Time Plains Drifter Page 26

  She shook her head. “I said that wrong. I meant—I wanted it to last forever.” Finally, she looked up into his eyes.

  Rafe smiled, then turned serious once more almost immediately. He put his hand over her heart and felt its steady beat for a moment before he spoke. “Here, Jenni. Right here, it’ll always last. It’ll be real for you forever—as long as you don’t forget.”

  “I won’t have a—a heart left,” she muttered, but Rafe shook his head.

  “You think that now, querida. But when the baby comes, you’ll find it. You’ll always have a part of me. That dream we tried to grab—just look into our baby’s eyes...and think of me.”

  Jenni wiped at her eyes. “He’ll probably look just like y-you.”

  “Guess we’d better hope for a boy then, hadn’t we?” His smile faded quickly. “Jen, I—you—never gave me an answer. Will you marry me? Not just for the baby,” he added quickly. “For you...and me.”

  “Yes.” Jenni raised her eyes to his. “I just wish—”

  Rafe laid a finger across her lips. “Me too. I wish...a lot of things.” He sighed. “But now, we’ve got to deal with reality, sweetheart. I want you to be my wife, and I want our child to be legitimate. I’m going to—to say what I’d want to say in our wedding. I promise, I’ll be just as—nervous—as I would be if we were in a church somewhere with all our friends and relatives.”

  Jenni smiled. “This place is a bit like a church, isn’t it?”

  Rafe grimaced. Not like any church I’ve ever known, he wanted to say, thinking of the mission once more. He forced his thoughts away from that time, back to the present. “You’ll have to imagine the guests, but the love is real. Jenni, I’ll always be with you—protecting you...loving you.”

  “Rafe...Rafe...” Cris’s insistent voice drifted to them from the entrance of the cave.

  Rafe let go of Jenni and made a motion to rise, but the sudden nausea almost crushed him with its intensity. Sweat beaded his brow instantly as the bullet wound threatened to tear itself open at his movement.

  Jenni sat up quickly and reached to steady him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, then dragged his sleeve across his face, his eyes still unfocused. He knew the way to the door, he told himself—and he could crawl—

  He moved again, a bit slower now that his stomach had righted itself. This time, he was able to turn over completely, his belly flat against the stone. He bit back a groan of uncompromised agony, his fingers turning white against the unyielding hardness beneath him. The dizzy sickness rose up again, slowly choking him, making his head spin. Sweat plastered his dark hair in spikes across his forehead, and his breath came in sharp erratic spurts.

  He dug his elbows in and pulled himself forward, toward the cave entrance. It was going to be a long, long journey, he thought, lifting his head for an instant to glance across the eight feet or more that separated him from the opening. The pain roared over him as he reached again to pull himself another few inches.

  “Rafe, wait!” Jenni laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s Cris.” He lowered his head, panting heavily. The sound of his labored breathing echoed in the stillness of the cave.

  “You don’t know that—not for certain.”

  Rafe moistened his lips, pushed back the pervading wash of sickness as it assailed him once more. She was right. It could be Cris, but it could just as easily be the demon. Could be...him. Could be Cris. Damn, he couldn’t hold a rational thought. But it could be what it seemed...could be my brother.

  He inched forward again, and this time, he was unable to stifle the sharp hiss of his own indrawn breath—could not tamp down the agonized cry of pain as the bullet wound finally re-opened, and began its steady artesian fountain of crimson.

  “What if it isn’t him?” Jenni’s voice was breathless.

  Rafe drew in a sharp breath, then determinedly pushed forward again. The pain ripped through him, and his doubts made their way through the haze of agony. He had to find out. What if it isn’t...but what if it is? They couldn’t stay in this damn cave forever. He wanted to get it over with, whatever it was he had to do. Destroy the demon. Destroy his chance at happiness. Destroy Jenni and himself—and what they had together. Just end it, if it had to be ended. The child was the important thing—the baby they had made between them. He needed to heal—and quickly—to do what he had to do for all of them. To end his dream. Cris would be able to provide the healing—being an angel—provide, also, the answer to what he needed to know.

