Out of Reach Page 17

  The floor directly below their sleeping quarters houses a pool and a gym that would make the Olympic training facility seem small. Kade explains there is also an outdoor pool and spa area on the roof.

  "You could live at this place and never get bored!" I exclaim after drooling over the facility’s enormous library, which is chock full of rare first editions and histories of civilizations I never even knew existed.

  "Most of us do," Kade admits. "This place isn't just our headquarters; when we aren't on assignment, it's our home, Gwen."

  Their home. I roll the statement over in my head. I guess I didn't think the Wanderers had a home; somehow I'd begun to believe that they ceaselessly roamed the earth. When I admit as much to Kade, he just smiles thoughtfully.

  "For a time it was like that, when the angels first scattered the Sylph and we didn't have the conveniences of modern transportation." His eyes glaze over like he's miles away, stuck in some waking memory. Finally he continues.

  "We traveled by horseback as a clan, sometimes for weeks at a time, tracing rumors, whisperings of the Sylph. The ones we found we carted back to Essam before repeating the pattern. Wandering, yes. Constantly wandering we were." Blinking he looks up, a wicked grin lighting his face. "Come on, I want to show you the command room."

  He quickly drags me up two flights of stairs, and then spreads his arms wide, still beaming, when we reach the command room.

  "Wow." It’s all I can say.

  They have more electronics than I've ever seen, barring the fact this place looks exactly the way television portrays the eye-in-the-sky security rooms at casinos. Only I assume the Wanderers aren't monitoring for cheaters. I stick my hands in my pockets, too afraid to touch anything, and waltz around the room. Kade excuses himself to go check on something quickly and I continue to peruse the blinking lights and flashing screens. During my second spin around the room, I'm drawn to a personal laptop that’s been left open on the counter. The screensaver has kicked on displaying a hypnotizing fire. The flames grow big and bright for a time before diminishing back to nothing more than glowing embers; the pattern repeats itself, a never-ending loop of beautiful destruction. Pulling my hands-which have begun to sweat-out of my pockets, I wipe them off on my pants. My heart rate skyrockets as I internally begin to freak out—externally I continue to stand motionless in front of the blaze.

  Ben! my mind shrieks. The reality that other things are going on in the world besides my supernatural escapade flattens me like a steamroller. Snatching up the laptop I start clicking buttons hoping nothing is password protected. As the machine comes to life, I mouth a silent prayer of thanks and log onto the Internet as quickly as I can.

  I pull up all the information from the last twenty-four hours on the Cleveland fire. I speed-read the short news blurbs that have been released. While the fire still blazes and the threat to populated areas has increased-several neighborhoods have been evacuated already-there are no casualties to date.

  Closing the open browser I log off and return the laptop to its original position. I clench my fists to prevent even the possibility of my hands shaking and take a step back. I repeat over and over in my head the words "He's fine, Ben is fine."

  Kade returns to find me staring at nothing a minute later. Noting the sour countenance I've developed in his brief absence he nods toward the door. "Come on, there's one more thing I want you to see."

  Pulling me by the hand down a wide hallway, we round a slight bend into a cavernous room, which is open to the heavens. Mesmerized by the wall itself I lean closer to see it more clearly.

  "How did you get it to look so much like an actual cave?" I ask awestruck.

  "We thought it this way." He shrugs.

  “Wait, what? You thought it this way?” I swing my arm around, indicating the entire wall. Rolling his eyes Kade approaches me.

  “Yes, Gwen, thought. We exercise the power of thought.”

  “The power of thought?”

  “It’s the way all things are created.”

  Staring dumbfounded at him all I can utter is, “What?”

  “Take humans for example. The things they dream up, well, they use their hands to bring them into existence. Sometimes they have to build tools along the way to accomplish the task, but everything from the tallest skyscraper to the most beautiful painting started as an idea, a thought in someone’s head.” He pauses, eyeing me warily, so I nod along letting him know I understand.

