by Ann Macela
“No! Stay where you’re safe!” Jim shouted.
She heard more hitting sounds and a couple of grunts. “Where’s ‘here’?”
“The Finster mansion, of course. There’s also a requirement on your part, of course.” He was gloating, so full of oiliness she thought the phone would slip out of her fingers.
She ground her teeth together in frustration and spoke through them. “What’s the catch?”
“You have to get here by one o’clock, or only pieces of your boyfriend will be left to find. My Stone is hungry”
“No!” She heard Jim yell again.
Although it hurt to do so, she ignored him. “An hour? I can’t get there that fast.”
“Too bad for both of you. Oh, don’t bring anyone with you, either.”
“I’m coming, you piece of slime, but if you hurt him, I’m going to slice you into ribbons and fry the pieces like bacon. You’ll learn firsthand what a Sword can do. The same goes for your puny, putrid Stone, too.”
She punched the hang-up button before he could make more demands, and then ran for the elevator.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Bitch!” Ubell screamed and threw Jim’s cell phone against the back wall of the stage. Leroy went to pick it up.
Jim sagged back into the chair. He felt like screaming in frustration himself. Irenee was coming here, right into Ubell’s arms.
And he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her.
Tied to the throne, he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her once she got here, either.
Maybe, just maybe, please maybe, she’d think before rushing over and bring along help—another Sword, a couple of Defenders, somebody. Ubell wasn’t going to kill him before she showed up. The bastard wanted to torture both of them while they watched each other’s suffering.
Leroy brought Ubell the phone, and he punched some buttons. Then he punched some more. He shook the instrument. From the glimpse Jim got, the screen was black.
A snarling, infuriated Ubell raised his hand like he was going to throw the phone again, but he suddenly froze for a few seconds. With an exaggerated slow motion, he lowered his hand, closed the instrument, and gripped it tightly. He placed it softly on the table, clasped his hands in front of his belt buckle, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths.
With his hunch antennae dancing in a frenzy of foreboding, Jim watched an unnatural composure slide down Ubell’s face, feature by feature, and down his body. To calm himself so suddenly and thoroughly, the man had to be communicating with his hellish Stone. When he opened his eyes, the maniacal gleam in them was stronger than before.
Jim had to do something, anything to disrupt Ubell’s plans and give him some grief. So he tried the one thing he knew he could do—he cast flamma on Ubell’s jacket.
A little flame appeared right above the first buttonhole. Jim tried to put more energy into it, but the flicker only fluttered.
“Oh, really, Tylan, you’ll have to do much better than that.” Ubell waved his hand, and the flame sputtered out. He laughed, that short bark, and looked puzzled. “You’re not a practitioner. How did you acquire practitioner talents?”
Jim said nothing.
“I’ll bet I know,” Ubell crowed. “You and the Sabel bitch are soul mates! The talents came with your mating! Oh, this is too good.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, his eyes seeming to go unfocused. Then he perked up again. “That’s what my Stone has been trying to explain—it’s been opposing another source of magic. You! And now you’re here, and she’s coming. I can’t tell you how happy my Stone is! What fun we’re going to have—the four of us!”
After telling Leroy he had to prepare for the witch’s arrival, Ubell sauntered out, still laughing like a demented dog.
After the double doors closed behind Ubell, a great weight descended on Jim’s thinking processes, as though it was trying to crush them. It had to be the damn Stone. His hunch antennae wiggled feebly. What was he going to do? With the Stone suppressing his abilities, his hunches couldn’t even give him ideas, much less solutions. He closed his eyes and concentrated on pushing back against the nauseating force. All he could do was wait for Irenee—and pray she brought reinforcements.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
On the way down in the elevator, Irenee hit the Defender hotline speed dial and the speaker-phone buttons. “This is Irenee Sabel. Get me John Baldwin and put everyone on alert. Bruce Ubell has kidnapped Jim Tylan and is holding him at the Finster mansion. Ubell is going to kill Jim. I’m heading there right now.”
She ran out of the elevator and took the stairs to the parking garage. By the time she was in her car and heading for the HeatherRidge entrance, the hotline had patched her through to John. She told him what Ubell had said and where she was.
“Irenee, wait at the entrance, and I’ll send some people with you,” John ordered.
“I can’t wait, John. It will take me every minute to get to Jim, even if I don’t run into traffic. I’m turning out of the HeatherRidge entrance right now.”
She heard him sigh before he spoke briskly. “Okay. I’m in Naperville, and I’ll get to Ubell’s as soon as I can. I’m scrambling everybody we can find. With luck, somebody will be at the mansion waiting for you. Stay on the line. The hotline will let you know ETAs for everybody”
“Roger. I won’t hang up. I have to be there with him by one, or he’ll hurt Jim. If there’s no help out front, I have to go in. I’ll find some way to stall him until backup arrives.”
“Be careful,” was all John said.
Ubell may have told her to come alone. He hadn’t mentioned others coming separately. The man was an idiot. She only hoped he didn’t try to call her and took it out on Jim when he couldn’t get through. She put the phone in her lap and concentrated on driving.
