by Jill Morrow
“Katerina,” he said. “You are here.”
Kat staggered backward in shock. She barely felt Francesca’s arm encircle her waist.
“Pay no attention, Julia,” Francesca said levelly. “Don’t stop what you’re doing.”
Hugh stepped toward them. “You know I must win our ultimate battle,” he said, and Kat shuddered at the wheedling tone in his voice. He stood still for a moment, turning his eyes to study Isobel. “Is it not enough, Katerina, that you have forced me to deal with such stupidity? Save your friends. Make this easier. We both know that I will destroy the child of light.”
“Child of light?” Alys whispered. “Is Julia—”
“Shhh!” Francesca silenced her with a finger against her lips.
Kat’s face clouded as she laid her palm against her wildly beating heart. “It’s me he wants,” she said, amazed. “God help me, Aunt Frannie.”
“No.” Francesca’s grip tightened around Kat’s waist. “You can’t listen to him. You can’t listen to a word he says. Don’t trust him.”
“Yes, Katerina, it is you I want.” Hugh answered as if he stood in their midst. They could not say whether or not he’d actually heard them.
“He wants the child of light,” Francesca whispered fiercely. “Not you, Katerina!”
Kat looked bewildered. “Is Julia the child?”
Her aunt closed her eyes. Kat could almost feel her frantic search for answers.
Francesca’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know,” she finally said.
Hugh straightened. His entire body turned toward them. It seemed to Kat that he grew darker by the minute, a roiling thundercloud longing to explode.
“You may take your choice, Katerina,” he said. “I shall come for Julia. I can still use her as planned. Or I shall come for you. You, too, will do nicely, and I shall enjoy destroying those who assist you: that pitiful priest and sniveling prioress, the sanctimonious and holy Francesca…and, of course, our fragile Julia. I shall break her like a sparrow, perhaps saving her voice for this stupid little acolyte who could never do it justice. Or, Katerina, you can come to me of your own will, and we can settle this matter between ourselves.”
Every ounce of blood drained to Kat’s feet. She reached for Julia, hugging her so close that, for a moment, she felt as if she and her daughter had become one.
“He can’t have my baby,” she said in a low voice. “I’m going out there.”
“You can’t go!” Francesca said. “You aren’t strong enough!”
“Then think of something fast.” With one deft movement, Kat slipped from her aunt’s grasp and stumbled into the clearing toward Hugh.
31
HUGH APPEARED TALLER AS KAT DREW CLOSER, NOT QUITE OF either the medieval or the modern world. His smirk grew more pronounced. He reminded her of some overconfident lounge lizard, the kind of man already convinced that the woman he’d hit on all night would go home with him. A random thought, but surprisingly bracing. It felt good to find a solid analogy, one rooted in a physical reality that she could potentially control. Kat grabbed the lifeline, slowing her steps as her rational mind took over.
Perhaps Asteroth was some unfathomable demon, a spirit of darkness that she still wasn’t sure she could ever comprehend. Hugh, however, was at least partly human. What had Aunt Frannie said about his impulses toward Isobel? Kat’s mind felt too cluttered to remember. Still, Hugh was apparently given to some of the foibles and weaknesses found in other men. Even lounge lizards could be temporarily sidetracked by a well-aimed drink in the face. Asteroth was not automatically invincible. She would buy time and hope that Aunt Frannie could come up with a plan to derail him.
She pulled in a deep breath and stopped approximately three yards away from Hugh.
“Ah, Katerina.” He bowed, a full, sweeping bow even more mocking than his honey-dipped words. “How nice of you to come. But we are old friends, my dear. There is no reason to keep your distance. Come closer.”
Kat turned pointedly toward Isobel. The girl stood slumped like a marionette waiting for the puppeteer to tweak her strings and bring her back to life. Her vacant gaze and mindless half smile were almost more chilling than Hugh’s icy stare.