  “When you sent that soda can flying into your lab partners, you used telekinesis, which is a type of power of thought. For us it’s different, much simpler, really. It doesn’t require so much focused intention; we merely have to think it and it is.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. So you can do anything?” I exclaim amazed.

  “No, there are limitations,” he says, shaking his head at me. “Some were imposed by the angels when they made us this way. Just like the Sylph, we cannot kill, cannot resurrect, and cannot alter free will.”

  “What’s altering free will?” I ask. Kade chuckles to himself like he’s in on some inside joke and I’m not.

  “I know this is the lame ass example they use in the movies but it really does get the point across. Gwen, I cannot make you fall in love with me.”

  “Come again?” I blurt out, surprised.

  “Making someone fall in love with someone else would be an example of altering free will, an individual’s freedom of choice.”

  “Okay,” I reply, wrapping my head around this new tangle of information. “What about your mind control trick—isn’t that altering free will?”

  “No. I can implant a new idea. For example, I can implant the idea Joe thought he saw you at the vending machine before lunch, but I can’t make him believe it. Joe’s own mind has to choose to believe the new idea as fact or dismiss it as fiction.” I nod along finally feeling on the same page. “That’s why we shy away from using it, the consequences can be devastating when something goes awry.”

  After watching me for several minutes with my hand still glued to the wall, memorizing the surface with my fingers, Kade reaches forward, turning me around by the shoulders.

  “Come on. The wall isn’t what I wanted to show you.”

  Looking at the cavern for the first time I inhale swiftly, amazed. Painted in gold filigree is a monstrous tree, the branches stretching out covering most of the open wall space. Pointing in disbelief, I ask, “What is that?”

  Kade stands next to me beaming from ear to ear, his topaz-colored eyes smoldering in his god-like face. Bathed in the natural light spilling in from the open ceiling he looks heavenly and my heart skips a beat.

  “This is your family tree,” he announces enthusiastically. A stupid, “Huh,” escapes me. Again.

  “Really, Gwen, you need to develop a bigger vocabulary,” Kade teases. “This is the family tree of the Nephilim. Every redhead you’ve ever met is recorded somewhere within the braches of that tree.” He gestures to it proudly.

  Running over to the wall I begin tracing the exquisite golden lines with my hands, noting the names listed along the way. “This is incredible, but why did you make it?”

  “Do you remember I told you that no one had witnessed a Nephilim exhibiting the powers of old in over a century?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Sometime after the last resealing we realized the bloodlines were becoming so diluted there might not be a Nephilim powerful enough to help us in the future. So we created this.”

  I cock my head in his direction. “This allows you to track the strongest bloodlines,” I reason.

  “Bingo,” he answers.

  Stepping to the center of the room so I can appreciate the immense creation in its entirety, I ask Kade, “What happens when you run out of room?”

  “We think it bigger,” he replies, the wicked mirth I love so much sparkling in his eyes.

  Chapter 31

  The next series of flights are uneventful, except for my surprise over the discovery that
we aren’t really going to Dubai.

  While our cover convention, The International Conference on Drug Discovery and Therapy is in Dubai, we will be in Jordan, or Saudi Arabia rather. I mean we will be landing in Jordan and then disembarking into the Saudi desert.

  As a geographically challenged woman, I have to pull up a map of the area on my smart phone to understand what everyone is talking about. Other than Saudi Arabia the countries all appear small on my map, so I reason the drive can’t be that bad. I’m a tad depressed, though. I’ve heard such wonderful stories about Dubai; and it’s been featured on the travel channel more than once. After finding out I won’t be able to scratch it off of my travel bucket list, I promptly take an Ambien and tune out the world.

  It’s better than pouting, I rationalize, and I really could use the sleep. Besides, with the entourage I’m traveling with, I’m beyond safe.

  Upon exiting baggage claim, the intensity of the heat is overwhelming and a thin trickle of sweat immediately forms between my shoulder blades under the weight of my heavy hair. The irony of my recent attempts to freshen up in the airport restroom makes me laugh. So much for my vanity.

