The Shoppe of Spells (23 page)

“Hey, this is John Davis. I’m Kayla’s cousin—”

“John?” Jenn voice came through the phone. John looked at Dorian. Dorian couldn’t stand still. He kept looking around the surrounding street.

“Jenn? I thought you were with Morgan?” John hit a button and Jenn’s voice, albeit tinny, came through loud. Dorian stopped pacing, his attention riveted on the small phone.

“I was. I got called in. Someone tried to hack into our system. She’s at the cabin, probably bored out of her skull by now.” Jenn laughed. “What’s up?”

John thought for a moment on how to present this to Jenn. “Dorian thinks something happened to Morgan. He can’t reach her.”

“I tried earlier. It keeps going to her voicemail. I bet she forgot to charge her phone. I was getting ready to head out myself—”

John’s and Dorian’s simultaneous “No!” stopped her.

John spoke. “Don’t leave. Make sure everything’s secure.” It was a command. “Give me the address.”

Jenn voice was quieter, very controlled. “What’s going on?”

John hesitated for a moment. “Dorian and Morgan have a connection of some sort. Psychically, I think. It suddenly broke. He can’t find her.”

Dorian hissed through clinched teeth, “It’s not like I misplaced my damn wallet.”

Jenn voice sounded muffled. Then she was back. She spouted the cabin’s address. “Someone’s trying again…” she yelled at someone behind her, “gotta run. I’ll wait to hear from you.” She hung up.

John looked at Dorian. “I don’t like this.”

They were racing toward the truck. “Where’s Jenn’s from here?” Dorian asked.

“About ten minutes. Less, maybe.”

“I’m dropping you off there. I’ll be in touch.”

John guided Dorian through the streets toward the safe house. To make sure they weren’t being followed, they maneuvered through some side streets a couple of times. They still made it in under eight minutes. As they pulled in front of tall, iron gates, security lights flashed on. John stepped out of the truck and turned back.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“No. You stay with Jenn. Since I don’t know what’s going on, I want to make sure you’re there for Jenn and Meadow.”

“Call if you need me,” John shouted. Dorian was already moving as the truck door slammed.

The GPS had him arriving in about an hour. “Let’s see if we can cut that down a bit,” he commented to the device attached to the windshield of the truck.

Every so often Dorian would try to concentrate on Morgan. It was ironic. Her presence in his mind had become so natural he barely noticed it. Not so in the beginning. The hint of recognition had hit him the moment she’d walked in the door of the shop that day, her red hair flaming around her. However, he’d been too angry, too determined
not
to be waylaid by those embedded traits—the recognition of his match, his mate—to pay attention. The only thing he’d think about was the fact that he didn’t want his future dictated, yet he knew that it was.

When they’d come together to open the portal, the first tendrils, although invisible, had linked. Those invisible threads had strengthened again when they did it the second time. Their kiss, hot and demanding as it was, further cemented their connection and his fate. He’d been so damned determined to fight it.

In the grotto, he’d known. He’d seen her essence vibrate under his touch and he’d wanted her. He’d wanted
them.

Warmth shot through him as he remembered her touch on his body, tentative though it had been. He smiled remembering her blush and how he’d watched desire push away her shyness.

He now used those feelings to focus on her, sending out a call, hoping for an answer. There was none. It was as though she’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

Dorian hit the brakes and turned hard to the left, skidding on the gravel. It was pitch black. There was no moon to help guide him. He inched the truck forward, trying to stay on the narrow gravel path and see in front of him. A pine limb brushed the top of the truck. He edged over to the right, barely staying on the path. Suddenly, the path fanned out and the high beams spotlighted the cabin. It looked deserted. He shut off the engine, left the lights on and grabbed a flashlight.

The truck door slamming shut resounded in the dark. He listened for the crickets. Gradually, their chirping started back up, as did the croaks of the toads. Not fond of the exposure he had in the light, he shifted off to the left until he was at the door and had no choice but to step into the glare of the high beams. The knob turned easily in his grasp and the planked door edged forward. It was unlocked. He moved his hand in, felt for the switches and hit every one he could reach simultaneously. Nothing happened.

He pulled back. Using the flashlight, he moved around the side of the cabin, looking for a breaker box. He’d almost completed a circle of the cabin when he found it—open. The main had been tripped. He reset the breaker and quietly moved back around the cabin. Light poured out of the windows.

A quick scan of the place told him it was highly unlikely that anyone was there. A bar stool was knocked over, a book on the floor. An end table lamp lay on the couch. She didn’t go without a struggle. His blood ran cold.
Stop it. Don’t do this. It won’t help.
He took a deep breath, went through the cabin, then ran back to the truck and turned off the lights. He didn’t need to get stranded as well.

Dorian dialed John as he re-entered the cabin. As he crossed the threshold, something pricked his brain. A tiny twinge. It didn’t feel like Morgan, but it was something familiar.

“She’s not here,” he spat out as soon as John answered. “It’s been tossed and it looks like she put up a fight.” He walked through the room, slower this time. On the kitchen side of the bar, he saw her purse on the floor, emptied. Her phone lay next to it. He picked it up. It was dead. “Damn it, Morgan, where are you?” he muttered.

“What? Did you find her?”

