Deep Within Me (The Prophesy #2)

Chapter Twelve

It was worse than Liz had ever imagined. She’d known Carreon would never give up until he got what he wanted. Even so, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider that he would murder his own people—defenseless women, for God’s sake, and possibly children later—until she and her father returned. How had Carreon even known she was alive? That her father had reanimated her?

Oh my god. He’d watched the tapes from the security cameras in his stronghold. How could she have forgotten about them?

“Liz.” Zeke tightened his grip on her hand, refusing to let her pull away from him.

She had to, leaving him forever. Only by returning to Carreon would she save innocent lives. Who knew how many would die if she didn’t do what that monster demanded? Her belly ached with grief even as crushing rage tore through her. As she had on the night of the battle, Liz considered how she might get close enough to murder Carreon. Stop this insanity.

If that were even possible.

A part of her knew how hopeless it was. Once she returned, he’d imprison her as he had her father, not allowing a moment’s freedom. The only time she’d see him or anyone else would be when he forced her to heal.

“Dammit, Liz.”

She continued to fight Zeke, trying to pull her hand from his as she considered her future.

If Zeke was correct about her condition, she wouldn’t last very long after she healed someone. He and Jacob wouldn’t be around to pour back into her what she’d given them. Her father couldn’t help either. There’d be no further reanimations because she wasn’t about to allow her father to return to Carreon.

Even if everyone was wrong and she survived a healing, Carreon might torture her on camera to force her father’s hand, to make certain he came back.

Was that what Zeke’s vision had foretold?

“You were backing away from me,” he’d said. “Your cheeks were wet as though you’d been crying. Carreon wouldn’t let you go. Then I saw fire. The kind that destroys a body. I saw a woman’s legs. The flames touched her foot. She didn’t move.”

Was she that woman? Had Carreon or Roberto brutalized her to the point of unconsciousness? Had Zeke’s refusal to let her father return so angered Carreon that he’d actually burned her alive?

The enormity of what might be—what she had to do—overwhelmed Liz and stole all of her fight. She stopped twisting her hand, which forced Zeke to loosen his grip. When he turned to her, Liz sagged against him and whispered, “I love you so much.”

He caressed her.

Jacob stood behind them in the hall. He held back. Extending her arm, Liz invited him closer.

“We’ll get him,” Jacob said. He rested his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek, his touch gentle. “We won’t let him harm that woman or anyone else.”

Liz murmured, “He won’t do anything if I go back.”

“No fucking way,” Zeke said. “Jacob and I won’t let you.”

“That’s right,” he said.

Liz rested her forehead on Zeke’s chest, relishing the moment and the little time they had left. “I have to. It’s the only way. If I’m able to heal, that might appease him. It could buy you time to plan your attack and get rid of him for good.”

“I won’t allow it,” Zeke growled. He held her tightly. Rough breaths poured from him as though his anger was at its limit…or he was battling despair. “We’ll figure something out. He won’t win.”

Liz had no strength left to argue. Carreon had already won. All that remained was for her to find a way to leave the stronghold and allow her destiny to play out as it should have from the beginning.

She and Zeke weren’t meant to be together. They’d been born as enemies, not lovers. Being with him had caused nothing but grief for his people and her clan. She recognized that inescapable truth on Isabel’s face.

The older woman had just come into the hall, stopping at what she saw. Her leader and his brother giving solace to a woman who had no right to it.

“Zeke,” Isabel said. “We need to talk.”

Liz felt his body tense.

“Later,” he said, clearly irritated.

“No. Now,” Isabel insisted.

“I’ll take Liz back to your room and make certain she’s safe,” Jacob offered. There was no lust in his voice, merely a desire to help.

Despite Isabel’s presence, Zeke cupped Liz’s face in his large hand and pressed his cheek to hers. “Everything will be all right,” he whispered.

Liz didn’t believe it. She saw Isabel’s expression and recalled what Carreon had threatened.

Zeke followed Isabel to one of the smaller meeting spaces where the women sometimes played cards or caught a moment for themselves away from the boisterous children. Unlike the main meeting room, there were several smaller tables in here surrounded by comfortable chairs.

Isabel closed and locked the door.

Zeke braced himself for the worst.

Rather than speaking, she went to a cupboard on the far left. Inside were packaged snacks—Cheetos, Snickers, Pringles, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. She reached behind them and opened a hidden compartment. From there, she pulled out what appeared to be a stack of photos.

Isabel placed them side by side on the table nearest to Zeke then said, “Look at these.”

