by Mina Carter
She slipped, and he instinctively leapt forward, his hands outstretched as if he could catch her even though she was far out of his reach. "No!" he shouted.
She caught herself, and then turned, as if she'd heard his voice. For a long moment, neither of them moved, and he felt himself falling into her stare, as if she could suck him in from miles away. "My angel," he whispered. "I'm coming for you. I will protect you."
The moment the words left his lips, she turned her back on him and double-timed her descent, as if she'd heard him and wanted to get the hell away from him. Ryland scowled as Thano rode up beside him. "That's her?" Thano asked. "The angel of death?"
"Sure is."
Thano was still gripping his injured shoulder. "She looks thrilled to see us tracking her."
Ryland shrugged. "No one is ever happy to see me." But as he watched the small figure reach the bottom of the cliff and start running along the base of the mountain toward the valley, he couldn't help but be a little annoyed by her obvious antipathy. He'd been calling to her for centuries, and yet her only response was to flee? Scowling, he watched as she reached the edge of a wooded area. She looked back at them one more time, then slipped between the trees and was gone.
The moment she disappeared, a fierce protest arose inside him, a need to bring her back, to restore the visual connection between them. Now that he'd seen her, the loss of her from his view roared through him like a great void, and he had to close his eyes to force himself back under control.
He had to stay focused. The Order needed her back, and it was time to retrieve her. "She's following the path we need to take," he said shortly. "We'll pick her up on the way."
He turned back toward his team and saw Zach was sitting down, his back braced against a rock, his arms draped loosely over his knees. His face was ashen, and his breathing was becoming even more labored. Swearing, Ryland crouched in front of him. "Look at me," he commanded.
His teammate dragged a weary gaze to him. In the corner of his left eye was a dot of orange. Ryland fisted his hand in frustration.
"What is it?" Zach asked, his traditional distrust of Ryland fading under the strain of his battle to survive the poison coursing through him. "It's bad, isn't it?"
"Yeah. You gotta hold it off." Ryland swore under his breath, knowing that they were still a few hours away from the remote village...the village that Dante Sinclair, their deceased leader, had taken him to so long ago. He hadn't been back in this region since that day, and he'd vowed never to return.
To retrieve Catherine, however, he was coming dangerously close to the land that had taken so much from him. Instinctively, he rubbed his hand over his chest, over the binding mark that had held him in its grip so tightly for so long. Provided he didn't go past the village, he should be all right. But as he helped Zach to his feet, he couldn't help the ripple of tension that crept down his spine at the thought of getting that close to the hell that used to bind him.
He slung Zach's arm over his shoulder and supported his weight, well aware that he had no choice about whether to continue forward with the trek. Zach was dying. He was the only one who could save him, and Dante's Order needed Catherine. All he had to do was get Zach and Thano to the village, and then intercept Catherine before she made it past there. Then he could take all three of them back home and leave the land beyond untouched.
Simple. Easy. A done deal.
But when Zach stumbled and let out a curse of pain, Ryland had a grim suspicion that "simple and easy" wasn't the way it was going to go down.
* * *
It felt like hours later when Catherine finally reached the bottom of the mountain and slipped into the lush vegetation of the valley. Although the warmer air and rich scent of fertile growth was wonderful, there was no relief for her, not when she saw too many signs that people inhabited the area, people who would tempt her in the darkness. There were well-worn footpaths, a broken tool, and even a basket of fruit, as if someone had run off in the middle of picking apples. To the right was a family graveyard with a dozen or so headstones, including a large tomb in the middle that had been for the matriarch of the family. Fresh flowers sat on the nearest grave, telling her that someone still loved whoever was buried there. Whoever it was had been there recently, and would probably be back.
This was not good. She didn't want to be near people once the sun set, but the night was already taking hold of the land, already gnawing at her.
Her head was pounding again, the brief respite she'd received from the sunlight already fading. It hadn't been enough to sustain her. The physical strain she was putting on her body to traverse the rough terrain was drawing on her resources too much, and the light had served to give her the strength to take another step, climb another hill, not to ease the ominous approach of the danger inside her.
There was a crack, and a man shouted. Catherine froze at the sound. It had come from behind her. The men were closing in that quickly? She had to keep moving. Had to keep her attention on her goal.
An owl hooted, and it was answered by the screech of a bird she didn't recognize. It was a haunting sound, almost like that of a woman screaming. "Okay, stop imagining things." Catherine shifted her backpack and kept walking, even as she scanned the woods for people and kept looking behind her for the men who were following her—
She heard the sound of running water. For an instant she froze, too startled to react. Was it possible? Was the map really right? She closed her eyes and listened more carefully. It sounded like a waterfall. Dear God. Please let this be the one I'm looking for.
Adrenaline surged through her. She broke into a run, not even caring when her boots snapped branches or pine needles whipped across her face. She just ran toward the sound of tumbling water, her heart pounding as she prayed this was the waterfall she had been seeking.
