Books by Maggie Shayne (108 page)

However, she'd covered the practical, contemporary garments with a flowing kimono of deep blue satin, which, when she freed it, would cover her feet.
 
At the moment, it was bunched up around her waist to ease her travel.
 
Roland had added his own black cloak as a finishing touch.
 
It was warm, and added an air of magic to her every movement as it gleamed around her like the wings of a raven.
 
It had neither collar nor ties, only two buttons to hold it in place at her throat.

Roland nodded in approval.
 
"Every inch the enchantress, Rhiannon.
 
He'll shudder in fear at the sight of you."

"Don't make light of it," she chided.
 
"Every advantage I can use is needed, and if my clothing can help to intimidate him, that's all the better."

"I know.
 
I wasn't."
 
He caught her shoulders, and held them firm.
 
"Be careful, Rhiannon."
 
His eyes conveyed much more meaning than his words.
 
He was truly worried for her safety.
 
"At the first sign of skullduggery, summon me.
 
Don't hesitate."

"I won't."
 
Something inside her urged her to move forward, to press her body to his just once, to lift her lips to his, and wait for his parting kiss.
 
She fought the feeling, hoping it didn't show in her eyes, averting them in case it did.
 
"Now, let me go, before I lose my nerve."

"The gods would lose their wisdom first," he said, but his hands fell away.

She turned and hurried toward the cabin.

Rhiannon halted a few feet from the cabin's little door, closed her eyes and silently composed her thoughts.
 
She could not afford to be distracted now by worry about the boy, or even by her extreme sadness over the parting that would follow this ordeal.
 
She must concentrate only on Lucien.

Before she was prepared, the door opened, and the object of her thoughts filled the entrance.
 
"Come in, Rhiannon.
 
I trust you've kept your word and come alone?"
 
As he spoke, his beady eyes swept the area around her, and she knew he searched with his mind, as well.
 
He would find no hint of Roland there.
 
He could guard his presence from this man without much effort.
 
Despite his powerful mind, Lucien was only a human.

"Of course.
 
Did you think I'd risk the boy, or that I'd be so afraid of you I would bring reinforcements?"
 
His gaze came back to her, and altered slightly as he took in her attire.
 
"Don't fool yourself, Lucien.
 
I fear no mere mortal."

He stepped aside as she strode into the cabin.
 
She made her steps broad, kept her head high.
 
He would see no faltering in her entrance.

"No?
 
Not even Curtis Rogers?"

Was that remark supposed to shake her?
 
"Him least of all.
 
He is a weakling, blinded by his hunger for vengeance.
 
I could kill him with as little effort as you would swat a fly.
 
But that is neither here nor there, is it?"

Lucien shrugged and closed the door.
 
Rhiannon focused her mind on the house, finding it empty save for the two of them.
 
She stepped nearer the hearth, allowing the fire's warmth to spread over her.

"You're dressed quite differently from the way you were last night.
 
Is there any significance to it?"

She turned a surprised glance upon him.
 
"I thought you knew all about me.
 
Can it be your research is lacking after all?
 
Do you not recognize the robes of an Egyptian priestess?"

He said nothing, only eyed her up and down.
 
"May I take your cloak, at least?"

"You may not.
 
I've grown rather fond of it."

"Suit yourself."

She studied his face.
 
His eyes appeared slightly slack lidded.
 
She detected darker circles beneath them.
 
"You have followed my instructions?"

"I have.
 
No sleep, no food, no drink.
 
I'm thirsty as sand dune right now, to tell the truth."

"It will pass," she told him.

"How is the boy?"

"Fine.
 
Safe, for the moment, at least.
 
I've no doubt your friends are out looking for him."

She only lifted her brows.
 
"Think what you will."

"It doesn't matter.
 
They won't find him."
 
He crossed the room toward a closed door, and opened it.
 
He stood, aside, and waved a hand for her to enter.

Rhiannon moved forward, the cape swaying with ever step, the kimono brushing the floor.
 