“What’s this about?” Kat asked, gesturing toward the girl. “What have you done to her?”
Hugh cocked his head. “I have done nothing more than she herself has chosen. You heard her, Katerina—or, rather, you saw her nod her assent. She came to me of her own free will. She chose to be mine.”
“Under false pretenses, of course. She thought you’d be her lover.”
He chuckled. “Always the lawyer, eh, Katerina? I often wish you’d pledge yourself to me. Not only would it end this ugly business, but you are so damnably amusing when you wish to be. But alas, I don’t suppose you’ll reconsider becoming one of my own?”
Her jaw clenched as she fought back a swell of nausea. “No, Asteroth…if I may call you that.”
He took a step forward, eyes glittering. “You may call me what you wish.”
Her mind raced. What now? How on earth was she supposed to prolong this encounter?
Gregory tapped Francesca’s forearm, his face ashen. Francesca unconsciously wrapped her fingers around his wrist, her eyes never leaving Julia’s face. The girl sat with her own eyes closed, mouthing a decade of the Rosary.
Gregory plucked at her grip. “Someone must help your Katerina,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” Francesca said. “I just don’t know how, yet.”
“There are four of us. Surely we can overpower this—this madman.”
“No, Gregory, we can’t.” She shook her head, mouth drawn in a grim, straight line. “He can summon his legions in a blink. He does not fight alone. He never has.”
“But neither do we.”
She knew that probably better than any of them. Hadn’t she called on the angels of light in the past, only to be surrounded by more love and strength than she’d ever thought possible? It was one of the most joyful revelations she’d experienced. Still, she couldn’t deny yet another of the lessons she’d learned along her life’s path: in perfect prayer and meditation, God’s time operated unto itself, without much regard for her own sense of immediacy. Light worked within the moment, and at this particular moment, she felt no push to summon the angels, her companions on this spiritual journey. Apparently an important piece of this mysterious puzzle had yet to fit. She only wished she knew what it was.
Gregory seemed to interpret her long silence as fear, for he patted her hand in the same way she herself had once comforted the elderly.
“God is with us,” he said.
“I know, Gregory.”
From her seat on the ground, Julia gave a little gasp.
Francesca dropped to her side. “What is it?”
Julia’s eyes remained closed. “A tug,” she whimpered. “I feel a tug.”
“Concentrate,” Francesca ordered. She turned to Gregory, who looked as though he wanted to say more. “What?” she asked. “Just say it.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. His shoulders slumped. “It is only that my hand did not pass through yours. It is not that my ability to see you has grown. You are changing, Francesca. Can it be you are becoming one of us in this time?”
She couldn’t ponder this, now. If she gave it any attention at all, she would be overwhelmed by how tired and heavy she felt, how utterly devoid of energy and strength. Better to dwell as much in the spirit as possible, gaining all available energy from that source.
“Go back to Alys, Gregory,” she said as gently as she could. “Prayer is your natural language; pray for discernment. We must know not only what to do next, but when to do it.”
An image danced across her mind, brief but definite. Her eyebrows rose. She was well beyond the point of questioning these pushes.
“And, Gregory, pray for Stephen.”
His trust in her—or his faith in God—was greater than she’d thought. He returned to
Alys’s side without even asking who Stephen was.
Francesca placed a gentle hand on Julia’s shoulder, bowed her head, and waited.
It took every ounce of Kat’s will to keep from retreating as Hugh stepped forward. She raised her chin and stood her ground, studying him with a coolness she couldn’t believe she still possessed. The body he’d chosen for this outing was not unlike his own physical manifestation sixteen years ago. She winced as she remembered that day, then pulled herself back to the current moment. Remembering their last encounter could only dredge up all the fear she now fought to submerge. She refused to acknowledge his supernatural side. He stood perhaps two yards away now, a tall man for the Middle Ages, with white-blond shoulder-length hair and broad shoulders. If she avoided those awful, empty eyes, she could almost pretend that he was simply an odious human being.
