by Julie Wetzel
Getting in the car, Daniel turned to look at the young woman in the driver’s seat. She was a slip of a girl with shockingly pink hair.
“Hey,” she said with a smile. Turning her attention back to the road she took off at a nice easy pace.
“Hi,” he said back. Every nerve in Daniel’s body pulsed with the beat of the heavy metal music blasting from the radio. So many things rushed through his mind that he couldn’t follow any of them. He slouched in his seat, sure the bass would draw attention. He wanted the woman to go faster but forced himself to be calm. If the noise didn’t get them noticed, racing off at break-neck speeds definitely would. Sitting back in his seat, he pulled his seat belt on and watched in the mirror to see if anyone was following them. After about three blocks with no signs of a tail, he looked at the strange woman again. Her hair was still glaringly pink, but it fit with the series of piercings running around the shell of her ear and the gem in her nose.
She shot him a sidelong glance and smiled as she popped her gum. Reaching out, she turned down the volume. “So, where to?”
Daniel blinked a few times as his senses kicked in. There was something strange in the calm way the woman spoke. “What?” he asked, trying to figure out what wasn’t right.
Irritation took a little of the brightness out of her smile. “My brother said you needed a ride. Where ya going?”
The truth dawned on Daniel. This woman wasn’t tense about the situation because she didn’t know that there was a situation. He drew a breath in through his mouth as his mind spun. “Yes,” Daniel said as he thought. He needed someplace safe that Eternity didn’t know about. There was only one place he could think of. “There’s a gas station over on River and Vine. Can you take me there?”
“Sure thing,” the woman said, pointing her car in the right direction.
Daniel slipped his hands into his pockets and looked out the window. Josh had done a fantastic job of getting him to safety, but from here on out, he was on his own.
4
Letting out a weary sigh, Angela pulled her key from the dash of her car. Her eye twitched with exhaustion as she brooded over her situation. For two weeks she’d been camped out in the college library studying for finals while Jocelyn, her roommate and ex-best friend, fooled around with her new boyfriend on every flat surface in their dorm room. Nothing was sacred to those two.
Angela had finally had enough when she’d come back from an intense cram session to find the pair screwing on her desk. She had naked ass prints all over her political science notes! She could forgive a lot of things, but that wasn’t one. To make matters worse, Jocelyn’s boyfriend hadn’t bothered to stop when Angela came in. They had paused, but only long enough to invite Angela to join in. That had been the last straw. Angela was not going to put up with it anymore.
The ensuing fight had been brutal. When the smoke cleared, it was decided that the two girls shouldn’t be friends anymore. With only a few weeks left in the term, Angela had packed her things and left. She’d deal with finding a new roommate later, but anything would be better than trying to sleep through another night of her roommate’s sexcapades. Even a daily, two-hour drive to her father’s house.
Getting out of the car, Angela glanced at the row of vehicles lining her father’s driveway before gathering her bags and heading to the barn. She wasn’t up to dealing with whatever event her father was holding. As an elected official, he was always hosting some type of gathering, and dragging a suitcase through a formal function was not on Angela’s list of things to do tonight. One of the apartments in the barn’s loft would work as her haven for the night. Years of ranch hands had occupied the small rooms so they could be close to the horses, but those quarters had been vacant for a while. They weren’t much more than a place to sleep and a communal bathroom, but that was all Angela was interested in for the night. Tomorrow, when her father’s function was over, she’d go see him and claim her very nice bed in the main house.
The smell of hay and horses met Angela as she opened the door in the side of the barn. It had been years since her father kept the animals, but their scent still lingered. It brought back fond memories of her childhood. Turning to her right, Angela climbed the steps into the loft. Placing her hand on the wall, she closed her eyes and trusted her memory to guide her. The apartments shouldn’t be hard to find in the darkened space. They lined both sides of the building. When her hand hit a door, she pushed it open and looked around.
Moonlight streamed through the window making the room bright compared to the darkness of the loft. The space wasn’t very big. Just enough to hold a bed and a nightstand, but that was more than enough for tonight. Angela dropped her bag on the floor and shut the door. The bed screamed for her attention. Stepping out of her shoes, she crossed the room and dropped herself on to it. The sheets smelled stale from lack of use, but Angela didn’t care. Pulling the blanket around her, she curled up, happy to be able to sleep in peace for a change.
Angela woke to the sounds of people talking. The steady rise and fall of voices were somewhat soothing yet annoying at the same time. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, rolled over, and tried to get back to sleep, but an uncomfortable tingle filled the air. There was no way she was going to sleep through this.
Throwing the blanket back, Angela got up from the bed and found her shoes. She stormed out of the room, searching for the source of the noise. It was fuck-all late and no one should be up at this time of the night. Especially out in the barely used barn. She turned and followed the chanting back to the steps that led to the main floor. What the hell was going on down there?
Angela was only halfway down the steps when she started having second thoughts. The scene that met her eyes made her stop. She squatted on the steps and stared out into the dimly lit room trying to understand it.