She broke through the underbrush, and then stopped in awe when she saw the majestic cascade of water towering above her. The water was tumbling out of the air, as if the heavens themselves were pouring grace and mercy onto the earth. Smooth, white, polished rocks made the water dance as it splashed onto them, forming a pool of crystal clear liquid that seemed to sparkle even in the dim light of the moon.
Catherine quickly shrugged out of her backpack and dropped it on the damp earth. She opened the main compartment, and then unzipped the waterproof, interior pocket. She carefully removed the ancient piece of parchment that she'd sealed in a laminated cover. Her hands were shaking as she turned on her flashlight and set the map on the ground. She'd given all her savings to obtain it from a wizened old man who had sworn to its veracity. Etchings drawn by hand a thousand years ago seemed to shimmer on the paper, and she quickly translated the ancient words for the thousandth time. "Where water comes from heaven," she whispered. She looked up, flashing her light to the top of the waterfall just to be sure.
There were no rocks or earth that the water was coming from. Just air. "This has to be it," she whispered. She was so close! The next words on the map were ingrained in her memory, but she read them again, carefully, just to make sure she wasn't missing anything. "Nature grants a circle of six. Etched in stone, it points the way." Beside the drawing of the waterfall was a sketch of a cluster of six trees in a tight circle, as if they'd been planted that way intentionally.
Catherine quickly stood up and flashed the light around her. Trees were all around, but they all looked the same in the dark. She hurried to the edge of the clearing and began methodically walking the perimeter, searching for a cluster like the one on her map. "Circle of six," she muttered. "Nature grants a circle of six—"
Her skin prickled on the back of her neck, and she spun around, expecting someone to grab her. Nothing was there, but there was violence tainting the air now. Fierce, ruthless violence twisting the particles with deadly intent. She recognized it immediately as belonging to the leader of the men who'd been following her. She'd caught his aura a few times, but never had she been close enough to read him so clearly. He was more th
an dangerous. More than deadly. More than evil. And he was almost upon her.
Suddenly, she stopped fearing for the lives of the men who were after her, and became afraid for herself. What was he? She didn't have time to find out. She lunged for her backpack, shoved the map inside and threw it over her shoulder. She sprinted for the trees and dove behind a bush for cover. She hunched down, hiding as low as she could as she tried to think of a way to get away from him. How was he finding her so easily? How did he know where she was going? Violence prickled to her right, and she quickly turned her head, trying to peer through the woods in that direction. A thick tree trunk blocked her way, and she leaned forward trying to see around it, only to discover another one was tucked up tight against it, also blocking her view. Weird that two trees would grow so tightly against each other—
Realization rushed through her. It couldn't be a coincidence that two trees were so close together, could it? Catherine crept over to the cluster of trees, and her heart caught when she saw that there was a third tree, and a fourth, and two more, all of them growing in a tight circle. "Oh my God," she whispered. "This is it!" The trees had grown so close together she could barely squeeze between them, and she had to leave her pack behind.
Once inside the circle, she flashed her light, searching for the stone that was the final marker.
But all she saw was a hole in the ground where a stone used to be.
Someone had stolen the marker.
"Oh no." Disbelief plunged through her and she went down to her knees, staring in horror at the empty place that was supposed to tell her how to find her daughter. "How can it be gone?"
But it was. The earth was dried out and cracked, as if the stone had been gone for a very long time. "No!" She plunged her hands into the dirt, trying to drag the earth aside, as if she could force the stone to appear. The earth was so hard there was no way she could shift it. It had been long deprived of the piece that would grant her the path to save her child.
It became too much. Catherine sagged back against a tree and buried her face in her hands as years of toil crushed down on her. Two and a half agonizing years of searching for her daughter. This had been her last chance. The only way to find her. She was out of time to try to uncover and pursue yet another path.
Tears bled from her eyes, anguish poured from her chest. After so many excruciating moments of trying to summon hope, of trying to find the strength to renew her search after another failure, it all felt like too much. What else was there? She had no more ideas. "No!" She screamed her rage and slammed her fist against the tree. Dear God, how could the stone be gone?
As overwhelming as the grief and despair was, a familiar urgency was building inside her, warning her that she had to take action. She was out of time to linger here agonizing over the loss of her daughter. There were too many people around. Too many people to tempt her soul. With the men hunting her, and the people who obviously lived nearby, there would be no way to contain herself tonight, not when such hopelessness was bearing down on her so fiercely.
Tonight, if she hunted, she would die, and when that happened, there would be no one left to save her daughter from a hell beyond words. She had to survive. She had to keep herself from hunting. "Dammit, no!" Tears blurring her vision, Catherine lunged to her feet and shoved her way between the trees. She grabbed her backpack, tore open the zipper and plunged her hand into the bottom, into the depths where she had hidden it.
Her fingers brushed against the gray velvet pouch, and she pulled it out. Her hand trembling, she hastily unzipped it and removed the silver locket that she'd kept protected inside her bag. Preserved within was all she had left of her baby girl, the tuft of hair that she'd been holding while she'd been giving Lucy her first haircut, that moment when the man she'd once trusted had charged into her house and stolen her little girl.
No, not a man.
A creature beyond comprehension. A beast from beyond. A demon-wraith who had taken Lucy to the realm between death and life, where evil fermented and torture thrived.
