Faint notes trilled.
He stared at the flower, his thoughts racing. If a mere brush of something she'd touched could connect him, would the effect be stronger in his refuge? If he cast a circle and gave it total focus?
Gently he plucked the blossom and placed it in a plant saucer, a rueful smile at the irony that the task would have been more pleasant, had she not chosen to touch a bush whose flowers were designed to repel by way of noxious odors.
He put away his tools and washed his hands, forcing himself to patience when his instinct was to charge out of here and race to the small, unassuming cabin that guarded the entrance to his refuge. He even showered to cleanse himself of all traces of the outside world's effects. He spoke only to Manolo and that only long enough to let his houseman know he might not return all night.
His staff was accustomed to his absences, and Cassie had slept very late.
Now he knew why. He remembered the detective's warning and paused again to let give instructions to Manolo regarding his rebellious sister.
* * *
Cassie stirred and blinked at the bars of sunlight across her bed. She glanced at the clock on the table. Almost five o'clock? In the afternoon? Never an early riser, this was still very late for her.
When she sat up, pain seared through her head. She fell back and curled into a ball, but she couldn't stay here; she had to pee in the worst way.
What time had she gotten home?
Gingerly, she made her way to the bathroom. After tending her needs, she downed aspirin for a pounding headache and brushed teeth that had grown fur. Pulling a comb through her long hair gently, she glanced in the mirror and spotted her dress crumpled in the bathtub. Frowning, Cassie turned around.
A fragment of memory flashed through her mind, green eyes smiling as the blond man bent to kiss her.
Cassie leaned against the counter, probed her mind as at a sore tooth, seeking the rest of the memory.
But nothing appeared.
She'd been at The Club; that much she could tell from the backdrop of that fragment.
What on earth had happened? The blond man...she recalled dancing with him. He'd led her off the floor...kissed her. Why couldn't she remember more?
Shouting voices. Leave her alone. Take your hands off her now.
Jimmy. Anybody but him. He's dangerous. No, wait—that wasn't last night, that was before...
Cassie squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her aching temples. Why did her head hurt so? She'd only had that juice drink.
Her eyes flew open. Oh, dear. If there'd been something in it and she'd gotten drunk, thank goodness Dante was out of town. She'd never have made it past him.
She headed for the hallway. She couldn't stomach the idea of breakfast, but maybe a soft drink would help.
She opened her door. Froze. "Manolo. You and Dante are back?"
The huge man nodded solemnly, filling the doorway.
Cassie pasted on a smile. "Well...I guess I'll see him downstairs."
"He's not here."
"That's all right, I can wait." Boy, can I ever. She waited for him to step aside so she could leave, but he didn't budge.
"Excuse me, please. I'm going downstairs."
"Sorry, but no."
"What?"
"You are not to leave your room until Mr. Sabanne returns."
Cassie laughed. "Even for Dante, this is a bit much." She stepped forward, but he remained in place. "You mean to say I'm a prisoner in this house?"
"He'll talk to you when he returns. I'll bring you whatever you need, but you are to go nowhere outside this room until then."
"Where is he? When will he be back?"
The man shrugged, obviously uncomfortable but resolute. "I can't say, but I have my orders."
"I'm not a child!" Cassie's head pounded as she fought the urge to scream. "He can't do this to me."
"He says to tell you that he knows you went to The Club, Miss Cassandra."
Cassie gasped, then whirled, slammed the door and sank to the floor against it.
How had Dante found out?
* * *
As twilight beckoned, Jace wondered if she was on a wild goose chase. Earlier, looking for Jimmy, she'd thought she saw him get into a van just off the Plaza. She'd lost it briefly but picked it up again. Now she was headed back up into the mountains not far from Sabanne's estate, hoping for a chance to talk to her brother. Through the open windows, she breathed in the crisp pine scent, the air already turning cool as shadows lengthened.
As a way to spend her day off, this didn't rate high, but she'd done all she could at the station on a weekend, checking into Sabanne. So far, nothing odd had turned up, but her inquiry to Interpol had received no response yet, and for the three years he'd been in the U.S., his record was spotless.
But Sabanne grew datura in his greenhouse, along with other choice little poisonous plants, some of which could be responsible for the deaths of Sam and Sarah Brown, couldn't they? Damn, she wished Victor would hurry up. Once the lab tests came back, she'd use them to get a search warrant.
Yeah, right, Jace. A search of the home of one of the richest men in town, a guy who had hosted judges and important political figures there just nights ago. With what motive? Why would he have wanted to kill a poor bum and a young girl? What would he have to gain?
What was it that happened to her when they touched? What had really happened at The Club? What game was he playing?
Too many questions. Including a big one: what the hell was she doing? What was it about him that—
Never mind. She had a case to work on.
She could handle Dante Sabanne.
She was hungry, and the headache from last night still had its claws in her. She considered simply leaving—until she saw the van take a turn onto a road she'd never noticed. Road was a generous term; it was barely a path. Jace danced an uneasy balance between getting close enough that they'd see her and worrying that she'd lose them. Having someone to share stakeout duty would have been a relief, but until she knew how Jimmy fit into all this, she had to protect him.
