by Brenda Joyce
There were some in the Center who believed that a race of men existed who did fight the demons with superpowers, some of the agents swearing they had seen these warriors. The stories all varied—they were pagans, they were Christian knights, they were modern soldiers—but one thread ran through every rumor: they could travel through time and they had sworn before God to fight evil. Allie grimaced. If such a race of überheroes existed, why didn’t one of these pagan or medieval or modern warriors appear to help her out?
She needed someone to hold the line while she healed victims like this one.
As badly as she wanted to fight, it was hard to do so when a simple energy blow could send her across half of a football field.
Allie felt tears rising. She took the girl’s hands and showered her with a healing light. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wanting to soothe her soul before it went to the next world.
And as she looked at the beautiful girl’s face, her outrage knew no bounds. She showered her with more light, because she foolishly wanted to bring her back to life.
Of course, she couldn’t do so. She could not resurrect the dead. She had begun healing insects and fish as a toddler, with her mother’s encouragement. Every year her abilities had become stronger. By the time Elizabeth Monroe had suddenly died, when Allie was ten, she’d been easily healing the flu and the common cold. At fifteen, she could heal broken bones. At sixteen, she could heal an older person with severe pneumonia. At eighteen, she had given a boy run over by a car the use of his legs back. At twenty, she had healed a case of critical skin cancer.
She had to be careful—she had to be anonymous or she’d wind up being studied like a lab rat. Her mother often warned her to keep her powers secret.
There was so much she couldn’t do—she couldn’t give the blind their sight back, and she couldn’t raise the dead. But Allie wanted to try.
She threw all the white power she had into the girl. She sat with her, tears streaking her face, straining to give her more and more white healing light. The girl remained still; her eyes remained sightless. Her heart did not beat. Allie screwed her eyes shut, refusing to quit. If only she could resurrect this girl, and save one of the demon’s innocent victims! But it was hard to grasp her power now and bring it forth and send it to the girl. Still, Allie somehow sent another shower of healing power through the girl. It hurt to do so and she moaned. Allie realized she was at her limits; she felt depleted, drained, exhausted, and she knew she had no more power to give.
She hadn’t realized she was lying down, on her belly, until she clawed the dirt, seeking her healing power. But it was finally gone…
The ground began to spin.
Allie closed her eyes, dizzy and faint. She heard voices coming from the bar but she was too weak to even tense. They were coming her way and she couldn’t move—she was utterly defenseless. She strained her senses—there was no evil. Allie moaned and collapsed.
Her last conscious thought was that she had tried, but she hadn’t resurrected the dead.
ALLIE AWOKE, feeling heavy and drugged.
She opened her eyes, feeling as if they’d been glued shut, and tested her fingers and toes, her hands and feet, relieved that, although weak, everything was in working order. She’d been asleep, but not in her own bed, and she felt nauseous, too. She started, suddenly realizing that she was in a hospital room, hooked up to various monitors and an IV. What the hell?
And instantly, she remembered trying to bring the dead girl back to life and finally passing out. Someone must have found her and called 911.
She sat up. She was seriously exhausted from the effort she’d made, but not so much that she couldn’t get up and leave. She grimaced, imagining the questions she’d be asked when she summoned a nurse. Questions were to be avoided.
Allie tore the tape off the IV and was removing the needle as gently as possible when she felt warmth filling the room. She tensed, recognizing the white power, and looked up.
Her mother appeared by her bedside. Allie gasped in shock. Although her mother had died fifteen years ago, Allie had never forgotten her. Her legacy—and her compassion—had been far too great. There was no question that her mother had come to visit her from the dead, for the first time. She was as fair and blond as Allie was dark, with an oddly ageless appearance. Now she smiled at her, but her eyes shimmered with urgency.
It is time now, darling. Embrace your destiny.
Stunned, Allie reached out—but her mother was already fading. “Don’t go!” she cried, sliding from the bed to stand.
But her mother kept fading, becoming a vague shadow.
Golden.
Her mother was speaking again! Allie could hear her, but her voice was weaker, nearly inaudible, as she drifted away.
