So was he now in another universe—a universe that was Boralas's home base? Was he going to step out of the cave and meet something like the monster?
He hadn't seen any enemies besides the storm troopers and the old man. But he'd better be prepared for anything.
He shuddered and began to wash more quickly, thinking he'd feel less vulnerable when he got some clothes on.
After drying off with a rough towel, he decided to let the beard go, then pulled on a navy blue T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that looked like they had come from his world. No underwear, but he did find a pair of gray socks. The running shoes were a size too big, but he figured that was better than too small.
When he came out of the bathroom, the cave doorway was open again and he felt every muscle in his body tense. Maybe this was his best chance to get away.
CHAPTER SIX
AND MAYBE HE was dashing headlong into disaster. Logan hesitated a split second, then decided to stay where he was.
He was glad he'd remained in the cave when Rinna stepped inside. She was dressed in a rough tunic, leggings, and leather boots. And her magnificent dark hair was hidden under a leather cap.
In one hand, she held a limp, furry body. A rabbit, which she handed to the old man.
"Dinner."
Her gaze shot to the pallet, then to him, and he saw her shoulders go rigid. As he took a step toward her, she took a quick step back.
"You should be lying down."
"I'm feeling well enough to get up, but not well enough to chase you around the cave." When he saw her face go tense, he added, "That was a joke."
She nodded tightly, then turned toward Haig. But it was several seconds before she spoke. And not to Logan. "Did you offer him something to eat."
"No."
"Give him some of the soup you made."
The old man scowled, then took a crude mug from a shelf along the wall and dipped it into a pot that sat on a burner. He held it out to Logan, who crossed the stone floor and accepted the food from the old man.
Probably it wasn't poisoned. Still, Logan's first sip was cautious. He found the soup was made from vegetables and meat stock and expertly seasoned. The first taste made him realize he was starving. He wanted to gulp down the whole cupful, but he drank slowly because he hadn't had anything in his stomach in days.
The door in the rock had closed, and he drifted casually toward where it had been. As he drank the soup, he leaned his shoulder against the wall. It felt solid, yet he could detect a background buzz that vibrated against his nerve endings.
On some level he could feel where the doorway was. Now he just had to figure out how to get through it.
He looked up to find Haig watching him.
"You're a good cook," he complimented.
The old man only grunted.
Rinna handed him the rabbit, then tidied up the cooking area. They had a working rhythm that spoke of long association. Logan wanted to know more about what they meant to each other, but he was sure neither one of them would appreciate his prying.
Haig began to expertly skin the rabbit, probably with the same knife he'd intended to use on their unexpected guest.
Logan edged closer to Rinna, but she avoided eye contact and headed for the bathroom, perhaps as a way of getting away from him.
He'd never ambushed anyone at the bathroom door before, but he lurked just outside, resting his shoulder against the rock wall again because it was an effort to stay on his feet.
FALCONE had repaired to the dining room, determined not to let the household know that he was upset. That was one of the disadvantages of living with people who didn't have your best interests at heart. As they went about their daily business, a lot of his slaves were probably giving out reports on his activities, and he wanted to make sure that they were positive.
So he and Avery sat at the table, waiting while servants brought choice morsels from the kitchen.
His chief cook knew that he liked the tender breast meat of doves, so she had cooked up a plate of the delicacy for him. And Franz had gone to the greenhouses and brought back ripe tomatoes and basil.
Falcone politely handed the plate of dove meat to his guest and waited while Avery served himself.
Then he took a portion. He was washing down a bite with some white wine when Calag came to the door.
"Excuse me," Falcone said to Avery. Getting up, he left the room and stepped into the hall.
"Have you found her?" he asked.
Calag shook his head. "There's a new development," the man said in a low voice.
"Spit it out."
"It looks like she wasn't alone."
"What?"
"We've taken another look at the trap. It appears that another shape-shifter was caught. And Rinna got him out."
"Gods! How could that be true?"
Calag shrugged. "That's the only conclusion—if you're sure that the trap only catches shape-shifters."
"I am," Falcone answered. At least, that was what he'd been told. Perhaps the maker had lied to him. He'd have to question the man carefully.
