Dealers of Light

by Lara Nance

  “I’m fine.” Marc blinked and Shana withdrew her hand, brow furrowed.

  “Are you okay?” Shana whispered.

  “Nothing broken,” Cara said. She worked her jaw to make sure it wasn’t broken either.

  Marc groaned and pushed himself to his feet. Shana kept a hand on his arm. “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry, Shan.”

  Tor and Rolf released the Taker and stood. Everyone stared at the two still bodies splayed on the floor. Cara felt no elation now, only sorrow they had killed three people tonight. Sorrow it had been necessary.

  Amber and Alistair came in through the two doors, front and back, then paused across the room from the scene of action. Tears pooled in Amber’s eyes, and Alistair rubbed his forehead, frowning.

  “It’s done. Let’s get out of here.” Tor was the first to recover. He met Amber and put his arm around her, leading her outside.

  “No evidence they were part of Desmond’s group?” Alistair asked when they were out in the yard.

  “No. That guy was sincerely puzzled when Rolf mentioned Desmond’s name,” Cara said. “Which is good. We have more time now.”

  Marc and Shana came out of the house last, holding hands. Cara smiled. Maybe some good came of tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Cara let hot water from the shower pour over her—massaging jets of healing warmth. She leaned against the shower wall and let the heat seep into every inch of her body, hoping to purge the gruesome scenes of the night. A shiver wracked her, in spite of the warm water, and she hugged her arms around her waist.

  The chill passed and she scrubbed her skin with a loofa until it was red, leaving only a cloying inner essence, all that remained of her contact with evil. Was it possible to actually wash away something so bad? She’d helped kill someone. The reality of it left her frozen with remorse.

  She sighed. We had no choice. The Takers had to be destroyed. Relief pulsed through her that no one in their group had been hurt. She’d been amazed and proud of how they had worked together.

  After towel-drying her hair, she pulled on leggings and a white cotton shirt, wincing from sore muscles. She headed to the salon to see how the rest of the group fared at dealing with their own demons after this first mission.

  Shana and Marc leaned against the rail on the deck, heads together. Dusty and Rambo sat at the foot of Alistair’s chair. The older man held a glass of brandy with a faraway expression on his face.

  “Hey,” Cara said to Alistair as she went to the bar and poured herself a glass of red wine. “Where’s everyone else?”

  He blinked, distracted from his reverie. “What? Oh, Cara, yes, sorry. Tor and Amber are in their cabin. I believe Amber is disturbed with the night’s events, and Tor is comforting her. Rolf is with the captain. He wants to leave in the morning.”

  If only this interlude in Bermuda would last forever, and they could forget the threat of Desmond. But it wasn’t possible. She strolled toward him, sipping her wine. “Oh, well. I should have known he’d want us back in the U.S. to deal with Desmond now. We proved ourselves.”

  “Cara, my dear,” Alistair said, his eyes kind, but tinged with worry. “A lot has changed in your life recently. Are you all right?”

  “A lot’s changed for all of us.” She sat in a chair beside him where she could reach down to pet Dusty.

  “True.” Alistair nodded and sipped his brandy.

  “Did it bother you?” Cara asked after several moments.

  “What?”

  “You know…killing those men.”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Rationally speaking, I knew it had to be done, and it would prevent other innocent people from being killed…”

  “But?”

  “Yes. But.” He shook his head. “It was a bloody shock to actually see it happen, to take part in it.”

  “There are others out there, Alistair. We have to kill them, too.” She sat up and gulped her wine. “Do you think it will get…easier?”

  He sucked in a deep breath then let it out through pursed lips. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  The door clicked open as Rolf entered. “How are you?” His eyes were hooded.

  “Okay.” She shrugged. He’d suffered so much more than her. “I’ll deal with it.”

  He poured himself a glass of wine. “We’re leaving in the morning.”

  “Alistair told me.”

  “We need to return and stop Desmond before his control can increase any further.” He crossed to settle into a chair beside them.

  “I understand.” She glanced down, swirling her wine.

  Alistair leaned back. “You know, I’ve been digging into the history of this Andean opal more, and it seems to have amazing powers. We need to be very careful when the time comes to confront Desmond. In fact, it might be a good idea to find a way to take the stone as our primary objective.”