Fifty-three minutes later, having driven like a complete maniac through heavy traffic, she pulled up to the Finster mansion. Seven minutes to one—seven minutes to spare. Unfortunately, dispatch reported no other Defender or Sword could arrive for another twenty to thirty minutes at the earliest. She had to go in alone, or Ubell would follow through with his promise. It was up to her to get Jim out of there.
The Finster butler—what was his name?—was standing in an empty parking spot right in front. When he saw her, he motioned for her to take it, and she pulled in.
Picking up her phone, she told the dispatcher she had reached the mansion and was going in. She climbed out of the car and left the phone on the seat. The magic spells thrown inside—and she expected a bunch—would fry its chips.
Wringing his hands and visibly trembling, the old man came over to her when she left the car. “Oh, Miss Sabel, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with Mr. Bruce. He hasn’t been himself since that meeting he had with those Defenders. He told me to be sure you had a parking place.”
“Take it easy, Mr....”
“Sedgwick, miss, just Sedgwick.”
“Calm down, Sedgwick. Where’s Ubell?”
“Mr. Bruce is in the ballroom. He said to tell you. He sent all the servants except me away this morning and told them not to come back until Monday. After you arrived, I’m supposed to do the same.”
“Is anybody else with him?”
“A very large, rough-looking man. He and three other men carried in another man through the kitchen—he looked unconscious. Then the three left.”
“Could they have been seen doing it?” After all, some of Jim’s people were supposed to be on surveillance.
“I don’t think so. Delivery trucks pull in by the kitchen under a portico for weather protection. I didn’t see a soul when I opened the door.”
Damn. No help there, and time was running out. “Okay, thanks, Sedgwick. You’ve done your duty. You can go now.”
“Oh, thank you, miss.” Looking tremendously relieved to be dismissed, the old man bowed deeply before adding, “The front door is unlocked, miss.” He hurried away.
Irenee studied the house for
a moment. No signs of life inside. No stirring of a curtain or shadow of a watcher. She took a deep breath, told herself to be calm and alert. It was time to find Jim, get him out of there, and wait for the Defenders.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Irenee ran up the front steps of the mansion, opened the outer door slowly, and slid into the vestibule through the smallest crack possible. She closed it carefully, so the lock made only the slightest click. Her back to the door, she looked around and listened hard.
Nothing and no one appeared. She crept past the vestibule’s coat closets, up the two steps, and through the open inner double doors. The halls to either side were dark. The only light came from the upper floor.
She stopped, tried to relax to slow her rapidly beating heart, and listened again.
Total silence. Utter stillness.
Not even a whirr of an appliance, or a whisper of a voice, or a breath of an air current.
Thankful for her sneakers, she silently crossed the marble entry and made her way to the stairs and up. No one lurked in the upstairs hall. Its wide double doors closed, the ballroom entrance loomed in front of her.
No, she wasn’t going to waltz in the main entrance and be a sitting duck. Not when she knew of the side door.
She kept to the carpet to muffle her steps and snuck to the left and around the corner. The doorway was in the middle of the side hall. She heard low voices, mutterings really.
Wishing she’d grabbed her robe for protection, she crept up to the door. This one was open. She peeked around its frame. No one was in her line of sight.
She did, however, hear Jim say hoarsely, “He’s crazy, you know, totally insane, and he’ll kill you, too.”
A man said, “That pansy? He doesn’t even have the balls to hit you himself. Shut up.” She heard a sound like a fist hitting flesh. The voices were coming from the left.
If she remembered the room correctly, they were probably on the stage or close to it. The room appeared to be bare of furniture, so she’d have a clear shot with her spells.
She took a deep breath and sidled around the door. Jim was in a chair on the stage, and a big thug had his hand raised to strike again.
“Hey!” she yelled.
The guy turned.
“Typhonicus flabra!” She hit him with puff of wind at tornado force.
He flew spinning through the air and, with a satisfying THUMP, hit the wall behind the column to the right of the stage. He slid down to the floor and didn’t move.
She rushed to Jim. He had cuts and bruises and the beginnings of a black eye, and his nose and lip were bleeding. At least he was sitting upright. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah,” he answered, “but ...” He looked at his hands on the chair arms.
“Oh.” She cast unfasten, and the ropes fell off.
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad to see you.” He stood up and gave her a hug. He winced when she hugged him back, and she quickly loosened her hold.
“Me, too.” Difficult though it was to do, she pushed out of his arms. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”
“Where’s everybody else? Don’t tell me you came alone ...”
“They’re on their way” She took his hand, stepped back, and tugged. “Let’s go.”
“Uh-oh.” He wasn’t looking at her, but at the main doorway.
From behind her, she heard the sound of the double doors closing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Irenee, what a pleasure to see you again.” The smarmy voice seemed to slither down her backbone, trailing behind it a little snake of fear.
She pivoted and froze.
His red-and-black accountant’s robe hanging limply, Ubell stood before the closed double doors with a long staff at his side. The pole’s black wood split at the top into a grotesque hand, in which a misshapen black crystal sat, its fractured side facing outward.
Like its smaller remnant, this segment of the Cataclysm Stone drank in the light and surrounded Ubell, the staff, and itself in a pool of shadow.
