Dealers of Light

by Lara Nance

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  Desmond strolled along a street in downtown Norfolk a short distance from his townhouse. Clouds obscured the sun, bestowing a dim, shadowy glaze to the day. Exhilaration shot through him anytime he moved through the city, observing his success first-hand. People passed by him, their faces revealing little, but their minds belonged to him. The sight filled him with a heady flush of satisfaction. Slaves, every one of them, and they didn’t even know it. Now that he controlled the media, he could put whatever thought he wanted in their heads and, in time, they would believe it.

  His plans progressed exactly as anticipated. He had total control of TV, radio and newspapers. If he wanted something, he just manipulated the messages sent to the people and they followed the instructions like programmed robots. Too late for his bribed officials. They never dreamed he wanted anything more than money. Now they belonged to the Net, too, and would not question missing people or any other atrocity he wanted to pursue. Perfect.

  The time had come to test another little experiment. Carlton had put subliminal pictures of Desmond on TV portraying him in different flashes of roles: kind father, trusted friend, desirable lover, etc.

  He spotted a curvy blonde in a form-fitting business suit, carrying a briefcase. As she passed him, he reached out and took her arm.

  “Come with me, my dear,” he said, smiling.

  “I, uh, have to go to work,” she murmured, blinking. “Don’t I know you? You look very familiar.”

  “Yes, you know me well. I’m Desmond,” he said and caressed her arm. “Remember?”

  “Oh, yes. That’s right. Desmond. Of course.” She blinked again.

  “Come along, my dear. I have something important to show you.”

  Her steps were small at first, and she glanced back in the direction she had been walking. He stroked her arm, and she looked up in his eyes. A smile trembled on her lips, then broadened. She increased her pace, leaning against him. He led her to the townhouse, the throbbing need to cause pain pounding in his gut.

  He’d have a delightful time playing with this little beauty during the afternoon. His men would discard her body in the morning. And, with his control of the police, her death would be covered up nicely. He chuckled and ran a hand down her spine as he guided her up the stairs to his bedroom.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Okay, put this in the sheath on your ankle.” Rolf handed Cara a knife. She took the weapon and hefted it in her hand, testing the balance. The leather handle fit into her palm as though made for it. The silver blade flashed in the dim lighting of the room. She took a deep breath, strapped it in her sheath, and pulled her jeans over it. He glanced at Shana, his forehead wrinkled, and placed a hand on the knob of the salon’s door to the deck.

  Cara’s heart sank. Despite their training with his hired soldiers, she could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t think they were ready. Still, ready or not, the time to eliminate the Takers had come. They couldn’t put it off any longer.

  The others strapped on knives and spread across the salon, stretching out in their dark shirts and pants. The intention for tonight was stealth, to get the Takers without making a lot of noise. Guns would draw too much attention, especially as they were illegal in Bermuda. Shana, the bait, was every bit the part in a sexy black tank top and black knit pants that hugged her curves. Marc’s eyes continually traveled to her, and he fidgeted with his amulet, flipping it over and over.

  “Everybody got their amulets?” Amber asked.

  Everyone but Rolf held them up, then tucked them inside the necks of their shirts.

  Sean handed palm-sized radios to Amber and Alistair. They would be in charge of lookout and communications since they were the weaker fighters. Rolf had them test the volume and made sure the sound worked properly.

  “Is everyone clear on the plan?” Rolf asked when they finished their preparations.

  Cara nodded. She wanted to leave the boat before she started getting nervous. Ten o’clock had just passed, and the island clubs would start cranking into high-gear right about now.

  She waited by the door, surprised at the calm determination that had settled inside her. Maybe panic would come later, especially if they ended up killing the Takers. Her friends murmured to each other, checking gloves, radios and knives. A small smile of admiration curled on her face. They were taking on a dangerous enemy because they knew no one else would do it, and they had made tremendous progress in a very little time.

  “Let’s get going,” Rolf said. “We’ll leave in groups at ten minute intervals and meet at the club. Amber and Tor first.”

