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She didn't answer. Instead, she reached up to the beautiful amethyst necklace at her throat and curled her scrawny fingers around the heavy stone. "So, young Alaina. What have you to say?"
Lainie blanched. "I didn't tell you my name."
"Didn't you?" She waved a hand carelessly. "No matter. All dat matters is de traveling t'rough time. It is true?"
Lainie took a deep breath and met Viloula's potent gaze. "Either that, or I'm completely crazy. Or else this is romance writer hell?you fall into a bad plot and can't get out."
"It is not hell, child. It is Arizona. How long have you been here?"
"Two days." She cast an arch glance at Killian. "Nimrod here won't believe me."
Viloula turned to him. "Why not?"
His answer was a disgusted snort.
Lainie shook her head, ran a hand through her wild hair. "I don't blame him. It doesn't make sense...."
Viloula was on her like a pouncing cat. "Under whose rules, in whose eyes?"
Lainie made a tiny shaking motion with her head. "The world has certain rules, scientific facts. People don't just ..."
"What, Alaina? People doan just what?"
She caught Viloula's gaze, held it. The more she looked into the old woman's intense black eyes, the more she was afraid of something. She fought the fear, pushed it back. "I made this up," she whispered. "I created it."
Viloula laughed; it was a soft, quiet sound without malice. "So you are a god."
"No, of course not. I'm a writer."
143
"Ah," Viloula breathed, obviously fighting a smile. "A writer."
"I'm glad you find this so frigging funny." Lainie slammed back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I'm telling you the truth. I created this place. It's the setting for my new book."
"Lean closer, child. Put your hands out on the table."
Lainie swallowed thickly. Stretching forward, she placed her hands on the table. Viloula took hold of them, wrapped her thin, sandpapery fingers around Lainie's.
The old woman closed her eyes and began to hum softly. After a few moments, she started to sway slowly from side to side. Gradually the humming increased, grew louder, melted into some sort of dark incantation in another language. For a split second, Lainie felt an honest-to-God spark of hope.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the music stopped, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
Viloula clasped Lainie's hands more tightly in her old, gnarled fingers. Her gaze was piercing and seemed to see into Lainie's very soul. "You t'ink you created dis place, and Killian."
Lainie nodded, saying nothing.
"And you
believe dis ... creation was pure invention."
She shrugged. "It was based on some research, of course. You know, about the time period and outlaws, the Southwest. Things like that. But the characters, I invented."
"Or t'ink you did."
Lainie gave a disgusted sigh. "Quit with the oblique references. If you have something to say, please say it. I'm aging."
"I will need to do some work, t'row de cards before I'm sure about everyt'ing, but ..."