Good grief, she dealt with those all the time.
“I believe you wanted to see me,” she said. “You called this meeting, Asteroth. I didn’t. What do you want?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “A valid point, Katerina. All these years, and you still have no understanding of why I hunt you.”
She cleared her throat. “Something about a child of light, I believe.”
“Yes. Of course, we both know that this is the reason I’ve pursued you for so long.”
“But why?”
“In one way, Katerina, it is refreshing that you have no knowledge of the role you play. In another way, it is utterly infuriating, totally inconceivable that a responsibility of such reverberation is entrusted to one so obtuse. I will never understand how the Other operates.”
Her forehead furrowed. “The Other?”
He spat on the ground as if to rid his mouth of some vile taste. “Call the Power what you will,” he said. “Katerina, I tried to stop you from finding your soul’s mate, your destiny.”
“Do you mean Stephen?”
Again, his face contorted with distaste. “The Other puts such store in the heart’s longing of his children. I could not prevent you and Stephen from reaching each other, from creating the child of light. But, Katerina, there is no reason—corporeal or otherwise—that I must stand by and watch the mission come to fruition.”
“I’m still confused,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know who the child of light is.”
That brought him up short. He searched her face in an apparent attempt to decipher the depth of her truthfulness. Kat felt her cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny. This reminded her of those old movies where the hero sat under a bald lightbulb, surrounded by bad guys determined to make him talk. Hugh’s stare raked her face. Then the smirk returned, even more gloating than before.
“Asteroth,” she said, just to break the dreadful silence, “why do you need Julia? I don’t understand. Why must Isobel…invade her?”
He shrugged. “Julia is a doorway.”
“A doorway? To what?”
“Isobel and Julia share—how shall I say this in a way you will understand?—certain energies.”
“Frequencies,” Kat supplied.
“Yes.” He refocused his gaze on her, as if her grasp of this information made him reconsider his original assessment of her knowledge. “Their frequencies harmonize, regardless of the centuries between them. Once Isobel learned to direct her energies toward Julia, it was easy for her to flow into her, even to pull your daughter into her own mind and body. She and Julia can become one in either physical shell. For my purposes, however, Isobel will inhabit your daughter’s body.”
A sick revulsion again threatened to overtake Kat. She pressed a hand against her stomach, hoping to quell the chaos inside. “Why does that matter?”
He spread his palms open before him. “Really, Katerina, you could solve this puzzle on your own. You’re intelligent enough, unlike that woeful little poppet slouching by the fire. Isobel refuses me nothing. I can easily enter her consciousness, her mind, her corporeal form at will. When she becomes one with Julia, I will overtake them both. Julia belongs to the twenty-first century, so I will come home with you, my dear, human in your time.”
The logical side of Kat’s mind considered asking if there wasn’t an easier way. The rest of her couldn’t bear to know. He’d already told her more than she wanted to hear, yet he continued.
“You might remember from our last encounter, Katerina, that I am most…effective…when a willing human allows me access to a body.”
She nodded numbly.
“Well, then.” He took another step forward. “This could be perfection. Imagine. I will acquire physical form in your very home, through your very own flesh and blood.” A broad smile showed all his teeth.
This time, Kat could not hold back her reaction.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping toward a small cluster of foliage.
Hugh waited while she vomited, the benign expression of a genial host pasted across his face.
She remained bent double even when the violent spasms of nausea ceased. She suddenly couldn’t bear to turn and face this grinning monster, this creature who made no sense in her world, yet sought to destroy it. More than anything, she wanted to wake up in her own bed with Stephen warm beside her, ready to comfort her as she struggled to escape this bad dream.
She caught a glimpse of gold from the wedding band on her left hand. Stephen. He’d known how to send her here. His dream had directed her back in time in the first place. They had always been stronger together than apart. Why should now be any different?
