After wiping off her hands on her floral apron, Sidonia reached down and tapped Eve on the nose. “I believe you will be very good at many things, but you must learn to control your powers and always use them wisely.”
“That’s what Mother says.”
“Your mother is a very wise woman.” Yes, Mercy was wise. And good and kind and loving. And the most powerful empath in the world. She could feel another’s pain, remove it from them and heal them. But the price she paid in personal agony often depleted her energy for hours, even days.
“She’s very pretty, too,” Eve said. “And so am I.”
Sidonia chuckled. It was not a bad thing to know your strong points. “Yes, you and your mother are both beautiful.”
Mercy was as beautiful inside as out, but Sidonia feared that might not be true of her precious little Eve. She was a good child, with a good heart, but there had been a few times when her temper had flared uncontrollably, and it was at those times Sidonia and Mercy had witnessed the incredible, untutored power Eve possessed.
“Where is Mother? Isn’t she eating breakfast with me this morning?” Eve asked as she crawled up onto a stool at the granite-topped bar separating the kitchen from the breakfast room.
“She has gone up to Amadahy Pointe to meditate. I expect her home soon.” Sidonia returned to her task. She picked up the rolling pin, washed it off, then used it to spread the dough into a half-inch-thick circle.
“Is something bothering my mother? Is something wrong?” Eve asked, with a wisdom far beyond her years.
Sidonia hesitated, then, knowing Eve had the ability to read her thoughts if she chose to do so, said, “To my knowledge, nothing is wrong. Mercy simply felt the need to meditate.”
Sidonia cut the dough and placed each raw biscuit in the rectangular pan, then popped them into the hot oven to bake.
“May I have a glass of apple juice while I wait for Mother?” Eve glanced at the refrigerator.
“Yes, of course you may.”
Suddenly the refrigerator door swung open, and the pitcher of juice lifted up and floated out of the refrigerator and across the room. Eve’s tinkling girlish giggles jingled about the room.
Sidonia grabbed the pitcher midair and set it on the bar. “You’re a little showoff.”
“Mother said that practice makes perfect, and that if I don’t practice my skills, I won’t master them.” Eve sighed heavily. Dramatically. The child had a flair for melodrama. “Mother frowned when she told me that. I believe she worries about me. She thinks I have amazing powers.”
“Yes, we know, your mother and I. And we both worry, because you are so young and unable to direct your powers. That is why Mercy told you that you must practice. It was no different with your mother and your uncles. They had to learn to control their powers.”
“But I am different. I’m not like Mother and Uncle Dante and Uncle Gideon.”
Sidonia gasped. Was it possible the child knew the secret of her conception? Sidonia shook her head to dislodge such foolish thoughts. Eve might be talented far beyond any of the other Raintree children, might excel in talents even adults in the clan would envy, but she was still only a child. She might read other people’s thoughts, but she did not always understand the words she heard inside her little head.
“Of course, you’re different. You’re a member of the royal family. Your uncle is the Dranir, and your mother is the greatest empath in the world.”
Eve shook her head. Her long blond curls danced about her shoulders. “I am more than Raintree.”
A shiver of pure, unadulterated fear quivered through Sidonia. The child sensed the truth, even if she did not know what that truth was. Sidonia removed a glass from the cupboard, lifted the pitcher and poured the apple juice for Eve. She set the glass in front of the child. “Yes, you are more than Raintree. You are very, very special, my precious.”
More special than you will ever know, if your mother and I can protect you by keeping your secret.
Mercy Raintree sat on the firm, grassy ground, her eyes closed, her hands resting in her lap. Whenever she was troubled, she came to Amadahy Pointe to meditate, to collect her thoughts and renew her strength. The sunshine covered her like an invisible robe, wrapping her in light and warmth. The spring breeze caressed her tenderly, like a lover’s soft touch. With her eyes closed and her soul open to the positive energy she drew from this holy place, this sanctuary within a sanctuary, she focused on what was most important to her.
Family.
