The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [188]
“Are they ironhearts?” Deirdre said.
Travis tried to answer, but he couldn't catch his breath.
“Here, use these,” the driver said in a gravelly voice, tossing a small plastic case at Deirdre.
Travis couldn't get a good look at him, but one thing was certain: The man behind the wheel wasn't Hadrian Farr. He was thick-shouldered, his short hair white-blond.
Deirdre fumbled with the case. “What is this?”
“Heat-sensing goggles, mate. They translate thermal patterns into a visual signal.”
Deirdre opened the case and pulled out something that resembled a small pair of binoculars. She turned around in her seat and held the device up to her eyes.
“Damn it—how do you adjust these things? Wait, I see them now. They—” She sighed and lowered the goggles. “They're gone. I think they ducked down an alley before I could get a good look at them.”
Larsen had managed to right herself on the seat. She swiped her tangled hair away from terrified eyes. “Who are these people, Travis? And what are ironhearts?”
Travis was sweating now, and he couldn't stop shaking. “How did you find me?”
“Child Samanda led us to you,” the driver said. “At least, that's what Deirdre told me. Personally, I didn't see any spooky girls lurking about, so I think my partner is positively barking. But I suppose she did find you.”
Child Samanda? Yes, that made sense. If any of this could really make sense. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”
The driver met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I'm heading back to the hotel. That's where the others are.”
“Others? What others?”
Deirdre turned around in the seat. “Vani and Beltan. They're both there, Travis. They came here to look for you.”
A sharp pain stabbed at his chest. They shouldn't have come. It was too dangerous here. They had to go back. All the same, joy filled him.
“Beltan,” Larsen said, arms crossed over her chest. “That was what he was called, wasn't it?”
Travis looked out the window. “You never even asked him his name.” He caught the ghost of her reflection in the glass: pale, haunted.
“We didn't . . . I didn't know I could communicate with him. Has he . . . how is he?”
Travis turned to look at her. “Different, Dr. Larsen. He's different now.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded.
They reached the hotel minutes later. On the way, Deirdre introduced them to the driver. His name was Anders, and he was her new partner.
“Where's Hadrian Farr?” Travis asked as Anders brought the vehicle to a halt.
“I honestly have no idea,” Deirdre said and got out of the car.
When they reached the hotel suite, the door opened before Anders could swipe the card key through the lock. But then, she was always watching, wasn't she?
Travis gazed into golden eyes. “Vani . . .”
She smiled, then lowered her gaze, as if suddenly shy of him. This astonished Travis. Vani was so strong, so full of danger, that sometimes he forgot how beautiful she was, how small. He coiled her inside his arms, and he could feel her trembling.
“You smell,” she said, laughing as she pushed him away.
“And you don't look too good, either.”
Travis glanced up, and he was certain his heart couldn't bear the sight before his eyes.
“Oh, Beltan.”
The blond man grinned, an expression that transformed his usually plain face. “You didn't think you could get away from us that easily, did you?”
Travis could only shake his head. Beltan's grin faltered, and then he was there, catching Travis in strong arms, holding him so tight it hurt, but Travis didn't care. He returned the embrace with all his might.
Beltan whispered fierce words. “By all the gods, don't you ever leave me again, Travis. Don't you ever leave us.”
I won't, he wanted to say. I swear it. But his throat was too tight; he couldn't speak the words.
At last Beltan let him go. “By the Bull,