Pausing in the door way, she saw a small room, a bedroom, perhaps, but devoid of any furnishings, save a table and a glowing kerosene lamp.

"Let's get on with it."
 
Lucien stood close behind her, his voice cold on her nape.

She stepped inside, and he followed.
 
From a pock inside the cloak, she pulled a small sack.
 
Lucien's gaze took in every movement.

"What's that?"

She loosened the drawstring and removed several candles, a packet of incense and a silver dish, placing them on the floor in a small circle.
 
"Nothing to be afraid of, Lucien.
 
You see?"

He knelt and picked up a candle, studying it, sniffing it.
 
Then he lifted the packet of herbs and examined that, pouring a bit into his palm.

"Incense," she said.
 
"It goes in the dish, in the center of the circle of candles."

He shot her a wary look, then poured as she had instructed.
 
"You want me to light them?"

He was nervous.
 
She saw it in the way he kept licking his lips, in the constant darting movements of his eyes.
 
"No.
 
We'll take care of that in a moment.
 
Douse the light, if you please."

He frowned, but stood.
 
Cupping a hand over the far side of the glass chimney, he blew into the lamp.
 
The room fell into inky darkness.
 
She could see him clearly.
 
He could see nothing, though he tried to keep her in focus.
 
Right now, he was squinting like a mole.

"Now sit, cross-legged upon the floor."

He did as she told him.
 
Rhiannon rounded the circle of unlit candles and lowered herself opposite him.
 
Tentatively, she probed his mind with her own, as a test.
 
She found it completely closed to her.

"You must concentrate, Lucien.
 
There must be nothing on your mind except the candles.
 
Focus upon their wicks.
 
Think of nothing else.
 
Envision flames, leaping to life at your command.
 
Do it now."

She saw him staring hard at the candle just in front of him.
 
She aimed the beam of her own thoughts there, and in a moment a small pop sounded, and the wick flared to life.

Lucien jerked as if slapped.

"Very good," Rhiannon purred.
 
"Your mind is strong, for a human."
 
Again, she sought his thoughts and found nothing.
 
"But you are not concentrating hard enough.
 
Focus your mind."

He did.
 
His eyes picked out another candle, and she let him stare at it awhile before she caused it to light.
 
One by one, Rhiannon lit the candles, as Lucien's guard was slowly lowered.

His eyes widened in amazement, his face now glowing in the soft light of the tiny fires.
 
"Now the incense.
 
It's a bit more difficult.
 
Concentrate."

She watched him as he stared at the silver dish, but she did not ignite the herbs it held.
 
Instead, she probed his mind, seeking knowledge of Jamey in its foggy depths.

For a moment, she saw the boy, lying upon a cot, with a wool blanket tossed over him.
 
But the image vanished as Lucien looked up at her.

"It isn't working."

"You're not concentrating.
 
Try again."

He did.
 
It was laughable the way he contorted his face with the effort.
 
The fool grated his teeth.
 
Again, Rhiannon searched his mind, this time seeing a bit more.
 
A room, in utter darkness.
 
A shuttered window.
 
Smoky cobwebs in the corners.

She glanced at the incense and it began to smolder.
 
Fixing her mind more firmly inside his, she tried to see the locale of Jamey's prison.
 
It was near.
 
Very near, but not in this cabin.
 
Ah, there.
 
Another cabin, similar to this, but in sad the mountain? she wondered.
 
No.
 
Below it, but not in the village.

A wall seemed to lower itself around his mind all at once.

"You're trying to trick me, aren't you?"

He knew she'd been snooping.
 
She met his accusing glare.

"Our thoughts must mingle as well as our blood, Lucien.
 
This will not work unless you cooperate."

Give yourself over, she chanted in silence.
 
My will becomes yours, Lucien.

She saw his eyes begin to cloud.

"You must relax.
 
Breathe deeply.
 
Like this."
 
She demonstrated, and he mimicked her for several long moments.
 
His lids drooped slightly.
 
