Cris gave a reluctant nod. “Better take Jenni and get into the cave.”
“Kemp?”
Cris glanced over his shoulder toward the woods from where he’d just come. “Yeah. Kemp–at the very least. I hope our friend Jansen’s on the way, too.”
Rafe knew that his brother was carefully understating their situation for Jenni’s benefit. He started for the lantern, intending to light it, his mind kicking a mental lever as to what he needed to do. He’d get Jenni safely to the cave, then he’d come back to stand with his brother...against whatever Hell sent their way. They’d do it together, just as they had always done everything—
“Not this time, Rafael.”
Rafe whirled to face Cris, his quick anger melting like winter snow in the warmth of the abiding love in Cris’s dark eyes. “I can’t let you do that, hermano.” Cris’s tone was firm.
“You can’t stop me.”
Cris shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground. “No. I can’t. If I did, that would be tampering with—with whatever is going to happen here tonight. So I’m asking you to take your lady where we know there is safety. Where evil can’t enter—can’t harm either of you.” Or the baby, he added, speaking it urgently with a thought into Rafe’s mind. You need to tell her, Rafe. She has a right to know what you’re up against. And why.
Identical pairs of dark eyes gripped and held, neither of them willing to be the first to look away. Finally, Rafe blew out a harsh sigh. “I will,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the lantern.
Cris strode forward to stand a few feet from Jenni. “Whatever you do, Jenni, don’t come out of that cave. As long as you are inside, nothing can harm you, for good nor evil can enter there, or dwell within. You’ll be safe there.”
“And Rafe?” she asked in a low tone.
Cris’s eyes became hooded. “Rafe should be safe there, too. He’s human again...for the most part—”
“What does that mean—‘for the most part’?”
Cris sighed. “What powers he still possesses are extremely limited, chica, and not for the likes of going up against—what’s coming.”
“Yet, he will try.” Jenni’s voice was quiet, but sure.
Cris nodded. “You know him well, it seems. Yes, he will try. And that’s just what I’m afraid of.”
CHAPTER 26
“Look at me, Mr. Jansen! I’m—I’m dead!” Lance’s eyes held a kind of terror, though he managed to sit in the chair without too much fidgeting. A booted heel drummed silently against the wooden floor, and Lance looked down, suddenly aware of the lack of noise, his eyes becoming even more despairing.
“Lance—”
“I rode that damned horse and it bucked me off. I bet I didn’t even stay on him two whole seconds.”
Beck was glad the boy hadn’t noticed the incredulous stare Murdoch Bolton wore. Lance was looking at his own hands as he spoke, almost to himself.
“I can’t see him,” Bolton murmured, recovering himself somewhat, “but I—I can feel his presence here...with us.”
“He can’t see me?” Lance’s voice carried a bare trace of hysteria. “Why not? You can see me, Mr. Jansen, and—and I can see myself. Here—Here’s my hand.” He thrust a hand out to Beck. “See?”
Beck nodded slowly. “Yes, son. I see.”
“Well, how come you can see me and he can’t?” Lance swiped at his eyes angrily. “What’s happening? Just what are you?”
Beck didn’t answer immediately. He could see Lance was ready to fall to pieces, and he remembered that feeling very well, just after he died. This was the first opportunity Lance had to confront him with what happened in the bar with the demon—and now, it was too late. Lance reminded him of Rafe, asking the same question, in almost the same tone of voice. There was no need to answer.
“Oh, dear God.” Lance’s eyes went unfocused and he bit his lip. “I really am dead.”
Beck put a hand out and laid it on the boy’s sleeve. Lance met his stare. “I can feel that. The touch of your hand.”
“Yeah.” Beck gave a faint smile. “Certain things. You can feel physical things, like this, but not—” he halted, trying to pick his words. “not the touch of a human.” He looked pointedly at his sun-darkened hand on Lance’s sleeve. “You’ve just traded one place for another, boy. It’s not so scary once you start getting used to where you are now.”