  After the endless hours of flying, I'd wanted to make myself somewhat presentable before meeting the rest of the Wanderers. Brushing out my hair and reapplying what little makeup I'd packed seems to be all for naught right about now.

  My fair complexion, coupled with being unaccustomed to this type of climate, has my hair drenched with sweat and my fresh coat of pretty running down my face. Dabbing under my eyes with a tissue I find in my pocket I try to prevent the appearance of raccoon eyes.

  "Are you crying?" Zafir asks at the top of his lungs.

  Slugging the guy I reply, "No, of course not. I was just having a girl moment." Luckily my cheeks are so red from the heat that my blush of embarrassment goes completely unnoticed. Grunting, Z points over to the next awning.

  "This way, and stay close." Tromping off with his usual confident swagger, I do my best to keep up with Z, who is carrying both of our bags. Kade watches our progress from the meeting site. While I know he hasn't let me out of his sight since this whole ordeal began, Kade has allowed me my space. Z, on the other hand, has taken the opposite approach, never more than three paces away, constantly barraging me with reminders to keep close or not to wander off. Although suffocating and irritating as hell, I've a soft spot in my heart for the gruff, overly confident Wanderer.

  When we finally reach Kade I lift an eyebrow in a familiar “What gives?” expression. Over the bustle of activity from the travelers all around us, I'm afraid my question would go unnoticed.

  "Hal is acquiring transportation," he tells me.

  I'll bet he is, I think to myself, still reeling from his disappearing act on the plane. The guy had literally poofed into smoke and vanished. Grabbing Kade by the shirt I'd demanded to know what gives. I swear he'd told me only the Sylph can do that.

  Apparently after the angel’s curse only Hal, his partner Hashim, and Rashid retained the ability to travel by poof. Okay, so Kade had called it teleportation or something like that, but I'm sorry, poof is a more descriptive term for what really happened.

  As I watch Hal roll up to us in a white van, I eyeball the guy warily. Just when I begin to feel comfortable around the Wanderers, one of them goes and does something to remind me how dangerous they really are.

  “Don’t let Halim bother you. His name means gentle, and the guy lives up to his name, I assure you," Kade whispers for my ears alone. I assume he sensed my apprehension. Kade always has been good at reading me. Nodding, I fearlessly step into the van after Bass slides the door open.

  "Sorry about the tight accommodations, guys. It was all I could find," Hal tells us from behind the wheel. Normally I wouldn't call a van tight accommodations, but the six of us and the luggage barely fit. Wedged up against the window I have to wiggle in order to breathe.

  "Geez, Z, you're putting on weight," I chastise from where I’m squeezed between him and the window.

  "All muscle, baby," he replies giving me a sly grin.

  "It's not much further, Gwen," Hal assures me, eyes lingering on my reflection in the rearview mirror. Just then Z leans closer, a feat I'd swear was impossible.

  "Say cheese," he says, holding his phone at arms length to capture a shot of the two of us. "That's going on my Facebook page," he teases.

  True to his word, we reach the outskirts of town before I pass out—death by masculine suffocation. Last to exit the vehicle I soon become the center of attention as the rest of the Wanderers converge upon me. That much muscle coming toward you all at once, I don't care who you are, it’s intimidating.

  I step back reflexively only to find Kade is directly behind me. Trapped against his chest I school my features into a mask of serenity while I weather the introductions. Having been informed about me by phone ahead of our arrival, this welcoming party is much friendlier than the first two I’d received. Like me or not these guys had at least been given the opportunity to make their peace with the situation before I showed up.

  The new comers, in order of introduction, are Nabil, Arif, Fadil, Aziz, Makeen, Rashid, and Hashim. I shake hands with or receive some acknowledgement of respect from each before the party breaks up. Free to look around at last, I notice a contingent of horses being inspected in a paddock to my right and a military style cargo truck being loaded to my left.