She almost smiled in triumph.

"Much better.
 
Now focus on nothing.
 
Try to free your mind from your body until you feel as if you are floating."

The lids drooped a little farther.
 
His deep, regular breathing came on its own now, without her instruction.

"Imagine yourself as a spirit, if you will.
 
Feel the chains of your physical self falling away."

Your will is mine, Lucien.
 
You have no desire except to do
my bidding.
 
You have no thoughts, save those I will give you.
 
Surrender to me, Lucien.
 
Surrender.

Slowly, his eyes fell closed.
 
His breathing deepened still further, and came in long, drawn-out turns.
 
His head hung downward on a neck gone limp.

Where is the boy?

*
   
*
   
*
   
*
   
*

Roland's entire being was focused on Rhiannon inside the cabin.
 
He waited as long as he could stand it, then started forward, toward the tiny structure.
 
He would go around until he located a window through which he could see what was happening.
 
She was so involved in her efforts with Lucien that he could feel no hint of her thoughts, had no clue what was happening.

His every thought on Rhiannon, Roland stepped out of his concealment beyond the rocks.
 
The shot came out of the darkness.
 
Something stabbed into his chest.

His hand came up to clutch the object that pierced his flesh with a burning pain.
 
He tugged it free, but his mind was slipping away.
 
A black haze slowly coated his consciousness as he stared down at the blood-slicked dart he'd torn from his chest.

He fell to his knees, lifting his gaze.
 
Curtis Rogers stood only yards from him, an evil smile lurking about his lips.
 
Damn!
 
Roland had been so determinedly focused on Rhiannon, he'd failed to continue scanning the area for another presence.
 
He'd failed... he'd failed Rhiannon.

His mind whispered a warning he prayed she would hear, just before he fell forward, into darkness.

*
   
*
   
*
   
*
   
*

Rhiannon's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden bolt of knowledge.
 
Something had happened to Roland.

In her moment of distraction, Lucien broke the hold she'd had on his mind, and gave his head a shake.
 
Then he glared at her, leaping to his feet.
 
"I know what you're trying to do.
 
I should have known I couldn't trust one of your kind."

She stood, as well.
 
"Do not tempt me, Lucien, or you'll die here and now.
 
Tell me where you've hidden the boy."

"You never had any intention of keeping your side of the bargain.
 
Why should I keep mine?"

"Because you will die if you don't."
 
She stepped around the candles toward him, but froze when the door behind Lucien swung wide, and Curtis Rogers stood there pointing some sort of weapon at her.

"You!"

"Ah, we meet again, Princess."

She took a single step and no more.
 
The dart plunged into her shoulder and she cried out in sudden pain.
 
She closed her eyes, certain the dart contained the tranquilizer, certain her time had run out.
 
With her final moments of consciousness, she sent her thoughts to the fledgling, Tamara, conveying all she had learned, begging her to find a way to save Roland and the boy.
 
She fell forward, catching herself on a wall, then slipping slowly downward as her legs folded beneath her.

"Her friend was outside," she heard Rogers saying, though his voice echoed as if far away.

"Will you take him, too?"
 
That was Lucien.

"No.
 
I've learned from my mistakes.
 
I don't want to deal with two of them at once.
 
One at a time, from here on.
 
He's not going anywhere.
 
Let the sun take care of him."

She felt her neck muscles melt as her head fell forward.
 
It was jerked up again by a cruel hand in her hair.
 
Lucien's twisted face hovered before her.
 
"Before you go beddy-bye, there's something I want you to know.
 
The scientist you killed all those years ago, Daniel St. Claire's partner, was my father.
 
And I won't rest until I see all of your kind pay for his death."

She tried to make her lips form words.
 
"B-but... you... you wanted..."

"To become one of you?
 
Yes.
 
The strongest one of all, so I could eliminate the rest with ease.
 
So I could live to see the last of you die in agony."

"You," she whispered with the last bit of strength she possessed, "are the one... who will die."