Why, Grant?” Sara demanded. It pissed her off that her voice shook a little. Yes, she was scared, but she was also livid that he’d betrayed, used, and damn well manipulated her for most of her life.
Suddenly, she found herself free of the cage and standing beside him. In heels, she was eye to eye with him; in her hiking boots, she was a couple inches shorter.
Although his body was tanned and fit, she could’ve happily lived the rest of her life not seeing Grant naked. He, like Jack, kept himself in shape. She guessed that if one wanted to live an eternity, one had to maintain a healthy lifestyle.
She saw nothing of the Grant she knew in this man’s eyes. The Grant who’d held her head over the toilet as she barfed up her first bottle of cheap wine. The Grant who’d given her dance lessons and gone with her to choose the “prettiest, most expensive dress on Bond Street” before the prom. William had been her prom date. Her throat swelled shut and ached. Her whole history, her whole life, an illusion.
She couldn’t help it; her eyes filled with tears, and all she could do was repeat, “Why?”
“Why William?” Grant trailed his finger down Sara’s cheek. She jerked her head away, and he frowned. “Because I realized when you were sixteen that you would never consider me as a lover. I gave you someone you could be attracted to. Someone young and fun and wealthy. Someone you could relate to until the age gap closed.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Ignoring her, he kept going. “But the minute you met Slater, things between us changed.”
If Jack hurried the hell up, he would find them in the house. And while he might not be able to enter Grant’s suite, he’d be close enough for her to help him help her. Once Grant took her to another location, all bets would be off. Oh, damn. If Grant didn’t take her, they’d never find—and destroy—the nest. Still, she wanted Jack to at least know where she was; even that much of a link would help her keep it together.
Hurry, Jack! “I love him.”
“Yes, I know. Inconvenient.” Grant touched her hair, a faint smile on his beautifully shaped mouth as his long, elegant fingers moved down to stroke the side of her face. Her flesh crawled. “It was hard enough getting rid of him the first time.”
“You didn’t ‘get rid’ of Jack, Grant.” She forced a mocking note into her voice when what she wanted to do was surround him with a fireball until his skin turned black and his dangling penis burned to a crisp. “He left because he thought I’d aborted our baby.”
Grant laughed, then tweaked her nose as though she were five years old. “Silly little Sara. Of course I did. None of the fights I caused in those last few months broke you apart—and really, I caused so many I lost track. But there you went, kissing and making up no matter how much I escalated your temper. Nauseating, really.”
“How did you make us fight?” Come on, Jackson! Where the hell are you?
“Either I was there—invisible of course—or good old ‘Harry’ kept you company. Of course, being half Omnivatic, you sensed my presence. We’re masked from wizards and Aequitas, but Omnivatics sense one another in the same way wizards do.” His clear blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Those headaches, baby doll. Indicating headaches every time I was near you and maintaining my cover one way or another.”
Sara couldn’t remember every argument she and Jack had had, but she did recall the ones since Jack had come to San Cristóbal. Harry had been in the room every time. And the headaches had preceded every argument.
She swallowed her anger. She could probably do without any of Grant’s answers. But she needed to buy time for Jack to find her. “You killed my baby?” Her throat closed with emotion. That loss had ripped out her heart and changed her forever.
“The fetus was the only way I could drive a permanent wedge between you and Slater. It worked perfectly. I had you back.”
Her heart literally hurt at his casual dismissal of that life-shattering event. “I wanted that baby, Grant. You stole my child from me. Miscarrying almost killed me.”
“Nonsense, you were in perfect health. And it was a fetus,” he repeated a little impatiently. “You told me you were uncertain about having a child with Slater. And, of course, you were correct. The child you bear will be mine. Mine, Sara. The first child ever born to an Omnivatic woman.”
She’d confided in him that she was afraid to have children because of her erratic powers. But she’d also told him that she was going to work it out with Jack, because she wanted their baby desperately. She’d been scared, but happy. “You know that’s impossible.”
He looked pleased. “I see you’ve done your homework, but there’s a gap in your education, baby. No Omnivatic has ever bred with a half-breed. Your earlier pregnancy proved that you are fertile even though you’re half Omnivatic. When the comet passes, it will make my sperm powerful enough to inseminate you. You will bear my children, Sara. I’ll rule the Erebus and the world.”
Oh, is that all? Sara thought caustically. Grant was a megalomaniac, a dangerously powerful one. One wouldn’t know it to look at him. God, what irony—Grant looked like an angelic choirboy, while Jack looked like the devil incarnate.
“And why didn’t you want me to make use of my powers?” She tried backing up, but the cage behind her snagged her hair and stopped her from moving any farther. “Afraid I’d use them on you?” She reached up to free herself.