  Eyeing the stack of saddles one of the Wanderers is carrying apprehensively, I hear Kade ask, "You aren't afraid of horses, are you?"

  Glaring back at him I scoff; he knows very well I don't like horses. My exact sentiment, which Kade has heard on numerous occasions, is that they're extremely large animals with a mind of their own. As delighted as my intense unease is making him, Kade, always the gentlemen, takes pity on me.

  "Don't fret. The horses are for us, the truck is for you."

  "Thank you," I whisper, my pride taking a backseat to my trepidation of having to mount one of those creatures. We walk to the truck together where Kade leaves me in Hal's care.

  "I didn't mean to scare you on the plane. I was just having a bit of fun," Hal explains.

  "It's alright,” I smile. “Being shocked is par for the course these last few days."

  After tossing a large crate into the back of the truck, Hal approaches me, his expression thoughtful. Somehow he feels older to me, more like a father figure than the rest of the guys. Regardless of my impressions, physically he can't be more than thirty.

  "You're not going by horseback either?" I ask him.

  "Hell no, I'm not getting anywhere near those devious devils. The automobile was the best invention man’s ever come up with."

  I laugh, instantly latching onto a kindred spirit.

  "Every time we come up here, that lot has to relive the glory days or some garbage like that." It melts my heart to see I really do have some similarities and common ground with these guys, my own small role to play ... maybe I do belong.

  Hal tells me not to stray from the truck then heads back to the vehicle bed to help finish the loading. I wonder how long it will be before we get moving. Knowing we have quite a distance to travel gets me thinking that I should probably find a bathroom before we head out.

  Not wanting to bother anyone I head for the line of buildings closest to the truck, assuming one of them will be a store or gas station or something with a restroom. One of the locals snaps a cell phone picture of me as I pass—with my vivid red hair I know I stick out so I don't think much of it.

  The fact that no one speaks English becomes blatantly obvious when I approach the first vendor. After failing to successfully communicate with the woman behind the counter, I notice the guy who took my photo pointing to a building further down. Repeating my query and pointing he nods and points again. Hoping he understands me I continue along what passes for a road until I reach the indicated spot. The front door is closed and littered with fliers I can't read. As I knock I open the door and step inside;
in the low lighting the shop appears to be empty.

  "Hello?" I ask hopefully. Pain explodes in the back of my head and I drop to my knees. Bright stars flash before my eyes seconds before I pass out. I never get the chance to see who or what it was that felled me.

  I wake up on my side, head throbbing, in the back of a moving cart. My hands and feet are bound with coarse rope that itches but thankfully doesn't seem to be cutting off my circulation. I'm in no condition to sit up given I likely have a concussion. The thin fabric tarp covering the wagon could also pose a problem should I try to rise.

  Sucking in several deep breaths I attempt to steady myself and keep my wits about me. The cart is moving at a remarkably fast clip for such a shoddy contraption, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning when we hit a bump or pot hole or the like.

  Hearing voices outside I manage to wiggle so I'm facing the direction they’re coming from. Scooting forward slowly I get my head close enough to peak through the large gaps in the wood. I appear to be traveling with a caravan of some kind but I have no idea where we are or where we're headed. Straining my neck toward the voices, I recognize the man with the cell phone who'd pointed me in the direction of what I thought was a restroom. He's busy talking with another man on horseback.

  Closing my eyes I wonder how long I've been out and how long it will take Kade or Z to notice I'm missing. We hit another bump and my eyes fly open. I decide I'd better watch where we're going to keep from getting motion sick—and to garner any useful information I can.

  The bump from my recent head injury makes it difficult to focus though, and I drift in and out of things for awhile. Eventually a commotion rouses me out of my stupor and I stare through my peephole to see what's going on.

  The cart has stopped moving and I can see that the sun is lower on the horizon, but I have no clue how close to sunset it is. The men around me are screaming and pointing toward a hill. Wrenching my neck in that direction I can just make out four riders on black horses cresting the rise of a near sand dune.