of his investigation, all in the name of esprit de corps, for the FBI, for the team. Meanwhile, no one had to know that her real motivation was to look good to the bosses, be on her game, be the go-to gal, get things done in spite of her (slightly) evident grief for her (most likely) fallen comrade-in-arms. She had developed a feel for these things. Her gut was telling her that Rawlins was dead and that opportunity therefore awaited, yawning supinely before her.
Hey, she thought, life’s a contest and to the conqueror go the spoils. And she could be a ruthless gangster when she needed to be. When it suited her. She reflected, a little egomaniacally, on herself: What was your best moment, your favorite promotion, Gretchen? The next one, she answered herself.
The helo slipped swiftly through the airstream.
Arlington, Oregon, present day
Kim had showered and then collapsed into the bed quickly thereafter, falling into a deep but troubled sleep. She was comfortable now, lying there with the feel of clean sheets on her skin, her body heat reflected back to her, warming her to the bone. After so many hours spent on the run, in the rain, soaked and bedraggled, it felt so good to be in a real bed.
But there was something missing. She couldn’t avoid it or deny it.
She reached under her pillow in her fitful sleep, feeling mindlessly, instinctively for the Bloodstone. It was not there.
Of course. She knew who had taken it; who now carried it. How would she get it back from him? What’s the plan? Airel, having showered as well, napped beside her, breathing in and out with soft sighs.
Kim was so exhausted she felt like she could sleep for weeks. Yet she didn’t feel the slightest bit refreshed. If anything, she felt even more tired. Now that the Bloodstone had gone, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. All she knew was that she was tired. So very tired. The voices that called to her inside her head, once interesting and full of ancient wisdom, now grated irritatingly against her seared conscience, shaving away in layers every forethought she attempted to coalesce into something—anything—coherent.
She felt like she was going insane.
What was it that drew her originally to the little red stone? On the cliff top, amidst the scuffle of angels and demons, while lives and destinies were altered irrevocably roundabout her, it had called to her in the warp of time…
She could hear voices. They spoke unspeakable usurpations to her ragged mind, drawing her out of herself and into…into…something that tasted sweet. Something intoxicating. Something I need.
She wanted to kill something; anything. She grasped the pillow with both hands and bit down on it with her jaws, her face contorting in the darkness into a visage of rage. The world was such an unjust place. But…she would make it right. Yes…
Besides, she thought, the Bloodstone is mine. She was weary, yes, but mostly she was tired of being the third wheel in this band of impossible personalities. With the Bloodstone she could see things, feel things that had not yet come to pass, things she could not put into words…
Was it so bad?
She was strong enough. At least when she had it in her hand. Oh, how desperately she wanted to hold it, to touch it once more. It was like sinking into the softest mattress on a lazy Sunday, curling up inside the womb of a thick down comforter, pulling the folds up over her head, muffling the world.
She would be the one to set things right. She would be the key.
It is my destiny. She had heard as much.
I will be patient. She agreed with the whispers in the darkness.
I will wait. The Bloodstone would return to her. It was irresistible, really. She would be the key to peace, a lasting cease-fire, the only one in all of history that would actually work, that would really last. There would be an end to all wars, and it would start in her flesh. She, with the Bloodstone, would be the catalyst. The spark. The first flame.
As her reward for her patience, for her labors, she too would possess long life and beauty. Like Airel, she too would be strong beyond her wildest dreams. She too would not only be able to heal her own flesh, but also the infirmities of others.
Her mind drifted once more. The Bloodstone’s distant whispering call warmed her as she slipped into a world where she