He wanted to ask why but figured it would only prolong whatever this was leading up to. Zeke wondered if those were photos of his parents. Did Isabel honestly believe she could use their memory to shame him into doing what she wanted?

He wanted to tell her it wouldn’t work. He ached to leave.

On a heavy sigh, he went to the table and regarded the pictures. Taken at various times, clearly different decades, they depicted several members of the clan dressed in that period’s clothing. Like the garments, the scenery behind them also changed. The oldest photos showed the desert landscape dotted by teepees, their people wearing buckskin, their braided hair decorated with eagle feathers. In the later pictures, Anglo clothing and storefronts replaced the earlier Comanche lifestyle.

Many of these photos appeared to be from the early eighteen hundreds. Was the process to take pictures even available then? How was it possible that it had been so good? These were remarkable images, as sharp as those from today’s digital cameras. Not understanding, Zeke glanced at Isabel.

She tapped her finger against the table. “Look at the pictures. Tell me what you see.”

“Our people,” he said.

“You’re not looking,” she accused. “You’re not seeing. You’re deliberately being blind about this, just as you’ve been about everything concerning your clan since you brought that woman here. Look .”

Clenching his jaw, Zeke regarded the pictures, not knowing what in the hell he was supposed to be looking for. A sign that he shouldn’t have brought Liz here? A message written in the dirt or in the sky? A particularly threatening scowl that would reveal what his ancestors thought of—

Zeke’s musing stopped as he more closely studied the faces. Once he had, he compared the earliest picture to the most recent one. All of the people in it were different, of course. The previous ones gone because they’d died as many as a hundred-and-ninety years before.

Except for one individual—a woman.

Zeke’s mouth went dry. He took the two photos, placing them next to each other. The same woman was in each, nearly two centuries apart. She hadn’t changed a bit. Hadn’t aged past her sixty or so years.

No. It wasn’t possible.

Zeke stared at Isabel’s image in all of the pictures. It had to be a trick. She’d done this on Photoshop.

As though she’d read his mind, or perhaps his expression, she murmured, “The tales the elders have told about the Others—that we’ve walked among you in your earthly form—aren’t simply myths, Zeke. I’ve been with your clan from the start, well before you were known as Comanche. I was sent here to watch over all of you, to make certain your people protected the land and heritage we provided, that you didn’t dishonor your gift of prophecy or us.”

Zeke forced down a swallow and shook his head. “This is a trick.” He shoved the photos away. Several fell to the floor. “You did this on a computer.”

“Have you ever seen me looking any different than I do now?” she asked.

“This is a damn trick. It’s not going to change my mind about—”

“Have you?” she insisted.

“You know I have,” he said as intensely as she had, his voice as low-pitched. “When I was a kid.”

“And I was your mother’s best friend from high school then, wasn’t I?”

Before Zeke could answer, he noted a subtle difference in Isabel’s eyes. The pupils were no longer round but vertical, like a reptile’s. And then the whites disappeared, replaced by a golden color.

He gaped, and the phenomenon was gone. As though it had never happened.

“Tell me,” she said, “when did I ever come to your house? When did you ever see me with your mother?”

This was nuts. Her complexion looked darker suddenly, more like hide than skin.

“Zeke?”

He blinked because she now looked as she always had. What in the fuck was happening?

“When did you see me with your mother?” she repeated.

He snapped, “Many times.”

“When, exactly? During one of your birthday parties? At another celebration your family had, like when you won that track meet in middle school or when Jacob won that spelling bee?”

Zeke thought back to every special event he could think of, knowing there had to be countless instances when the two women had been together. They’d been inseparable. BFF’s. Two normal females.

“You can’t recall details from even one now, can you?” Isabel asked. “Because they never existed. They’re no more than beliefs I put into your mind and those of the others so I could walk among you without causing fear.”

Unable to speak, Zeke kept shaking his head.

Isabel gestured to the pictures.

He studied her hands. The nails seemed yellowed and clawed then ordinary once more.

“How could I remain the same decade after decade, never growing older? Never dying?” she asked. “Not once have I changed in this form, and no one has asked how that could be. Do you have any idea why?”

He stepped back, not wanting to know or to consider what Isabel really was. That what he kept seeing—or at least thought he had—was her actual appearance and this might be true. When he and his clan had played the holograms left by the Others, they’d spoken English as flawlessly as he did and looked as human as anyone else on this planet. Not even close to this…thing…that seemed to be Isabel.