But of course she was fading—it would be almost impossible for her to come back to this realm after being dead for so many years. “Mom! Don’t go! What is it?” She was shocked, thrilled, but she was also alarmed. If her mother was trying to communicate with her from the dead, after so many years of absence, something had to be terribly wrong.
Trust….
Her mother’s image was gone, and she was alone in the small, curtained cubicle. “Who do you want me to trust? I trust you!” she cried.
The golden Master.
Allie stiffened, confused and doubtful she had heard correctly—until a stunningly clear image formed in her mind.
One of the most gorgeous and masculine men she had ever seen took over her mind. Allie saw a bronzed hunk with disheveled, dark gold, sun-streaked hair—and he was stark naked. Her interest escalated. He was a mass of bulging muscles, interesting slabs and amazingly defined planes. The man was built like the mythological Hercules—and he was packed. He was drop-dead gorgeous, with nearly perfect but oh-so-masculine features set in a very strong face. His expression was terse and hard, with stunning silver eyes that were piercing.
His body belonged on a knight from another time. In fact, she could envision him with a sword in hand. At the same time, he looked ready to rock and roll.
She swallowed, terribly breathless.
What was she doing? She was hearing her mother, speaking from the dead, and fantasizing about the kind of man she’d never meet, except maybe in a romance novel. But his expression wasn’t one she could ever make up, not in a million years. What did that mean? And did it matter? She had to get the hell out of the hospital before someone tried to question her.
“Allie?”
Allie tensed as one of her best friends stepped through the curtains. Brianna Rose was a dead ringer for Jennifer Garner, but it was almost impossible to realize that, because she wore shapeless suits and black eyeglasses, and pulled her hair severely back. She was the shyest person Allie knew. She was also the smartest, a true techno-geek. Their gazes locked as Brianna hurried to her.
“Why did you cruise alone?” Brie whispered, her pretty green eyes clearly visible in spite of the serious spectacles she wore, which only enhanced her nerdy appearance. “I saw what happened!”
“I’m okay,” Allie whispered. Brie had the Sight. She was also highly empathic. Of course she’d have rushed to Allie’s side after she’d made herself so sick. “Aren’t you late for work?”
“It’s six in the morning,” Brie returned. “They brought you in at 3:00 a.m. I’m sorry! I was at HCU all night—I was so engrossed in a case—or I’d have known sooner. Sam and Tabby are outside. C’mon. Let’s get you out of here before CDA gets wind of this.”
Allie seized her hands. “Brie. I just saw my mom.”
Brianna hesitated. “We’ll talk later,” she said after a significant pause.
ALLIE STUDIED HERSELF critically in the mirror. Her father was holding a political fund-raiser and she had to be downstairs in a few moments. Concealer hid the dark circles that remained under her eyes. While she was feeling better, she was not herself and she knew it. She had gone too far, trying to raise the dead.
The sea-foam chiffon evening gown fl
oated sensually down her body and made her olive complexion and dark eyes glow. Allie had used some serious teal eye shadow, dark liner and now she added pale gloss to her lips. For someone who’d awoken in the hospital that morning, she looked okay.
“Alison Monroe, you are late!” Her other best friend, Tabby, sailed into the room, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a bronze evening gown. She’d recently divorced and Allie knew the smile was fake—she’d been dumped for a younger woman and her heart was badly broken.
“You look awesome.” Allie smiled.
“Thanks. I almost feel pretty again,” Tabby said, closing the door. Tabby was of medium height, slim and blond; when she wasn’t practicing spells and scrying for evil, she was practicing yoga. She was a first-grade teacher and her ex was a Wall Street high roller. It had been a Cinderella story—or so they’d both thought. “I’m giving you a heads-up. Brian wants to know why you walked out on him last night.”
Allie grimaced. “I guess I got caught.”
“Not for the first time,” Tabby said softly. “I hate it when you cruise alone! You could get hurt! You did get hurt. Thank the gods Brie felt it so we could rescue you from the clutches of the police.”
