Dealers of Light

by Lara Nance

  Good, now hold here. Are you okay?

  Yes, the power is so strong, but I think I have it under control now.

  Excellent. Just keep your attention on maintaining the shield. We have thirty minutes to keep it up.

  I will.

  To stay focused, Cara imagined the bubble surrounding them as a physical presence—a shiny bright red balloon. The rumble of the ship engine diminished against the backdrop of amplified breathing from those gathered around her. She existed in a strange world, surrounded by the chorus of breaths and the prickly fission of her power. God, please, let this work. From the radius of cities Desmond targeted, they anticipated his power ranged about three hundred miles from Norfolk. There were right at that distance now. No way to know exactly where the line of safety lay.

  Okay, that’s it. Rolf broke into her thoughts, startling her from her surreal reverie. Thirty minutes up. Let’s bring it back.

  They shrunk the shield to a glowing ball between them then dissolved the link. Cara blinked and glanced up at Shana standing behind Rolf.

  “Is it over?” Shana asked.

  “I think so.” Rolf pushed back his chair and scanned the group. “Everyone okay?”

  “I don’t feel any different,” Tor said. “I guess that’s good.”

  “I’m fine,” Alistair said.

  Marc put his arms around Shana and they gazed into each other’s eyes. Tor kissed the top of Amber’s head and pulled her against him.

  Rolf’s men all asserted they felt no different, and Rolf put a hand on each of them to determine for certain that their Light remained undiminished. “It worked.” He grinned and grabbed Cara, enveloping her in an exuberant hug that knocked the breath out of her, while the others whooped it up behind them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. We did it!

  He patted her back, then leaned away, grabbing her shoulders. His eyes locked on hers, sharing a private moment of celebration. Then, his gaze slid to her lips and his grin faded, but it took several seconds before he broke contact to turn away. She stumbled and caught herself with a hand on the back of the chair she’d been sitting in, confused anew with this brief glimpse of affection. He strode across the room, up the steps to the pilothouse, leaving her alone and aching for his touch.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Use your hip for leverage,” Tor instructed Cara as she worked to flip Shana over her back.

  It was raining, so they’d pushed all the salon’s furniture to the walls so they could practice their fighting skills. CNN blared on the TV, but no news indicated evidence of the Net.

  “Ha!” Cara shouted when Shana went over and landed with a thud on the thick carpet. Fists pumping in the air, Cara danced around in triumph. “Woo-hoo. I did it.”

  “Very good,” Tor said. “But you can’t stop there. The enemy would be stunned, but not incapacitated.” He repositioned Cara and Shana as they had been at the end of the flip. “Now you still have her arm in your hand. Use the other hand and give her a forceful punch in the throat.”

  “Like this?” Cara performed the move, pulling the punch at the end.

  “Yes, but make the punch snap.”

  She did it again with more vigor and he nodded. “You just killed your opponent.”

  “My turn.” Shana hopped to her feet. She grinned, bouncing on her toes toward Cara. “Come on, attack me.”

  “You’re enjoying this a little too much.” Cara put her hands on her hips.

  “I love it.” Shana shifted back and forth on her feet. “Come on. Bring it, girlfriend.”

  “Okay, try not to really kill me.” Cara crouched down and circled her friend. She lunged. Shana grabbed her arm, and, in one swift motion, twisted her around to flip her over her shoulder, ending with a punch to the throat.

  Shana laughed and extended a hand to pull Cara to her feet. “That was great.”

  “Yeah, just great.” Cara rubbed her lower back.

  “Good job,” Tor said. Amber and Alistair clapped. Rolf raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms.

  Marc stared at Shana with a blank expression. She started hopping around with her fists in the air humming the Rocky theme, and he retreated to the bar.

  “Who’s next?” Shana planted her hands on her hips.

  “We’ve been at it since nine. I’m ready for lunch.” Cara grabbed a towel and patted her face, then hung it around her neck.

  Shana pouted. “Aww, come on, I want to flip somebody else.”