She went around the table, following him. “I removed or changed the memories the others had of me so no one would question my continued presence. Through the centuries, I’ve always been known as Isabel, or its equivalent, the best friend of the woman who bore the clan’s leader.”

Zeke’s voice shook. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You gave me no choice. No matter what Carreon and his men do, even his latest threat, you insist on that woman being here, on helping his people rather than your own.”

He snapped, “Do you expect me to let another woman die no matter whose clan she belongs to? Do you actually believe I wouldn’t protect Liz? I love her, dammit. I won’t let her go back to Carreon. She’d never survive. She hasn’t harmed anyone here. She’ll be able to help us.”

Isabel regarded him with sadness rather than anger. “You know what you have to do for your clan, and I can make it less painful.”

Was she joking? Isabel wanted him to deny his future with Liz, and she was somehow going to make that all right? “I don’t want to hear it.”

She continued, “As each new generation takes the place of the last, I’ve made them forget that I was there during the time of their grandparents and great grandparents. I’ll do the same with you when it comes to that woman. You won’t hurt anymore if you can no longer remember—”

“ No .” Zeke trembled with fear and fury. “You can’t take Liz away from me. No matter what you try to do, I’ll always know something’s missing…I’ll always be searching for her.” He put more distance between them. “I’ll leave with Liz, her father, and Jacob immediately. Somehow, Jacob and I will fight Carreon without the rest of the clan’s help. You and your kind can have the damn land, this place, and all of your stupid gifts. I don’t want them. I never asked for any of this.”

“Your people need you here with them. Your ability to see the future, your enemies’ plans, protects them from Carreon and his men.”

Zeke tightened his fists. “My visions have always taunted more than they’ve helped. Most of the time they’re impossible to understand.”

“Because you’ve always fought them,” she argued. “Submit to your heritage. Accept it as you should.”

“Accept it?” Disgust laced his words. “It’s your kind—the Others—that started this mess. You’re one of them, not us. You have an obligation to my people to secure their future since your kind has jeopardized it from the start.”

“I haven’t the power to prophesize,” she said. “None of my kind do. It happened only because we mated with your people. A gift none of us expected or planned. I’m no more than a guardian.”

“With the ability to wipe a loved one from someone’s mind. To rip that from them. Do you hate me so much that you’re willing to destroy the only thing that’s made me want to go on?”

Her pity from a moment before turned to shock. She spoke more quietly than she had previously. “I love you as if you were my own son, Zeke. I feel the same about your people, as though they truly are my family. It’s not an emotion my kind knows, but I’ve learned it over the centuries…a gift I received from your clan. That’s why I revealed what I am to you, something I’ve never done with anyone else. Something I wasn’t supposed to do. I’m giving you the chance to let me help you to forget Liz and her father. I’m giving you the choice, rather than forcing it upon you.”

He stepped back again, wary that she would touch him and that would take Liz from him forever. “I’ve already told you, I don’t want it. I’ll never agree to such a thing. If I can’t be with Liz, if she’s not a part of my past, present, and future, I’d rather be dead.”

“Don’t say that.”

Zeke’s shoulders bunched. His muscles tensed. “Losing Gabrielle nearly destroyed me. You know that. You saw. You talk of love as though you understand it, but you don’t. If you had even the remotest clue about its power, you wouldn’t be telling me these things, threatening me because I won’t—”

“I’m not threatening you,” she insisted. “I’m simply asking you to do what you were born to do.”

“And what’s that? Protect territory for your kind? A piece of dirt? Why? So they can prove they won against Carreon’s clan and the Unknowns, then return like kings? Or was this all done in their hope to colonize a new planet in case they had to flee theirs? Is that it? They’re going to rule Earth after my people, my ancestors, the ones I’ve loved have died or been traumatized for their ends?”

“If you don’t honor them, they will return. What will happen to your people and Liz then?”

Zeke wanted to cry out his frustration and despair at the thought of anyone…anything…harming them. He spoke without thinking. “I’ll fight them too, as I have Carreon. I won’t stop until they’re gone or I’m dead. No one’s going to hurt Liz or my people.”

“You can’t fight my kind,” Isabel whispered.

Maybe not with weapons, but there were other ways, weren’t there? “You say you love me as a son, prove it now.”

She frowned. “I’ve proven it every day since you’ve brought Liz here. I’ve made no move to stop that other than trying to reason with you.”

“Give me time to make this right.”

“There is no more time, Zeke. Every moment she’s here makes it worse for your people and hers. I overheard the men talking about Carreon’s transmission, his threats. I know what he plans to do.”

