Empire of Lies

71

Kamal dove to the carpet and scooped her up in his arms.

His hands trembling, he caressed her face; then he moved his gaze downward, at the mess of blood spreading across her midsection. Gently, he moved her fingers away to take a look at her wound.

He had enough experience to know that it was bad.

Very bad.

“Stay with me, hayatim,” he told her, pressing down on the gushing blood, trying to clear a path through the onslaught of emotions crashing through him. “I’m going to take care of this, hayatim. We’re going to fix this.”

Nisreen didn’t reply. Her eyes were moist as she shook her head slowly, ruefully, her eyes alternating between staring into his and shutting tight to block out the waves of pain and dread.

Kamal held back tears as he shot a quick look behind him. Rasheed wasn’t moving. His eyes were locked in a dead upward stare, his midsection a mess of blood and guts. Farther back, he glimpsed a bloodied Taymoor draining every ounce of strength left in him to choke the life of the guard he’d been fighting before letting him drop, scooping up his crutch, and stumbling across the tent to help Kolschitzky, who was locked in a knife fight of his own.

Kamal spun his attention right back to Nisreen, his mind racing for a solution, something, anything that might save her.

He could only see one possibility.

“We have to jump, hayatim. Jump forward. Go back to our time.”

“No—”

“I’ll get you to a hospital,” he insisted. “Vienna will be bigger than now. We’ll be in the city. There are ambulances. People have phones. We’ll get you fixed but we have to do it now.”

Her fingers curled into his. “No,” she muttered. “There’s no time.”

“Of course there is,” he pleaded. “Come on. Say the words. I’ll be right behind you.”

Her fingers clasped his tighter, and her face tightened with resolve. “No, canim. You have to stay. You need to finish this. You have to warn Sobieski.”

“I’ll go with you. We’ll get you looked after; then I’ll come back.”

She shook her head. “No. You’re so close… and there are too many unknowns. And you know how this works. We could land in the middle of a highway. Or a wall.”

“I’ll wait with you,” he managed, fighting his own tears, trying hard to give off an appearance of confidence. “We’ll get you taken care of—we’ll take our time to plan it better. Then I’ll come back and get it done. I promise.”

She shook her head more forcefully. “I’d have to come back with you. Otherwise, I’ll be gone… after you change everything.”

“So we’ll come back together.”

Her expression softened, as if she was finding some kind of inner peace, some stoic acceptance. “Canim,” she said in between soft coughs, her voice soft, her eyes warm, her hand straining to rise enough to caress his cheek. “We came here for a purpose, and you can make it happen. I know you can. Go. Get it done. Get it done for me, for your brother, for our family… for everything we talked about. I have nothing left to live for.”

“Of course you do—”

Her fingers slipped across to cover his lips as she coughed again before continuing in a faint, faltering voice. “No. It’s too painful. It’s all too painful. I’ll never get over what happened. And I don’t want to live with that pain. Doing this… it’s the only thing that kept me going.” She coughed up some blood, squeezing her eyes shut as she did, clearly ravaged by pain now. Her voice was weakening. “This… and you. You’ve been wonderful… the true Kamal, the one I always kept in my heart.”

“Say the words, hayatim, please… say them. Say them.”

Her touch went lighter. “Go, canim… finish it.”

He couldn’t hold back his tears, and he leaned in, closed his eyes, and kissed her, melding his lips into hers, wishing she wouldn’t die if he stayed that way, if he kept her tethered to him as he breathed life into her.

But he couldn’t. He just held her there as her last breath slid into him. He felt her very soul curl deep into him and root itself inside him, and he didn’t want to move, ever, didn’t want to sever that connection, didn’t want to risk having her break free and evaporate into the savage, bloodstained air of that malevolent tent.

But she was gone, and, after a long moment, it sank in.

He pulled back slightly, stared at her resting face. Her eyes were mercifully closed, and her expression was one of peace, not pain.

Perhaps he had managed to somehow help her escape to a warm and safe resting place.

He heard movement behind him and twisted around, his body coiled up defensively.

It was Kolschitzky. He was standing over the dead guard he’d been battling, his back hunched with exhaustion, his arms dangling limply by his side, his right hand holding a bloodied yataghan.

Taymoor lay beside him, but he wasn’t moving.

Kolschitzky looked at Kamal. The Pole was breathing hard, his face animated by the exhaustion, the resolve, and, above all, the bewilderment at what he had just witnessed.

As Kamal held his gaze, all he could think about were two words.

The last words the love of his life had uttered just before she took her final breath.

Finish it.