  Tor’s eyes went from Cara to Marc and back. “Yeah, well, I think Cara’s right. Let’s take a break. We can work more this afternoon if you want.”

  Shana shrugged, but after a little shadow boxing, she flopped into a chair, a huge grin splitting her face. Cara threw a towel at her.

  “I need to return to my research,” Alistair stood. “I may be on to something promising and I want to dig a little deeper. See you all later.” Alistair scooped up Rambo and headed to his cabin.

  Cara crossed to Rolf, who leaned against the outside door with Dusty at his feet. Rain pelted against the glass behind him. “Your friend is a natural fighter,” Rolf said in a low voice

  Cara glanced back at Shana. “I think you’re right. She’s really taken to it.”

  “But it disturbs you?”

  “Not me.” She motioned with her head toward Marc who had his back to the room, elbows on the bar. He sipped a club soda with lemon.

  “Why would it bother him? Doesn’t he want her to be able to defend herself?” Rolf’s eyes narrowed.

  Cara sighed. “It’s not about defending herself.” She paused, studying Marc’s stiff back. “I think it’s because he’s used to Shana as the caring nurse who lives to help ease her patients’ pain. Now, here she is thriving on fighting. It’s a bit unnerving to me as well, I have to say.”

  Rolf stared at Shana. “I hope he can learn to deal with it, because she is realizing who she really is and it’s important to her. The situation seems to be very disturbing to him. He’s become increasingly pale and nervous since we left Norfolk.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s letting her change affect his health. You shouldn’t stop someone from realizing their true potential.”

  “Shana is a good fighter.”

  “You’re good, too, if you’ll stop dropping your guard.”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I don’t drop my guard.”

  “Yes, you do. I’ll show you.” He removed his jacket and motioned her over to the cleared area. “Come on. Put up your hands.”

  She had a feeling this wouldn’t end well for her even if she did keep her guard up. He was much too strong. But she followed and they circled each other. Watching him closely, she focused on her arms, keeping them positioned in front, fists near her face.

  Rolf feinted right, and she stepped left, but he twirled back left and landed a pulled blow at the side of her head.

  Yep, she’d dropped her guard.

  “Damn it.” She retreated a few steps.

  He chuckled and lowered his arms, shrugging. “See, I told—”

  In an angry, purely impulsive move, she tackled him around the middle, sending them both sprawling backwards to the floor.

  “What the hell was that?” Rolf shouted.

  “That was my guard being pissed off,” she said from on top of him, face inches from his, glaring until her gaze went to his lips. She ran her tongue over hers, almost able to feel the hot pressure of a kiss, needing to feel it. Her chest squashed against his, exquisite torture as they both gasped for air. Her breasts tightened at the contact, sending a shiver down her belly.

  Her gaze flew back to his. His pupils contracted and he wrapped one leg over hers, flipping her to her back. She let out a small “Oof” as he landed on top of her. That didn’t do anything but stoke the fire raging in her stomach.

  “And again you drop it and put yourself in danger.” He held her arms down to the thick carpet, his breath hot on
her face. “Your emotions will be your downfall, Cara.”

  “Get off.” She suddenly burned with embarrassment, knowing the others observed this interchange. Squirming to escape gave her the revenge of seeing Rolf’s expression change and his body stiffen, revealing how much her wiggling body discomfited him. He pressed his lips together and drew in a quick breath then rolled away. “Just…work on your—your guard. Okay?” He grabbed his jacket, clasping it at his waist, and escaped down the stairs to his room.

  Cara pressed a hand over her smile. Now who’d let down their guard?

  ###

  “Ah ha!” Alistair entered the salon that evening waving a handful of papers, a book stuck under the other arm. His glasses were perched in the disheveled mass of gray hair atop his head.