"You're saying she wasn't injured?" he asked.
"We don't think so. But the other person seemed to be in physical distress. She had to hold him up so he could walk."
"How do you know it was a man?"
"His feet are large. And his weight dragged her down. We were able to follow their trail back through the portal and into the badlands. Then we lost the trail."
Falcone clenched and unclenched his fists. "I suppose they were going to some hiding place where the old man was waiting for her." When Rinna had escaped from the city, she had taken Haig with her. He looked toward Calag. "How far did you follow the trail?"
"Half a mile into the badlands."
A plan began to form in Falcone's mind. He went back and explained the situation to Avery. "I want you and Brusco to close that portal so she can't get back to the other world."
"If we close it, it may not open again."
"I don't need it," he said, keeping his voice even. "I want her trapped here so I can scoop her up."
WHEN Rinna finally opened the bathroom door and focused on Logan, he saw her draw in a quick breath. "Didn't your mother teach you manners?" she snapped.
"Of course. But she also made it clear that I have to protect myself. We have to talk."
She glanced over her shoulder at the old man, who stuck the rabbit carcass onto a spit and inserted it into the metal box that looked like a portable oven.
As Haig stared at it, the interior glowed red. He didn't appear to be paying any attention to the other two people nearby, but Logan was willing to bet he was hanging on every word.
Rinna must have had the same thought because she jerked her head toward the back of the cave, then turned and walked into the shadows.
He watched the rigid line of her back. A very smooth and feminine back, as he remembered.
Grimly, he followed her until they turned a corner into a part of the cave where there was almost no light.
Logan looked back, seeing the old man focused on the cooking rabbit. Gesturing toward him, he said, "I don't see any flames. Or any electric outlets. Or any portable gas tank. Where does the power come from?"
He felt Rinna's gaze on him, and the look in her eye made his stomach clench.
"The power comes from his mind."
"Do you expect me to believe that?"
Her voice was cool and controlled. "Believe what you want."
"Okay… his mind," Logan answered. "What does that mean, exactly?"
She raised one delicate shoulder. "You have the ability to change from man to wolf and back again. He has different talents."
Under other circumstances, Logan might have dismissed the explanation. But he'd already had evidence of Rinna's psychic powers. Also, he knew that some of the women who had married his brothers and his cousins had paranormal abilities that had nothing to do with shape-shifting.
"Can Haig change to wolf form, too?" he asked.
"No."
"But you can."
When she didn't comment, he asked, "Are there a lot of people around here who have psychic powers?"
"Yes." She sighed. "I'm sorry that you got caught in a trap that was meant for me. I'm going to try and help you get home."
"So I won't be your responsibility anymore?"
She raised her chin. "Haig and I have enough problems without having to worry about you."
"I'll get out of your way, then," he said gruffly, starting back toward the front of the cave.
She grabbed his arm. "You wouldn't last ten minutes out there."
"Oh, thanks."
"Get your strength back. Then we'll talk about getting you home."
"Sure," he answered, struggling to keep any note of sarcasm out of his voice. He returned to the pallet, not because he wanted to rest but because he had decided he might as well look like he was cooperating. But he was getting the hell out of this cave the first chance he got. He had a good memory. He thought he could follow the landmarks he'd seen when they'd first come in here. Then he'd look for the portal she'd told him about. The question was—would it lead him back to the same time period he'd left? Or was there some trick to it?
He struggled to repress a shudder. He knew he was overreacting again. Maybe he should wait and see how things shook out. Or maybe he could persuade Rinna to come back home with him. Did she really like living in a cave with a surly bastard? Surely Logan could offer her something better.
Haig opened the door of the oven and took the rabbit out. He poked it with a fork, then cut off some of the meaty parts and left them to cool on a large wooden plate.
After a few minutes, Rinna picked up one of the pieces and brought it to Logan along with a cloth to wipe his hands.
"Thanks," he said, trying to judge her mood. The meat was tender and delicious. He'd had rabbit before, of course. But never cooked.
While he ate, Rinna walked to the spot that the door occupied when it was visible. He watched her press her hand against the rock to open the door. She stepped out. And he counted the seconds before it closed again. Ten. Not much time.