Up ahead, brake lights glowed red. She pulled her jeep off to the side and backed in under some trees. Reaching beneath the seat, she withdrew her Walther and tucked it in the waistband of her jeans. She crept toward where she'd last seen the brake lights, taking each step carefully to avoid the crackle of pine cones, barely visible in the encroaching gloom.
It was too dark to tell if that was Jimmy headed toward a dark shape looming in the distance. After scanning the area to see if anyone else was around, Jace emerged from the trees and followed.
Two men disappeared into a side door of a building with no visible windows. She started to follow, but she spotted lights from an oncoming vehicle. Quickly, she slipped behind a tree and watched.
From the vehicle emerged three people, two men and one woman whose identities she could not determine for an odd reason.
They all wore dark masks, larger than the ones at The Club. Why?
A prickle raced down Jace's spine. Could this be Jimmy's cult?
Dear God.
TheMagos...Jimmy's voice echoed in her ear.
She had to get closer.
* * *
When Dante arrived at the cabin, he put his SUV in the detached garage tucked into trees that concealed it, then quickly entered the cabin and checked all the locks.
Finally, he was ready. Though he longed for the upstairs room where his soul could soar, this called for drawing in, closing out even the glories of moonlight. He needed to lose himself in darkness and allow outside sensory input to fade away.
He had to listen. To see. To learn who Justine was, if she indeed was a Prism. Entering the chamber, he set the saucer containing the blossom on a bench and once again traded street clothes for his robe. He selected stalks of sage and, as the native peoples did, lit them aflame and used them to cleanse the air, to clear it of even good energies remaining from previous spells.
This was a day for clarity, for
sweeping away all traces that remained here. Once done, he knelt and sought the guidance of his father's spirit, of his people, of the elements of earth and sky. He took the saucer holding the blossom and laid it in the center of what would be the circle he would inscribe on the packed-earth floor, careful not to touch the petals before he was ready.
When doubt crept in that this would work, Dante dispersed it to the ether. He had searched everywhere, tried...everything. This woman was the closest he'd come to finding a trail to lead him to the Soul Star. Markos had the silver disc with its inert stone, he was certain. Hidden away somewhere, in Markos's frustration that he could not make it work as he wanted.
The Soul Star, the energy that brought life to the Eye of the Magos, had, however, vanished utterly when the amulet had been stolen. Dante could feel its presence faintly when he Walked the Light, but he couldn't find the path to it. Every year his heart had grown colder, the Song more faint.
Until he had met Justine. If what he suspected was right, together they could retrieve the Soul Star.
Together, though, that was the key.
The detective was hardly willing to help. First she had to believe, and she believed in nothing her five senses didn't reveal to her, it seemed. She possessed latent energies she denied. If what was between them was to be more than intense physical attraction, he would have to awaken her to who she was, what she was.
Then she must surrender, or all was lost.
But first, he had to try this. Perhaps with his own skills, wielding something she had touched would be enough. He placed candles on the floor, and lit them—yellow for clarity, blue for calm, purple for inner vision, white for the highest good—then cast the circle outside them.
Once done, Dante brushed himself with a bouquet of rosemary, inhaled seven cleansing breaths and bent to lift the blossom into his hands.
Immediately, the Song crooned to him, far away but clear, filing him with longing so intense his heart wept.
A handful of stars danced around him, wove patterns in the darkness behind his eyelids, then flew away...
Every cell in his body stretched and stirred to follow.
* * *
Carefully, Jace followed the people up to the building, watching through the door to see what was inside.
Darkness was punctured by the glow of myriad candles. A faint drumming could be heard through the walls.
Jace slipped around the building, searching for another way in. She found only one side door and eased it open a fraction. Pitch darkness greeted her, the sound of the drums fainter, as though a room stood between them. She squeezed through the opening and closed the door quietly. Stood there, barely breathing, her hearing attuned for the slightest indication that someone was near her.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw that she was in a small hallway, a door on the left closed, a crook in the hallway farther down leading off to the right. The drumming seemed to be coming from down that hall. She pressed her ear to the door on her left but could hear nothing. When she reached the corner, she took a quick glance around the bend and spotted the glow of candles through a curtain at the end.
As she drew closer, she could hear chanting. At the curtains, she peered between the panels, careful not to send them swinging.
A woman with long, dark hair, red robe parted and naked beneath it. She wore an elaborate mask that from this distance eerily resembled the Mask of the Dark Priestess in Sabanne's library. She stood over a young woman, naked and bound on a gleaming black altar like some victim laid out for ritual sacrifice. Above her head, the priestess figure lifted a golden chalice; at her side stood a blond man in purple robes, also masked.
A tall figure emerged from behind them both, robed entirely in black, his deep hood concealing the features of the person within.
The hairs rose on the back of Jace's neck.
I have many interests: rituals, sexual practices... Sabanne's own words.
Oh, God.
The priestess's voice rose. "Are you ready for the Vision Quest, initiate? Will you let me lead you into the Light?"