  Cara turned from the bar where she’d poured herself a glass of wine. A whisper of disquiet swept over her at Alistair’s interruption. Everyone else stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

  Alistair dragged a chair closer to the coffee table and spread the pages on its surface. He brought his glasses back to his eyes and shuffled through the papers, bony fingers shaking. “Ah, here we go. Found this on the computer. Since the stone Rolf described is so large and therefore rare, I decided to see if one fitting that description had ever been up for auction.” He extracted one sheet and handed it to Rolf, who’d crossed the room to stand before him. “This is a record of an Andean opal being sold at Sotheby’s in 1993. The buyer: one Desmond Stone.”

  Rolf studied the report, eyes roaming across the paper like a pendulum. “It’s him. He lost it after I fought him in Japan. He must have been desperate to recover possession if it’s as powerful as you say.”

  “I agree.” Alistair gathered up his papers and placed them in his jacket pocket. “But at least we know what the element is. Now we might find a way to neutralize it.”

  “But, Rolf, if it’s so powerful, how do we know Bermuda is safe?” Amber shrank against Tor on the couch.

  “It’s over six-hundred miles from Norfolk. The cities in his plan were all much closer to the central location. We must assume there’s a limit to his reach. Otherwise, he would’ve just spread the Net over the whole country,” Tor said.

  “We’ll know once we arrive. If anything appears suspicious, we’ll leave,” Rolf said.

  Marc rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead and looked away, running his tongue over his lips.

  “I always wanted to see Bermuda,” Amber said wistfully.

  “Me, too,” Cara replied. “But not like this.”

  ###

  Desmond peered over Carlton’s shoulder as he typed. Finally, they were putting their plan into action. Tomorrow the money would flow, and he would be a billionaire within days.

  “Finished. The ad is scheduled to run every hour for the next twelve hours on every major station in the cities we control.” Carlton hit a few last keys and swiveled around in his chair to face his master. “A picture of an orphanage and the words ‘Desmond Stone Saves the Poor Children’ over it. When they see the real ad asking them to send money, they’ll be subliminally ready to believe it.”

  “Excellent. Arrange for the men to pick up loads from the post office box at intervals. There will be millions of letters coming in,” Desmond said. “And the diversion of taxes to my account?”

  “It’s already taken care of,” Carlton said.

  “Good.”

  “What about expansion to the next tier of cities? Will we be ready to make the move on the next moon cycle?”

  “I think not.” Desmond paced away, rubbing his chin. “I want to make sure the area we hold is secure through another phase. We can then expand with more confidence. I don’t want to overextend given the newness of some of our members.”

  Carlton nodded and returned to his keyboard. “I’ll send the allyus notices.”

  “We need to identify more Dealers to turn, also. Tell them to be on the hunt.”

  Desmond strode to the window of the computer room and gazed down on the street outside. People walked by, unaware they were no more than a flock of sheep to him. They moved more slowly than usual, and there was little to no interaction between them, but that was to be expected in their Light-reduced complacency. They didn’t have a clue about what had happened, they just went about their pitiful existences. A chuckle escaped his lips. So incredibly easy!

  Today, they would start receiving the first of his subliminal ads. Then the real ads would tell everyone to take one-hundred dollars, put it in an envelope and mail it to a P.O. Box as a donation to the charitable Desmond Stone who was saving the world’s orphans. And with the authorities in his pocket there would be no one to question his legitimacy. Millions of people, sending him a hundred dollars—it was just too easy.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Avalon pulled into St. George’s Harbor, Bermuda at eight o’clock the following morning. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless, azure sky to glitter over the rippling crystal clear water.

  Rolf paused with his palm on the handle of the outside door in the salon. “Everyone stay inside while the crew and I check in with immigration. It’ll take a while, so relax. I’ll be able to detect any energy deviations in the marina workers, which might indicate some interference by Takers.”

  Cara peeked out a window with Shana beside her. The others sat scattered around the salon. Tor raised a hand. “We’ll wait, but if I see any trouble, I’m coming out.”

  Rolf slipped out the door and, after a tense half hour, they were able to leave the customs dock for a marina.