“We’ll find him before anything happens,” Zeke said. “We’ll destroy him.”

“You’ll put your clan at risk again.”

“I’ll do it alone, then.”

“No. You’re the leader. Your people need you.”

“I’ll work this out,” Zeke argued. “Carreon’s offered twelve hours. Can’t you promise me the same amount of time? Is that so much to ask?”

She regarded him cautiously. “If I were to grant that, what happens then?”

He was afraid to consider it. This time, there was no way he could fail.

Kele stared at her computer monitor with one thought running through her mind. You can’t give up now. You have to do this.

There was simply no other option.

Hours earlier, after having watched Carreon’s transmission, Zeke had left the meeting room with Liz and Jacob. Isabel’s voice had sounded in the hall, stopping Zeke. From what he’d said, he’d gone somewhere with the older woman only to return to this room a short time later, his face ashen with worry.

“What’s wrong?” Paul had asked him.

“Has anyone shown the tape to the prisoners as I wanted?”

“We’re headed that way now.”

Zeke grabbed the laptop before Paul could. The man followed Zeke out of the room.

“Hey,” Diaz said when Kele went to join them. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back in a minute. Keep working on our plan.”

She caught up with Zeke and Paul. Zeke didn’t seem to notice her presence. Paul frowned. Kele ignored his disapproval, wanting to hear what the prisoners said.

The men weren’t as cocky as they’d been previously. However, they weren’t a great help either. They watched the recording and offered no comment.

“Where did this take place?” Zeke demanded.

The bulkier of the men spoke first. “I don’t know.”

Zeke growled, “The hell you don’t.” He grabbed Paul’s assault rifle, resting the muzzle of it on the man’s forehead. “Tell me, dammit. Do it now, or I swear I’ll pull the trigger.”

“I don’t know!” he cried, his complexion gray with fear. “I’ve never seen that place before.”

“What about you?” Zeke snapped at the other man, training the rifle on him.

The man stared at the muzzle and shook his head.

“You’re fucking lying,” Zeke shouted. He tossed the weapon on the bed and grabbed the man’s shirt, hauling him up as much as he could, given the man’s hand cuffed to the arm of the chair. The manacles around his ankles clattered. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know even if I have to beat it out of you.”

“Zeke.” Paul grabbed his arm. “Easy.”

The last time Kele had seen Zeke so desperate and violent was after Gabrielle’s death when the shock of losing her had worn off. There was no stupor in him now. Rage burned in his eyes. Behind it, she saw fathomless dread. Repeatedly, he pressed for answers from both men, forcing them to watch the video over and over.

No matter how many times or ways Zeke asked his questions, he didn’t get the responses he wanted.

Eventually, Jacob had joined them. Clearly alarmed at his brother’s behavior, he’d pulled Zeke aside and asked, “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” Zeke shot back. “They’re going to talk.”

“Whoa. Not if you kill them,” Jacob said.

“I won’t if I don’t have to. That’s up to them. Get out of my way.”

“Wait.” Jacob blocked Zeke from the prisoners. “What’s happened? What did Isabel want to talk to you about?”

Zeke wouldn’t tell Jacob. He pushed past his brother and concentrated again on the prisoners.

When Kele had left the room, Carreon’s men were looking to Jacob for protection against Zeke who was so despairing and exhausted he seemed on the verge of collapse.

Fatigue hunched Kele’s shoulders now, which she forced herself to ignore. She was so close.

Although she hadn’t been able to do much more than Paul had with the image-enhancing software, she’d taken what she was able to see and searched the Internet for similar calendars. A short while ago, she’d gotten a hit. A strip club in Albuquerque offered the calendar as a gift to its loyal patrons. Digging deeper, she’d learned that the club had once belonged to Carreon’s father. And now, to him.

She was certain he was there, waiting out the hours until Liz returned. Or until he had his man murder that other woman.

Bastard.

If not for Carreon, Zeke and Jacob would never have been near death. Liz wouldn’t have come here to restore Jacob’s health. The fight between their clans wouldn’t have escalated. Kele wouldn’t have put her own people at risk for a man who’d never loved her as she desired.

Shame rolled through her, making her sick. She should have left when her clan demanded it upon Zeke’s and Liz’s re—

“How much longer are you going to be?” Diaz asked, breaking into her thoughts. “We’ve already perfected our plan.”

“I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“We’ve made it as perfect as we can. That’s all we can do.”