It's used in a ceremony where the Priestess draws the young men of the tribe into the Light.
The drumming accelerated, a flute joining in to weave an hypnotic tune. Slack-jawed with lust, the assembled faithful leaned forward as one, eagerly taking in the sight of the priestess pouring a clear liquid from the chalice into the girl's mouth, then over her skin, rubbing it into first the girl's body, then her own breasts.
Smoky with incense, the air hummed with sex. Jace bet she could have walked right through the curtain and no one would have noticed her.
The priestess bent over the girl, whose mouth fastened on the dark woman's breast. The priestess's hands roamed the girl with abandon.
Slowly, she pulled away. The girl cried out and strained against bonds she could have slipped easily. Her lust-glazed eyes locked on the priestess.
"Keeper," the priestess called out.
Keeper. Jace gasped.
The blond man stepped forward, opening his robes to reveal a surging erection.
The Keeper is dangerous.
The drumbeats accelerated, and menace throbbed in the air. Movement in the crowd drew Jace's attention from the stage, and she saw members fondling and groping while avidly watching the altar.
As the Keeper moved between the girl's legs, the priestess shifted to stand behind her head, kneading the girl's breasts while the girl whimpered and begged.
Looming over it all, the dark robed figure stood utterly silent and still.
When the Keeper thrust, a collective groan rent the air. The girl's hungry moan emerged from low in her throat. Drums pounded...harder...faster. Bodies tangled, some sinking to the floor. The priestess threw back her head in exultation.
Riveted by the sight before her, pulse tripping, skin slick with sweat, Jace watched, torn between disgust and fascination—
So entranced that she almost missed hearing the voices behind her.
She couldn't be caught here. Heart slamming into her ribs, Jace turned and ran down the hallway, hearing someone yell a warning.
She fled out the door.
As she raced through the darkness, she heard a deep voice call out and others answer, tones ripe with anger. Stumbling in her haste, Jace picked herself up and ran for her jeep, followed by heavy footsteps. Without turning on the lights, she took her chances with the moon's illumination, dodging cars and trees as she made her escape.
As fast as she dared drive, Jace navigated the curving path, heading back for the mountain road, avoiding the brakes to obscure her passage.
What in heaven's name had Jimmy gotten himself into? This had to be the group he'd joined—couldn't he see what it was?
Headlights flared behind her. A sudden thud against her rear bumper jerked Jace right back to the present. A dark van behind her bore down on her again; Jace swerved to avert a crash.
The van changed directions swiftly and sped up. Jace floored the accelerator and flipped on her lights. On the main road now, she still had to contend with constant twists and bends.
The van closed in and rammed her again. She struggled with the wheel, wrestled it back under control.
The van edged up beside her. Swerved.
Her jeep was no match in size, but Jace refused to give way.
A window rolled down. A muzzle gleamed.
She slammed on her brakes.
Saw the flash. Heard the loud report.
She jerked the wheel—
No time, no time—
A front tire blew. Her jeep veered out of control.
Spun off the road, into the trees—
Jace grappled for the wheel—
And braced for the crash.
* * *
Dante's body still lay inside the circle, but the mage within him took flight, watching for glimpses of starlight in the inky night. The Song lured him, pulled him...
Beautiful...so beautiful...
Enthralled, at first h
e didn't notice the evil slipping between threads of night, slithering toward him...
He listened, he strained for sight, for notes turning fainter, and his focus faltered, allowing a tiny crack in the circumference of the circle. He shook his head and reached out, never noticing one candle doused, another—
A shockwave, a roar,
He shuddered as chaos slammed into him.
The music abruptly died, the floor beneath him shook...
A crash.
Dante awoke.
Help me!
Where had that come from?
Then he knew. He didn't know how, but...he knew.
Justine.
He forced himself to proceed slowly against all instinct, disrobing and folding the sacred garment carefully, erasing the circle he'd cast.
Then he threw on his clothes and charged up the stairs.
Chapter Eleven
She felt something...wet. Jace couldn't see right and brushed one hand across her eyes.
Blood. She yanked up her shirt tail and wiped at her forehead to clear her vision.
With no airbags on her ancient jeep, her head had hit the steering wheel when she'd gone over the side of the road and slammed to a halt. Probing gingerly, Jace felt a gash on her scalp and hissed. No time to treat it now, though—she had to get out of the jeep and find cover before the men in the van came back and located her.
She groped for her cell phone through the jumble in her car, then abandoned the search. Reception in the mountains was spotty, and every second might count. She drew her weapon and emerged, plunged into the trees, battling dizziness. The pounding in her head ratcheted upward with every step.
She stumbled. Fell to her knees.
Jace knew she had to stop soon and figure out how badly she was hurt—but not here. With only moonlight to help, she scanned her surroundings for a good place to hide.
Ahead, she spotted the lights of a small cabin. If the occupants had a phone, she could call for help. Jace rose and staggered toward the friendly glow ahead.
A dark shape loomed.
Jace raised her weapon in a hand gone strangely weak.
The tall figure moved closer. Long dark hair surrounded a face that could have been cut from stone.
So Tempting Page 15