“I want people to see me, Mr. Jansen. I don’t want to be invisible—”
“Yeah, I know.” Beck squeezed Lance’s arm. “I know, kid.”
Lance looked at the preacher who sat silent, watching the entire exchange, only aware of Beck’s side of it.
“I want him to see me,” Lance persisted. “And hear me.”
Nodding, Beck reached across the table, his hand open. “Murdoch?”
~*~
Bolton unhesitatingly gave him his own hand and immediately felt a surge of joyous power for a brief moment. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he could see Lance Dennis watching him with a searching expression.
Bolton stretched out his other hand, and Lance took it, a smile lighting his face. “Thank you, Mr. Jansen! Thank you!”
Beck shook his head. “All glory to Him, Lance. Not me.”
Lance nodded. “Where’s Cash? Can he see me, too? Can I talk to him? Will he—”
Beck put his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, son. Hold on a minute. It’s pretty unlikely Cash’ll be able to see you, so don’t get your hopes up on that account. He may be able, as time goes by, as his faith grows, but—”
“But—you fixed it for the preacher to see me!”
“Look, Lance. Angels can’t ‘fix’ things like what you’re talking about. I don’t want you to think I can make things work out in every case. Angels aren’t supposed to meddle. Changing even the smallest detail, can alter things to come in the future. We have to be careful—”
“What good is a guardian angel, then?”
Beck smiled at the boy’s clear annoyance. “You have a lot to learn, son.”
“Beck—here comes Cash.” Bolton’s voice carried a note of apology for the interruption. “Do you want me to head him off?”
Beck shook his head. “No. Let’s get this over with. He’s got to be told in any case.”
Cash pulled out the chair next to Bolton and sat down, a wide grin on his face. “What’d you think about the soup? Good, huh? Lance, you oughtta go get some before it’s all gone. What’re you doing here anyway?” He reached across to jab at his friend’s shoulder playfully. “Didn’t they feed you at the Bar J?”
Beck sat up straight, slowly, surprise evident on his weathered face. He glanced at Bolton. The preacher grinned. “Guess some things don’t need to be “fixed,” Becket—even by angels.”
“Cash—I...I’m—dead—” Lance folded his arms on the trestle table, looking as if he were about to give in to the flood of tears threatening him since he walked in the door.
Beck started to say something as Cash threw him a questioning look, but instead, he pushed the chair back and stood quickly.
Bolton looked at Beck’s face, aware of the swift change of expression, the sudden urgency there. He stood, too, unfolding his long legs, reaching for his hat.
But it was Cash who formed the bridge among them, laying a comforting hand on Lance’s head, watching the look that passed between the two men. “It’s started, then?” he asked quietly. “What we were talking about, Reverend?”
Bolton nodded. “Yes, boy,” the preacher said. “Seems it’s upon us.” He motioned the two boys to follow. Beck was already at the door. “Quick now! There’s no time to lose.”
~*~
Rafe cupped his hand around the third match he’d struck, trying to light the lantern. The wind had gotten up considerably, and the smell of rain was in the air.
The wick blossomed with flame, and Rafe covered it quickly with the glass.
Jenni glanced around the clearing as the wind suddenly gusted, and Cris
followed her look. “Let’s go,” he murmured, reaching for her arm to steady her.
She shivered, but not from the cool air.
“Stay in the cave, Jenni,” Cris murmured as they made their way to where Rafe waited for them. “No matter what happens, don’t come out. You will be protected in there—from everything.”
She nodded, not speaking, not questioning. She had to accept now...whatever happened. But still, she felt as if there was some part of the puzzle missing...something that would help her to understand if she only knew—
“Rafe—he’ll tell you,” Cris muttered gruffly in answer to her silent musings. “Ask him.”
It didn’t surprise Jenni that Cris could read her thoughts. In fact, it seemed somehow natural that he should. After all, she reasoned, they both had Rafe’s safety uppermost in their minds. “Cris, Rafe told me about—about the mission.” Jenni’s voice was low and filled with urgency. “He thinks maybe—” she drew a deep breath, “the demon hasn’t forgotten. He says it could be that—they want him...for what he did.” She looked up into Cris’s eyes. “Can you—will you please take care of him?”
