“I know.” And it was making her nervous as hell. She took a deep breath to calm the jitters plaguing her. “Let’s do this and get the hell out of town.”
He grinned at her before planting a hard kiss on her lips. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He headed to the end of the plane to retrieve the backpack while she grabbed her own bag. He was back before she’d settled it on her shoulder.
Something hit the side of the plane, and she gave a slight jump. “The welcoming party?”
“Stay behind me,” he ordered. He went to the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. She peeked around his shoulder, wanting to see. The man standing at the bottom of the stairs was around six feet tall with long brown hair.
“Come with me,” the man told them. He turned and headed toward a battered truck waiting just to the side of the runway.
With a sense of déjà vu, Sarah followed Darius down the stairs. She could feel the power of the book. It seemed to be getting stronger. She twined her fingers together to keep from reaching out and snatching it away from Darius.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She didn’t want to talk until the book was gone. It was taking all her willpower to stay in control around the powerful manuscript.
The man was already behind the wheel of his truck, tapping his fingers on the wheel. The second they were both inside and Darius shut the door, he pulled away. He kept the speed around the limit as he drove them through the darkness toward the town of Salvation.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked, unable to simply be taken wherever this stranger wanted them to go.
He glanced at her and then turned his gaze back to the road. “I’m takin’ you to Father Simon. I don’t know what this is about, and I don’t want to.”
She couldn’t really blame him for that. The less he knew, the safer he was. They drove for what seemed like forever, even though it was probably around thirty minutes. Nerves were getting the better of her. The area grew more rural, the homes farther apart.
Their driver turned off the main road. A little white church stood in a clearing surrounded by tall trees. With the pale moonlight illuminating it, it looked like something out of a gothic tale. Their driver pulled up at the bottom of the stairs. Darius climbed out and she scooted along the seat and stepped down onto the gravel driveway.
The second the door was shut, the driver peeled out of the parking lot, leaving them alone. “Guess he isn’t planning on sticking around.” She gave a slow turn and shivered, feeling someone or something watching them.
Darius touched the small of her back. “Let’s get inside.”
“If this is a trap, I’m going to be very pissed off,” she muttered.
“You and me both,” he murmured in her ear.
She strode up the walkway toward the front door. It was warmer here than it had been in the mountains, but it was still chilly. Darius reached around her and pulled the door open. She stepped into the small vestibule and paused.
It was so quiet she half expected not to find anyone waiting for them inside. Darius took the lead and stepped into the church. It was a simple building, the floors well worn, pews old and well used. Her gaze went to the altar at the front with a large wooden cross dominating it. The room was ringed in religious statues.
“Welcome.” The man who stepped out of the shadows to greet them wasn’t anything like she’d expected. He had to be in his mid-sixties, but he was still very fit. He was wearing jeans and a button-down dress shirt instead of ceremonial robes.
Darius strode down the center aisle, and she followed him. “Father Simon?” he asked.
The man nodded. “Simon Babineaux.” That surprised her. She’d thought his last name was Simon, not his first. “We have a mutual friend.”
Darius nodded. “We do.”
The priest studied Darius through his wire-rimmed glasses. With his shock of white hair and trimmed white beard, he looked like a very trim Santa Claus. “Hello, my dear.” He held out his hand to her. “Forgive me for being rude, but we should get straight to the point of your visit.”
She took his hand, and he gave hers a brief squeeze before releasing it. Father Simon’s gaze went straight to the knapsack on Darius’s shoulder. “It’s in there, isn’t it?”
“You can feel it, too?” That surprised her. She wondered if everyone could sense the book now that it was gaining power.
“Yes. Objects of this sort often give off energy all their own.”
She couldn’t argue with that. With her talent, she found that the older the object, the greater the vibes coming off it due to the sheer history it had lived. But the book was different. It was tainted. Evil.
“Come.” He led them toward the back of the church. “I would have picked you up at the airfield myself, but there were things I had to do here in order to prepare. I’m only a guest at this church for a few weeks, so it took me some time to gather everything I needed.” A circle of candles had been set up around a font on a pedestal that she assumed held holy water. It was made of some sort of stone and looked very old—heavy, too. Symbols had been carved around the sides of the vessel. “Everything has been properly sanctified,” he assured them. “Light the candles,” he told Darius.
She half expected him to simply blow fire to light them. Instead, he picked up the single flickering candle that stood next to the font and used it to light the others. Smart. If Father Simon didn’t know Darius was a drakon, he didn’t need to.
“Now, step inside the circle. The sacred space will help keep you safe.”
Sarah was nervous. What if the priest was trying to trick them, to betray Tarrant and entrap Darius? She didn’t need to worry about herself. If this was a trap, she’d end up dead. Darius, on the other hand, could suffer for eternity.
“Are you sure?” she asked Darius. He ran his thumb over the curve of her jaw and nodded. She took a deep breath and stepped into the circle. Darius joined her and set the knapsack on the floor. He crouched in front of the bag and gingerly opened the flap. She wished Tarrant were here right about now. He could use his power over air to lift the damn book out without them having to touch it.