Grant’s laugh had always been infectious; now it made her furious. “Afraid? No; it just seemed a prudent precaution and it was easy to do. Every time you wanted to spread those little magical wings, I reminded you about poor Mommy and Daddy burning to cinders because you were too powerful for your own good. Then every now and then, when you wanted to put your toe back in the magical water, I’d tweak your memory. Kill off some other poor fool as an example. Like Pavlov’s dog, you eventually got the message that your powers weren’t controllable.”
“That was cruel.” Hair freed from the cage, she stepped to the side, but he stayed with her. She swiped the back of her hand under her chin, where perspiration dripped on her shirt. Materializing a glass of ice water, she drank it down practically in one gulp, then held the ice-filled glass to her throat. “You killed my parents, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Your father did his job—he produced you. They were redundant. I had my own plans for you from the day you were born. None of them included a loving relationship with Mommy and Daddy.”
She didn’t want to kill him quickly, Sara thought viciously. She wanted to roast him over a low flame for a very, very long time. She had to change the subject, or she’d go for his throat now instead of later.
Breathe in; pause. Breathe out; pause. “Tell me more about William.” William who was always charming and flirtatious, William who’d visited her at boarding school and taken her to the movies. William—she shuddered—who’d given her her first French kiss. Sara wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.
“Turns out my alter ego was convenient in business dealings as well. Good cop, bad cop. Being both was delightful fun.”
“So William never existed?”
“Only when I needed him to.”
Bile rose, acidic and bitter, in the back of Sara’s throat. All the times Grant had pressured her to go out with William, especially when she’d been with Jack—it was all Grant. It had always been Grant. Their relationship, her entire life, was nothing but lies. Jack was the only truth she had.
“You’re an Omnivatic. Why not just come right out and tell me?”
“Magic hasn’t always been kind to you, my little Sara. I was merely trying to make you feel more comfortable and secure.”
I freaking bet, asshole. “You lied to me.”
“Only by omission and for your own good.”
Sara tried shoving the shocked haze out of her brain. She had to focus.
She forced her lips to tilt into a passable smile. “So now what? I assume you teleported me here instead of just inviting me for a reason.” The ice in the glass had melted. She made the prop disappear.
Grant grinned and held out his hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something amazing.”
Oh, she did not want to hold his hand. She ignored it, and his arm dropped. “Better than the Icehotel?”
“Is that where you two slipped off to?”
She fished her hankie out of her pocket and wiped away the sweat pooling at the base of her throat. “You wouldn’t have enjoyed it. It was below freezing.”
“I’m cold-blooded, baby. I like the tropical heat. I built this house here in San Cristóbal in 1623. Not a white man around but me. Lots of tasty villagers with pretty daughters.” He threw his head back and laughed, delighted with himself. “I must say, I enjoyed modern civilization’s denial of the ‘legend’ of Sarulu. For that matter, I’m impressed by how many of them survived and kept their wits enough to tell the tales.”
As Grant led her toward his enormous walk-in closet, she dropped her hankie at the door.
Grant pulled her against him, tucking their joined hands against his naked, hairless body. “But I was always there for you, babe. I placed you in the best boarding school in the world. They took good care of you there.”
“Boarding school wasn’t family. Not like you, Grant,” she said sweetly, wondering if he heard the sarcasm. “I know your father and mine were close friends, but that didn’t mean you had to assume responsibility for me.”
He brushed aside a strand of hair that stuck to her cheek. Sara fought the impulse to flinch from his touch.
“There was no father. That was always me. I knew you were mine from the day you were born.”
Gross. Her revulsion increased, even though he’d just confirmed what she’d told Jack and the Wizard Council earlier. “Then why on earth have you waited so long to tell me? You’ve always enjoyed younger women. I’m not exactly a spring chicken anymore.” Come on, tell me about the advent of Ophidian’s comet. Tell me that you have to impregnate me as it travels overhead. Tell me all that, you miserable, lying sack of shit.
The closet racks rotated on a circular hanging apparatus until a gap appeared at the far end of the room. He pressed the stop button, and after a moment, the rack stopped, revealing a gap between a row of indistinguishable, ten-thousand-dollar, dark business suits. A panel slid open in the wall hidden behind the clothing, exposing a set of stone stairs that disappeared downward in the dark.
A drift of dank, cold air slithered inside, mixing with the fragrance of cedar from the closet.
Her heart, already working overtime, sped up another few notches as she saw the stairs.
Showtime.
THERE WAS NO TRACE. Jack couldn’t follow her, because he couldn’t Trace-teleport after her. “Where the hell did he take you, Sara?” Fear rode him with sharp claws.
“The hacienda? The rubble of the cave? The village?” Think, damn it. Think. Where makes the most sense?
EREBUS NOVEM TWO ARE ONE TO INFINITY IF NOT STOPPED.
