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.”
Arsen appeared beside him. Together, they walked away from the compound and into the hills where tall pines blocked out the sky. The path was more of an animal track through the grass and fern and led to a high vantage point. From one direction, it was possible to stand in an alpine meadow and see desolate Indian Country. In another direction, the jagged brown hills extended past Hells Canyon and into Idaho. Arsen walked ahead as they crossed a small creek and approached a grove of sharply scented pines. Beneath were the pale blue shadows of advancing twilight.
“It’s peaceful here,” Christan remarked after a moment, glancing toward the horizon. “I like the quiet.”
“An odd observation from you.”
“The world hasn’t changed.”
“You mean Three hasn’t changed.”
“As manipulative as ever.”
“You were always the avenger, Christan. Three might have identified the targets, but you never walked away when innocents were involved.”
“She asks for more.”
Christan remained silent when Arsen picked up a small stone, tossing it up and down in his palm before skimming it across the silvered creek.
“The first time I met you,” Arsen said, “before we became friends, I was in Lanzhou. We heard the rumors. A Calata member wanted an Enforcer to take him to the battle, but we knew it was more. I had to see for myself.”
Christan said nothing, staring instead at the smudge on the horizon that was now rimmed in dark blue.
“I remember thinking how arrogant you were,” Arsen continued. “I thought this guy is finally gonna get his ass kicked. And then you turned your back on Six and walked away. It was like you were impervious to anything he could do.”
Arsen picked up another stone, skimmed it across the water. The stone bounced twice and disappeared.
“I realized then that you understood power in a way no one else did. It was something I’ve never forgotten, how you held yourself separate, out of their reach. Six thought he’d won when he forced you to shift, but that dragon was on your terms. You gave him what he wanted, without giving him the most important thing. The ability you have to control your destiny.”
The story was an old one, told around too many battle fires in the middle of endless nights. It might have been who Christan was then. It wasn’t who he was now.
Arsen skimmed another stone, comfortable in the silence. Christan continued to stare at the horizon. The sun had dropped completely behind the gathering storm while the sky above was streaked with lavender and orange.
“She sent a file,” Christan said finally, looking at his second-in-command. “There’s a missing girl we need to find.”
“Someone we should care about?”
Christan nodded; once Arsen read the details in the file he’d figure it out. “She was last seen in Florence.”
“Your villa is still there. The caretakers have been loyal and don’t ask questions. When will you go?”
“Soon. You’ll want to be there.”
Arsen didn’t react. Perhaps he’d already guessed. “Anyone else?”
“It’s not settled yet.”
In the distance, a small figure jogged into view. She ran along the rim trail, sleek and balanced, reminding Christan so much of Gaia he stiffened. She was following the eight-mile path from the main lodge, out to the lake and back. There was a shortcut, but she preferred to push herself with the longer run. He lost her periodically when she disappeared into the trees.
“Is she still researching?” he asked.
“Ethan’s been planting clues. He didn’t expect her to catch on that quickly, but she did and now it’s their little game. She hasn’t done anything incriminating, no attempts to contact Kace, either through his sham business or other avenues. She spends a lot of time looking at an email account that never receives mail and studying photos of Cyrene.”
“You’ve been working with her,” Christan observed without expression, although it took more effort than he cared to admit.
“She wants to learn to fight.”
“Is she any good?”
“She’s in better shape than you think. Nice muscle tone, moves like a dancer. Put me on my ass today.” The figure disappeared behind a grove of purple pines and reappeared again. “She’s not Gemma.”
“I know that.” But he couldn’t separate them in his mind.
“Maybe you misjudged her,” Arsen said after a moment.
“Your point being?”
“You never got the truth that night. But even if you’re right and she did everything you believe she did, Lexi isn’t Gemma.”
“Says the man who’s had the same fight with the same woman over how many centuries?”
“We’re not talking about my woman, we’re talking about yours. You gave her that one word.”
“And she used it.”
“Because you terrified her. That’s not like you, Christan, going into her mind so aggressively. Did the Void do more damage than you’ve let on?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then why try to twist her emotions?”
“She worked for him, was there in Montana. She was with him in the rocks.”
“She didn’t know who he was then, and she does now.”
“I can’t trust her.”
“You haven’t tried.”
“She’s too much like Gemma.”
“Different girl,” Arsen said. “Different life.”
“She’s stubborn, difficult. Completely unreasonable.”
“And now you’re just looking for excuses.”
“For what?”
“To keep hating her.”
The distant figure disappeared into the growing mist.