  Amber glanced at Cara before she left, eyes round. Cara gave her a smile of encouragement. Her friend took Tor’s hand and walked out the door.

  “Now, Cara and Marc, come with me.” Rolf waved to them. “I don’t want Marc to go in with Shana. The Taker might become suspicious. She and Alistair can leave last.”

  “I’m ready.” Cara turned, gave Shana a thumbs-up, and walked to the door, looking back at Marc who lingered, twisting his gloves in his hands.

  “It’s okay, Marc,” Shana told him. “I’ll be fine. Watch my back, okay?”

  He hesitated then stuffed the gloves in his back pocket and moved past Cara. She closed the door to follow the other two down the dock to grab a taxi. Their steps echoed on the dock and spread over the softly lapping water.

  After a fifteen minute ride in the taxi, they arrived at the club and made their way down the narrow concrete steps leading to the entrance. The club was tucked into the basement of a popular restaurant, closed at this hour. Pounding, thumping bass flowed up to meet them before they ever opened the door. Once inside, Rolf and Cara paused. Cara let her eyes adjust to the darkness and spotted Amber and Tor at a table, fifty-feet to their right.

  Strings of small white lights looped about the ceiling were the only illumination in the dim space. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, and she had to cough when it initially enveloped her. They wove past bodies swaying to music, and bar-height round tables where people gathered with their drinks. A loud reggae band played at the far end, its dreadlocked members belting out Bob Marley songs in gruff voices.

  A dark wood bar with a thatched roof awning ran along the left wall, and sweaty dancers moved against each other on the dance floor across from it, swaying to the seductive island rhythm. She and Rolf maneuvered through the crowd and found a bar height table to stand beside on the right side of the room. Marc walked across the room to the bar and bought a beer before wandering to a vantage point opposite them.

  “Sense anything?” Cara asked Rolf, leaning on the table.

  “Not yet,” he said. “But it’s early. They want to be here when the girls have had time to get drunk and are more likely to go outside with them.”

  Gooseflesh puckered Cara’s flesh. “You really do know how they work.”

  “I’ve seen it thousands of times.” He gazed down at her. “Are you okay?”

  She glanced away and brushed the hair from her face. “I just forget about your past sometimes. All the killing.”

  He rested his hand on the small of her back, and she faced him.

  “Be careful tonight,” he leaned close and whispered. “I want you safe.”

  His breath tickled the hairs on her neck, and she shivered. “I will if you will.”

  “Deal.” He straightened to scan the crowd.

  Her stomach flipped. “Shana just came in. Do you really think she’ll be okay?”

  He glanced to the side as Shana strolled by, swinging her hips to the beat of the music. She headed to the bar and flipped her long braids over a shoulder with one hand. Cara saw more than one set of male eyes follow her movements.

  “Oh, yes. I think she can handle herself. She’ll be fine.” Rolf rested his hand on Cara’s arm, warm and comforting.

  Alistair purchased a brandy and walked through to the back of the club near the band. Amber remained stationed at the front entrance near Tor.
/>   “Everything’s in place,” Rolf said.

  Cara inched closer, placing a hand on his side. His muscles stiffened beneath her fingers. She glanced at him, thinking he responded to her touch. But he stared forward, jaw clenched.

  “He’s here,” he said through gritted teeth. “I feel him.”

  Cara shifted her focus to the door, and her hand pressed against his back, his strength a comfort.

  “Yes,” she said. “I see him.”

  A man sauntered by, his eyes shifting about, searching the crowd. A white T-shirt stretched over his skinny chest, and his faded jeans had seen better days. He had long brown hair tied in a pony tail and a diamond stud glittered in one ear lobe.

  “It’s not the same Taker I saw here before,” Rolf said.

  Shana bought a beer and leaned back with her elbows on the bar, chest thrust forward. She looked in Cara’s direction and nodded.

  Marc moved to a table closer to the bar, his fingers tapping on the top of it. Rolf wiped a hand over his brow, the agreed upon signal the Taker had entered.

  Shana fixed her eyes on the man and lifted her chin, giving him the “come hither” look. It didn’t take a second invitation. The man moved right up to her and offered to buy her a drink. Marc gripped the sides of his table, face pale.

