The Uninvited (The Julianna Rae Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

The narrow river continued its aggressive course downstream, bubbling over the jagged rocks, making it dangerous to cross even for the most experienced outdoorsmen. To abandon such a key location must have bothered Caden just as much as her thought of him removing the pin from the map. The blue were outnumbered three to one by the red pins. She knew very well who the blue pins were, they weren’t Militia.

Taris was winning his battle and Caden liked the drink a little too much. He wasn’t what she remembered.

Still, twelve months in the Rebellion would change anyone, and judging by his impeccable record, Caden and Bas had experienced more frontline action than anyone should ever experience in a war. They were the key to the west front. A strong hold. Most camps had retreated; some obliterated under attack. Theirs was the last camp standing.

Katherine added to the insult – she was just another casualty, but one that hurt them. It was in Bastiaan’s eyes more than Caden’s, but they were hurting as much as the next person was. She sighed at the thought. All she wanted was for her mind to quieten down. Just for one moment of peace.

She startled.

He crouched with her knife extended by the blade tip, held precariously between his fingertips, waiting for her to take it. She hadn’t heard his footsteps, but he was there. Under the moonlight, he looked as he had on the eventful night of their meeting, but for his heavy eyes betraying him. He looked weary.

Their lingering kiss backstage at the club flooded back to her.

‘It has an extra score.’ Caden held it out again. ‘Since the other night.’

She took it gently and folded it into the pocket of her pants, wincing at the pain it caused. ‘I like to keep track. His name was Shaw. Katherine worked with him at Command.’

‘I didn’t intend my abruptness. It’s not been the easiest of days.’ He paused. ‘You dancing up there the other night...’ She saw his smile. ‘Damn, girl, I’ve been thinking all day I should’ve slipped you a fifty and taken you out back for more.’

The mood lightened. His attempt at an apology worked. A laugh escaped them both and his nose crinkled a little at the bridge as he glanced in her direction. She studied his face as he studied hers before they broke their gazes for the river and trees behind it. It was dark on the other side; it was dark behind them. The stars were thick and bright and the trees danced in the low breeze. She stretched her legs. Blood trickled into her pants and the dampness caught by the band of her knickers made them tug more at the damaged skin.

‘Christ,’ she said quietly, peering down her pants.

‘Been asking about you. Last I heard, you were chasing intel for the Guild – of all prets, I might add. You know they hate us watchers, what were you thinking?’ He worked his legs so he could sit beside her. The sharpness of the stones didn’t bother him.

Her hand slipped between the band of her pants and her stomach to move the uncomfortable rub of material. A wave of relief washed over her and the sting eased. The mention of the Guild was unexpected. Had Isis known after all about her stint with them? He’d never mentioned it and she’d worked hard to keep it hidden. The sound of the water passed them by and they sat in each other’s company, listening to the acoustic ringing its song.

‘I’m not a watcher,’ she said quietly.

‘You’re elusive, missy,
that’s
what you are.’

She nodded. ‘Coming from the Master watcher himself.’

His face eased. ‘Don’t worry yourself about the comms. We have codes on them for this reason.’

She felt the strain.

‘Tell me he doesn’t have the codes,’ he said. ‘
J Rae
?’ He turned to her and waited, and she looked up at him with an apologetic gaze. ‘Please tell me I’m right.’

She shook her head regretfully and he cast a stone into the river that he’d hastily grabbed. It dropped heavily under the white foam. 

‘I’m sorry, Taris was—’

‘You can camp in my crib tonight. We’ll sort a bed for you once we’re settled at the new location.’

‘I’m heading back in the morning,’ she said.

He cast another stone into the water. ‘Don’t think Isis wants you back right now.’ He paused. ‘We’re trying to keep you safe and now you’re making it hard.’

‘Taz has someone I want. Today he added to it, so once I help you guys bug out, I’ll be heading east.’

‘And right into a road block,’ he warned dully. ‘From here to the Sectors will be covered by now, anticipating that very move. Can’t let you make that mistake, sorry.’

They sat in more silence as the river flowed and the music slowed down.

‘Hal offers his hellos,’ she said.

A grin spread across his face. ‘The Gatehouse.’ His head bobbed. ‘I’m surprised the tetchy old coot let you leave alive. He’s a prickly old bastard.’

‘Old as you?’It slipped out, except it didn’t. She wanted to ask. She wanted to know about the man who crept into her dreams late at night, into her mind when escaping a patrol chase. She
needed
to know. Did he feel the same way about her? She wondered. Hell, he knew about the Guild; if he knew about them, he knew everything; he didn’t need to ask questions.

He pursed his lips and gave her shoulder a gentle nudge with his. ‘I look good for my delicate age.’

‘You do.’ she felt herself blush. ‘I mean—’

Oh, shut up, Julianna.

He teased her with a knowing smile. ‘Been around long enough, but no. Not as old as Hal. Not even close.’ The music from the campfire made his foot tap at a rock. 

‘Who’s the guy behind the bar?’

His eyes narrowed and his foot stopped tapping. The tension between them returned, and the pardon was gone. He stood, brushed himself down, and extended his hands for her to take.

‘Danny’s no good.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘You’d do well to stay away from him.’

The comment dwarfed the pain settling in her side again. Not trouble, not dangerous, not painful – just no good.
He’s no good.
His free hand patted his empty shirt pocket in frustration as he looked around the camp. He was habitually searching for his cigarettes while still holding her hand. ‘Let him fight his own battles.’

‘Oh, okay, Cade. Sure. If you say so.’ Her feet sank into the ground on his first step forward, breaking their hands apart. ‘Even if he did save our backsides today.’