“That is the object?” Father Simon asked when Darius drew out the box.
Darius shook his head. “No.” He set the box on the floor and removed the lid. The manuscript was surrounded by shadows, pulsing with an unnatural energy that made her skin crawl.
The priest sucked in a breath and then recited a prayer as he pulled a small book out of his pocket. He opened it to a page he’d marked and began speaking in Latin. She recognized some of the words but couldn’t concentrate. Not with the book so near.
Her mouth was dry, and she trembled as she reached for the book.
“Sarah.” Darius grabbed her hand, and she jerked away, appalled by her actions.
“I can’t seem to help myself,” she confessed. “I want to touch it.” She felt weak and useless.
“I want to touch it, too,” he told her. “It’s a powerful draw.” He took her hands in his. “Hold on to me, and I’ll hold on to you.”
The flames flared. They rose to about a foot above the thick pillar candles. Energy crackled and surrounded them like a wild wind. The flames flickered and then steadied. The priest’s voice grew deeper, his words more strident as he tried to drive out whatever evil force inhabited the book.
“One of you needs to pick up the book.” Father Simon’s instructions were almost lost to the whirlwind that was growing stronger with each second. The door to the church blew open and banged against the side of the building. “Do it now.”
Darius grabbed the book and held on with both hands. His entire body jerked with the force that shot through him. Sarah felt useless, less than useless, just standing there. Father Simon continued with the exorcism, imploring whatever evil was in the book to leave, banishing it in the name of God.
The floorboards trembled, and she stumbled. She reached out blindly and her hands connected with the book. T
he room went dark. She lost all sense of self, going blind and deaf to everything around her. Lost in the dark void, she heard a sly voice calling her, imploring her to repeat certain words.
She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood. Whatever the book wanted her to say couldn’t be good. The darkness surrounded her, seeping into her skin, eating at her insides. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing. She fought the voice with everything she had. No way would she let the book use her to imprison Darius, because that’s what it was trying to do. It wanted her to recite the incantation that would render her lover powerless.
She’d die before she’d let that happen. It was then she realized she loved him.
Pain pounded at her skull and something dripped from her nose. Pressure threatened to make her eardrums explode. The book was killing her.
…
An immense power shoved Darius away from the book the second Sarah’s hands connected with it. He’d seen the floor buckle, seen her falling, and had been powerless to stop her hands from connecting with the book.
“Leave her,” Father Simon yelled over the howling gale inside the church. “Someone has to burn the book while the other holds it. Do it now. It’s her only chance.”
Darius was torn. He wanted to yank the book from her grasp but knew the old priest was right. If he took it from her, she might die. Blood was already dripping from her nose and ears. Agony was etched on her face, and her breathing was getting shallower with each passing second.
“What do I do?” he shouted. He’d do anything to keep Sarah safe, and instead, she was the one fighting the evil of the book. The drakon inside him roared in displeasure.
“The candle.” The priest pointed to the original candle, the one he’d used to light the ones that ringed them.
Darius grabbed the wax pillar from the holder and set the flame to the corner of the book. Father Simon continued to recite his prayers. Darius had no idea if it was helping or not, but they had to see this through to the end. It was their only hope.
His back was turned to the priest, blocking the man’s view of Sarah and the book. The flame from the candle was making the edge of the book smolder, but nothing more.
“Open the book,” Darius yelled at her. He needed to touch the candle to the paper, not the binding. “Sarah, you have to open the book.” He put every ounce of power he had into trying to reach her.
The power of the book engulfed her, wanting to swallow her whole. But Darius would not be denied or defeated. He bellowed her name, ignoring the chill of the air surrounding them as his breath frosted before his very eyes. He clung to the holy candle, which was still lit in spite of the wind whirling around them. Darius reached out and touched Sarah’s arm, needing the contact with her.
“You have to open the book. I can’t do it. You have to.” He called her name again and again. Darius swore he heard laughter in the air. The book was winning.
…
Sarah was lost in darkness. It was slowly suffocating her, sucking the life from her body. She wanted to let go of the book but couldn’t make her hands work properly.
Then she thought she heard a voice. Not the sly one whispering promises in the dark, but one that was loud—and impatient.
“Open the damn book, Sarah. Do it now. I need to burn the pages.”
She recognized that voice, didn’t she? It was certainly drowning out the insidious whispers that threatened to drive her mad.
“You need to open the book. Sarah. Open the fucking book. Now.”
Something touched her lips and warmth seeped into her, driving back the cold. She sucked in a breath and tasted blood. Her blood? But she tasted something more. Life and hope.
Darius.
The name lit like a beacon in her mind.
“Open the book. Please, Sarah.”
The book. She had to open the book. She clamped her jaw shut as the whispers started again, prodding her to speak the words it wanted her to say. Her fingers wouldn’t obey her at first. She curled them against the binding and yanked with every ounce of strength she had left.