~*~
Cris kept the shock from his expression. So that’s why Rafe was so adamant about staying here to “help”. He planned to use himself as a pawn, if need be. “I’ll do my best, Jenni. Been tryin’ to look out for him since he was born. He gets prickly about that sometimes.” He stopped and looked into her eyes. “I reckon if it takes love to protect him from all this, he’ll be well-fixed, huh?”
Jenni smiled. “Thank you.”
Rafe came toward them, carrying the lantern. Just before he took her hand, Cris whispered, “Ask him.” To Rafe, he said, “Stay in the cave, brother.”
“I can’t do that, Cristian. We both know what’s at stake here—”
“Let me protect you!”
Rafe glanced away quickly. “You’ve always done the best you could, Cris. Always. You just have to realize that you can’t take it all on yourself.” He handed Jenni the lantern and turned to his brother.
Jenni walked away a few yards to give them a moment alone.
“At the mission—Father Ignatius—” Cris haltingly began.
“You’ve been paying for that ever since, Cris,” Rafe interrupted swiftly as he grasped Cris’s shoulder. His eyes were dark shards of flint in the gathering shadows. “Look, I murdered the bastard, but I did it not only for what he was going to do to you, but for what he did to our parents! I’m not sorry.” His fingers bit into Cris’s shoulder. More quietly, he added, “If there’s a price to pay for that—it’s mine. Not yours.”
“Rafe—I never should’ve gone with him. Never should’ve put you in that situation.” Cris shook his head, all the regret of that decision in his eyes, and the apology for it. “If you hadn’t come—”
“Cris,” Rafe gave him a slight impatient shake, “forget it, hermano. We have to work together on this—on whatever happens here—tonight—just like we always have before on everything else—”
But Cris was stubbornly shaking his dark head, denial in his eyes. “You don’t understand, Rafe! You’re human! You have very limited powers now, if any—and you’re no match for Kemp and Milo.”
“So you keep telling me.” Rafe put out a staying hand, his gaze penetrating his brother’s. “Jenni’s my responsibility, but I can’t let you face them alone, Brother. She’ll be safe in the cave. We know that. But you may need some help out here. And who knows what an angel-turned-human-again might be able to do, huh?” He cocked a brow.
Cris cursed harshly, his temper fired to the boiling point. “Let me handle this! You need to be with Jenni.”
At the mention of her name, Cris’s gaze moved past Rafe’s shoulder to seek Jenni’s face. The place where she stood, just moments before, was vacant.
“Jenni?” Cris called, his voice sounded strangled and harsh.
Rafe wheeled instantly, releasing his grip on his brother. “Jenni!” His anguished cry echoed across the clearing, but there was no reply, and the reverberations of sound against the wall of trees came back to them eerily in the darkness.
Jenni was gone.
~*~
Beck threw the door open, and rushed into the balmy night air toward three horses, tethered and waiting at the hitching rail. He gave no thought to the others as he flung himself into the saddle. His one thought was with Rafe and Jenni, and getting to them in time to prevent disaster.
“Mr. Jansen!” Cash’s voice cut through his turmoil. He turned in the saddle toward the boy. “Do—Lance and I ride double?”
Beck knew the question behind the question. Three horses—four riders. Were they all meant to go? He smiled grimly. “He won’t slow you down, boy. Not like he’s carrying any weight anymore,” he added cryptically under his breath.
Lance started unwrapping the reins. “Yeah, I’m light as a feather.” His voice was a low mutter, but it wasn’t difficult to hear the underlying anger.
Even lighter than that, Beck responded silently.
Lance’s head swiveled around, his eyes meeting Beck’s. Cash impatiently moved to mount up.
Beck sorted through the twisting, turning mess of Lance’s mind until he found one thought he knew Lance had wanted above all else, an ideal dream he’d sought for himself that ended in disaster.
You want to be a hero, Lance?
Beck’s eyes locked with the boy’s, but Lance stood sullen and still, making no reply, aloud or otherwise.
