Iris Johansen - Deadlock

Emily's gaze was raking Irana's face. "Irana…?"

"Here's your coffee." Garrett held out the cup to Irana. His voice was hoarse, and when Emily glanced at his face, she was shocked to see the pain in his expression.

Irana shook her head. "I don't really want it now. I just knew that you'd feel better if you could do something for me. All I wanted was a bath and to wash my hair. I'm okay now." She turned to Emily. "Come on, Emily. Let's go outside and get some air. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your clothes and one of your jackets. I can't seem to get warm."

"Am I invited to come along?" Garrett asked.

"No." Irana headed for the door. "I'll talk to you later. Emily needs me now."

"What do you mean I need you?" Emily asked when she'd closed the door behind them and followed Irana a few yards into the farm¬yard. "What about you? What do you need, Irana?" She gazed search-ingly at the other woman. Irana was half-turned away from her, but her face appeared pale and strained in the light cast by the bare bulb over the door. "Did he hurt you?"

"It doesn't matter, Emily. It's gone. Soon it will only be a distant memory."

"Oh, God, he did hurt you," she said, agonized. "How?"

Irana turned to look at her. "I asked you to come out here because I knew that this was going to be bad for you. I wanted it over for both of us as quickly as possible."

"Garrett should never have asked you to come here. It's my fault. I think he did it because he wanted to keep me from-"

"Garrett gave me a choice. It's not your fault. It's not Garrett's. Though you'll both probably blame yourselves." Her voice was a little uneven. "You'll be doing me a great favor if you try not to do that. It's very difficult for me to try to heal both of you and myself at the same time."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing that I can't overcome."

I only wanted a bath and to wash my hair.

Torture of a woman usually starts with rape, Staunton had told Emily all those weeks ago.

"Don't look at me like that," Irana said. "I won't have him hurt you again, through me." Her hands grasped Emily's shoulders. "Lis¬ten, I'm going to say this once, then I'm not ever going to talk about it again." Her voice vibrated with passionate sincerity. "He didn't hurt my mind, or my spirit, or my soul. Anything else he did doesn't mat¬ter at all. Do you understand?"

Emily's throat was so tight, she couldn't speak for a moment. "I understand." She understood that Irana was probably even more special than she had dreamed. She stepped closer and enfolded her in her arms. "But I can't say it won't matter to me," she said unevenly. "You told me once I was one of the soldiers. I can't take the higher view."

Irana's arms tightened around her for a brief moment. "I'm having a little trouble doing that, too," she whispered. "I'm working my way through it." She stepped back. "And now I think it's time we both tried to sleep. Tomorrow, everything will be clearer. Garrett said I could share your room."

Emily nodded. "Or you could have it by yourself if you prefer."

"I do not prefer. No guilt. No sacrifices." She turned toward the door. "And if you wish to do me a service, you can make sure Garrett understands and complies. He's a great one for guilt and taking the blame. I've tried for years to rid him of one guilt complex, and I don't want to contend with another."

Emily remembered Garrett's expression when he'd offered Irana that cup of coffee in the kitchen. "He knows, Irana."

Irana nodded. "I was… not myself when he came to the ware¬house. And it's very hard for him. He cares for me. That's why you must make it easier for all of us to get through this."

"I'll do my best." She'd do anything to make the situation easier for Irana. Lord knows Irana was trying to make it easier for them. "No guilt. No blame."

Except for Staunton.

May you burn in hell, Staunton.

IRANA WAS STILL SLEEPING when Emily crept out of the bed¬room at seven the next morning. She was glad that Irana had finally dropped off a few hours ago. She had been curled up and silent most of the night, but Emily had been aware of her tension. She had wanted to reach out and touch her, but had given her space.

Garrett was sitting at the table, papers spread out before him. He looked up when she came into the room. "There's coffee on the stove." "What are you doing?"

"You told me to translate Zelov's book. I'm obliging." She went over to the stove and poured a cup of coffee. "That seems a long time ago."

He nodded. "A decade at least. A lot has happened." Ugliness. Blood. Pain.

He turned back to Zelov's book. "But it still needs doing if we want to move forward. And you wanted to read it."

"Have you been working all night?"

"Yes, I would have had trouble sleeping anyway."

"I didn't have a great night either." She leaned against the counter. "But I made a promise to Irana, and I have to make sure I keep it." She paused. "That you keep it."

He looked up at her. "You're making promises on my behalf?"

"This one. No blame. No guilt. She doesn't want to deal with it from either one of us."

He closed his eyes. "I can't keep your promise, Emily. You were right, I should never have brought her here."

"You will keep it. Or make her think you are. And you'd better do a good job of it. I won't have this made any worse for her than it is al¬ready. She's incredibly strong, but she's hurting. If she looks at us and sees that we're remembering, it will bring it back to her. That's not go¬ing to happen. I won't let it."

His eyes opened, and Emily could see the glitter of moisture. "No, that's not going to happen. I was thinking that I'd like to send her back to Mykala for a while. Dardon could go with her to keep her safe."

"Great. If she'll do it." The idea of Irana away from this hellish situation was wonderfully welcome. She took a sip of coffee. "Maybe we can persuade her." She glanced at the papers on the table. "How far along are you?"

"Not far enough. It's slow going. I'll probably turn it over to Pauley to finish. He can try to tap into one of the Russian language sites and see what he can do."

"Then why don't you try to take a nap? You look exhausted."

He smiled faintly. "Are you concerned about me, Emily? You weren't when you gave me this assignment."

"I was angry. I'm probably still angry." But that indignation and anger seemed remote and curiously unimportant right now. "Oh, just go to bed."

He shook his head. "I'll finish up this entry, then go and wake Pauley and call Dardon to come in from the perimeter. We have to get out of here."

"Why? Aren't we safe?"

"I don't know. I always move locations every few days just to make sure."

"I shot Staunton. It wasn't a fatal wound, but it will take a little while for him to bounce back."

"We still move. I'm not taking chances. As soon as Irana gets up, we'll decide if we have to get her on a plane to Mykala to send-

"Irana is up." Irana came into the room and headed for the bath¬room. "I'm going to wash and get dressed, and Emily is going for a walk with me. Yes, Emily?"

Emily nodded. "But it's not like your island. It's all flat barrenness and vast spaces."

"That can have a splendor, too." Irana stopped at the bathroom door and spoke to Garrett. "And we're not getting me on a plane, so make your arrangements around that fact."

IRANA AND EMILY WERE WALKING out the front door twenty minutes later.

Garrett looked up from straightening the pile of papers in front of him. "Can I talk you out of staying here, Irana?"

"No, Garrett." She smiled at him. It was a shadow of her usual smile, but it was still luminous. "I'm staying here with my friends. I wouldn't be happy on Mykala right now."

Garrett opened his lips, then closed them. He nodded. "Whatever you want, Irana."