  “That went well.” Cara joined Rolf at the side rail while Avalon maneuvered into its slip.

  “No sign of anyone at less than full Light.” Rolf scanned the busy marina area. “I think we can be comfortable Desmond’s web did not reach this far.”

  “Now what?”

  “I need to go into Hamilton. There’s a goldsmith there. I hope to find some gold we can use in making the amulets. Would you like to go with me?” He blurted it out before he realized what he’d said.

  She bit her lip, then her face brightened. “Yeah, why not? I’d love to see more of the island.”

  “I have to arrange for a taxi, so go get ready. We can do some shopping while we’re out and pick up anything you missed in our mad rush to leave Norfolk.”

  “What about the others?” She jerked her head to the salon where the rest of the group waited.

  “They can do some sightseeing and shopping. Might as well have a pleasant break after all they’ve been through. While they’re roaming, tell them to keep an ear out for any news from the mainland.”

  “All right, I’ll be back in a second.”

  She rushed inside. Her face had lit with happiness at the mention of going to look at the island. So much for keeping her at arm’s length. It seemed even his unconscious fought to throw them together. He sighed. At least the prospect of the trip infused her with a hint of pleasure instead of constant worry. She’d been the victim of a great deal of trauma and fear for the past week. He had to admit she needed a break.

  After giving his crew their orders, he called for a taxi. Cara came up the steps to the salon dressed in white linen pants and a pink T-shirt.

  “This is the closest to resort wear I have.” She laughed, held out her arms, and twirled.

  “Looks great to me.” He was unable to restrain a grin at her exuberance. “Let’s go, the taxi is here.”

  “How far?” Cara asked as they headed down the dock to the parking lot where the taxi waited with engine running. The driver had the car’s window down and waved to them as they approached.

  “Not too far. We’re in St. George, which is on the northeast tip of the island. Hamilton, the capital, is about in the middle. So you can enjoy some scenery on the way.” He gave the driver directions and sat back to enjoy Cara’s changing expressions as she stared out the window at the passing landscape.

  “It’s beautiful,” she exclaimed, pointing here
and there with a huge smile on her face. “The buildings are like pastel pastries topped with white icing.”

  He nodded, her pleasure an infectious balm to his battered soul. Somewhere deep inside he remembered a time when he had not been on constant guard, when laughter had been near to his lips and joy to his heart. But all those times existed before Sakhet died. The emotions were old, rusty from disuse, but Cara polished them bright and brought them forth so easily.

  He’d been to the island many times, but seeing it with Cara made this feel like the first time. A thrill of pleasure shot through him every time she laughed at some new sight. Could he learn to appreciate life again with someone like Cara? He gazed out his window at the vibrant green vegetation and the bright splashes of color off buildings, churches, and awnings, all against the backdrop of a clear robin’s-egg blue sky. As they reached the outskirts of Hamilton, he marveled at the sensation of a smile stretching his lips.

  The taxi dropped them in front of a goldsmith and jewelry store. Rolf climbed out and extended a hand to help Cara from the backseat. The taxi sputtered away and a chilling, toxic aura slammed into him. His muscles stiffened. It wiped away the small hint of awakening pleasure he’d begun to feel. Reality. He was stupid to think he could have happiness again.

  “What’s wrong?” Cara stared at him.

  “Takers,” he said. The sensation faded and his shoulders relaxed. He’d experienced this same sensation many times in many places—the distorted energy of evil.

  “Close?” She put a hand on his forearm.

  “Don’t worry. They’ve left the vicinity. The question is whether or not they’re an isolated group or followers of Desmond.”

  “We should warn the others.”

  “Unfortunately, our cell phones won’t work on the island. Let’s get what we need and go back to the boat.”

  “Okay.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “I’ll be inside for a short while. There’s a nice shop with women’s clothing next door. I’ll meet you at Point Pleasant Park across the street when you’re finished.” He pointed to the area opposite them where people wandered around. He’d be able to keep an eye on her there. “Just stay with a group of people and you’ll be safe.”