Power tingled up Angela’s spine as she watched four figures in dark robes sway to the rhythm of some strange language. Between them was a large wooden table. Angela’s heart started to race when the figures moved, and she saw the man tied to the table. The back of her mouth went dry as she crouched on the stairs, afraid to move. There was something very wrong going on here.
The activity on the floor reached a fervent pitch, and one of the cloaked figures raised a wicked blade over the captured man’s chest.
Angela pressed her hand over her mouth to hold in the scream working its way up her throat. She jumped as the blade rammed down into the bound man’s chest. Tears streamed from her eyes as she watched the four figures committing murder, but she didn’t dare move from her hiding spot.
Anger and fear fought for her will as she sat, paralyzed, and watched as the cloaked figure left the blade stuck in the injured man’s chest. How could father let something like this happen? A hint of curiosity cut through the numbness when a brilliant light formed at the hilt of the dagger. What were they doing? She craned her neck trying to get a better look. The ball of light intensified before condensing into a solid object. She didn’t have a very good view of the item, but it looked like those spiky crystals broken out of rocks. Only this looked much sharper.
“Finally.”
Chills ran down Angela’s back as she recognized the voice. She sat back against the step and tried not to believe her ears. It was hard since she’d heard that voice so many times before. No way he would have anything to do with this.
“Get the box.”
Angela grasped the railing of the stairs as one of the figures moved. The hand over her mouth muffled the noise as she got a clean shot of her friend’s face. Eugene. How could he be involved with this? Her heart broke as she watched her friend reach out and grasp the crystal with a gloved hand. He pulled on it gently, but it didn’t move.
The man on the table screamed as Eugene put more force behind his tug and ripped the crystal away from the knife’s pommel.
The sound tore at Angela’s heart. Her blood ran cold as she watched in horror. How could anyone survive that? She had been sure the man was dead when they dro
ve the knife into his chest. He hadn’t even made a sound. But now, he moaned heavily and pulled against the cords holding him down.
The people standing around the table didn’t seem to notice their victim’s plight. One of the robed figures held out a familiar wooden box.
Eugene placed the crystal inside. He closed the lid and gently took the box from the second man. He pushed on the hidden switch, sliding the complicated locking mechanism into place before focusing on his cohorts. “You two come with me.” He looked at the last of his helpers. “You, clean this up.”
“Yes, sir,” the three figures said together.
Eugene and his two chosen helpers turned and made their way out through a door leading into the main section of the barn.
Feeling started to come back to Angela’s legs as she watched the last man move around the table. Anger melted the fear freezing her to the seat. She didn’t stand a chance against four people, but she could handle one. Maybe she could do something to save the injured man.
When the cloaked figure turned away from her hiding place, Angela crept down the stairs and picked up a scrap of wood leaning against the wall. Moving slowly, she snuck up behind the man. A good hard swing connected the board with the back of his head. He dropped to a crumpled heap on the floor. The tray in his hands clattered to the floor spilling an array of noisy items across the wooden planks.
Angela clutched her board and glanced towards the door where the others had left. She didn’t know if they had heard their friend fall, but she didn’t want to stay around to find out. Dropping the board on top of the unconscious man, she turned to the guy tied to the table. Her heart hurt as she got a better look at him.
Pain etched lines across what she could see of his face through the scruff of his beard. His fine dress shirt and slacks were rumpled, and his golden hair was dark with old sweat. Even through the pain and dirt, he was a fine looking man. She eyed the dagger stuck in his chest. Please let him be alive. He was unnervingly still. Angela ran her hand up his arm, feeling his flesh. Thankfully it was warm and felt alive. “Hey, buddy,” she whispered. She moved to his head and touched him on the cheek. “Are you alive?”
He groaned in answer.
Her heart jumped with hope. “Shh,” she soothed, reaching for the ropes. “I’m here to help.” Her fingers worked on the tight knots, but her eyes kept jumping to the dagger sticking out of his chest. She chewed on her lip praying that it wasn’t as long as it had looked before Eugene had plunged it in. It was much too close to the man’s heart for comfort.
As soon as the man’s hand was loose, he pulled it from her grip and went for the blade.
Angela grabbed his arm before he could catch the hilt. “No,” she hissed in warning.
He turned his head and looked at her with golden eyes glazed with pain.
She pulled his hand back and held it. “It’s deep,” she explained. “You’ll bleed out if you remove it.”
The man licked his lips but nodded his understanding. He squeezed her hand before letting out a shallow breath and relaxing back into place.
Once she was sure he wouldn’t go after the knife again, she released his hand and went to free his other wrist. Sparing a moment, she glanced at the door again. “We need to get out of here.”
The man nodded. “Where are we?” he croaked. His voice was deep with pain.
“You’re at Minister Charles Lewis’s estate,” Angela explained as she hurried to untie his feet.
“What town?”
“Bransville.” She shook her head in disgust while she worked on the knots. Just telling the man he was on a minister’s estate had been stupid. Her father had three estates he used when dealing with governmental issues. The poor guy probably didn’t even know who Minister Lewis was.
“I see.”