Tabby no longer smiled. Tabby, Sam and Brianna knew her secret—they’d known she could heal since they’d become friends as children. But Allie knew their secrets, too. As Rose women, they all had powers, which they used to fight evil. Tabby and Sam were sisters, and Brie was their cousin. Although Brie worked in CDA, no one knew her ability to see the future, and they all kept the lowest profile imaginable. “I guess another one bites the dust,” Tabby remarked.
Allie glanced away. Brian had started to act like he was really interested in her, and that was not a good thing. Men had always swarmed to her like bees to honey. Yet she’d never been able to do more than go through the motions of being in love. She was twenty-five and she’d never been in love, not even a schoolgirl crush.
And she was always getting caught sneaking out in the middle of the night—and it was still just as hard trying to make up excuses. That behavior ended every relationship, sooner or later. Allie knew she didn’t have time for love. In fact, love would probably interfere with her destiny as a Healer.
“I’m so tired of lying—and hiding who I really am,” Allie said, sitting down on the bed. “But of course I’ll tell him you called with a broken heart and I had to come right over.”
“At least you’re not in love,” Tabby said significantly, referring to her own broken heart.
Before Allie could answer, Sam came in without knocking. While Tabby was as elegant as a woman could be, Sam had really short, choppy blond hair and favored distressed denim and biker boots. She had slipped on a very tiny, very immodest black dress for the affair, revealing the fact that she was as buff as a personal trainer, with a lot of black eye shadow and really pale lips. She was so beautiful that no amount of Rocker-Meets-Biker attitude could change that. “I heard that. Some of us are liberated women who need a guy for one thing only.” She winked at Allie.
Sam understood her—she always had. Sam was really tough—the kind of tough that happens when tragedy strikes in front of your face when you’re young, but old enough not to forget and move on. Unlike her sister, she was not romantic at all. Allie got it. She was on her own quest—hunting demons—and love would never get in the way.
“I wish I could be like you and Sam,” Tabby said very seriously. “I wish I could date and have a good time and walk away whole.”
“No one can change who they are,” Allie said softly. “You’re perfect the way you are.” She wasn’t going to reveal that sometimes she wondered what love felt like, that sometimes she was tired of being so damned alone.
Tabby snorted inelegantly. “Well, as I’m swearing off men forever, I guess that will be our secret.”
“Just swear off Mr. Right—because he’s always Mr. Wrong,” Sam said, sitting on a chair and crossing her long, chiseled legs.
Allie said, “You’ll meet someone who is as perfect for you as you are for him.” She smiled and went to the mirror, pretending that she wanted to touch up her makeup. She didn’t want to keep talking about love.
Tabby said softly, “Hey, are you forgetting I’m pretty telepathic?”
Allie glanced at Tabby’s reflection in the mirror. She wouldn’t trade her gift for anything or anyone, but her life was hard and isolating. She didn’t know what she would do without such incredible friends. She said firmly, “My life is helping others, not falling in love. I have never been in love—and I doubt I ever will.”
Allie turned and silently warned Tabby not to reveal her secrets. Tabby squeezed her hand. “On a more sober note, Brian’s pretty upset about last night, Allie. He asked me if you’re cheating on him.”
Allie bit her lip. “Can you send him into the arms of a really hot babe? By dawn he won’t remember me.”
Tabby gave her a look, but Allie knew she’d cave. No one was as kind or caring as Tabby and she’d never let Brian walk around heartbroken. Tabby finally smiled, just a little. “It’s against the rules to send him his soul mate, but I’ll try to set Brian up.”
Sam stood. “Duty calls, ladies.”
Allie didn’t move away from the bureau. “Any chance Brie’s here?” Allie asked.
Sam gave her an incredulous look. “Brie wouldn’t come to a party if her life depended on it. If she’s not at work, I guarantee you she’s at home, by her lonesome, with a glass of wine, buried in classified HCU files.”
HCU was the Historical Crimes Unit of CDA. “I need a favor from her,” Allie said.