Mercy sensed impending danger. But from whom or from what, she did not know. Although her greatest talents lay in being an empath and a healer, she possessed latent precognitive powers, less erratic than her cousin Echo’s, but not as strong. She had also been cursed with the ability to sense the emotional and physical condition of others from a distance. Clairempathy. As a child, she’d found her various empathic talents maddening, but gradually, year by year, she had learned to control them. And now, despite both Dante and Gideon blocking her from intercepting their thoughts and emotions, she could still manage to pick up something on the outer fringes of each brother’s individual consciousness.
Dante and Gideon were in trouble. But she did not know why. Perhaps it was nothing more than stress from their chosen professions. Or it could even be problems in their personal lives.
If her brothers thought she could help them, they would ask her to intervene. This knowledge reassured her that their problems were within the realm of human reality and not of a supernatural nature. Her brothers were, as they had pointed out to her on numerous occasions, grown men, perfectly capable of taking care of themselves without the assistance of their baby sister.
Past experience had taught her that when their souls needed replenishing, their spirits nurtured, her brothers came home, here to the Raintree land, deep in the North Carolina mountains. The home place was protected by a powerful magic that had been established by their ancestors two centuries ago after The Battle. Within the boundaries of these secure acres, no living creature could intrude without alerting the resident guardian. Mercy Raintree was that guardian, protector of the home place, as her great-aunt Gillian had been until her death at a hundred and nineteen, and like Gillian’s mother, Vesta, the first keeper of the sanctuary in the early eighteen hundreds.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Mercy opened her eyes and looked at the valley below, spread out before her like a banquet feast. Late springtime in the mountains. An endless blue sky that went on forever. Towering green trees, the ancient, the old and the young growing together, reaching heavenward. Verdant life, thick and rich and sweet to the senses. A multitude of wild flowers blooming in abundance, their perfume tantalizing, their colors pleasing to the eye.
Mercy wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with her, but she felt a nagging sense of unease that had nothing to do with her brothers or with anyone in the Raintree tribe. No, the restlessness was within her, a yearning she was forced to control because of who she was, because of her duty to her family and to her people. Whenever these strange emotions unsettled her, she climbed the mountain to this sacred peak and mediated until the uncertainty subsided. But today, for some unknown reason, the anxiety clung to her.
Was it a warning?
Seven years ago, she had allowed that hunger inside her to lead her into dangerous territory, into a world she had been ill prepared for, into a relationship that had altered her life. She would not-could not-succumb to fear. And except for brief visits to Dante and Gideon, she would not leave the safety of the Raintree sanctuary. Not ever again.
Pax Greynell knew no fear. Why should he? He was young, strong, brave. A highly trained warrior. And he was an Ansara. The blood of the royal family flowed in his veins, as it did in Cael’s, and like the true Ansara Dranir, he, too, had been born out of wedlock. He was a cousin to Cael and Judah. All his life, he had been loyal to the clan and, since Judah had been crowned their leader, loyal to Judah. But in the past year, he, like several of the yo
ung warriors, had grown tired of waiting, tired of being told the time was not right, that the Ansara were not ready to do battle with the Raintree.
Cael whispered in their ears, promising them a new order, one in which they would become members of his council. He also implied that Judah was afraid to face the Raintree, whereas he, Cael, was not. Although Pax believed in Cael and would stand at his side in any battle, he knew Judah Ansara was not afraid of anything or anyone.
That thought would have unnerved Greynell if he hadn’t been protected by a magic spell cast upon him by Cael. He would be invincible for the next forty-eight hours. No one could harm him. Only Cael or another Ansara of his equal could penetrate the invisible forcefield surrounding him. Twenty-four hours would be more than enough time for him to accomplish his mission and escape without being captured. Afterward, he would wait for word from Cael, and then he would join his master and the others for the final battle.