“No. Sorry. I was talking to myself,” which reminded him of the feeling he had when he crossed the threshold. He walked back over to the door and stepped through. The same feeling assailed him. “Let me call you back,” he said and closed the phone. He backed up, kept stepping back until the feeling went away. He stepped forward again. Like a human Geiger counter, he eased this way and that, looking all around him. Something sparkled near the door. He knelt down. A small crystal.

“Now, I’ve got you,” he said aloud, tossed the stone in the air and caught it.

It took three rings before Bask answered his phone, his voice hoarse. “This better be important.” The man sounded more like a military commander than a lawyer.

“It is,” Dorian shot back.

“I’m listening.”

“Remember when those people wanted to buy the rug from Mel and Thom and got so belligerent that you threatened to put a tracking chip in it.”

“Yes.”

“Did you?” Dorian almost shouted.

“Yes. Took a pretty penny to have it inserted just right, but Mel finally agreed. It eased her mind. I’ve been following the damn thing all over the place.”

Dorian let a small smile play at his lips. “Where is it now?”

“You told me to hold off on retrieving it until you were sure. Something about not pissing off Morgan.”

“She’s missing.”

“Oh, God. You don’t think she took it, do you?”

Dorian let frustration push him. “No,” he snapped. “I think whoever took the rug might have her.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“I want to go after the son of a bitch, got it?”

“I’ll call you back.”

Dorian walked back through the cabin. In her room, he saw the open closet and Mel’s robe hanging there. Lavender still clung to the material. He let his fingers run over it. He couldn’t lose both of them.

His phone went off.

“Yes.”

“It stopped moving a while back. It seems to be in the old Hollis Mine in North Carolina. I’m texting you the coordinates. I can get someone there—”

“I’ll call if I need backup. I don’t think so.”

“I don’t, either,” Bask mused. “Be careful, just the same.”

“I will.”

Dorian grabbed Morgan’s phone and purse, opened the refrigerator, took out several sodas and headed for the truck.

John was harder to persuade than Bask had been. “I’d rather you take care of Jenn and Meadow. I’m already on the road.”

“You’re not Superman. Remember that.”

“I know. Thanks.”

Dorian stopped in Emporia, Virginia, filled the tank, and grabbed something to eat. As much as he hated the delay, he needed to eat since he and John had left without eating anything.

Around Oxford, Dorian thought he could feel Morgan for just a moment. Like she slipped in and out, faintly, briefly. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
Come on, girl. Think of me. Think of us.
Nothing. Try as he might, it escaped him. Pulling into a rest stop, Dorian turned off the engine, closed his eyes and let his mind flow to Morgan. Again, that faint tinge.
Morgan, I know you can’t hear me. Just feel me, baby. That’s all you have to do.
The current flowed. Warmth filled him. He smiled. It flickered and was gone. “Damn it!” he bit out.

He started the engine and headed back to the interstate. Something worried him. It didn’t feel like she was in this direction. However, since this was the only direction he had, he drove forward.

His insides ached. Was this what she been feeling the other night when he’d come to her in her dreams? He’d been guided by lust, a need so great he couldn’t fight it, but it hadn’t hurt. This hurt. He opened one of the now warm drinks and let it burn down his throat. A shiver ran up his spine. Concentrating so strongly on Morgan, he nearly passed the turn-off. Daylight was just breaking.

The road, no longer used, was overgrown. Kudzu reached out its tendrils to entangle his tires. He could see where a vehicle had been through here before, enough to tamp down the foliage. He could feel his current pulsing. His anger fed it. The engine sputtered. Shit. He took one hand off the wheel and forced himself to calm down. The last thing he needed was to stall his truck.

Dorian crept forward. He could see the opening to the mine. It was clear, not a vehicle in sight. That didn’t mean no one was here. They could’ve hidden a vehicle easily. He backed up, turned around, and parked down the road a bit, off to the side. He made sure that, if he had to, he could get the hell out, fast. Remembering the flashlight, he checked it. His nerves were hopping. He forced himself to keep from running.

Dorian eased into the entrance of the mine and listened. It was quiet. He walked as far as he dared without using the flashlight. Not wanting to fall down an open shaft, he switched on the flashlight and adjusted the beam. He had no clue what kind of mine this was. The gradual decline and the lack of tracks led him to think it was hand done. Timbers seemed well placed for support. About a hundred feet in, he heard a sound—a moan. It was all he could do not to run; it could be a trap.

He moved forward as quietly as possible. He let his senses open and felt nothing. If she was conscious, he should feel her. His hand tingled. He shook it, trying to keep his energy down. Now he knew why Thom had forced him to learn those stupid meditation exercises. He was damn near ready to shock himself.

Another moan, this one louder. Then, a scream.

He ran. Suddenly, he was in an area about the size of his grotto. He heard shuffling to his right and swung the light down the wall. He gasped.

Jasmine turned her head away from the light. Her lips, cracked and coated with dried blood, tried to move. She felt him kneel next to her.

“Jas,” he whispered.

She tried to draw her arm across her naked body. It wouldn’t move. She winced as pain shot through her.

“It’s okay, sweet,” he soothed and tore off his shirt, laying it across her.

“Do-r-r-y?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Let me help you.”

“He…he…” she couldn’t get the words out.

“Is he here?”

She shook her head slightly. “He…hasn’t…come…” She took a deep breath.

Dorian pulled out his phone and hit 9-1-1. Nothing. “Damn it,” he cursed and turned back to her. “I can’t get a signal.” He stood.