With the thin walls and the family sleeping in the next room, even that little laugh felt like a stolen intimacy. Carol's curvy body was nearly impossible to resist, but Lokan had to limit himself to soft caresses, and once she fell asleep, so did he.
Morning came too soon.
Oyunaa prepared a hearty breakfast and packed food for their journey, refusing Carol's attempts to pay extra for the provisions.
The ride to the train station in Batbayar's ancient truck was bumpy and cold, the morning air sharp. When Batbayar pulled their bags from the back, Lokan left an envelope with extra cash on the driver's seat. It was more than they'd agreed on, but the family's hospitality deserved a reward.
After they said their thanks and goodbyes and walked away, Lokan turned to watch the guy pick up the envelope and take out the cash. He looked up and waved, mouthing a thank you.
"How much did you give him?" Carol asked.
"Twice what we agreed on." Lokan wrapped his arm around her middle, scanning the busy train station for any sign of an immortal presence. So far, he had found nothing, but he had a feeling that their luck would run out at some point.
They boarded the northbound train, finding their compartment in the second-class sleeper car. It was clean but basic—two narrow bunks and a small table between them.
"At least it doesn't smell like mutton." Carol sat on the lower bunk.
"Give it time." He put their packs under the bunks. "Once everyone starts unpacking their lunches…"
She glared at him. "Don't jinx it."
The train lurched into motion, beginning its long journey north toward the Russian border. The Mongolian steppes rolled by, endless grassland broken only by occasional clusters of gers and wandering livestock.
They'd been traveling for no more than two hours when Lokan felt it—that distinctive prickle of awareness that meant other immortals were near. He kept his expression neutral, not wanting to alarm Carol, but his muscles tensed.
"What is it?" she asked quietly, always attuned to the slightest change in him.
"Company," he murmured. "Stay here. Lock the door after me."
"Ricky—"
"Please, Lucy. Trust me."
She nodded, and as he stepped into the narrow corridor, he heard the click of the lock behind him.
Two immortals were making their way through the train car, checking each compartment as they went.
Lokan reached out with his mind, an ability his father didn't know the true extent of. Navuh believed his son could only thrall and compel humans. He still had no idea that Lokan's ability had grown and that he could now also thrall and compel some immortals, particularly those whose minds hadn't been strong to start with and later had been weakened by Navuh's ongoing compulsion.
One of the warriors paused with his hand on a compartment door five down from theirs. Lokan slipped into his mind withrelative ease, finding the weakness he expected. Years of being compelled by Navuh had left fractures, gaps in mental defenses that Lokan could exploit.
Turn around, he suggested.You've checked this car already. Move to the next one.
The male frowned, confusion flickering across his features. His partner looked at him questioningly.
"We've already checked this car," the first one said, sounding uncertain.
"No, we didn't," the second protested. "We just got here."
You did, Lokan pressed, expanding his influence to include the second immortal.You're being thorough. The next car hasn't been checked yet. That's where they are probably hiding.
"Right," the second tracker agreed slowly. "The next car. Come on."
As they turned and headed back the way they'd come, Lokan maintained his mental pressure until they were out of his range. Only then did he allow himself to breathe, leaning against the corridor wall.
A soft knock came from behind. "Ricky?"
"It's clear," he said.