  Cara’s head popped up. Of course, we have to take the stone.

  “Interesting,” Rolf murmured. “Good point, Alistair.”

  “Then he’d be just another Taker, right?” Cara asked.

  “He’s still very powerful, but without the stone he’ll be vulnerable, unable to link with the other cities,” Rolf said. “I think you’re right, Alistair. We take Charleston then we go after the stone.”

  Coldness enveloped Cara, and she hugged her arms against her chest. Their idyllic island interlude was over.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Three days later, Avalon passed from the Atlantic into Charleston Harbor. Cara peered out the window of the salon but the gray curtain of heavy rain outside hid any sign of the shore.

  During their trip, the group remained subdued, but continued to practice fighting everyday unless the seas were too rough. They watched the news, but no one had caught on to Desmond’s web of control. The satellite reception had been disrupted by the storm for the last few hours, so the TV and its string of innocent news stories remained silent.

  Jittery anticipation kept Cara pacing across the carpet of the salon the closer they came to their destination. She stopped at a window then glanced at Rolf sitting by the dining table studying a chart, avoiding eye contact—as he had throughout most of the passage. She’d only had direct encounters during the daily practice sessions for shielding. Now, they were able to merely hold hands and project the shield. Every time they practiced it became easier and faster. But every other minute of each day he managed to avoid her.

  “Can you see anything?” Amber came up behind her, her voice barely audible over the roar of rain beating the windows.

  Cara shook her head. “No, it’s a deluge out there.”

  “We’re close, though, we should be at the dock in about thirty minutes,” Rolf picked up his foul-weather coat and jogged upstairs to the pilothouse.

  Cara paced across the room, arms crossed over her chest. Soon they would be back in enemy territory, and they had no idea what to expect. Rolf returned with information that the city marina had answered their call and reserved a slip for them. That was all they knew at this point.

  “I’ve never been here before.” Shana stared out a window on the other side of the salon.

  “It’s a beautiful old city,” Alistair said. “I have lovely memories of staying here in the past.”

  “Not long now.” Calm assurance marked Rolf’s features as he rolled up his chart, which relieved Cara’s tension a bit. “The rain is easing a little, too.”

  “What’s the plan?” Tor asked.

  “We know the Takers’ address from the records Sean downloaded, unless they’ve moved. But I want to see it for myself to determine how many Takers are involved. I need to feel their energy. Once we dock, we’ll wait for nightfall. I’ll go to the house where they’re staying and confirm the location. Once I do, I’ll come back, and we’ll work out how we’re going to attack them.” Rolf’s eyes slid to Cara and warmed with tenderness. Then he quickly looked away.

  “I wonder how many
of them there are.” Shana sank down beside Marc on the couch. He put a hand on her knee and she smiled, covering his hand with her own.

  “From the information Sean hacked, the groups are fairly small, probably no more than five or six,” Rolf said.

  Cara bit her lip. “I wish you would take someone with you.”

  He smiled and shook his head, turning to the others. “Keep the window shades down while in port. We don’t want anyone seeing us working out or being unusually active. Stay on the boat and keep your outside activity to a minimum. That goes especially for me and Cara. We know Desmond is aware of us.”

  The door at the top of the steps leading to the pilothouse opened, and Sean stuck his head in. “Sir, we’re approaching the City Marina now.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Rolf said to Sean, then turned to the group. “Stay inside and let the crew tie the boat up. Go ahead and lower the blinds.”

  As he left, fear surged into Cara’s chest like a hammering fist. She pushed the emotion away with firm determination and started the process of covering the windows. The vibration of the engines changed, lessening in intensity. The boat slowed in its approach, and the pounding rainfall became light splatters. The others ran to the windows to help lower the blinds then remained there peeking out between cracks.

  The dock finally slid into view. Only one or two people in rain gear straggled along the docks in the gray gloom. A completely different scene from sparkling blue Bermuda.

  Two men in yellow foul-weather suits stood on the T-head ready to catch ropes from Avalon’s crew. Rolf stayed out of sight and let his crew secure the ship until the dock hands left and there was no one in sight.

  “Not much going on in this rain.” Marc stepped away from the window, running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Beads of sweat hung above his upper lip.