Greynell adjusted his binoculars and watched while Mercy Raintree rose from the ground with the fluid grace of a ballet dancer, her long blond hair shimmering in the morning sunlight. She was beautiful. And if she were a mere mortal woman, he would rape her before he killed her. But she was not mortal, no more than he was. He dared not risk compromising his mission for a taste of her, no matter how great the temptation.
He kept the binoculars trained on her as she stood there alone, so close, yet beyond his reach. Cael had warned him not to try to enter the Raintree sanctuary, had instructed him to find a way to lure Mercy outside, away from the protection of the home place.
Smiling at his own cleverness, he drank in the sight of this delectable Raintree princess and fantasized about ravaging her before he ended her life. She, like her brothers and her cousin Echo, had been marked for death. Destroy the royal family first, eliminate the most powerful, and the rest would follow.
Sunday, 3:15 p.m.
The Ansara private jet had landed in Asheville, North Carolina, half an hour ago. A prearranged rental car had awaited Judah, so he’d been able to get on the road almost immediately. He didn’t know how much time he had before Greynell struck, wasn’t sure he could save Mercy Raintree. He had known his foolish young cousin was a loose cannon and, like several of the other young warriors, was eager for battle. But he had not realized the extent of Cael’s power over the boy and just how unbalanced Greynell had become.
Judah knew that Cael would try to contact Greynell and warn him. But by now, Cael must have realized that his telepathic powers had been imprisoned, that he had been temporarily put out of commission. Had he also figured out that he had underestimated Judah ’s powers? Like the egotistical bastard he was, Cael believed himself superior to Judah, actually thought he was more powerful. Idiot. Perhaps realizing that Judah had temporarily frozen his telepathic powers would prove to Cael just who the superior brother actually was.
The only reason Judah had not called Cael out and challenged him to a Death Duel was because they were brothers. But once he had taken care of Greynell-either before or after the young warrior killed the Raintree’s most revered empath- Judah would have to face his half brother in combat, once and for all ending Cael’s quest to dethrone him. There was little doubt in Judah ’s mind as to who had been behind the assassination attempt on his life this morning, although he could not prove his suspicions.
Judah stayed on Highway 74, heading southwest, toward the eastern foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains. The Raintree sanctuary bordered the Eastern Cherokee Indian Reservation. Several members of the Raintree clan had intermarried with the Cherokee before the Trail of Tears over a hundred and seventy years ago, and the family had provided assistance to the Cherokee who had escaped from the soldiers and taken refuge in the mountains.
From childhood, Judah had made a study of the Ansara’s powerful enemy, knowing that it was his destiny to one day seek revenge for the Ansara defeat in The Battle two centuries ago and wipe every single member of the Raintree clan from the face of the earth. But the time was not right. Not yet. Cael was overeager, he and his followers. If they went up against the Raintree too soon, they would be doomed to failure. But he could not make his brother understand the importance of patience. Wait. Soon. But not now.
It was a pity that Mercy Raintree would have to die, along with her brothers and others of their kind. But despite the pleasure he might derive in keeping her alive, in making her his slave, he could not allow one single member of the Raintree clan to live. Not even Mercy.
But Greynell had no right to the kill. Every member of the Ansara clan knew that Mercy Raintree belonged to Judah. She was his kill, as was Dante Raintree. The powers she and her elder brother possessed were Judah ’s to absorb upon their deaths. And the other brother, Gideon, belonged to Claude. Cael had been furious when Judah had given Claude the right to kill the third Raintree royal.
Cael had been a thorn in Judah ’s side for far too long. He had indulged his brother, forgiven him his sins again and again, but no longer. Cael had become extremely dangerous, not only to Judah but to the Ansara. He could no longer put off dealing with his power-hungry sibling.
The call came in at seven-forty-two Sunday evening, while Mercy, Eve and Sidonia were sitting on the expansive back porch, Sidonia in her rocking chair, Eve resting her head in Mercy’s lap in the swing. An orange slice of twilight sun nestled low on the western horizon, multicolored clouds feathering out on either side like pink and lavender cottony down. Summertime insects chirped, and tree frogs croaked contentedly, as nighttime approached, here in the foothills.
