by Rebecca York
Sophia clamped her hands on the wheel as she drove through the night, trying to shake off the notion that a man was out there, running like the wind. Keeping pace with the car.
Over the years, some of the Ionians had argued that they should hide from the Minot. But that had proved to be impractical, and they had relied on their defenses. Now she wondered if that was enough. And wondered if the Ionians really understood the Minot. How much of what she’d been taught was fact? And how much was fiction?
She breathed out a sigh as she reached the gate.
Miguel, who was on duty, stepped out of the guardhouse and greeted her. “Are you all right, Miss Sophia?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You’re late coming back from your meeting.”
“I stopped to chat with some friends,” she lied, not wanting to get into anything with him.
She’d thought that driving onto the grounds would ease her tension, but as she started thinking about relating the night’s events to her sisters, her stomach clenched.
After parking in the staff lot, she sat staring at the adobe wall in front of her and collecting her thoughts.
The spa was a beautiful place, with low buildings that blended into the southwestern landscape and gardens filled with native plants. At night, spotlights set off some of the trees and bushes.
The Native Americans had known the spiritual properties of this Red Rock Country for centuries, and Sedona had suited the Ionians because the desert vortexes intensified their own power. They’d felt safe here. Would they still?
Sophia hurried across a bridge that spanned an artificial creek and into the private part of the compound. When she saw a man striding along the path, she froze, wondering what he was doing there. Then she realized it was just Bobby Ames, the maintenance man. He’d come to the spa after the previous handyman had been killed in an automobile accident, and he’d been with them for about four months.
He was carrying his toolbox, and she supposed he’d gotten a call to fix something.
He nodded deferentially and walked quickly past.
Sophia continued toward the building where she and eighteen of her sisters lived in private rooms grouped around garden courts. The older women had more luxurious apartments, but Sophia’s room was comfortable enough.
Most of the Ionians stayed together at the spa, but the High Priestess had given some of them special protections and permission to go out into the world. Elena Thayer, a news anchor on one of the cable networks, was one of them, for example.
The Sisterhood did their utmost to accommodate their guests during the day, but it was always understood that they had their evenings free, except for the three on duty at the spa and the two who stayed with the young girls in a separate building. The rest would be relaxing in the private solarium filled with flowering plants that had been brought from some of the previous locations where they’d lived. Cyclamen from Greece and orchids from Machu Picchu.
As Sophia stepped inside, Tessa glanced up, then sprang from her lounge chair and hurried toward her to ask the same question as the guard at the gate.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Now.”
“No you’re not. I sensed . . . something,” she said as she took in Sophia’s disheveled appearance and what must be the look of fear in her eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
OUT IN THE darkness, Jason Tyron swiped a large hand through his dark hair, fighting his own frustration.
He’d told Sophia she shouldn’t be out alone at night. Until tonight he hadn’t known how dangerous it was.
Another Minot was sniffing around the Ionians. One who was simply going to take what he wanted and the hell with the consequences.
Jason raised his head, scanning the darkness. The other guy had been too cowardly to stay. Probably he wasn’t coming back tonight. But if he did, Jason was ready for him.
He began to stalk through the red, dusty soil, prowling the edges of the compound, keeping out of view of the cameras that were part of the defense system.
Once the Ionians would have relied on their own powers for protection, but in the modern age, they used anything that they found practical.
He lived only ten miles away, cross-country. An easy run through the desert for him. He’d been too wired to go home after he’d freed Sophia’s car from the dirt. And too worried about her. He might have disappeared from her view, but he stayed where he could keep track of her all the way back to the spa, pacing her car until she’d entered the gate. He felt a rush of relief when she was safely inside. Relief that she was out of reach of the man who had attacked her.
He also felt a sense of loss. He couldn’t reach her either, and he suspected that she wouldn’t be coming outside the compound on her own any time soon.
Would she recognize him again when she saw him? He’d been too focused on the unfolding emergency to think about that problem when he’d come to her rescue. But the bastard who’d attacked her had done something to her senses to protect himself. And Jason was hoping that protection might extend to him.
He switched directions, circling the wall, thanking the ancient gods that he had been out that night.
He’d settled here to get close to the Ionians, and not just physically. If he only wanted that, he was sure he could capture one of them and bend her to his will, the way Minot had done down through the ages. But he had something very different in mind.
He’d laid his plans carefully, first with research on the Web, then local snooping, asking questions about the women who ran the fancy spa outside of town.
It was amazing what people thought.
They were seen as clannish or elitist, and maybe arrogant. Some people remarked about the absence of husbands, although girl children were born to them every few years—only girls. That was another mystery. And some wondered if they gave up boys for adoption or murdered them at birth.
There was a rumor that they were lesbians. Or maybe witches. The more conventional detractors saw them as charlatans who charged exorbitant prices at their spa because they pretended to have psychic powers. Still others admired them for their beauty, their business sense, their intelligence, and their values of peace and harmony.