  “Is Marc going to be okay?” Rolf frowned.

  “Give him a chance,” she said. Marc’s eyes never left Shana and he leaned forward, like he was ready to spring. She tried to catch his eye, but he was too intent.

  Shana continued batting her eyelashes and flipping her braids. The Taker leaned over to whisper in her ear and she giggled. This was it. He’d probably suggested they leave. Cara nudged Rolf, and he lifted one finger to Alistair who raised his radio to tell Amber to be on the alert at the front door.

  Shana pushed playfully at the man’s chest and shook her head. But she laughed the whole time and looked at him from under long lashes. Finally, she put a hand on his shoulder and nodded. The man smiled and took her arm. She started for the front, but he tugged her and motioned to the back of the bar. She hesitated, then shrugged and allowed him to lead her through the crowds. Her eyes made contact with Cara’s and excitement shone there, not fear.

  “Let’s go,” Rolf said to Cara and pointed with two fingers to Marc, Tor and Amber to follow.

  The Taker led Shana out a rear exit. When Rolf reached the door, he opened it a crack and peered out, then motioned for the others. They filed into the alley and followed Rolf, who could track the energy of the Taker.

  They wound further from the club, through alleys behind buildings. A rare light from backdoor entrances was the only illumination. Rats here and there scurried away at their passing. The foul smell of rubbish wafted from numerous garbage cans stored behind the shops and restaurants.

  Ahead, Shana’s laughter echoed. They reached the corner of a building and Rolf held up a hand. It seemed the Taker had stopped. Murmured voices ahead rose in volume then Shana said, “No. Stop.”

  “Let’s go.” Cara punched Rolf.

  He waved a hand and they all rushed forward, rounding the corner.

  Shana threw an arm out, breaking the man’s hold on her throat and planted a forceful kick to his groin. The man doubled over and she came down with both fists on the back of his neck. He collapsed to the ground, groaning.

  “I. Hate. Mean. People.” Shana kicked him after each clipped word.

  Marc reached Shana first and pushed her away from the Taker. His rounded eyes stared in shock at the man on the ground.

  “Bout time you got here, you almost missed all the fun,” Shana said. “Let’s finish this and go get the rest of them.”

  Rolf let out a short laugh. “Good job.”

  He knelt beside the Taker, staring at him with a frown. He glanced at Cara, then took a deep breath and placed his hand on the back of the man’s neck. His jaw twitched and a scowl washed over his features. Veins stood out on his temples, and a growl rumbled from his throat. It only took a minute then his lips curled back as he lifted his fingers.

  He stood and a powerful shiver wracked his body. He staggered and put a hand against the brick wall of a building to remain upright. He threw back his head, grimacing, and clutched his arms around his chest. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  Cara started forward, skin crawling. Horrified. What was wrong with him? “Rolf!”

  He held up a hand. She stopped and he leaned over, sucking in air. Not caring what he said, she rushed to his side, brushed his hand away, and put an arm across his shoulders. Tremors rippled in the taut muscles beneath her hand. A hint of something, like flesh burning, stung her nostrils. She couldn’t hold back a gag. Dear lord, this is what he had to go through to take their energy? And he’d been doing it for thousands of years.

  A new respect for his turmoil and determination swept through her, leaving her humbled and filled with compassion. He gave up happiness to fight this evil, with no end in sight. She’d never considered the depth of sacrifice he made.

  He straightened, rubbing his temples, his face etched with lines of pain. He patted her shoulder. “I’m okay. The corrupted light has to be purged once it’s in my body. This is why I must be the one to drain them.”

  Alistair’s face glistened in the moonlight, more pale than normal and Amber held onto Tor’s arm, wavering on her feet. Marc stared at Shana with an unreadable expression. Cara backed away, unable to speak.

  Rolf rubbed his hand and motioned them toward the main street. “We need to hurry. We’ll take taxis near where they live and walk the rest of the way.”

  Cara took a deep breath and hurried after him. The sight of him suffering left her shaken. But they had to carry on.

