"What did Emma want?" Karen watched him, her eyes troubled.
"The first thing I thought was that she was pregnant. Then I realized wead just done it two hours before and it was too early to tell, plus wead used a condom. She asked if I still loved her, and I said I loved her a lot. And she said she didnat want me to think she was a s.l.u.t, and I asked if she still respected me." Seventeen years later, and he remembered the conversation as if it were yesterday. "So I told her I was coming over, and she said no, her dad would kill me. The way she said it bugged me. Like she was really scared. So I told her to unlock her window. I hung up and ran over."
"She lived close."
"No. Not really. By road her house was about forty miles away. But a panther doesnat travel by road. I took the straightest line possiblea"up the hill, down the hill, through the creek. Her place was small, an old farm-house, and the place looked like h.e.l.la"rot in the siding, broken step on the porch, missing shingles." He brought his fully loaded backpack down and set it on a seat. "Shead opened her window, and I could smell her scent."
"Her scent." Karen looked out at the high, thin clouds streaking by. "Like in Nepal, when you could smell mine? Because youare a panther?"
He nodded. "But along with Emmaas scent, I could smell the faint tang of blood. Shead had her period the week before, and I knew this wasnat menstrual blood. She was hurt."
"Her father?"
"I didnat realize what had happened right away. That kind of behavior was so foreign to mea"my dad worshiped my sister, cherished my mother. Iad never seen anything like that." The memory of Emmaas pain still made Warlord sicka"and so angry his eyes glowed with flame. "Head hit her so hard her nose was broken. Swollen. He split her lip. She was holding her left arm. I asked if she had any broken bones, and she thought maybe her wrist. I wanted to take her to the hospital. She said no, they didnat have any money, and he . . . he wouldnat let her out of the house. She said some schoolteacher saw her and me together, called her dad, and when Emma came in he was waiting for her."
"Did hea""
"Rape her? No, not that time, but the way she acted . . ." Warlord wanted to punch something. "I told her that it was my fault she was hurt, and Iad take care of it."
"What did she do?"
"She cried. And begged. Her father was a farmer, a big guy, and I was still a skinny kid. She thought her father would beat me to death." Warlord checked the parachute, made sure it would open, then repacked it and pulled it on his shoulders.
"How did you . . . ?"
"I made a lot of noise. He came into her bedroom. I challenged him to a fight. He laughed. Because, you know, he was one of those guys who didnat beat up on people who could hit him back. I taunted him, made him good and mad, and jumped out the window. I told him Iad meet him at the end of his drive-way. That was clear out by the road, out of sight of the house. The guy lumbered out after me. Man, he was big. Fists like hams. When I stepped out of the shadows, all he saw was a boy. He was so c.o.c.ky. He thought he was going to kill me with one hand tied behind his back."
"He was in for a surprise."
"When I leaped at him, I changed. He saw the panther and screamed. He didnat stand a chance."
"Neither did Emma."
"Just what I thought." Warlord pulled on his helmet. "I killed him. Ripped him to shreds. Dragged the body away. Hid it in the mountains. G.o.d only knows if it was ever found. Then I ran away. Went to Seattle, stowed away on a Philippine cargo ship, and never looked back."
"But your family?" Karenas voice trembled.
Karen was too sensitive, too soft for him. But G.o.d help him, he couldnat let her go. "My dad always said that if I wasnat careful, if I didnat control myself, I would kill, and kill again. I figured I had fulfilled my destiny."
"You became Warlord."
"Being a mercenary was a gooda"and very profitablea"job for a man like me." The story ended, his need to tell Karen the truth was discharged, and the sickness returned with a vengeance. He sat on the floor, stretched out in the aisle, and relaxed. "Iave done a lot of things Iave regretted since then, but no matter what has happened since, no matter what Iave done or where my crimes have led me, when I remember poor Emma, Iam not sorry. If I could, Iad do it again."
