The Waning Moon Page 35
“Not too far?” Now I was trying not to be amused.
“I have to push a little. But I am old and I am patient. You will come to my bed sooner or later. I prefer sooner, so I push.”
“So confident.”
“Of course.”
I laughed. I was finally warm and the combination of the heat and the wine was making me a little sleepy and a little reckless. I wanted to know what it was like to kiss the vampire—really kiss him, not the kisses he’d stolen in the past. And then, I wanted to know what it would be like to have him drink from me.
“Eleanor,” Raj said. “If you don’t stop that particular line of thought, I might not be as patient as you need me to be.”
I tried to redirect my train of thought, but from the red flashes in his eyes, I wasn’t doing a very good job.
“I should go,” he said.
I wanted to tell him not to go. I wanted him to stay with me, to hold me while I slept, but I knew as well as he did that it wouldn’t stay platonic for long. We were dancing dangerously close to a line I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross, and it wouldn’t take much tonight to push me over the edge. So instead of grabbing him and kissing him, I closed my eyes and said, “Okay. I’ll see you in the evening for the next leg of our journey?”
“I’ll be back before then. I need to feed, though.”
I ignored the stab of jealousy and nodded. I felt a feather-light caress on my face as he exited the hot tub. I kept my eyes closed until I was sure he’d have had a chance to dress and then opened them and looked around. He was gone and I was alone.
“Never alone,” his voice whispered to me. “If you need me, just call.”
I sat in the hot tub and finished my wine. I tried not to think about my complicated relationship with Raj, or my missing mate, or anything more confusing than whether or not there was any pizza left. I got out of the hot tub and wrapped myself in the large robe that Raj had left by the tub. I finished the pizza and made a nest of blankets in front of the fireplace. I added enough wood to hopefully last through the rest of the night, then huddled into my blankets and fell asleep.
I knew I was dreaming because it was summer and I was warm. I stretched out and felt wings grow along my back. I dropped forward onto all fours and slowly morphed into a dragon.
When the transformation was complete, I launched myself into the air and surveyed my surrounds. The Earth was barren but beautiful. Browning scrub grass dotted the canyons that were at the base of impossibly high cliffs dotted with holes. When I flew in closer, I realized that the holes were doorways. I was somewhere in the southwest, then. I felt a hot updraft rise up off the canyon floor and spread my wings to catch it. As I soared upwards, I felt it. The gate energy was unmistakable. I flapped my wings to get out of the heat stream and turned towards the gate. I flew over a circle of stone foundations that marked an old village. I wondered who lived in that village and who lived in the cliff-side village. Did they have people afraid of heights? Or were the easily accessible homes reserved for the elderly and the pregnant women?
Then something caught my eye that ended my idle speculations. A figure crept out across the desert floor. I was high enough up and its back was to me, so I couldn’t see if it was male or female, but the way it kept glancing around marked it as someone hoping not to be seen. I flew in closer, operating under the assumption that since I was dreaming, this figure wouldn’t be able to see me.
Once he—for it definitely appeared masculine now that I could see the lines of his body—reached the inside of the foundation circle, he began laying down items in an elaborate pattern. He remained crouched in one position for a long time, his hands stretched out and then the items slowly sunk into the ground. He dusted his hands off, then rose to standing. The setting sun caught his hair and in flamed a brilliant red and then he turned to face me. It was Finn.
In an instant, I forgot that this was a dream and I dove towards him, claws outstretched. I flew right through him with no effect. He didn’t even flinch. He surveyed the area, concentrated for a second, and then the ground smoothed out; looking as if it had never been disturbed. Then he backed slowly away before turning and disappearing.
I landed in the very center of the circle and shed my dragon shape. I carefully found the spot where one of the items Finn had buried was and dug it up. I had a flash of wonder that I could effect my dreamworld when I couldn’t touch Finn, but it faded quickly as I examined my find. It was a small disc, about four inches in diameter and less than two inches thick. I turned it over a couple of times and then saw the pressure plate on one side. It was a land mine. I laid it down and sank into a cross-legged position. I didn’t know how to disarm a land mine. Now that I knew they were here, I knew I could fly into the center where Finn had NOT placed any mines, but that would leave me isolated.
The worst, though, was that this was not the next gate. That meant that it was going to be a minimum of three months before we got here—maybe even longer if New Orleans was between the mystical rocks and the cliff village. Tourism had probably dropped off some in recent weeks, but the effects of the cataclysms were less in the southwest, and there might still be tourists coming through here. Or national park rangers. Or lost hikers.
The more I thought about all the innocent people that could get caught in Finn’s deadly booby traps, the angrier I got. I transformed back into a dragon and roared a great wave of fire at the ground, blackening it beneath me, but having no effect on the one visible landmine.
Fuck.
I flew back to the cliff where I’d started my adventure and once again shifted back to my human body. I concentrated on leaving the dream world behind and waking up, and slowly the blue sky, purpling to dusk in the west, faded into black. I struggled for a second; feeling suffocated after the recent freedom of heat and flight, and realized I was cocooned in my nest of blankets.
“Let me help,” Raj said, and he was there, untangling the blankets from around my arms and legs and freeing me from their claustrophobic confines. I sat up in front of the fire that was still burning and shivered a bit, although more from the memory of my dream than from any real chill. The room was pleasant.
“Do you want to talk about your dream?” Raj asked.
“We need to, but we’ll need Florence, too. What time is it?”
“Nearly dusk, probably about five.”
I sighed. “It’s probably time to get going, then.”
“I have coffee for you,” he said.
I smiled at him. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
He laughed. “That wasn’t my aim. I merely desire civility.”
I grabbed the proffered cup of coffee. I wanted a shower, but there was no hot water other than that from the hot spring. I settled for a refreshingly brisk face wash with a hot coffee chaser then made Raj turn his back so I could layer on my clothing.
Also by Amy Cissell
Eleanor Morgan
The Cardinal Gate (Feb 2017)
The Waning Moon (Jun 2017)
The Ruby Blade (Oct 2017)
The Broken World (Mar 2018)
The Lost Child (Apr 2019)
* * *
Oracle Bay
It's Not in the Cards (Oct 2018)
First Hand Knowledge (Nov 2018)
Belle of the Ball (Dec 2018)