The pain was excruciating. She felt one finger snap and then another. She screamed as her fragile bones were broken, but she didn’t stop. Darius was depending on her. Their lives and freedom depended on her.
She dug deep and found a single spark of light within her. She drew on it, fanning it to life. Her eyes flew open, and she met Darius’s worried green gaze. She opened her mouth and gave a primal scream, pouring every ounce of energy she possessed into opening the book. The covers parted—not all the way, but far enough. Darius thrust the candle flame against the pages.
They smoldered and then burst into flames. Every window in the church exploded, blowing shards inward, like tiny missiles. Several stung her skin, but they didn’t really hurt. She was beyond pain at this point.
She could hear the priest now, but his voice was muffled. The wind whipped with the fury of a hurricane, but their circle remained strong. The pages burned while the binding remained intact. The flames were perilously close to her hands, but she couldn’t let go of the book. Not yet. Not until every last page was ash.
“Hold it over the font,” Father Simon ordered.
She couldn’t move, but felt Darius lift her right off her feet. He set her down in front of the stone vessel and angled her arms so they were over the holy water. The flames were hot against her skin. She knew she was getting singed but really didn’t care.
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Darius. He’d changed her life. She didn’t mind dying now that she knew he’d be safe from the book.
“Stay with me,” he commanded. He was always ordering her around, wasn’t he? But she knew it was because he cared.
The last page turned to ash and the binding began to smolder.
“She needs to drop the book,” Darius yelled.
“Not yet,” Father Simon warned. “The binding needs to go, too.”
“It will burn her.”
“Better that than dead,” the priest pointed out.
She wanted to tell Darius not to worry, but talking was still beyond her. It was as though her entire body was wrapped in thick padding, insulated from the pain and suffering she was enduring.
Darius swore and slid his hands down her arms until his hands were under hers, supporting them. She was grateful, as standing was becoming incredibly difficult.
Flames licked at her fingers. Darius yanked the book out of her hands and held it cupped in one of his. The flames attacked the book with a vengeance, burning quickly and easily.
“Now,” Father Simon commanded. Darius tilted his hand and dropped the remaining flaming mass and all the ash into the holy water in the font. He held her hands over the font and wiped them so not a single piece of ash remained. She could feel his touch but not her own hands. She was drifting, somewhere between reality and dreams.
Father Simon continued to pray, and the wind that whipped around them suddenly died as quickly as it had come, leaving all in silence.
As though the wind had been the only thing holding her upright, Sarah’s knees gave out and she collapsed. Before she could hit the floor, Darius caught her.
“Is it done?” he asked.
Father Simon nodded. “The holy water and ashes need to be buried in a consecrated grave. “I’ve already cleared a space. You’ll have to lift the font and carry it out back. It all needs to go into the hole.”
Darius left the circle. As he did, every flame suddenly died. For all the violence of the night, the pews were still standing. Broken glass covered every surface, hymnals were strewn everywhere, and several of the holy statues had toppled and broken. But their circle had remained intact.
“Clear off a space for her,” Darius commanded. Father Simon used his shirtsleeve to wipe off a corner of one of the pews. Darius set her down carefully. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “Keep an eye on her.”
She watched him as he went back to the heavy stone font and lifted it right off
the floor. He disappeared out the open door with it in his arms. He was safe and the book was destroyed. It almost didn’t seem real.
“How are you feeling?” The good father sounded concerned, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, nor could she answer him. She was still lost, unable to find her voice.
She felt his hand on her forehead and heard his prayers. She was so tired but didn’t dare close her eyes, not until Darius returned. Had they really destroyed the book, or was it all an illusion?
Worry spiked, breaking through the first layer of insulation around her. Her breathing increased and her heart began to race. She had to find Darius.
Then he was back, striding into the room and filling it with his presence. His arms were empty, and he wiped his hands on the legs of his jeans. “I filled the hole in the graveyard back in,” he told the priest.
Father Simon nodded. “I’ll have sod and gravel laid and a stone erected tomorrow. That grave will look as though it’s been here for decades.” He looked from Darius to her. “You need to leave. It may no longer be safe for you here.”
Darius looked as handsome as ever as he came to her and lifted her into his arms.
“She needs tending,” the priest said. She could have told Father Simon not to worry, that Darius would take good care of her, but she didn’t have the energy to bother.
“She is mine.” Darius statement should have raised her feminist hackles. Instead, it made her feel all warm and tingly inside. Cared for.
Her head lolled on his shoulder and her eyelids fluttered shut. Now that she knew for sure Darius was safe, she let go and tumbled into darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Darius kept his hand wrapped around Sarah’s wrist so he could feel her pulse. It was slow but steady, a sure sign she was still alive, still with him. It had been over twenty-four hours since they’d destroyed that damn book, and she’d shown no signs of waking since they’d arrived at the safe house. He’d talked to Tarrant and to Ezra and Nic, but none of them could offer any advice.
Drakon's Promise (Blood of the Drakon) Page 24