“Katerina,” Hugh said, his voice grating like sandpaper against her ears. “You must allow me access to the child of light.”
She closed her eyes as she straightened up. She saw herself fully clad in her spiritual armor, Stephen close by her side. His armor gleamed so brightly that it nearly blinded her. Somehow, the image strengthened her. She watched as her husband tightened his left hand around his sword. Slowly, he raised it from his side, lifting it high in challenge.
“Ouch,” Claire said. “Daddy, stop squeezing my hand so hard.”
Stephen opened his eyes and gazed down at his left hand. Claire’s fingertips did look particularly red.
“Sorry,” he murmured. Perhaps he’d drifted off. For a second there, he’d felt the heft of a sword in his grip, sensed Katerina standing by his side. But, no, he still sat in his pew in the cathedral, waiting for who knew what.
Claire squirmed beside him. “Daddy, what time is it?”
He looked at his watch. “One-fifty-five.”
“Didn’t you say that something important would happen at two-fifteen? Isn’t that when you said Aunt Frannie could come back?”
He straightened. Yes. He remembered. Frannie had disappeared into the Middle Ages at 2:15. The time and space coordinates necessary to bring her back would intersect at that point…
…if nothing stood in the way.
A tingle tickled his hands. Fine bands of light seemed to flow from his fingertips, leading to definite destinations. Where? He quickly closed his eyes. It didn’t take long to feel the jolt of connection. Francesca appeared on his left, head bowed in prayer. Kat appeared on his right, but she did not look his way. She instead looked straight ahead at a cloud of darkness he could not understand.
He wanted to understand it. He had to understand it.
“Show me,” he said through clenched teeth.
The cloud churned, its edges black with soot. A vague shape formed in the center, undefined by anything beyond its outline. Then, from the midst of this mountain of smog, the figure of a man emerged.
“Asteroth,” Stephen breathed, and as if called, the man turned to face him.
Kat tried to follow the direction of Hugh’s stare, but it made no sense. He glared due west, where the sun edged closer to the horizon. She could see nothing there except a thicket of narrow-trunked trees. Surely that alone could not capture his interest so completely.
His sneer turned into a snarl. The fingers of his right hand curled into a
fist, which slammed into his open palm.
“I will wait no longer, Katerina,” he hissed, piercing her with his full attention. “Our score is an old one. Now is the time to settle it once and for all.”
32
“C LAIRE!” S TEPHEN ’S EYES FLEW OPEN. “Y OUR MOTHER —”
“I know, Daddy.” Claire looked up, a worried frown creasing her forehead. “She’s so warm!”
It took Stephen a minute to realize that they were not talking about the same thing. He noticed that Claire held one of Kat’s hands in her own.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Feel her head.”
He didn’t have to. Droplets of sweat beaded Kat’s brow. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing ragged.
“I don’t understand,” he started, but one look at Claire’s frightened face indicated that she didn’t, either.
He had to reach Kat somehow, or at least learn more about the situation. He glanced at Claire, the child who’d provided so much information when he’d least expected it. He didn’t know how she’d known any of it. At this point, he didn’t care.
“Claire,” he said, grabbing his daughter’s hand, “are you the child of light?”
She stared back at him with wide, round eyes. He read confusion there. Her lower lip began to tremble. It didn’t take a genius to recognize that the tremble preceded the perfectly natural tears of any ordinary little girl.
“Never mind,” he said hastily. “Forget it. But, Claire, I’m going to ask you to do something very important, and very difficult. Will you try?”
She nodded, then tried to smile. Her attempt at bravery tugged at his core. If she could do it, then so could he.
“Claire, it’s vital that I get in touch with your mother.” Thank God Claire asked no questions. He continued quickly, before he could stop to analyze how dumb his own words sounded. “I want you to close your eyes and turn your mind into a blank movie screen. I need you to concentrate. We have to find a way to…to…”
To what?
