had lodged just above the breast and to the side. The muscle ached, but there was no injury to any internal organs. The one in her thigh was a little more stubborn, but she finally coaxed it out, feeling the warm blood soaking into Rachel Loeb's pants. She gripped one of the stars in her hand as if it were a rock she intended to skip across a pond. She wasn't exactly sure how they were supposed to be thrown, but she didn't care. At least now she had a weapon too.
Tracy shivered, feeling terribly exposed. Despite the darkness, she was sure that Angel could somehow see her plainly, was just toying with her. But if she couldn't, Tracy didn't want to crawl or limp around and tip off her location. She waited, hoping her eyes would eventually adjust to the dark.
But there was no time.
There was hardly any sound at all. A hop, maybe a leap. Then Angel was on top of Tracy. A knee to the chin flipped Tracy onto her back, the throwing stars tumbling out of her hand, scurrying across the floor, and disappearing into the darkness.
Dazed but still conscious, Tracy's hands reached out at the dark figure hovering above her. Everything was in different shades of black now, with Angel being the darkest shadow in the room. Tracy's hands were still groping for some part of Angel that she might wrestle to the ground, when she grabbed the muscular legs straddling her. Suddenly she felt the sting of sharp cold metal slashing the top of her hand open. A second slash caught between the webbing of two fingers and cut deep, bumping bone. She cried out with pain.
Angel dropped onto Tracy like a rock from a cliff. The air whooshed out of Tracy as she felt the smaller woman's knees slam into her chest.
I'm going to die, she realized. Just when she'd thought there was some little safety. Eric had killed Rhino, now it was her turn to die. It was the way of the world. Everything died unexpectedly.
She wondered if that thought had gone through Eric's mind while he was battling Rhino. Had he ever doubted that he would win? He had once told her that he'd been paralyzed with fear the night Fallows had sent someone into his room to assassinate his family. He had stood in his bedroom next to his sleeping wife, knowing someone was coming up the stairs, and had been frozen there, unable to move. The fear had been so great, he'd said, that he'd wanted to die more than experience such fear again. Yet somehow, he had roused himself, had fought the intruder. She hadn't totally believed him, had been unable to accept that Eric Ravensmith had ever felt such fear. He had only been trying to make her feel better. But now she knew he had, and that he had probably felt it again while Rhino held him under the rancid water of that slimy pool. The difference was that he had kept fighting despite the fear. He'd overcome it, battling it with the same ferocity he had Rhino.
And so would she.
Tracy bucked her hips into the air, trying to throw Angel off, but it did no good. All she received for her efforts was a shallow slash across the forehead.
'Careful, my little pretty,' Angel cooed, 'or I might miss and hit an eye.'
Tracy remained still. Except for her left hand, which crabbed along the floor, sliding down her pants to the pocket on her thigh. In the right pocket was the map Angel had drawn. In the left was the small curved knife Eric had made from the steel arches of his boots.
'I have the map here,' Tracy said, trying to sound as if she were begging. She didn't have to act too hard. Her hand dipped into the pocket. Slow and easy.
'My, what would dear Eric say if he knew you were bargaining away his precious map? Why, he might shoot you, as he did me.'
'Please,' Tracy said. The sob in her voice was real.
Angel laughed, flicked her wrist. Tracy felt the blade slice down the side of her neck. It happened so quickly, with such precision, she was reminded of the Japanese cooks at Beni-hana's. Crazy thought, she realized as her hand eased the blade free.
'Do not despair,' Angel said. 'Think of this as a test of Eric's devotion. Will he still love you after I've made a few alterations? You should be grateful to me. Not many couples have the chance to discover the extent of their mate's love.' The blade whisked through the dark again and Tracy felt the skin on her chin part. 'Are your ears pierced?' Angel asked, laughing. 'Well, it won't really matter anymore- uhhnn!'
The laughing chatter was interrupted by a shocked grunt of pain and realization as Tracy plunged the handmade knife into Angel's stomach, just below the sternum, and sawed through the blouse and skin with all her strength. She braced her wrist with her free hand, forcing the hooked blade down toward the navel. She heard Angel's knife thud to the floor, felt the splash of warm liquid on her own chest. Tracy fought the cloying nausea as she smelled Angel's internal organs sloshing out of her body, spilling onto her blouse. Angel swayed a moment, tried to speak, but managed only a choked rasp. Then she toppled sideways onto the floor.
Tracy dragged herself out from under the corpse, brushing the slippery residue of Angel's innards from her own body as if she thought it too might be alive. She wanted to scream now. Scream so loudly that the whole room would collapse. Scream until the Long Beach Halo shattered like the inner dome of heaven.
Instead, she waited.
19.
Eric tipped the canteen, took a swig of water. 'Well, at least we know the map is authentic.'
Tracy leaned on her cane. 'How do we know that?'
'Angel wouldn't have tried to kill us otherwise.'
'Us?' Tracy said.
'You were supposed to be the first. She just didn't know how tough you were.'
'Neither did I.' Tracy lightly touched the cuts on her forehead and chin.
'I did,' Eric said, with a trace of pride.
Blackjack looked up into the bright afternoon sun and wiped the sweat from his forehead. 'The three of us are so bandaged up we look like those three Revolutionary soldiers in that painting. You know, one carries the flag, one bangs the drum, and one plays the flute or fife or some damn thing.'
'That painting is 'The Spirit of 76' by Archibald M. Willard,' Eric said.
Blackjack gave him a disgusted look and turned to Tracy. 'How do you stand it.'
'Lots of patience,' she sighed.
The rest of the eight-member crew took the opportunity to sip water and complain about the hilly terrain.
'Time enough for me to take a leak?' Brad Collins asked. He was a young Australian who'd been visiting California for a surfing competition when the quakes hit.
'Sure,' Blackjack waved, 'take your time and do it right.'
Eric pointed back across three hills they had just covered. Atop the farthest one was Hearst Castle. 'Quite a sight, huh?'
Tracy shook her head. 'It's a shame that all those great art treasures are being destroyed, but I hope we never see the place again.'
Blackjack stretched, rolling his neck until the bones cracked into place. 'One more hill and you won't be able to see it.'
'One more hill and I won't be able to see anything,' Tracy laughed.
Eric looked at his watch, then up at the sun. 'Probably a good idea if we camp here for the rest of the day.'
'What for?' Blackjack asked. 'We can cover a lot more ground before the sun goes down.'
'That's the point, Blackjack. We don't want to travel during the day. We dehydrate much faster. We don't know how much water there is between here and the weapons, so we have to conserve our supply.' He threw his backpack on the ground. 'So we sit here in the shade until dark and move out then. Besides, we have a great view of the castle.'
'We don't need a great view of the goddamned castle. We need to move our asses over that hill so we can find the weapons. You want to get to Santa Barbara and find your kid, don't you?'
Eric smiled at him. 'In time.' Eric sat down next to his pack and leaned his crossbow on a nearby rock.
Blackjack was obviously displeased, but shrugged to the rest of the crew who quickly captured some shade for