  How do I kill a demon? Easier to kill a dream than a demon...His mind bounced and ricocheted all around, and he couldn’t think; couldn’t remember anything except that he had to get to his brother. I have to get to Cris. Get healed. Get Milo.

  He pulled forward again, cursing the spreading wet warmth at his side. He was close...two more feet. But he’d have to do it himself. Cris would not be able to come in—not even put a finger inside to touch him. A simple touch might not be enough to heal me. His eyes stung from trickling sweat.

  “Rafe, what if it’s the demon? He—He used your voice before, to try to trick me—to slow me down. You’ll be giving yourself to him—”

  Rafe paused. There’s no way I can be certain until I see the eyes. He felt in his soul he could always know Cris—if he could just look into his brother’s eyes. He shook his head, tried to wipe away the sweat. He was hurting so damn bad it was all he could do to keep from just giving in to it and letting himself go into the beckoning blackness he was trying to fight off. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t give in.

  I’m so close. He could hear the waterfall plainly now, splashing and tumbling in the growing pre-dawn light.

  He finally looked up at Jenni. She hovered nearby, her lovely features lined with the worry and sleeplessness of the night before. She was trying to be his rock, the one for him to lean on—here at the end. It wrenched something deep inside of him to see that in her eyes, something that pained him more than everything done to him already.

  “If it’s Milo, then—Cris’ll take...good care of you. Beck—” he paused and swallowed hard before continuing. “Beck’ll have to deal with Milo.” He pulled himself forward again, eyes squeezed shut, blood streaming from his lip. The air rushed out of him, ending in a frustrated groan. He was going to have to do it again to be able to reach through the cave doorway to his brother...or Milo, whichever waited for him on the other side.

  He gritted his teeth and pulled once more, until he lay just inside the doorway. With the last bit of his strength, he rolled his back against a nearby boulder as gently as he could, and pushed himself into a half-sitting position.

  CHAPTER 36

  Cris stood looking at him, unable to reach in to help him. As he caught his first glimpse of Rafe’s beaten face, he swore harshly. Then, “Give me your hand, hermano.” His gaze roamed downward, and he let go another un-angelic curse under his breath as he caught sight of the fresh blood at Rafe’s side. He reached a hand out as he knelt beside the doorway, his knuckles rapping the air as if it were solid wood, unable to penetrate the five inches separating them. “Let me heal you—give you part of my powers—”

  “Make me...a d...damned angel again?” Rafe asked hoarsely, even as he began to reach forward, toward the space between them.

  Cris grinned in spite of himself at the derision in his brother’s tone. “It’ll only be temporary, I figure, with your attitude.” The smile faded. “Rafael.”

  Though the word was no more than a soft breath upon the wind, Rafe recognized it as the “big brother” tone. When he met Cris’s gaze, it was filled with concern.

  “Give me your hand.”

  What if it isn’t him? He pulled his hand back and let it drop, peering into Cris’s dark face so like his own, but without the bruising on this particular day.

  Rafe held Cris’s gaze, neither of them looking away. This better be real, he thought. Slowly, he lifted his hand, and began to reach for Cris’s fingers again. You better be real
. Better be him. My brother...

  He took his time. He believed this was his brother, but what if he was wrong? And when, if ever, would he be able to trust what he saw? Even Cris said earlier they were right to question; evil could be anywhere. Milo could hide behind a thousand faces. He clamped his jaw together. He was going to do this. He would take Cris’s hand and be healed, just that simple. End this damnable pain—and then, go after Milo.

  But something—something held him back.

  Where was Beck? Why was he leaving this up to Cris? Hell with it. He started to reach through the barrier, those last two inches.

  “Wait!” a familiar voice called in breathless warning.

  Cris? Rafe drew his hand back quickly, shooting a glance at Jenni, who knelt beside him. When he turned around again, there were two identical images of his brother, side by side, just outside the cave entrance.

  “Don’t touch him, Rafe!” the newcomer demanded. “He’s not your brother.” He gave the other Cris a disgusted look, then faced Rafe and Jenni once more. “I am.”

