Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

Rumbling.

Rocks tumbling around them.

A sharp stone pierced Cira's skin. She felt the warm blood pouring down her arm.

“Hurry!” Antonio was jerking her through the tunnel. “The structure of the tunnel's weakening. It could go any moment.”

“I am hurrying. What a stupid—” Another rock struck her cheek.

More pain.

More blood.

More pain.

More pain . . .

Wake up. Stop moaning, dammit.”

Blood . . .

She opened her eyes. “Blood,” she gasped.

“Wake up.”

“Antonio . . .”

No, it was Trevor standing above her beside the porch swing.

Of course it wasn't Antonio. . . .

“I'm awake.” She tried to catch her breath. “I'm fine.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I must have dozed off. What time is it?”

“Only a little after midnight. I saw you curled up in the porch swing when I took over for Bartlett an hour ago. But you were sleeping so soundly I thought I'd let you sleep until you stirred.” His lips tightened. “But that was before you started whimpering. It was damn disconcerting. You're not a person given to whimpering. What the hell were you dreaming?”

Rocks flying, blood, pain .

“I don't remember.” She arched her back to ease the stiffness. She must have been curled in that fetal position for hours. Or maybe not. How long did a dream last? “Is everything okay?”

“No problems. The security team is sharp. I just have to remind them to keep sharp. Boredom is our worst enemy.” He was frowning. “You don't have to be afraid.”

“Of course I do. I'd be an idiot not to be afraid.”

“Scared enough for it to give you nightmares?”

“Everyone has bad dreams.”

“Not about blood.” He paused. “And not about Cira.”

She stiffened. “I take it I was doing more than whimpering. What did I say?”

“I couldn't make out very much. I think you said, ‘Watch out, Cira. Rocks. Too late.' When you woke, you were talking to someone named Antonio.” He gazed directly into her eyes. “And, if you know what I'm talking about, then you do remember that nightmare.”

“And you should have waked me right away and not eavesdropped.”

“You have to admit that it's natural that my attention should be caught by Cira's name.”

“I don't care if it's natural. You shouldn't have eavesdropped.”

“Granted.” He was silent. “What were you dreaming?”

She looked away from him. “What you'd expect me to dream since you told me about her. Tunnels. A volcano erupting. A woman running for her life.”

“Is this the first time you dreamed about her?”

“No.”

“When did it start?”

“None of your business.” She rose to her feet and picked up her laptop. “We've let you inveigle yourself into our lives, but keep your hands off my dreams, Trevor.”

“If I can.”

“What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I'm having trouble not being drawn into every aspect of your life. Believe me, I've tried to keep my distance. It's not working.”

“Try harder.” She took a step toward the door. “I don't need you to confide in. I have Eve and Joe. If I want to talk about Cira or anything else, it will be with them.”

He held up his hand in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I hear you.” He stood looking at her as she opened the screen door. “If you change your mind . . .”

“I won't. Why should I?”

“Curiosity.” He smiled faintly. “Did it ever occur to you that you're not the only one who dreams of Cira?”

Her gaze flew to his face. “What?”

“Why the surprise? She seems to dominate all of us. I started dreaming about her years ago after I read those scrolls.”

She moistened her lips. “What . . . kind of dreams?”

He shook his head and said softly, “You tell me your dreams, I'll tell you mine.”

“And you'll probably make up yours.”

He chuckled. “O ye of little faith.” He started down the steps. “If you decide you want to talk, you know where I'll be.”

“I won't want to talk. I don't care about your blasted dreams.” She slammed the screen door behind her.

But she did care, dammit. He had known that little alluring tidbit would intrigue her. Someone else who dreamed of Cira?

If it was the truth.

And she wasn't about to lay herself open to possible ridicule just to satisfy his curiosity.

And her own curiosity, blast his soul.

Dahlonega, Georgia

Three days later

Eve Duncan.

Joe Quinn.

Mark Trevor.

Aldo closed the lid of the laptop computer and leaned back with a sigh of contentment as he stared at the printout. He knew enough now to launch the plan into action. What a pity Cira's enemies had not had access to the Internet. Information would have been a formidable weapon to bring her down. She had been soft in many ways. About that bodyguard she had saved from execution. About the street child she had taken into her home. All Julius would have had to do was to find her weak spot and capitalize on it to kill the bitch. And information was always the key.

Maybe Julius had killed her. But if he had killed her, he hadn't prevented her from remaining a presence, able to torment and destroy. He should have wiped her from the face of the earth.

As he would do.

He'd cleared the path to Jane MacGuire as much as he could. Now he would reconnoiter, find out the obstacles, and then he'd be ready to move with all due ritual.

He smiled as he looked at the suitcase across the motel room.

Green fire. Lovely deadly fire.

Are you waiting for me, Cira?

Mail,” Trevor announced as he came up the steps. “Bills, a postcard from Eve's mother from Yellowstone. Two FedEx boxes. One for Eve and one for you.”

“I hope you enjoyed the postcard.” Jane set aside the computer. “You're learning a little too much about us.”

“There can't ever be too much.” He smiled. “And I didn't read the postcard, just the signature. Eve's package is from a university in Michigan. Your package is from a Mail Boxes Unlimited in Carmel, California. Do you know anyone in Carmel?”

She nodded. “Sarah Logan. She and John live on the Seventeen Mile Strip. She gave me Toby.”

“So of course she's a very good friend, indeed. Come on inside and we'll open the packages.”

“I can open mine here.”

“No, you can't. You don't open anything. I checked the box out and it seemed okay but you can never tell.”

“What?” she lifted her brows. “No bomb? No anthrax?”

“Not funny. As a matter of fact, I had Quinn get me a portable scanner to detect the presence of a bomb.”

“Why? A bomb is a modern weapon of destruction. They didn't have them in Herculaneum.”

“Right. But a volcano explodes and so does a bomb. It's a very tenuous linking but I'm not taking any chances. As for anthrax, I don't think so. But he may have found some other volcano-related powder, that's why I'm opening it.” He opened the door. “Coming?”

She rose to her feet. “It's not unusual for Sarah to send me presents. She has to travel all over the world and she picks up toys for Toby and little surprises for me and Eve.”

“Nice lady. Let's see what she sent this time.”

He was holding the door open for her and it was clear he wasn't going to give her the package. She shrugged and preceded him into the house. “I won't argue. But you said yourself that you thought Aldo would want a close kill.”

“I'm not the one who'd bear the consequences if I was wrong.” He smiled at Eve, who was working on a reconstruction in her studio across the room. “Mail, Eve. Your mother is enjoying Yellowstone.”