done early?" she asked Ed as he handed her a cup of coffee.