When Irenee looked at the hideous monstrosity, a black flare lit up its insides and reached for her. The snake running along her back turned into a python trying to squeeze her spine. A icy knot formed in her stomach, and sudden nausea made her feel like throwing up.
Her Sword defenses met the challenge automatically, however, and her center immediately warmed and aimed its heat at the cold spot. She threw her shoulders back to stand tall and angry. No way was this perversion of magic going to destroy her or her soul mate.
“Castellum!” She set her pentagon. Indigo walls with violet streaks sprang up around her and Jim.
“Fulmen!” She shot an indigo lightning bolt at the Stone.
Jim grabbed her shoulders as if to pull her behind him.
“No! Feed me power!” She sent a blue energy bolt after the lightning.
The Stone absorbed the two bolts, but Ubell didn’t return fire. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to know what to do for a moment. Then he laughed, like a dog’s bark, and braced himself, the staff in his left hand and held toward her.
Jim put his hands on her back, and she felt her well fill with his energy.
With his right hand, Ubell threw a fireball. At least she thought it’s what he intended. The pitiful spark, no better than flamma to light a candle, wobbled across the space between them, finally fizzling on her barricade.
Ubell evidently didn’t have the skill to lay down a fortress or shoot an offensive missile. Good! That made him vulnerable.
Irenee fired directly at the warlock, and he ducked, using the staff as a shield.
“Dodge this.” She shot a lightning blast, and the boom rebounded off the walls and windows. The Stone drew the indigo arc into itself and dissipated the effect.
“We only have to hold out a little while until the others get here,” she told Jim over her shoulder. “We can do it!”
She threw another lightning bolt. The Stone deflected it to the side, and plaster flew when it hit the wall by the door.
Ubell was talking to the crystal, although she couldn’t make out the words. He put both hands on the staff and sent her a concentrated look of hatred. Out of the Stone flew several rainbow-colored bolts that rattled her fortress walls only slightly.
She had expected more power from the monster on top of the staff. It appeared, however, Ubell was manipulating the Stone, not the other way around, and her human opponent didn’t know how to use his crystal. This might be his first actual fight with the abomination, and his inexperience and ineptitude would give her an advantage.
The battle with Finster’s remnant had not given the team a problem until the item was in its death throes and its other section came to help. She knew she couldn’t destroy Ubell’s Stone by herself, even if it didn’t have outside aid. In her favor, the monster didn’t have an expert wielding it, either. Therefore, all she had to do was hold off the attacks and stall for time and the Defenders’ arrival. With Ubell obviously being more hindrance than help, her chances for success were good.
Time to get serious. She drew her sword, and the blade glowed almost pure violet when she shot an indigo beam directly out of its tip. She hit the Stone in the middle of its fractured face.
Ubell howled when the Stone deflected the beam, and the energy stream splintered around it, one piece almost hitting him. The Stone returned a crackling ray of its own, and her fortress repulsed it, but her walls definitely rippled from the hit.
Oops! Slight miscalculation. The last shot held more power, greater ferocity, better focus. That blow definitely came from the Stone, not Ubell. It was probably giving up on its “master” to run its attacks.
She and the Stone traded hits back and forth for several minutes, each shot more powerful—and energy consuming—than the last.
The good news? From the color of her blade, she was rising in level again. The bad? She was using power faster than she wanted to. She had to ration and couldn’t shoot a continuous beam at Ubell, or she’d r
un out even quicker. Jim was helping her maintain her necessary amount, but how long would his last?
The Stone’s bolts were not diminishing in strength and, an ominous note, were becoming tinged with black. Was it realizing its potential? More bad news for her and Jim.
Where was John? Where were the Defenders and Swords?
Another blast from the Stone shook the floor, which was scored now with black ruts from the deflected lightning bolts and energy beams. Although scorched in places from the fireballs, the wood wasn’t burning—yet.
Irenee looked closely at the smirking man behind the staff. What was she thinking? She’d never get anywhere going directly at the Stone. Ubell was an attractive target of a weaker sort.
She gathered herself and aimed a violet, searing beam at the base of his robe. Maybe she could give him a hot foot!
A hit! Ubell jumped, took one of his hands off the staff, and bent over to shake his smoking robe. His movement turned the Stone’s face away from her.
“Yes!” She pointed her sword directly at Ubell and fired several bursts in succession.
The monster had to be complaining to its so-called wielder because Ubell quickly put both hands on the shaft and aimed the smooth, sloping face at her again. She could see his mouth moving, but couldn’t hear his words in the din of thunderclaps and beam whooshes as the Stone answered her shots. He looked like he was apologizing.
She blasted him again, and after three more shots, he was definitely cringing, held upright only by his grip on the staff. Her attention to the man seemed to take the Stone’s concentration away from attacking her, and the evil item was working more to deflect her bolts than to strike at her fortress.
The problem was, her well was definitely running out of power. Jim’s stream into her had slowed and greatly lessened in strength. Surely the others would get here soon. She put more power into the walls of her pentagon. If she had to, she’d divert all her energy to her fortress.
“I need more if you have it,” she told Jim.