When the phone rang in Jasha Wilderas bedroom, he tightened his hold on the woman in his arms and said, "Leave it."
His secretary tried to wiggle free. "We canat, Jasha. Darling, itas probably the winery. Weare already late. Honey, come on, stop. You know I canat think when you do that."
"Thatas why Iam doing it." But when she groped for the phone, he rolled away, lay flat on his back, and cursed whoever had interrupted a lovely interlude.
She settled against the pillows, carefully covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with the covers, and picked up the receiver. "Ann Smith."
"Ann Wilder," he muttered. When head hired her as his administrative a.s.sistant, shead been quiet, modest, and shy. Now she was his wife, and to that list of qualities he had to add stubborn. She was plain stubborn about not changing her name to his, and it irked him.
She probably refused to do it because it irked him.
"Ann Wilder," he said again.
She ignored him and spoke into the phone. "May I ask what this is in reference to?"
He faintly heard a reply.
Annas spine snapped into an upright exclamation point. In a crisp tone that made him sit up, too, she said, "There is one word that will make all the difference in this phone call. I will either let you speak to Mr. Wilder or I will hang up. What is that word?"
Whatever the answer was, it made Ann say, "Just a minute, please." She put the caller on hold and turned to Jasha, her color high. "Her name is Karen Sonnet. She says sheas in a plane with Adrik. When I asked for a word, she said, aicon.a "
Jasha took the receiver.
Ann got up, put on her robe, and fetched the laptop. She searched for "Karen Sonnet" and brought up a screenful of possibilities.
Jasha took the phone off hold and said, "Jasha Wilder. Youad better make this good."
"I have no intention of making this good. I donat know what your family problems are, and I donat care." This Karen wasnat bothering to subdue her irritation. "But Warlord insisted I call and give you these coordinatesa""
"Warlord?" Jasha didnat know whether to smirk or groan.
Ann lifted her brows.
Jasha nodded.
She typed Warlord into her search engine.
"Rick," Karen said. "Rick Wilder. Or Adrik. Whatever."
Ann typed on her laptop, Adrik Wilder.
Karen continued, "Anyway, he asked that you come to help us because we have Varinskis tracking us, and he believes we need help."
"Why isnat he on the phone?"
"Heas unconscious in the back of the plane."
"Thatas convenient." In a flat, furious voice, Jasha said, "Karen Sonnet, or whoever you are, I donat know what the h.e.l.l stunt youare pulling, but when he was seventeen my brother Adrik disappeared from our lives. Two years ago we received a letter from Nepal notifying us that he was dead, and his remains were returned to us. We buried those remains."
"Did you think to check the dental records?" For someone who was asking for help, Karen was d.a.m.ned sarcastic.
"There wasnat enough left for dental records."
"You should have checked the DNA." He heard Karen take an annoyed breath. "Look. Weare crashing the plane in a remote location in the High Sierras and making our way on foot to these coordinates. You can take them down or not. You can believe me or not. You can help us or not. But as I understand it, thereas a prophecy about your family, your cousins want my icon, and the giant snake that bit Warlord isnat nearly as horrible as the extreme fighter whoas tracking us."
Whoever she was, she knew a h.e.l.l of a lot about a h.e.l.l of a lot. Jasha gestured to Ann for a pen and paper. "Give me the coordinates. Maybe Iall be there."
Ann handed him the paper, and on her laptop typed, Rick Wilder.
"And maybe if youare not up for it, you ought to send help." Karen rattled off the coordinates.
"Iall call you with my decision."
"Not on this phone you wonat. Itas going down with the plane."
Jasha heard a beeping.
"Gotta go," Karen said. "Weare jumping in three minutes."
"I thought you said Warlord was unconscious. "
"He is, on and off. If the slap of cold air doesnat wake him up, Iam flinging him out anyway."
"What if he doesnat come to?"
"Serve him right."
Maybe it was Adrik.