  ~*~

  Milo had thought about every angle of his plan. It was the best—the only—thing left to do. He loved a gamble, he reminded himself. Becoming human, just long enough to get inside the cave to grab Miss Dalton—mere seconds was all he needed—was nothing short of genius. He’d loop an arm around her neck and stick his blade up under her ribs, then let himself take on the powers of Darkness once more as he dragged her out of the cave door—and her spirit to Hell with him.

  The only flaw, tiny though it was, could become huge. It would take a few seconds to resume his powers. During those seconds, there was a possibility that...well, he could be destroyed—if Rafe reacted quickly. They’d both be human…for those few moments.

  The Dark One stood staring down at Rafael d’Angelico through Cris’s eyes. Disguises were so entertaining. He hated wearing ugly ones, so it was a great pleasure to cloak himself in the hard-bodied, devastatingly handsome illusion of either of the d’Angelico brothers. This time, it just happened to be Cris who suited his purposes.

  Would Rafe be able to tell the difference? He wondered. Especially with Cris actually standing beside him. It would be a good test, Milo thought, and suddenly wondered if he’d remembered to change his eye color. He let them go to obsidian, at the very last second, just as Rafe looked up at him. Careless. That mistake could’ve ruined it all. Reluctantly, he allowed his powers to slip away from him, making himself human once more.

  ~*~

  Rafe’s hand stopped, hesitating just inside the cave entrance.

  Which one is my brother?

  He looked at the newcomer through swollen, slitted eyes, his expression giving nothing away. Had Cris truly been first on the scene, or had he been late getting here because he’d been held up seeing to Bolton’s welfare...and the boys’?

  Rafe shifted his gaze to the first man—the one he’d been only seconds from touching when the look-alike shouted a warning. The man’s eyes were anxious...worried. For him? Or because the real Cris had burst on the scene unexpectedly and put doubt in his mind?

  “Rafe, I’m your brother.”

  Milo shook his head, put the same measured anxiety in his voice. “Don’t believe him, Rafe. I’ve been down there making sure the preacher and the boys were safe.”

  Cris gave a disdainful snort. “Beck’s down there with them, you bastard.” He inched closer, but the demon stood his ground as if he was unconcerned as to what Cris might be contemplating.

  Milo gave Cris a faint smile. “Yes, I know. I was down there, too, until just a moment ago.”

  Definitely not Cris, Rafe thought, listening to his reply. He kept a straight face. “Yes” was rarely used in Cris’s vocabulary, only when he was forced to be polite...when manners dictated propriety. “A moment ago”...definitely not a Cris d’Angelico expression, either.

  Still, Rafe hesitated. The stress of the situation could have made his brother respond in a way he normally wouldn’t have. Rafe had to have more than that to go on. But he had to do something fast. He was losing a lot of blood. He could feel Jenni’s tension from where she sat next to him. As if Cris had read his mind, he thrust his hand forward, silently urging Rafe to take it.

  Milo did the same.

  Rafe met Cris’s eyes, then Milo’s. Try as the demon might, he could not emulate the love and concern that Cris was truly experiencing. The eyes are the window to the soul, Rafe thought, and Milo didn’t have one. Though the demon tried to allow a warm, worried look into his stare, he couldn’t quite manage it.

  Rafe’s gaze swung back to Cris’s, with unspoken reassurance. I know who’s real. And I damn sure know who isn’t.

  Suddenly, he reached out with both hands, and grasped his brother’s warm grip in his left—and Milo’s cool one in his right. Immediately, he felt the rush of Cris’s powerful healing course through his body, knew the instant it touched each part of him. His brother was giving him a ton for a pound, though, and he knew what that could mean for Cris—it could make him vulnerable to the Dark.

  Easy, Cris, easy...easy...easy...don’t leave yourself open—

  Take it, Rafe...take what I give you—don’t argue this time, just take it.

  Milo roared as Rafe yanked him inside the cave. The disbelief on Cris’s face was the last thing Rafe saw as he swung a hammering fist up and connected sharply with Milo’s jaw.

  It was disconcerting, at first, for Rafe. He’d never hit his brother. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not Cris; he was only an imposter who was borrowing Cris’s face.