Tabby stared, reading her thoughts. Allie had mentioned her mother’s visit that morning when they were in Sam’s SUV, on their way home from South Hampton Hospital. Now she thought about her mother’s strange words and the warrior-hard muscleman with a suntan. She tensed, actually feeling the stirrings of desire. “I need to know what she meant.”
Sam snickered. “No, you want to know if a golden sex machine is in your future. Man, I can always use one of those—although I prefer my men dark.”
Allie had to smile. “He’s mine, girl.”
Sam shrugged.
But Tabby was serious. “How many times have you wished for a warrior to help you while you healed? I do recall that being your exact word—warrior. I have this sense that your mother is sending you someone.” Her eyes were bright with excitement.
Allie’s heart raced. “Maybe she’s sending me a CDA agent.”
“Those guys are ex–Special Ops. That’d do the trick,” Sam said.
Tabby whispered, “I’m not Brie, not by a long shot, but should I get my cards?”
Allie tensed. Tabby was gifted with the Tarot. She didn’t have Brie’s incredible Sight, but the cards usually spoke to her. “Use mine.”
A moment later, Tabby had laid out a simple seven-card spread. While Allie was familiar with the cards, she never read them like Tabby, but she saw the Knight of Swords. “Is that him?” she asked quietly, the hairs rising on her neck as she looked at the knight on his white charger, sword in hand.
Tabby looked up. “No. That’s him.” She pointed to the Emperor. He had been dealt upside down.
Allie’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“This spread is about him, Allie—and it is Fate.” She pointed. “Five of these cards are from the Major Arcana.”
Allie trembled. “I see that.”
“Someone is coming from the past—not your past. There is another woman here, and she’s hurt. The man is older, with great authority. He has power and faith, and his quest is Justice.” She added, “Allie, he is blessed.”
Allie breathed. It was hard to believe that her golden warrior would be an older man. “Is the other woman my mother? Is my mother hurt?” Had her mother become trapped between worlds? She’d heard it was possible and that might explain her odd visit.
“I don’t know who this other woman is, but like the Knight of Swords, she is a bridg
e between you and this man. She is very important to you both. She’s come up as the Queen of Cups. Allie? Your life is about to be turned upside down.” Tabby pointed at a card showing the Tower, which was being struck by lightning, people jumping from it. It was next to the Death card.
Every interpretation claimed the Death card did not symbolize death. Most readers refused to read literal death in the cards, but not Tabby. In her world, the Death card was just that, if juxtaposed correctly to other cards. “Does someone die?” Allie wasn’t chilled—the innocent died every day. Death was a fact of life.
“Someone dies,” Tabby whispered seriously. She pointed at the Sun, lying beneath Death. “But from the ashes, comes a new day.”
Their gazes locked.
Brianna stepped into the room, clad in a shapeless black pantsuit.
Allie started.
Brianna didn’t smile. She walked over to them and stared at the reversed Emperor. “He is here.”
IT WAS MIDNIGHT when Allie stepped outside onto the flagstone patio by the pool. She’d had enough of the fund-raiser. She didn’t give a damn about politics except when the politicians fucked up and the little guy suffered because of it.
She’d stolen out, leaving Brian at the bar with Tabby and a few other guests, not having had a chance to really talk with him. She had a rare headache, and knew she was still off from last night.
She wanted to get past the guests who were lingering at the brilliantly lit-up pool without being waylaid. She crossed the lawns, leaving the pool and her father’s guests behind, thinking about her mother, the golden warrior and Brie’s stunning statement. She paused by the split-rail fence so she could watch their Thoroughbreds grazing under the moonlight. Was her golden warrior really present?
Was her mother sending someone to her, someone to help her in her ambition to heal those in suffering?
Allie smiled almost sadly. On the day of her death, as if she’d known she was going to pass, Elizabeth Monroe had asked Allie to make vows. She’d sworn to keep her powers secret and worship as she’d been raised, in her mother’s ancient religion. And she had sworn to never turn her back on any suffering creature, great or small, human or beast, if it was Innocent.