Except where Minot were concerned, of course.
He’d listened and learned and tried to ignore his longings as he’d worked out his plans to get onto the spa compound.
Tonight, pulling Sophia close had made his longing a thousand times worse. He’d felt so much as he’d held her in his arms—too much. Physical sensations like the silky texture of her golden hair. The twin pressure of her wonderful breasts against his chest. Her belly molded to his almost painful erection.
But it was the deeper level that had affected him more profoundly. He’d almost read her thoughts. Almost, but not quite.
Would it be possible if they were more intimate? Or was he just making up justifications for what he wanted most? Because now that he’d held her, the need for consummation burned inside him like a fire devouring him from the inside out.
He’d been warned about the effect an Ionian would have on a Minot. He hadn’t been prepared for the rush of need that had bordered on madness. Somehow he’d managed to step away from her before he did something that would damage their relationship forever.
A relationship? Well, not yet.
That was putting too much faith in a chance encounter. But he was sure of one thing. He and Sophia could have something important with each other, if they both wished it. If they had the courage to cut through all the ancient myths that separated them.
He looked up at the nearest camera, waiting until it swung around to point in the opposite direction before darting in and reaching out to grasp the fence that surrounded the compound. The first time he’d done it, he hadn’t been prepared for the jolt of sensation that shot through his body. As though electricity were coursing through the metal, although he knew it wasn’t actually wired. Now he was used to the
tingling.
It came from a psychic barrier that was designed to keep a man like him out. Although he was pretty sure he could break through, he knew that was exactly the wrong approach tonight. He couldn’t take this place by force, only by patience and stealth. Which meant he had to repress all the Minot impulses that urged him to seize what he wanted by force and the hell with the consequences.
When the camera began to swing toward him again, he stepped quickly back, out of range.
The Ionians saw the Minot as hard-driving, unhappy, dominating males. Jason was going to prove them wrong—at least about himself.
Or die trying?
That could be the way this quest turned out, because after holding Sophia in his arms, he knew that if he didn’t succeed in his goal, he would long for death. The way his father had.
EUGENIA, one of the senior women, stood up gracefully and came toward Sophia.
It was Eugenia who had been there at so many of the pivotal points in Sophia’s life. Really, Sophia felt closer to her than to the high priestess, although she had never said so aloud.
When the older woman held out her arms, Sophia came into them. She hadn’t realized the effort she was using to hold herself together until she began to shake, struggling against tears.
“It’s all right,” her mentor crooned. “Just tell us what happened. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Would it? Or would anything ever be the same again in the world as Sophia knew it?
When she thought she could speak without breaking down, she said, “Something bad happened on the road.”
Eugenia inclined her head toward Ophelia, who looked to be the same age as Sophia but was actually ten years older. “Bring her a cup of tea. Peppermint and lemon balm, I think.”
Ophelia went to the small kitchen area at the side of the room and got down a mug, then measured crumbled herb leaves into a tea ball.
As she poured in boiling water, the peppermint-lemon scent drifted toward Sophia.
Ophelia set the mug on an end table, and Sophia sat down. When the drink cooled a little, she clasped her hands around the white porcelain, her thumb tracing the spa crest, an ivy and laurel design, on the side.
In a voice she struggled to hold steady, she told about the attack.
“Did you call for help?”
She clenched her fists. “I tried to. But he sprayed a drug in my face.”
“How did you get away?”
Sophia swallowed. “I think he would have forced himself on me, but another one came rushing out of the desert. They fought until the attacker took off, and the second one followed.” She stopped and dragged in a breath. “He came back, lifted my car, and shoved it onto the road.”
“Was that all?” Eugenia asked.
Before she could answer, a voice from the doorway said, “All right. We know enough to understand that we have a serious problem.”
They all swung around as Cynthia entered, wearing a silky dressing gown. Her golden curls were tousled. And she hadn’t bothered to put on any underwear or makeup. Still she looked both feminine and commanding. And also perceptive.
All of the women dipped their heads, giving her the respect she was due as their leader.
“What did you tell your lover?” Eugenia asked.
Under other circumstances, it might have been an impertinent question, yet they needed to know the answer.
“Nothing. When I sensed there was a matter that needed my attention, I worked a sleeping charm on him.” She tipped her head toward Eugenia. “Thank you for handling this for me.”
“How much did you hear?”
“I picked up most of it. On the way here, and then as I stood in the doorway.” She gave Sophia a direct look, making her clench her hands in her lap. She knew from the way Cynthia was staring at her that she’d caught the intrusion into her privacy.
There was another moment of silence, as the women looked from Eugenia to Cynthia and back again. The high priestess was supposed to keep her finger on the pulse of the spa, but over the past few months, Cynthia had slipped away from her duties more than once.