Catherine clutched the locket in her fist, closing her eyes as she reached for the love that had kept her going for so long. Only her love for Lucy seemed to be strong enough to sustain her through dark nights when she'd gone too long without light. "I love you, baby girl," she whispered. "I won't abandon you, I promise. I will find a way."
In her mind, she heard the words that had tormented her for so long. Lucy's frightened cry when her father, Simon, had yanked her away from Catherine. Her innocent entreaty, begging Catherine to save her from this man. Catherine would never forget Lucy's little arms extending back over Simon's shoulder toward Catherine, trying to reach her mama, not understanding why her mother was lying on the ground, her body broken, helpless to do anything but scream in protest and watch that bastard steal her daughter.
Mama. Mama. Mama. The desperate call beat at her, punishing her, begging her to help, and once again, she was consumed with a feeling of helplessness and failure so debilitating it was like a raging void closing down on her, suffocating her, killing her—
A loud crack burst through the memory, jerking Catherine back to the present. Violence leached over her skin, and she knew her pursuers were almost upon her. Her daughter's terrified cry still echoing in her brain, Catherine leapt to her feet. "I will find a way," she promised, as she grabbed her backpack. "I swear it, Lucy."
Frantic, she spun around, trying to figure out where to hide. How had he found her? She could detect his scent now, a rough, rich mix of strength and male. The others faded, until there was only one man assaulting her senses. He smelled of violence and ruthlessness, regret and… death. Death! He was tracking her through death! That's how he was finding her!
Catherine whirled around and charged through the trees, circling back the way she'd come. She was crashing loudly through the woods, but she didn't care. She knew he wasn't tracking her by sound.
"Catherine!" he shouted, his voice bursting over her like a thunderstorm on a turbulent August night. It rolled through her, echoing in her chest, making her body vibrate in response. His call was so powerful that she stumbled, consumed by a need to go back to him, to turn herself over to him.
Good God. What was he doing to her? How did he know her name? She shook him off and ran harder. She could feel the thudding of the earth behind her, the wind whizzing past her as she struggled to outrun him. It became a flat out race, like an ancient sprint through coliseums, with death as the only way out. She pushed her weary body harder, knowing she had only one chance to elude him. He was close behind her now, a few yards. She could feel the weight of his presence, his intent, his focus, his all-consuming obsession with her.
Then she saw it. Up ahead. The graveyard she'd passed earlier. The spirits would hide her, even from him. She put on another burst of speed. Only a few more feet. She broke the perimeter of the graveyard just as she felt his fingers brush against her backpack. The spirits rose up to meet her, and she welcomed them, sweeping them over her like a great cloak of invisibility. Her identity disappeared, entangled in all the other deaths, spirits woven together in a tapestry of concealment. As a thousand years of death enveloped her, shrouding her from the view of the earth-bound, she looked over her shoulder at him, unable to resist the urge to see who it was that wanted her so badly.
His eyes met hers. Black, deathly turbulent homes of such horror that she almost screamed. For a split second, she forgot to breathe, so overwhelmed by the magnitude of his presence. His dark hair was cropped tight against his head, as if he wanted it out of his way. Blue jeans sat low on his narrow hips, and his heavy leather jacket showed shoulders so wide it was as if he were twice a man. He was sheer, raw power, but it was a dark energy, just like the man who had stolen her child. Dear God, what did he want with her? Fear tore through her and she leapt back as he lunged for where she'd just been standing.
He sailed past her, his hands grasping only air.
He skidded to a stop and spun around, searching the
night for her, but she knew he would never find her, not while she was shrouded in all the deaths that masked her trail. She was undetectable to him.
"Catherine," he bellowed in frustration, spinning around as he searched fruitlessly for the woman standing right in front of him.
But it was too late for him.
She'd won this round. But as she fisted the locket with her daughter's hair, she knew the triumph meant nothing if she couldn't find her daughter.
Chapter Three
RYLAND SPUN AROUND, engaging all his preternatural senses as he searched the graveyard for Catherine. He knew she had to be close. He'd touched her backpack just before she'd vanished right in front of him.
"Catherine!" he shouted again. He'd been so close. Where the hell was she? All he could sense were the deaths of all the people in the graveyard. Women, children, old men, young men, good people, scum who had taken their demented values to the grave with them. The spirits were thick and heavy in the graveyard, souls that had not moved on to their place of rest.
They circled him, trying to penetrate his barriers, seeking asylum in the creature that would be their doom. "No," he said to them. "I'm not your savior." Not by a long shot. He was about as far from their savior as it was possible to be.
Dismissing them, Ryland focused more directly on Catherine, opening his senses to the night, but as much as he tried to concentrate, he couldn't keep the vision of her out of his head. He'd finally seen her up close. She'd been mere inches away, the angel who had filled his thoughts for so long. Her hair was gold. Gold. It must have been tucked up under a hat when he'd seen her before, but now? It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. He'd been riveted by the sight of it streaming behind her as she ran, the golden highlights glistening in the dark as if she'd been lit from within.