Angela glanced up the table at the man, confused by what he meant. Did this man know father? That was a possibility. He looked like the type of person that would hang around the ministry. A horrible thought hit her. Could my father have anything to do with this? She turned the new idea over in her mind. She couldn’t see her father condoning this type of action, but then again, she couldn’t picture Eugene doing it either. They had to get out of there. Pushing the bad feelings back, she helped the man swing his legs off the table and roll into a standing position.
He groaned as he clung to her. Curling his left arm across his body, he held it tight, trying to minimize the movement of his chest and the blade sunk close to his heart.
“Come on,” Angela coaxed. She slipped his right arm over her shoulder and started pulling him away from the table. She glanced at the door the other had gone through. They could be back any movement. And if her father had anything to do with this, they could both be in major trouble. “Let’s get out of here.”
The man leaned on her and staggered along.
She guided him to the steps and propped him against the wall. “Wait here,” she ordered before dashing up the stairs. Her keys were tucked in the top of her purse. Fumbling through the darkness, she grabbed her purse, pulled it over her shoulder, found her car keys, and rushed back down the stairs. Thankfully, her guy hadn’t died while she was away. He slouched against the wall breathing heavily. “Come on,” she said slipping back under his arm and taking his weight again. They needed to find help fast.
Cracking the door open, she peered out. No signs of life stirred the night air. She shoved the door open the rest of the way and forced the man into motion again. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
The man didn’t fight, but he did shake his head as he stumbled along. “No hospital.” Blood colored his lips as he spoke.
Angela’s heart raced as she helped him to her car. That wasn’t a good sign. “But you need help,” she insisted. Opening her car door, she placed the man inside.
“Not the hospital,” he said as he leaned back against her passenger seat. He cupped his hand around the knife in his chest
She stared at the blood soaking the front of his shirt. Moving him from the table had been a bad idea. She needed to call the cops. Could he last long enough for an ambulance? She looked over at the barn and then to the house, wondering how deeply her father was involved. Was calling for help a wise idea? Unsure of the circumstances, she turned back to the guy. He was starting to look pale. She didn’t have time to debate what to do. He needed help. Now. Shutting his door, she rushed around to her side of the car and got in. “Then where?”
The man drew in a few ragged breaths before answering. “The Dragon’s Wing.”
Digging in her purse, Angela pulled out her phone and punched the name into her navigation app. Surprisingly, the place wasn’t that far away. Should only take forty minutes at the speed limit. Jamming her phone into the pocket on her dash, she started the car and took off. She wasn’t going to be driving the speed limit tonight.
5
Every second that ticked pass rammed slivers of anxiety into Angela’s heart. She glanced at her uncomfortably still passenger. His face was the color of unprinted newspaper and the blood on his shirt was spreading. He wasn’t going to last much longer. “We’re almost there,” she said as they sped along the two-lane country road. “Just hang in there.” Reaching down, she rested her hand on his. Her heart jumped when his fingers curled around hers. Good, he’s still alive.
The electronic voice of the navigation app cut through the silence in the car. “In 500 feet, turn right.”
Releasing his hand, Angela slowed the car to look for The Dragon’s Wing. They were close enough that she should have been able to see something, but there were only dark fields and forests. Squinting, she finally found the gravel drive that led into a break in the tree line.
“You’ve arrived at your destination.”
As she turned off the main road, the headlights flashed over a hand-carved wooden sign. A green dragon wrapped around the name of the place. The car bounced over a pothole making her wounded passenger groan. “Sorry,” she hissed through gri
tted teeth. She continued on, trying to miss the other divots in the driveway. After a few yards, the woods opened up on a huge clearing and she finally saw the building. It looked like an old barn. There weren’t any cars in the parking lot, but the light shining from the small windows gave Angela hope.
Pulling the car up to the building, Angela threw it into park and killed the engine. “Hang on,” she said as she popped her door open. “I’ll get help.” Forgetting to shut her door, she rushed out praying there was someone inside that could save her mystery man.
Angela yanked open the wooden door and stepped into The Dragon’s Wing. She paused long enough take in the tin signs covering the walls of the little entryway. It’s a pub! Hopefully someone inside could help. Letting the door go, she rushed into the main room to the sound of bells. She stopped again to orientate herself to the new room. Sweeping her eyes over the quiet space, she found what she needed. Two men sat at a booth in the far corner of the room.
They looked up at the sound of the bells.
“Help me,” she cried as she ran across the room towards them. “He’s dying.”
Both men stood up from the table. One was a stout man with dark hair and a mustache. The other was a tall blond in a leather jacket.
“Who?” the stout man asked.
Tears clung to the corner of Angela’s eyes as she grabbed his arm and tugged him into motion. “I don’t know,” she said sounding pathetic. In the whole time he’d been in her car, she hadn’t bothered to ask him his name. “Please. They stabbed him,” she pleaded.
Her captive looked over his shoulder at his friend and the two men started for the doorway.
The tight pressure around Angela’s chest eased as they ran outside, and she pointed to her car. “There.” She stopped as the two men hurried over.
“My Lord!” the stout man cried as he saw the figure in the car. He ripped the door open and looked inside. “It’s Kyle.”