Most of the women thought that she and Eugenia were heading for a confrontation. Cynthia might retain her position as high priestess, or she might not. Only time would tell.
Cynthia walked toward Sophia and gave her a close inspection. “Could it have been your imagination?”
Sophia blinked at her. She had never considered that—not for a moment. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ve always been emotional and imaginative, and I know you’ve had a bad week. Could you be reacting to that?”
She clenched her teeth, abashed that Cynthia had even asked the question in front of her sisters, yet she understood. Better to have one hysterical woman than a real crisis.
“I’m sure it was real,” she answered.
“Then it is well to have respect for the power of your enemies. Too bad we’ve lost some of the knowledge that would help us deal with them.”
“What should we do?” Ophelia asked.
“I believe we must join together to consult the ancient powers,” Cynthia said in a steady voice.
There were murmurs of agreement.
“Lysandra should stay in the spa, for she has the experience to act quickly in case of trouble,” Cynthia said. She looked at Tessa. “Tell Vanessa and Rhoda to join us in the temple.”
She turned and led the way to a dressing room with lockers lining the walls. Each of the women took off the clothes she was wearing and placed it in a locker.
There was no modesty among them. Sophia glanced around at her sisters and cousins, seeing the perfection of their naked bodies. They were all excellent specimens of womanhood. All the envy of the guests who came to the spa for meditation, wellness, and healing treatments.
Once undressed, each of them donned the white gowns that transformed them from women of the modern world into their real personas—the descendants of ancient priestesses.
Since they came this way only on solemn occasions and in times of trouble, Sophia could feel tension rippling through the group. When they were all clad in their ceremonial garments, Cynthia approached the far wall, which was made of marble blocks. The rest of the group spread out on either side of her, joining their hands to make a chain of power. Cynthia was the focus. Sophia felt a surge of energy course through them and concentrate in the high priestess.
As she stared at the solid wall in front of her, it began to thin and fade until there was an archway in the middle leading to a flight of stairs.
The women dropped hands to file inside, descending the steps into a secret temple that workmen had built when the spa was first constructed a hundred and seventy years ago. After the structure was finished, the women had wiped the knowledge of the place from the workmen’s minds. Since then, none but an Ionian had come this way.
Sophia knew the temple had been carved out of the bedrock under the desert, then roofed over with a massive stone ceiling.
As she descended, she felt cool air drifting toward her, the first touch of this sacred place on her soul.
Below her was deep darkness, until one of the Sisterhood lit a torch, and flickering light sprang to life, revealing threefoot-high marble bas-reliefs, many of them very ancient and carefully preserved.
They depicted the history of the Ionians, with the earliest ones taken directly from their temple in Greece that the barbarians had destroyed.
Those early pictures showed the high priestess kneeling at the altar, asking the ancient goddesses for wisdom and power.
Next came scenes of the barbarian invasion. The Minot fighting them off. The battle with the Minot, and scenes from some of the places where the women had lived. Macedonia. Albania. Xian in China.
And finally, there were pictures of this place, showing the women with their guests at the spa or gathering for private meditation in the gardens and worship in the temple.
Cynthia knelt at the altar now, asking for help and guidance
.
For the first time since the frightening encounter, Sophia felt a sense of peace, knowing she was surrounded by her Sisterhood, protected by their joint power.
As Sophia felt the energy of the group sweep through the room, Cynthia turned toward her.
“Come forward.”
She stepped toward the altar and turned to face her sisters, with Cynthia beside her.
“We must discover who attacked you. And who . . . rescued you.”
Could they? Long ago, powerful men had come from the corners of the earth to consult them, and they had given wise counsel. They had seen things in visions that no ordinary person could know, but that power had faded over the years.
Could they discover their enemies now? Or was that task beyond them?
CHAPTER FIVE
AS CYNTHIA CLASPED a hand on either side of Sophia’s head, she closed her eyes.
“Show us the man who forced your car off the road,” the high priestess murmured.
She hated to relive that moment in the desert. Still, she struggled to focus on her captor’s face, but the gas had blurred her vision.
“Go back to before the gas hit you,” Cynthia ordered.
She did as the high priestess directed, and the man’s image came clear, making her heart start to pound. Not because he was ugly or horrible but because he was a young, handsome man with almost jet-black hair, hooded dark eyes that burned with ambition, lips that proclaimed a simmering sensuality.
She heard some of her sisters gasp and knew they were seeing the image that had formed in her mind. But it was more than a picture because all her emotions were in play. Once again, she experienced her own fear, her defiance, and finally her unwanted response.
She felt naked and vulnerable as she stood before the Sisterhood.
“Do you know his name?” Cynthia asked.
Sophia struggled to answer that question, but there was nothing he had done or said that gave her a clue.
When she shuddered in defeat, the high priestess caressed her temples with gentle fingers, soothing her, but only to a degree.