Kele didn’t comment, nor did she move from her computer.

Diaz sighed loudly. “It’s been a half hour since Ike told us Zeke approved our strategy and to let us leave when the time came. That’s now. We have to get Pedro.”

“We can’t go until it’s safe.”

“What are you talking about? When is that supposed to be?”

Kele looked at her computer screen, the time. “In a little bit.”

“Why wait? It’s been dark for quite a while. The drive there is going to take a couple of hours.”

The route to the strip club would take even longer. However, Kele didn’t want to arrive too quickly. “I promise we’ll get your cousin…I just want to make certain I have all of this down.”

Slumped in his chair, Diaz reviewed the strategy he’d written in longhand, no doubt believing Kele had keyed the same into her computer and that’s what she was going through now.

She wanted to keep it that way. “There’s a bedroom down the hall, second door on the left. You should take a nap. Rest before we have to leave. It’s going to be a long night.”

“I’m not tired.”

He looked as beat as she felt. “You will be.”

“I’ll sleep on the drive over.”

Kele fisted her fingers, wanting him out of this room so he wouldn’t get curious and finally look at what was on her monitor. “You might have to drive part of the way. I get tired too, you know.”

He lowered his notes and studied her as if he hadn’t considered that. “Maybe we both should take a nap.”

“No. I want to make certain we have everything down right.” She forced herself to sound neutral rather than irritated. Deliberately, she reached for the coffeepot even though she knew it was empty. She’d drunk the last of the brew an hour earlier. When only a few drops fell into her cup, she swore.

“Want me to get you some more?” Diaz asked.

“You’d have to make it.”

“So? I’m capable.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s the equipment?”

“Over there.” She inclined her head to the adjoining room then added, “There should be some biscuits and cinnamon rolls in the refrigerator. You need to bake them.”

He frowned. “You’re hungry?”

“Aren’t you? If you’re not,” she said before he could answer, “you will be. We have a long trip there and back. It’s not like we can stop for fast food, not with Carreon’s men on the prowl. Forget it,” she added quickly, “I’ll make the stuff.”

“I’ll do it. Keep studying the plan so nothing goes wrong. But after we eat, we leave.”

Kele again checked the clock on her computer screen, calculating time and distance. She nodded then waited until Diaz left the room.

With a few keystrokes, she pulled up data from the strip club’s security cameras that she’d hacked into earlier, focusing on the one that provided coverage for the back door. The blueprint she’d found of the building showed her that’s where the office was. She fast-forwarded through the recordings and stopped frequently to check time stamps.

In the other room, Diaz moved around the unfamiliar space noisily as he searched for coffee filters, the grounds, and cinnamon rolls she’d mentioned. With any luck, he’d be in there for at least another ten minutes.

She continued her computer search and backed up the tape then fast-forwarded it once more.

Minutes later, she had her answer. At the same time every morning—once the club had closed for the night and the staff had departed—the back door opened. The man who’d strangled the stripper came outside, tossed a trash bag into a nearby bin, enjoyed a smoke, then went back in. Precisely twenty minutes later, he left the building with a briefcase, got into his car, and drove away. His routine never varied.

With Carreon there, would the man do the same tonight?

He wouldn’t leave, of course. He might not even toss the trash bag. However, he quite possibly would enjoy a smoke. Why not? His monitors showed the deserted parking lot, proving he had nothing to worry about. A sophisticated security system protected the club from intrusion and from anyone hacking into it and turning it off.

Kele knew. She’d tried.

Carreon expected Liz and Dr. Munez to return to his stronghold where he, no doubt, had someone waiting for them. He’d want to remain at the club so he could be on camera for the next woman’s execution, just in case Liz didn’t do what he wanted. However, the prick hadn’t considered that anyone from Zeke’s clan would guess he was there, or that no security system was foolproof, even if it couldn’t be hacked into. All cameras had blind spots, and Kele knew where the ones for these were.

“Coffee’s ready,” Diaz said. He stood in the doorway between the rooms. “You want it now or with the other stuff?”

She kept her focus on the screen, deleting what she’d brought up. “There’s a thermos in the lower cabinet on the right and a plastic container in the upper left cabinet. As soon as the rolls are finished you can put them in the container so we can take them with us.” She looked at him. “Once you do, we’ll leave.”

With any luck, everything would go according to plan. For Diaz, that meant his cousin would finally be in safe hands, traveling back here to be healed.

For Kele, it meant the end of Carreon and hopefully the beginning of her redemption. She would settle for nothing less.