Haig cleaned up and wrapped the remains of the rabbit in cloth.
"Have you lived here long?" Logan asked.
"That's none of your business."
"Just making conversation."
"Or gathering information."
Logan closed his mouth, and the old man worked in silence for several minutes. Then he raised his head as though he were listening to something.
Logan heard nothing. Was it something subliminal?
Haig set down the bowl he was holding with a thunk and pressed his hands over his ears. Clenching his teeth, he stood rigidly for several moments. Then he paced toward the place where the door had been.
Raising his hand, he started to press the spot. Then he jerked his hand away. Breathing hard, he turned and whirled back toward the cave interior, his hands clenched.
He looked terrified.
"What's wrong?" Logan asked.
His only answer was a low growl. Then he whirled away and rushed toward the wall, where he pressed the rock. As soon as the door opened, he dashed outside.
Logan had only seconds to act. Before the door closed, he sprang up. At the last second he grabbed the knife off the low table. Then he leaped out the door.
When he hit the opening, something stopped him in his tracks, and he felt panic well in his throat. Then he remembered when he'd come inside. Something viscous had held him back, and Rinna had pulled him through.
She and Haig had passed easily through the force field or whatever it was that protected the entrance to the cave.
But the damn stuff must not be tuned to Logan's body—or however it worked. Determined to get through, he kept pushing and finally emerged into the open air. By the time he reached the area in front of the cave, the old man had disappeared.
"Oh, great," he muttered aloud.
Earlier he'd thought about getting the hell out of Dodge. But now it seemed more important to find the old man—for Rinna.
There were many directions the guy could have taken. Logan picked a path that hugged the rocks and disappeared into a trail through the boulders.
Sparing a quick look over his shoulder, he saw the rock where he'd left the cave shimmer and solidify. Going back was no longer an option.
He stayed in the shelter of the boulders for several minutes, getting the lay of the land. Then he wound his way through the rocks until he came out on a flat plain with more of the ruined buildings he'd spotted when he first arrived in this place.
Doggedly, he set off across the open space.
When he heard the sound of many tramping feet, he took off at a trot for the closest shelter—a low, partly burned structure. By the time he reached it, he was breathing hard. Leaping around the corner of a crumbling wall, he leaned against the bricks, trying not to give himself away with any gasping breaths.
From his vantage point, he saw a troop of people walking toward him. Three men at the rear and three men at the front of the column were dressed much like the soldiers he'd seen previously and armed with swords and whips. Between them walked twenty bedraggled men and woman wearing rough tunics. They were dirty and barefoot, their hands were tied, and they were joined together with a chain.
They trudged along, heads down, feet shuffling. When a woman fell, one of the men with whips rushed forward and began to beat her. The woman next to her pulled her to her feet, talking softly to her, and the column staggered on, with one of the guards cracking the whip on a few bent backs as they went.
Logan stared in horror at the scene, hoping he might be caught in the grip of a nightmare. But he was sure that he wasn't dreaming. Were these people the spoils of war? What?
Standing in the watery sunlight, he decided that his best chance of getting home was to change to wolf form so he could detect his own scent and follow the trail back to the portal.
Of course, as a wolf, he couldn't carry the knife. But he'd have his teeth and claws.
Just as he bent down to put the knife on the ground, two men wearing animal skins stepped around the corner of the building.
Logan took in details in an instant. Both of them had long, greasy hair. One had a scar that ran from under his left eye all the way to the corner of his lips. The other was missing several front teeth. They both had broad shoulders and thick forearms. One carried a club that looked like it had once been a heavyweight baseball bat. The other carried a spiked ball on the end of a stout stick.
They weren't the soldiers he and Rinna had avoided yesterday. These guys were freelancers.
As the one with the bat spotted Logan, he stopped short. "Well, well. Fresh meat."
Logan would have backed up, but he was already pressed against the wall.
"I can take him," the guy boasted, stepping forward and raising the club.
Logan might not have all his strength, but his reflexes were good. He ducked to the side to avoid the blow, then thrust up with the knife, catching the guy in the gut. The man bellowed, but he was tough, and he swung the club again.