Serenity. Peace.
Mercy had sensed something was wrong, had felt uneasy the entire day. And now that she had received the call, she understood why she’d been concerned. She seldom left the Sanctuary for extended periods of time. Not any longer. As the years passed and her empathic abilities grew stronger, she found it difficult to be in a crowd. Simply walking down the street in Waynesville proved difficult. Other people’s thoughts and emotions bombarded her if she so much as made eye contact with them. And heaven help her if someone accidentally brushed against her. She heard their thoughts, sensed their pain, experienced their joy. And any protective spell she used had its limits and its drawbacks, so she used one only when necessary.
As a teenager, after her parents were murdered, she had longed to become a doctor, to save people as the doctors in Asheville had tried so valiantly to save her parents. She had foolishly believed that her inherited, innate empathic abilities would actually help make her a better doctor. She’d been wrong. Dr. Huxley, the oldest physician in the area and a friend of Mercy’s father, had tutored Mercy and even arranged for her to accompany him on emergency calls where her empathic abilities often meant the difference between life and death for his patients. Dr. Huxley had grown up near the sanctuary and understood what a special people the Raintree were and how remarkable Mercey’s talent was, even among her tribe. The Raintree trusted Dr. Huxley as they did few other humans, instinctively knowing he would never betray them. But then, after being homeschooled, she had left the mountains at eighteen to attend college. The University of Tennessee had been exciting, but also frightening, because of the dense population. With the help of her family-Dante had arranged for several Raintree clansmen to attend the same college-Mercy had managed to graduate. But living away from the sanctuary had shown her that she could never pursue her dream of becoming a doctor. Her empathic skills were as much a curse as a blessing.
Now, only on rare occasions did Dr. Huxley contact her for assistance. Tonight was one of those occasions. There had been a wreck on the back roads, not far from the home place, and Dr. Huxley knew she would be able to reach the scene before anyone else because of the location-within a mile of the Raintree boundaries.
“You be careful,” Sidonia said as she stood beside Mercy’s white Escalade, Eve at her hip. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Brenna and have her stay with Eve so I can go with you?”
Mercy caressed Sidonia’s wrin
kled cheek. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine. Dr. Huxley is on his way with the police, and the county rescue squad should reach the accident site very soon. I won’t be there alone for long.”
“Don’t overdo. You know how weak-”
“If anything goes wrong, Dr. Huxley will take care of me and see that I get home safe and sound.”
Mercy slipped behind the wheel of her new SUV, a present from Dante. As she backed out of the driveway, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Sidonia and Eve waving goodbye. Focusing on the road ahead, she pressed her foot against the accelerator, knowing that the accident victims’ lives might well be in her hands.
Less than five minutes away from the sanctuary’s boundaries, she came upon two mutilated vehicles that had apparently crashed headlong into each other. How could that have happened, on a clear evening, with no fog, no rain and on a relatively straight stretch of highway? Had one of the drivers been drinking or taking drugs? Mercy pulled off to the side of the road, opened the door and got out, her heart racing maddeningly as she hurried toward the nearest vehicle, a red sports car that had been crushed almost beyond recognition. Without even touching the driver’s bloody body, she knew he was dead.
She wished his soul a safe journey into the afterlife. That was all she could do for him. But she sensed life inside the other vehicle, a silver truck. As she approached the smoking Ford, she heard moans and cries coming from within. She had to work quickly and do her best to free this couple. The driver, a middle-aged man, was trapped by the steering wheel, which had crushed his chest. The woman beside him was the one whimpering and groaning, her pale face streaked with blood-her own and the man’s.
Using both hands, Mercy reached inside through the shattered passenger window and touched the female. The frightened woman screamed, then suddenly grew very still as Mercy connected with her and began drawing the pain from her mangled body. Without saying a word, Mercy communicated with the woman, doing her best to reassure her as well as comfort her.
Raintree: Santuary Page 2