  “Are you okay?” Cara asked once they were in a taxi. She and Rolf rode with Alistair and the other four followed in another cab.

  His face was pale, but his blue eyes glistened in the darkness. “I’m fine. It’s painful but passes quickly.”

  She took his hand and squeezed it, pleased when he returned the pressure and didn’t pull away. Perhaps, he needed comfort after all. “I had no idea. I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

  Alistair leaned forward. “What exactly happens?”

  Rolf shrugged. “I’m not sure. I take in their tainted Light and it feels different, separate from my own Light. My energy core surrounds it; a burning sensation grows and spreads through my body. After a few seconds, the internal incineration fades away and the evil is gone.”

  “Bloody fascinating.” Alistair leaned back in his seat. “I’d like to know more about this.”

  “Let’s get through the night, and I’ll answer anything you want to know.” Rolf gave him a faint smile.

  They traveled to a rustic area where the ramshackle Takers’ house sat surrounded by tall grass at the end of a sandy road. Rolf led them closer through the shadows. Light blazed from the windows. A surge of anticipation hit Cara in the gut, surprising her.

  “Looks like they’re awake,” Tor murmured. “Everybody put on your hats and gloves. Don’t leave any evidence.”

  “We’ll surround the house,” Rolf said. “Alistair, you go to the back, and Amber will stay in the front in case one of them gets out. Marc, you, Shana and Tor go in the back door. Cara and I will take the front.”

  Marc, Tor, Shana and Alistair moved off to circle the house. Cara held onto Rolf’s arm until he nodded, and they approached the front. Rolf stepped up to the door and knocked. Beyond the door, someone shuffled, muttering.

  The door opened and a man peered out, an irritated expression wrinkled his face. He was young and thin, wearing a navy T-shirt and baggy jeans that hung on his hips. “Yeah, what do you want?”

  “Hey, sorry to bother you, but our car broke down and we don’t have cells. Could we use your phone?” Rolf said, smiling.

  The man’s eyes traveled up and down Cara, and his lips curled in an unpleasant smirk. Rolf peeled off his gloves.

  The
man’s grin faded, and his eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah? Well, come on in. The phone’s in there.” He pointed behind him, his eyes greedy as he stood aside for them to enter.

  “Thanks.” Rolf snaked out a hand and grabbed the man’s neck before he could move. The Taker’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged. He jerked and clawed at Rolf’s arms, then sank to his knees, limp. When his Light was gone, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor. Rolf leaned against the door frame until his spasm of internal turmoil passed. Cara drew in a breath, wishing she could ease his pain, but she knew that was impossible.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” A hulking man entered from another room, his eyes wide as he saw his friend on the floor.

  Rolf straightened to face him. Marc, Shana, and Tor charged in from the back and the giant turned. He made a grab for Tor, who ducked. Marc threw a punch to the man’s jaw, but it was a glancing blow. The Taker grabbed Marc’s throat with one meaty hand. He punched Marc in the stomach and sent him crashing against a wall where he collapsed.

  Shana screamed and lunged as Tor sent a side-kick to the man’s chest and knocked him back. Shana and Cara jumped on top, pinning the man to the floor and Tor grabbed his legs. A flying elbow hit Cara in the jaw and a spasm of pain coursed through her head. But she held on.

  “Who are you?” the man yelled as he struggled to escape.

  “What are Desmond’s orders for you?” Rolf asked, one knee on the floor, the other on the man’s arm. His voice was cold, deadly.

  The man turned white-rimmed eyes to Rolf, and his brows came together. “Who? What are you talking about? I don’t know no Desmond.”

  “Excellent.” Rolf put his hand behind the man’s neck, and the Taker’s eyes popped wide, his lids fluttered. He stopped struggling, and his stare fixed upward.

  Rolf rose and threw his head back, completing the ritual of the killing and cleansing in his soul. Shana gasped and ran to Marc’s side. Cara rushed after her. Marc moaned and flailed his arms while Cara examined him for injuries. Shana put her fingertips behind his ear to give him some of her Light, but he slapped her away.