Here’s your chance, boy. Here and now. Tonight.
“C’mon, Lance!” Cash stretched an arm down to him. “Let’s go!”
As he came to his own decision, Lance gave Beck a quick nod. He pulled himself up into the saddle behind Cash, and they rode southward out of town.
~*~
Jenni had started up the trail, the lantern in her hand, but stopped a few yards from Rafe and Cris as they talked—argued, rather. She’d felt a sudden sensation, like she was going to black out. A strange numb feeling had come over her, her limbs growing weighted and clumsy. She’d tried to move back toward where Cris and Rafe were, but when she took a step forward, it was as if she were slogging through quicksand. Her feet never moved.
She began to fall, not to the ground, as she expected, but through it, as if the earth wasn’t there any longer. She put her hands out to catch herself. There was nothing there—nothing but the rushing air all around her. She felt sick to her stomach, and helpless.
When she tried to yell for help, to call Rafe’s name, no sound emerged. She could see nothing as she fell, only blackness, and the sound of the roaring wind drowned out any other noises; even the formation of her own thoughts was silenced in the turbulence.
She came to an abrupt halt, so jarring that it seemed to snap her head back, before she floated for a moment, weightless, suspended in the cool blackness. Finally, she felt the welcome solidity of the ground beneath her feet once more. A moment later, her heart righted itself and began to beat once more, although with a wild, chaotic rhythm as it threatened to jump from her chest any minute.
“Jenni...Jenni...Jenni...” A voice called her name in a mocking, sing-song tone. Deliberate footsteps sounded, coming closer, closer—until she knew the owner of that disembodied voice stood before her. She could hear him breathing, but could see nothing. “Hide and seek, Miss Dalton. You can’t hide anymore. You’re it. The one I want.”
“Who are you?” Her voice was stronger than she’d imagined it would be. There was only a thread of uncertainty there, and no shakiness. It made her feel better to hear the unexpected strength in her tone.
He chuckled. “Don’t you know who I am?”
Jenni felt a prickle of fear walk up her spine. She pushed it back. She’d dealt with bullies all her life— protected herself and her sister—
“No,” she murmured, infusing the right amount of boredom and unconcern in her tone. “Suppose you tell me.”
He took an audible breath, and Jenni knew he was ang
ry. “Are you Satan? Or just a minor demon?” she queried. It was a shot in the dark, gauged to add just a bit of fuel to the already blazing fire of his growing wrath. He let go a hissing sound, and her flesh crawled.
“I’m just...a ‘minor demon’,” he responded in a whisper that sounded like sandpaper on wood. “But I could make your life miserable enough, Jenni. Minor, though I might be.”
“Mmmm.” She said nothing more, because she knew he expected it of her. He wanted her to ask him ”how” so he could enumerate. She refused to give him that satisfaction.
She felt his hesitancy, and smiled in the darkness. What next, she knew he was wondering.
After a moment, a glowing light appeared behind him, steadily growing brighter until the space around them was illuminated. He stood before her, devastatingly handsome, but in an almost effeminate way. He grinned at her slyly, his lime green eyes untouched by the smile at his lips. He stood a scant twelve inches away, but Jenni did not step back. She looked at him, unwaveringly, eye to eye. He winked at her and turned, posturing as he walked.
“Like what you see?” He looked over his shoulder at her roguishly, and she stifled the impulse to laugh. She didn’t answer. He turned to face her, scowling. “I didn’t think you’d be so hard to please...seeing what you picked out topside.”
She shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.”
“I’m going to kill him—really kill him—this time, you know.” He shot her a calculating glance. “He’s—human. Again.” He gave a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Such an easy target.”
“Why is he so important to you?”
The demon laughed outright. “Oh, Jenni. I like you. A beginner, trying her hand at the master’s game.” He gave her an appreciative look. “You are very entertaining.”
“Well,” Jenni flashed him a brief, insincere smile, “I’m glad. And I’ve asked a question you can’t answer, hmm?”
Time Plains Drifter Page 19