HE STOOD IN THE center of Sara’s ultrafeminine, all-white bedroom in San Cristóbal. The ceiling fan fluttered the drapes and the ruffles on the pillowcases. The air smelled delicately of lemon, ginger, and woman. His woman. He materialized both his Sig Sauer and the Ka-Bar knife. If magic didn’t work in the cave, then goddamn it, brute force would.
He’d do a lightning-fast shimmer through the entire property, cross it off the list, then go directly to what was left of the cave. There had to be another entrance. He’d find it if he had to rip the hillside apart with his bare hands, stone by fucking stone.
There was a light tap at the door and it opened. “Sara, can I ask you—oh,” Pia said, surprised to see him standing there armed to the teeth. “Jack.”
“Obviously, you haven’t seen her this evening.” Damn it to hell. So she wasn’t in the house. Fine; he’d teleport directly to the cave.
“No. I was—what’s going on?”
“Baltzer’s taken Sara. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt her.”
Pia blinked. “Grant? Hurt Sara? Why on earth would he—no, Jack, you’re wrong. I saw him go to his suite about half an hour ago, and he was alo—Jack!”
“THE TIMING HAD TO be optimal. I’ve waited more than three thousand years for today. This is my time. My destiny. You’re about to witness history. You should be proud of your contribution to this momentous occasion, Sara.”
How in the hell would Jack know where they’d gone if the panel closed behind them? Where was he? Shouldn’t he have been here by now? She had to leave another clue.
Glancing around casually, her eyes fell on a hanging assortment of belts. She leaned over and ran her free hand over them, lifting several off their hooks and making appreciative sounds. The top belt had a distinctive pattern, and she waved the bundle at him. “Snakeskin, Grant? A relative, perhaps?”
He laughed, took the belts from her, and carelessly dropped them to the floor. The bulk of them fell in the doorway; perfect.
Grant turned his gaze on her. Sara felt the weight of his stare, hot, hard, and heavy. “I’ve been biding my time. Waiting for you, Sara. You don’t pick a peach until it’s ripe. Now you’re ready.”
Yes. Ready to douse him with cheap brandy and flambé him, Sara thought. She locked her gaze on the pale blue chips of ice that were his eyes but released his hand, stepping away from him. This time, he let go, confident that she was under his control.
“It’s way too hot in here, Grant. I’m going to faint if I don’t get some fresh air soon.”
A change in the air, almost like static electricity, lifted the small hairs on her arms and neck, and made her jeans and T-shirt stick uncomfortably to her already overheated skin. His eyes were manic as he grabbed her hand again, pulling her after him through the opening.
“Think about it, baby,” he said over his shoulder as they descended the steep, hand-cut stone steps. “The first Omnivatic birth, a full Omnivatic, in three thousand years! Aren’t you proud and excited to be the woman making history?”
“It won’t be a full Omnivatic, though, will it?” Sara pointed out. “I’m only half myself.” Holy crap. Would she have eggs? The thought repulsed her even more.
“Our offspring will have enough Omnivatic blood to rule beside me for eternity.”
God, he was pleased with himself. Filled with his own importance. “My father had to choose mortality to achieve that, and he only had one child,” she told him, tripping down the narrow stairs much too fast as he refused to let go of her hand. The risers were several inches too deep, the treads several inches too short. “Are you going to choose mortality, Grant? I don’t see why. You’re a powerful Omnivatic. Who’d choose to be a puny mortal wizard when you’ll eventually rule the world?”
There wasn’t a mark on his body that she could see, Sara noticed. Thousands of years old, and he’d never been hurt? Never had a cut or a wound? That didn’t bode well for her—or for Jack’s defeating him.
Grant laughed. “Between us, we will build my army in no time at all. Gestation takes one hundred days, and you shall have litters of anywhere from eighty to a hundred. I am viviparous. You don’t understand this term? You will have live births, my dear. My children will arrive in this world alive and ready to serve. I shall quickly rise from Novem to Unum. With control of your womb, I’ll not only rule the world, I’ll rule all wizards, all Aequitas, all Omnivatics and, of course, all humans. I’ll be invincible.”
Somehow, some way, you’ll be dead long before that happens. “So I’ll be queen to your king?” As Jack would say, Not just no, but hell no.
He huffed out a laugh. “Right.”
Lying sack of shit. “Excellent, because you know how much I love to shop, and I have very expensive taste. Can I have anything I want?”
“Sure, baby. Anything. Anything except Jack Slater.”
Sara’s heart did a double bump-thump of fear mixed with a liberal shot of anger. The stairs leveled out into what she realized was the back end of the crystal cave she and Jack had been in earlier. The C-4 they’d placed there was exactly where they’d left it. No sign of the massive explosion they’d witnessed earlier. Not even a scorch mark.
Grant must have set magical wards on it, which she hadn’t detected because she had been so busy controlling her fear, and Jack hadn’t noticed because it was Omnivatic magic.
