Shuttered Sky

summers before, when the only challenge in her life was the stone faces of the rocks she climbed, and her stone- faced instructors come Fall. This had once been a predict­able, rational world she could sink her teeth into.

She reached up, deftly inching her way higher, trying to block out everything but the wall. Tessic called it his climate-controlled Everest. He called the entire penthouse complex his “urban cottage.”

“You’ll find it pleasant,” he had told her while their helicopter was still en route. He took pride in his ability to understate.

She didn’t know what to expect of the place before she arrived. Somewhere in the back of her mind were images of a pleasure dome replete with large-breasted, iron-thighed amazons running the whole operation. But instead she found, to some disappointment, a staff no more exotic than any other. A plump Midwestern woman ran the penthouse staff, and went on about how the military had stonewalled her son Jimmy after Desert Storm, “so I can sympathize, honey.” Maddy wasn’t sure how much she knew of their situation, but she knew enough. It could have been a security problem, but the woman’s loyalty to Tessic was unwavering. “Elon paid all of Jimmy’s medical bills, when the Pentagon SOBs were still denying Desert Storm Syn­drome,” she had told Maddy, as she led her to a lavishly appointed bedroom suite.

She was introduced to the gardener, a small Asian man with a nominally effective artificial eye that Tessitech Labs had designed. “It bionic,” the man told her, “Like-a Lin-a-sey Wag-a-ner.” It appeared that for everyone here, Tessic had descended upon their particular misery, assuaging it with some well-conceived act of kindness. It was the most effective security measure she had ever seen.

While Dillon still slept off a massive sedative, and before she at­tempted to climb the wall, Tessic had visited her in her room.

“I wasn’t certain of your sleeping arrangements,” he told her, “so I prepared you and Dillon separate rooms.”

“That will be fine,” she said. If he were fishing for the state of her and Dillon’s relationship, he would not find out from her. She briefly wondered if he might try to seduce her—after all, he did have a rep­utation as a playboy, but reputations and reality rarely went hand in hand. There was nothing in the penthouse to suggest he was a wom­anizer. “So, are we your guests, your prisoners, or your experimental subjects?”

Tessic laughed and wagged a finger at her. “Still you only trust me as far as you can throw me.”

“Actually, I can throw you farther.”

“Well, perhaps I will give you that opportunity in the gym later on.”

She hated that he was always so disarming, deflecting her barbs with the facile skill of one of his weapons systems. “Good,” she said, trying hard to hide a smirk. “I think I’d enjoy putting you in traction.”

Tessic opened the blinds, bringing in the afternoon light, and a spectacular view of Houston. “I must confess, I’ve taken a liking to you, Lieutenant Haas.”

“You can drop the Lieutenant,” she told him. “I think we can assume my military career is over.”

“Then may I call you Maddy?”

“Miss Haas will do fine.”

“Very well, then,” he said. “A minor victory in our little cold war.” Then he paused for a second, contemplating her—not looking her up and down, but simply considering her as a whole. “Perhaps, Miss Haas, if things ever settle down, you might consider working for me.”

“That depends. Is hell freezing over any time soon?”

“We’ll have to ask Dillon,” he said. She laughed in spite of herself. “You know,” said Tessic, “you might have a problem in trusting me, but after what I’ve seen you do for Dillon, I trust you implicitly.”

She sighed. “So . . . what about Dillon?” In spite of their cushy sanctuary, nothing had really changed. Dillon was still at the center of events raging out of control. They weren’t free from the hurricane, they were merely in its eye.

“Yes, what about Dillon?” echoed Tessic, waiting to take her lead, rather than pushing forward with his own ideas. She had no answer for him. She was still grappling with the events of the past few days. A graveyard resurrection—a spirit that devours souls. Before knowing Dillon, she had never been truly convinced of the existence of souls, much less the possibility of them being ripped away. This past week was enough to process; she was light-years away from considering tomorrow.

“No one knows him better than you,” Tessic reminded her. “You know what he needs, perhaps better than he does himself.”

Yes, she did know him, and while Tessic’s motives were still in question, she and Tessic shared the common goal of Dillon’s well-being. That was reason enough for detente, even alliance. And so, in the end, it was Maddy who suggested that Dillon be allowed to wake in the garden; a tranquil environment where Tessic might be perceived as more of a friend, and less of a threat.

She found herself avoiding Dillon for the rest of the day. After the rock-climbing wall, she took a massage at Tessic’s suggestion, then retired early to her room for a long bath in an oversized tub. After spending so much time tending to Dillon’s needs, she had forgotten she had needs of her own. She had never been one to pamper herself— that was her sister’s style—but perhaps it was time.

Her sister! It had been so long since Maddy had even thought of Erica. No doubt the FBI had found her in Brooklyn and was harassing her no end about her psychotically homicidal sibling. She wondered what Erica made of all this, and whether or not she believed the lies being spread about Maddy. She didn’t even want to consider what her parents might be going through. Perhaps Tessic could arrange to get messages to all of them. She would have to ask.

Dillon came to her that night. She had hoped he would, and yet at the same time dreaded being read by him, before she could really read her own feeling about being there.

“I thought I’d see you at dinner,” Dillon said, when she let him in. “Are you alright?”

“Just tired,” she told him. “Too much for one day.”

Dillon threw her an impish, scarred grin. “Ah, you’re such a light­weight.”

“I can see you’re feeling better.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Maddy . . . what you saw in that graveyard . . . '

But Maddy put a finger to his lips. “We’ll sort that out later.”

He kissed her, then she took his hand and led him to her bed. He touched her, moving his hands gently over her body. Being with him was different now. That radiant fire she had felt pulsing from him in the graveyard was still there, so strong that she feared being near him would push her threshold of pain. But she quickly found that being with him now was like slipping into that hot bath. Her spirit and flesh had to grow accustomed to the intensity of his aura, but once they had, it was marvelous. As his hands moved across her, the discomfort gave way to a hypersensitivity of touch. She felt each stroke as if it caressed every cell of her body all at once. Her entire being was coaxed into a hungry receptiveness, and when they made love, she could feel herself entirely enveloped by him. It was wonderful to be lost in him, but there was a sadness in knowing that it could never truly be mutual. That there would never be a time she could envelop him.

* * *

Dillon found one question plaguing him. It was a question he was afraid to ask Maddy, because any answer would be just as troubling.

“Do you trust Tessic?” Dillon finally asked in the silence after they had made love. He didn’t expect her to answer the question, but after his conversation with Tessic that afternoon, he had to ask. As he sus­pected, she sidestepped the issue, pulling back slightly from his touch.

“Whatever his agenda, it doesn’t seem to be hurting you.”

“You think he has an agenda?”

“Everyone has an agenda,” she said. “Whether they know it or not.”

“So what’s yours?”

She answered him with a passionate kiss that aroused him again. “I hope that’s always on the agenda,” he said.

He moved in to kiss her again, but she held him off for a moment. “Dillon . . . if Tessic’s offering you a safe haven, there’s nothing wrong with taking it.”

Dillon rolled onto his back, frustrated by her words. “You don’t believe that—even in the dark I can see it in your face.”

“I have a suspicious nature—you’d be stupid to hang your deci­sions on me.”