"Although sometimes heas not so bad. You know?" As if she didnat like admitting to softness, she snapped back into annoyance. "Donat worry; weare jumping tandem. Iall get him on the ground. Then . . . G.o.d help us if you wonat."
The line went dead.
Jasha stared at the receiver in fury and astonishment. He was the president and CEO of Wilder Wines. He was married to the finest woman in the world. He was the oldest Wilder son. He was a warrior. He was a wolf. No one talked to him that way. "Does she think Iam so dumb that Iam going to drop everything and go running into what is obviously a Varinski trap? I cannot believe the nerve of that woman."
"Itas been two years since your mother had that vision," Ann reminded him absently as she flipped through Internet pages. "Two years since I found the first icon and Tasya found the second one. Your fatheras illness is accelerating. If we donat find those last two icons pretty soon, heas going to die, the pact will go on forever, anda""
"I know. I know!" Jasha hated being so helpless. "Heall go to h.e.l.l for all eternity."
"And your mother will be in her own h.e.l.l without him." Ann tapped his arm and handed him the laptop.
There, on a tech business news page, was the announcement of a hot new computer game set to sweep American gamers, and under the headline, WARLORD, was a photo of its designer, Rick Wilder.
Even after seventeen years, Jasha recognized his brother Adrik.
Tears sprang to his eyes. "The little s.h.i.t," he said.
Ann hugged him. "I know."
"Seventeen years without a word. He broke Mamaas heart. The news of his death almost killed Papa."
"I know."
"For G.o.das sake, we buried Adrikas remains. "
"I know."
"I ought to leave that snot to freeze in the wilderness."
"You should." Ann looked at him. "Do you want me to charter you a plane to Yosemite?"
"Right." He kissed Ann and jumped out of bed. "Iall call Rurik and tell him weave got to go get our little brother out of troublea"again."
Chapter Twenty-seven.
The autopilot was on heading hold/alt.i.tude hold as it flew them low through the Sierra Nevadas. Snowy peaks dwarfed the tiny plane. Twice a mountain came so close Karen flinched in the pilotas seat. Grimly she hoped Warlordas calculations were right. If he was off the slightest bit, the beautifully sleek Cessna Citation X would never have a chance to smash into Acantilado Mountain. Instead it would smash into a different mountain, probably too soon, and take Warlord and Karen with it.
She finished her preparations, pressed a kiss of apology to her palm and then to the instrument panel, and stepped back into the cabin.
Warlord was stretched out in the aisle, dressed for the jump.
She touched his forehead, pressed her hand against the vein beating in his throat.
He was still alive. Thank G.o.d. Shead wondered. Shead feared . . . and why, she didnat know. Of all the men in this world who deserved to die, in her book he had been number one.
She pulled on her coat, jumpsuit, goggles, and full-face helmet. She strapped her bag to the front of her, then pulled on the bare piggyback harness. She could not believe she was going to abandon this beautiful plane.
Yet she couldnat really whip up indignation about the loss of the airplane, not after hearing the story about his first love. . . . If I could, Iad do it again.
Head lured a man to his death. Head killed him with tooth and claw.
Emmaas father had deserved it. And if head been turned over to the courts, sooner or later he would have walked and gone back and beaten Emma again. Or killed her.
So who was in the wrong?
She stepped over Warlordas body. His camping backpack bulged, with snowshoes strapped to the outside.
She looked down at his unconscious face. "You were ready for this, werenat you?"
Going to the door, she located the emergency door-release handle and activated it. The door blew out and down, disappearing under the Citationas wing. Wind blasted a tornado in the cabin. She turned and started.
Warlord was standing behind her, strapping his backpack to his waist.
The first alarm sounded; the planeas computer recognized that it was too low, recognized that it was approaching an obstacle.
"Is Jasha coming?" Warlord shouted into the wind.
"I donat know," she shouted back. "I probably said the wrong thing." She glanced at the rapidly oncoming mountain.