He turned and his hands ran through his last pocket. He’d found them. His eyes set down upon her small stature as he lit his cigarette. She knew when someone was sizing her up. A stream of smoke left his mouth. He pulled some of it back in.

‘No last name?’ she asked.

He turned toward the camp, dismissing her with a hand cutting through the air. The glow of his cigarette left a flicker of ash raining down like small fireworks.

‘No last name?’ she called again.

‘Nope.’ He continued walking.

‘Won’t Hal be pissed?’

‘Hal’s always pissed, J Rae.’ He didn’t turn back. His last reaction was a shake from his head as he joined his crew at the campfire. Caden took the guitar offered and he embraced it, taking his seat on an upturned crate to pluck at its strings.

Julianna heard her name whispered as part of the entertainment. She tried to ignore them as she strolled past, but Bastiaan’s uncomfortable gaze invaded her mind, beckoning for her attention. Anything would have done; he wanted her to look up, and when she did, he returned the gesture with arrogant smugness.

She returned to the tent. Its warmth hugged her sore body. She slapped at a biting insect on her shoulder and unfastened the netting to be zipped down so the door could be left ajar. Caden watched. She watched back. His hands strummed random chords before making sense of them and she lowered her eyes to break his hold. She made her slow, agonizing way to the bed where she had woken.
Where Katherine died.
It haunted her. It was only the first day, but it haunted her.

The thought moved in circles. Katherine’s face hovered over her as she rested on top of the blankets. A cool breeze rushed through the tent, but infection was settling in for the night. The rise in her temperature would keep her warm. The time passing went unnoticed as she drifted restlessly about in delusion. Caden filled her mind and Taris pushed him out. Shadows danced around the tent, grabbing their forms from unfamiliar objects. When she did open her eyes, the voices that stretched across the camp played havoc.

Whispers reached her cot where she rested. Lying in bed, she watched Caden outside, his head nodded at his brother’s words as they spoke in close quarters. His guitar swung loosely by its neck, gently rocking in his grasp, back and forth like a pendulum, as Bas continued to whisper in a low voice.

Others were retreating to their tents for their belongings, hurrying along, carrying possessions, offloading them into the Jeeps and then disappearing out of view again. The fire was barely an ember glowing in the dark, but it shared enough light with the moon that she could tell a bugout was being hurried.

Caden arrived in her view again as he shuffled on his feet and nodded attentively for his brother. His hand touched the netting and he pushed, relenting to hear more. It moved a few more times and a bug flew in, resting on her arm before she could slap it away. It attempted to prick her with its beak for a taste of her salty liquid. It flattened under her palm and she examined the trail it left as she rubbed her fingers together. It had died happy, rewarded with a full belly of her juice in the second it took to murder the little fucker.

In cases like that, it made her happy. A win against a minute bug made her happy. It didn’t take much these days, but she felt she had to take what life offered, and it wasn’t offering much. If she was still alive tomorrow – and she always thought the night was full of boundless opportunities in death – she’d find some repellent. No more bugs. This little fucker was the last.

The breeze stirred the netting opened again. The hint of rain reached her nose.

Caden ambled in. In the moment he connected with her eyes, his presence was strong, until the distraction from the lamp swinging above the table, stole his attention. 

He dimmed the lantern. ‘You left it on.’

She attempted to close her eyes. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered and the need to vomit rose into her throat.

‘You okay, sweetheart?’

She didn’t answer, but the name he gave her reached deep and memories of her father sprung back. Her voice faltered. She shook her head. Answering meant hurling chunks. She had more control than that. She hoped.

Caden peered over her. ‘You can ride with me when we leave.’ His hand touched her arm, gliding along it until he lifted it to her cheek, feeling the sweat coating her skin. ‘Not much I can do until we settle again.’

She propped and his hand left her face. A chair slid across the floor under his command. The motion was simple and elegant for its heaviness. It moved behind him easily, taking him up to sit comfortably. He needn’t do anything but bend his legs and accept the courtesy the chair offered. The command was naturally sinister. He was someone to fear.

He’s on the Council, damn it! He led the Council.

Did she suppose she knew things about him? Not everything, but enough. The symbols painted under his skin suggested he was an ancient, but she pushed the thought aside. The absurdity of someone so important acting as a Rebellion Commander.

Still...I ran from the Council.
The thought refused to leave her.

He was the very reason she had run from the Family.
Tradition, honor, family, obedience.

She questioned the success she was having in keeping him from her thoughts and he smiled.

Not very,
she thought.

He smiled more with his eyes darkening.
You’re rambling.

‘You’re strong, even in fever.’ Caden looked down at her stomach and her singlet folded back under his power. ‘Not strong enough to heal yourself, though…but that takes training under a Master watcher.’ He held a gentle hand above her, his ability sunk Julianna into the mattress without touching her. ‘Be still,’ he said, and she felt locked inside the mattress curling around her body. Ever so slightly curling, but it was there, and everything else appeared to stop. ‘Just looking, not hurting.’

The tape peeled away, stubbornly raising the skin as he lifted each corner easing across to the next. Their eyes met for a moment before he lowered them again and the tape gave a final tear.

Somewhere inside, a scream reached out, and then she wanted to move. She felt the scream rise in her throat - screaming was better. She wanted to scream as the skin pulled and clawed out, while he ran his fingers gently around the wound, yet the scream never left her. Against her will, he pressed and studied the wound, provoking more pain with his examination.

‘It hurts, I know, but it’s infected. We need to clean it.’ He held a hand on her soft belly and waited. His power enticed her stillness against the bed again.

His hands searched along her thighs, for the knife he had returned earlier. She frowned at his uninvited touch inside her pocket, and he returned her response with a half-smile as he held it.