if she were caught in some sort of hazy vignette. But now she saw everything. The desert, far in the distance, a city glittering like a jewel beyond it, and closer, right at her feet, the very edge of the cliff on which she stood and the dizzying distance to the rocks below.
And she felt the hands of the soldiers at her back.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What’s happening?”
The other two womenedged closer, so close that she felt the heat of their smooth skin pressing against hers, shoulder-to-shoulder. “We will triumph, my sister,” said Lilia. “These murderers have not seen the last of Indira, Lilia and Magdalena.”
The hands at her back pushed, and Lena screamed. The last thing she saw as she plummeted downward, the wind burning past her ears and pulling her hair, was a lone horseman galloping on a white stallion across the desert toward them.
My prince was coming to save me, she thought, but he was too late.
* * *
Ryan pulled the rented moving truck into the washboard-like dirt driveway, and brought it to a stop outside the farmhouse. It was a big old house, emphasis on old, and he figured it was probably supposed to be white. “Dad bought this? ”
Bahru nodded. “Don’t let its appearance mislead. It is solid, the roof, wiring, heating system and plumbing are all completely new. He was having it restored a little at a time.”
“Why didn’t he have it painted, or sided or landscaped or—”
“He intended to do the cosmetic things himself. He and your mother.”
“But he dropped those plans when she died.”
Bahru nodded, but he was staring at the house. Ryan followed his gaze to an upstairs window, but aside from a brief shadow beyond the glass, which he thought was just an optical illusion, he saw nothing worthy of interest.
He opened the door of the truck, stepped down and walked over the driveway, which had bits of snow here and there, up the front steps and across the front porch. He could see it was solid, just as Bahru had described. He was almost to the door when he started getting cold feet. After all, he had no reason to anticipate a warm welcome. He turned to see what was taking the guru so long and saw that Bahru was already trekking along the driveway where it forked off and led to the little guesthouse in the distance, a small drawstring bag over one shoulder, along with his green canvas satchel. That was all he’d brought. Ryan noticed that he’d traded his sandals for a pair of cloth moccasin-like shoes that could have been made this year or last century. No way to tell. At least he wasn’t barefoot in the snow.
Straightening his spine, Ryan lifted his hand to knock on the door and heard a scream. Lena!
He opened the door and lunged into the house before he even thought about it and was just in time to catch a glimpse of Lena’s mother running up the stairs to the second floor. He didn’t hesitate. He raced up the stairs and down the hall behind Selma, his heart in his throat when the two of them burst through a bedroom door and stumbled to a stop inside what was not a bedroom.
It was some kind of witchcraft den, and Lena was lying on the floor with her eyes closed, her belly so huge it made him blink and look again. Her head was rolling back and forth, her arms and legs twitching. He dropped to his knees next to her as Selma did the same on the other side.
“Lena,” Ryan said, sliding one hand under her neck, cradling her nape to try to keep her head from thrashing back and forth. “Lena, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
She moaned, and Ryan looked up and met Selma’s eyes. “Call 9-1-1,” he told her.
“I’ll do better than that.” She got up, turning to run out of the room, but as she passed, she reached down to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here, Ryan.”
* * *
Lena opened her eyes to find herself lying in bed and staring up into the face of her prince, and for just an instant she was there again on the
And she felt the hands of the soldiers at her back.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What’s happening?”
The other two womenedged closer, so close that she felt the heat of their smooth skin pressing against hers, shoulder-to-shoulder. “We will triumph, my sister,” said Lilia. “These murderers have not seen the last of Indira, Lilia and Magdalena.”
The hands at her back pushed, and Lena screamed. The last thing she saw as she plummeted downward, the wind burning past her ears and pulling her hair, was a lone horseman galloping on a white stallion across the desert toward them.
My prince was coming to save me, she thought, but he was too late.
* * *
Ryan pulled the rented moving truck into the washboard-like dirt driveway, and brought it to a stop outside the farmhouse. It was a big old house, emphasis on old, and he figured it was probably supposed to be white. “Dad bought this? ”
Bahru nodded. “Don’t let its appearance mislead. It is solid, the roof, wiring, heating system and plumbing are all completely new. He was having it restored a little at a time.”
“Why didn’t he have it painted, or sided or landscaped or—”
“He intended to do the cosmetic things himself. He and your mother.”
“But he dropped those plans when she died.”
Bahru nodded, but he was staring at the house. Ryan followed his gaze to an upstairs window, but aside from a brief shadow beyond the glass, which he thought was just an optical illusion, he saw nothing worthy of interest.
He opened the door of the truck, stepped down and walked over the driveway, which had bits of snow here and there, up the front steps and across the front porch. He could see it was solid, just as Bahru had described. He was almost to the door when he started getting cold feet. After all, he had no reason to anticipate a warm welcome. He turned to see what was taking the guru so long and saw that Bahru was already trekking along the driveway where it forked off and led to the little guesthouse in the distance, a small drawstring bag over one shoulder, along with his green canvas satchel. That was all he’d brought. Ryan noticed that he’d traded his sandals for a pair of cloth moccasin-like shoes that could have been made this year or last century. No way to tell. At least he wasn’t barefoot in the snow.
Straightening his spine, Ryan lifted his hand to knock on the door and heard a scream. Lena!
He opened the door and lunged into the house before he even thought about it and was just in time to catch a glimpse of Lena’s mother running up the stairs to the second floor. He didn’t hesitate. He raced up the stairs and down the hall behind Selma, his heart in his throat when the two of them burst through a bedroom door and stumbled to a stop inside what was not a bedroom.
It was some kind of witchcraft den, and Lena was lying on the floor with her eyes closed, her belly so huge it made him blink and look again. Her head was rolling back and forth, her arms and legs twitching. He dropped to his knees next to her as Selma did the same on the other side.
“Lena,” Ryan said, sliding one hand under her neck, cradling her nape to try to keep her head from thrashing back and forth. “Lena, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
She moaned, and Ryan looked up and met Selma’s eyes. “Call 9-1-1,” he told her.
“I’ll do better than that.” She got up, turning to run out of the room, but as she passed, she reached down to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here, Ryan.”
* * *
Lena opened her eyes to find herself lying in bed and staring up into the face of her prince, and for just an instant she was there again on the
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