  Jenni scrambled out of the way with a muffled scream of surprise, and Milo righted himself, coming up off the floor, his eyes gleaming like a trapped animal’s.

  Rafe’s head was pounding. He watched as Milo crouched, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose where Rafe’s second punch landed. Rafe felt a surge of elation.

  Milo was bleeding. Milo was human. He’d gambled mightily, and lost everything. Rafe knew he had him cold. Finally, this could all end. All because Milo had relieved himself of his powers in order to come into the cave. Now that he was here, Rafe meant to make the most of it. He would kill him, or die trying.

  Or would he? What, exactly, had Cris done to him when he’d healed him? Made him part angel again? Did he have any kind of residual power from the healing process? He must have, because he felt an overwhelming need to get out of the cave. That hadn’t been there before. He stood just inside the door, eyeing Milo, a smug look on his face at the demon’s predicament. Rafe knew Milo had planned to enter the cave when he was ready, hadn’t counted on Rafe pulling him inside, unawares, as he had done.

  “You’re in a hell of a fix, you bastard,” Rafe snarled in soft challenge.

  “Damn you!” Milo ran at Rafe, but Rafe was ready for him. He had resigned himself to what he needed to do, and he was ready. He couldn’t stay in the cave a moment longer, now that he was part angel again. As Milo barreled into him, Rafe wrapped his arms around the demon tightly, letting the momentum spin them both around and through the cave door.

  They hung suspended for an instant at the narrow rim of the trail behind the waterfall. Rafe heard Jenni scream, heard Cris call his name in a strangled, harsh voice. The smell of the morning washed over him, and he almost grinned as he recognized the scent of honeysuckle, sweet and vibrant, borne on the breeze, and thought of what Beck had said that first day—the day he’d woken to the smell of honeysuckle—smelled it again in Jenni’s perfume. There was the sound of the tumble of water over rocks, the splashing far below. A cool wetness washed across Rafe’s arm, then drenched his head and shoulders with sharp frigidity.

  He felt Milo’s hand make an awkward motion, heard the metallic whisper of the demon’s blade leaving the sheath. Rafe pushed him away before the knife could find its mark.

  They fell, close together through the air and water, Milo screeching each time the waterfall doused him. He screamed in pain as he disappeared into the pool
beneath. His desperate cry of bitter defeat hurtled back to Rafe just seconds before he, too, hit the foaming river.

  There was no time to think of what might lie beneath the churning mass of water. Rafe only knew one thing. Milo was hurting. That meant he was changing back—or trying to. Transforming into his hellish self would make him impervious to Rafe’s small powers left over from his healing; powers he wasn’t even sure he possessed.

  He couldn’t let Milo become a demon again. Once more, Rafe thought, he would do murder. Something else to atone for. Another reason to damn his soul.

  And he wouldn’t mind it a bit.

  CHAPTER 37

  Jenni sat frozen for a brief instant, as Rafe and Milo disappeared, then bolted through the cave entrance straight into Cris’s arms.

  “Rafe!” she screamed. She raised wide, shocked eyes to Cris’s anguished gaze. Frantically, she tried to yank free. Cris’s grip was like iron, chaining her to him.

  “Let me go!” Jenni twisted and pulled with all her might, but Cris held her fast. “Cris, let me go to him! He’s down there—” she tried to peer around Cris’s broad-framed body, to see into the churning waters below. It was no use. “Do something! Go after him!” She jerked again, trying to get free, Cris gave her a quick shake.

  “I will go,” he said swiftly, holding her from him, looking into her eyes. “But—But—” He shook his head, trying to clear the sudden dizziness, then resolutely started again. “I’ll go after him, but you have to stay in the cave, Jenni. Keep yourself—s-safe.” Dios, what’s wrong with me? He felt like his own voice was far away, like Jenni was getting close, then moving back, playing a game with him somehow. Could he leave her alone? What would she do? She was beside herself, and Cris knew as headstrong as she was, she wasn’t about to be left behind. At this point, he wouldn’t even trust a promise not to follow, should he be able to elicit one from her.