The entire explosion had been nothing but an illusion.
One Jack would see immediately when he came back to look for her. He’d know this was where Grant would bring her.
It was marginally cooler in the cave. Sara carefully removed one of her gold bracelets, palming it until she could leave it somewhere for Jack to find.
Dusk must’ve fallen because the cave was dimmer than when she and Jack had been there setting the explosives earlier that day. Grant was yanking her along like a child’s pull-toy. Okay. This place, Jack could find. Easily. He might not be capable of utilizing his powers in here, but he could enter with no problem. She hung back a little, ostensibly to get her bearings, and dropped the bracelet onto the sandy floor.
“I can’t decide, did you mean it to come across as gothic with a hint of creepy or as early caveman chic?” They walked between walls embedded with crystal fragments.
“The crystal cave is merely a portal. You don’t decorate a door, baby.”
Sara winced and bent over, making a show of massaging her ankle. “Hang on, I think I twisted something.” Come on, Jack. “Give me a minute, Grant. These boots are too new, and they’re hurting my feet.” She undid the yellow laces and slid off one boot, sighing in relief. “That’s better.”
“Do you love me, Sara-mine?” This time the change was instantaneous, no shedding as he morphed. Sara let out a little scream of surprise as she straightened.
Jack stood there in his scruffy clothes and five-o’clock shadow. Stunned, she almost flung herself into his arms. Almost.
Grant’s turning from William to himself had been creepy enough, but his changing to Jack shocked the hell out of Sara. God. All the times she’d been with Jack … had any of them been Grant? She shuddered, swallowing bile.
He turned her in his arms. “Kiss me like you mean it.”
“Then be Grant. I don’t want to kiss Jack.”
“I think you do,” he murmured against her mouth, his lips firm and familiar. Sara’s heart thudded painfully. Not Jack. Not Jack. Not Jack. His skin sort of smelled like Jack’s. His mouth almost tasted like Jack’s. He stuck his tongue in her mouth. The sensation was … definitely, no way in hell Jack!
She shoved him away with both hands. He might look like Jack, but Sara’s body knew it wasn’t Jack she was kissing. She held her body stiff until, with a laugh, he let her go. He held out his hand.
The amulet she’d been wearing was draped across his palm. “Did you think this would deter me?” He smiled Jack’s smile, but his eyes were flat and very much Grant’s. “I love giving people the illusion that there’s something that can stop me. Nothing can stop me from what I want, be it a nubile village girl to slake my sexual hunger or an athletic young woman who enjoys the chase. I’m unstoppable, Sara. What I want, I take.”
“The ‘athletic woman who enjoys the chase’ didn’t enjoy it at all, and you know it.”
He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. “I enjoyed chasing you, baby. I really enjoyed chasing you. And didn’t I give you the comforting illusion of safety by letting the chase happen in another woman’s body? Didn’t you feel good getting away? Didn’t you feel triumphant and smug, thinking you’d won?”
“Go to hell, Grant. Cut to the real chase. Where are you taking me?”
“My home in the Pyrenees.”
Sara forced a laugh. “We’re in Venezuela. A long, long way from Spain.” Take all the time you want. Jack will figure this out and be right on your slimy ass. Then we can incinerate you together. Sara was looking forward to it.
“This is a direct portal. Don’t worry, we’re almost there. Did you know that Omnivatics started breeding with the Basque people more than three thousand years ago?”
“Are you telling me that you’re three thousand years old?” Sara asked incredulously.
“Give or take a decade or two. Returning is a link with our past,” he continued in Jack’s voice. “The nest is where I go to rejuvenate.” Jack’s body was also tanned all over. But his body had scars everywhere. The one on his shoulder caused by a kid at school throwing a psionic spear at him and his not dodging fast enough. The scar on his thumb where his father had hit him with a poker. Oh, damn.
This was not Jackson. Not Jack. Not Jack.
She kicked off the other boot; the sandy ground beneath her socks felt cool and cushiony.
“We’ve reached the portal,” he said softly in Jack’s voice. “Look.”
The entire wall in front of them was a sheet of crystal as smooth as glass. She and Jack had come this far earlier that day, but the wall had appeared to be solid rock sprinkled with a few glittering crystals. No wonder they had thought they’d come to a dead end.
It took a second for her to notice their reflections in the shiny surface: herself—and a giant, iridescent anaconda. Sara’s knees went weak. Oh, hell. The snake was taller than she was and stood upright on its curled tail; its flat, triangular head, as large as her own, swiveled to look at her. Its rainbow-colored tongue flicked out, caressing her cheek.
Gogogogo! her mind screamed, but her feet refused to move. The snake, growing even larger, curled itself around her, pulling her into its coils. She sensed every muscle twitch, every bit of pressure, as the snake moved closer to the glass, taking her with it in its tight embrace.
“Sssssaraaa.”