  Amber peeked through the blinds. “It doesn’t look like it’s been affected by the Net.”

  “What were you expecting, sweetheart?” Tor came up behind her and nuzzled her neck.

  “I don’t know, zombies or something.” She giggled.

  “Zombies are the dead raised to life by some spell. What are people with reduced Light called, I wonder?” Alistair put his hands in his pants’ pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  “Good question,” Tor said. “How about The Sucked?”

  “Half-lights,” said Shana.

  “Dimmers,” said Amber.

  “That’s it.” Cara pointed to Amber. “Dimmers.”

  They laughed, but with quiet chuckles followed by guilty silence. They were all uneasy about the next few days and their plan to kill the Takers—Desmond’s Takers, this time.

  “Desmond’s Dimmers,” Alistair said. “It has a certain ring to it. Not pleasant, of course.”

  “Desmond’s the new Hitler,” Tor said. “He’s practicing genocide.”

  “Creep,” Shana said, shaking her head.

  “Evil creep,” Amber added, chewing a nail.

  Cara glanced up when Rolf entered from the side door to the deck. He shrugged out of his foul-weather jacket and water drops scattered on the carpet. “Whew, finally tied up.”

  “At least it’s stopped raining.” Shana dropped the blind back in place.

  “Good. I didn’t relish the thought of roaming through the city in that downpour.” Rolf rubbed his hand over his wet hair.

  “Desmond has people on the alert for you,” Cara said, her eyes on his black spiky hair. “Maybe we should change your appearance.”

  “What do you have in mind?” He eyed her skeptically.

  “Change some part of your appearance, like your hair.”

  “Are you suggesting I dye my hair?”

  “Well, he’d be stupid not to have his people focused on capturing you,” Cara said. “And a man dressed all in black with black hair is hardly subtle.”

  “He knows about you, too.” Tor pointed at her.

  “True,” Cara said. “So, what do you say? I always wanted to be a brunette.” She flipped a strand of hair at Rolf.

  “I guess I can’t disagree,” he said. “But I’ll go for blond myself.”

  “We need a drug store,” Amber said.

  “There’s one near here a couple blocks away,” Rolf said. “I can go on foot.”

  “No, I’ll go.” Marc jumped to his feet, eyes alight. “Cara’s right. If you’re spotted it can ruin all our plans.”

  Rolf eyed him for a minute, then nodded. “Okay. Just remember to walk slowly and don’t talk to anyone. It’s dangerous out there.”

  ###

  “How do I look?” Cara came upstairs to the salon and twirled to show off her new dark auburn hair.

  “Makes you more serious.” Amber tilted her head to one side.

  She walked over to Rolf, eyeing his now blond, spiked hair. “I think the blond is nice. On the other hand, you’re like a rock star.”

  “She’s got a point, Billy Idol,” Shana said, clamping a hand over her mouth and turning away. Marc lounged beside her on the couch, grinning.

  “Very funny.” Rolf shrugged into a khaki trench coat and placed a brown fedora on his head. His eyes met Cara’s, and he must have seen the concern she knew shaded her face.

  “You mustn’t worry tonight, Cara. I really do know what I’m doing,” he whispered as he passed her on the way to the door.

  She twirled a strand of hair around her index finger. “I know. But I still get to worry.”

  “Don’t wait up.” He saluted to the group.

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered. No matter what he told her, she would be terrified until he returned.

  ###

  Rolf moved along the sidewalk, keeping his pace slow, his long trench coat wrapped tight around him. The fedora he positioned over his eyes. Cara intruded into his mind, her lovely eyes clouded with worry. She wanted a relationship with him despite their differences, but he had to be strong and try to make the right decision. A moment of pleasure wasn’t worth her death or the guilt torturing him when he outlived her. He had to make her see the truth. Avoiding her had become difficult, though.

  Painful.

  On previous trips to Charleston, this street bustled with activity even into the wee hours of the morning. Now, only one or two people straggled by, keeping their heads down. He peered into closed shop windows—dark with merchandise from summer still displayed—subtle hints of the Light depletion. The open restaurants were sparsely filled. Paper blew across the street and gathered in damp, gray clumps at the curbs.

  A squeak to his right brought him to a stop. A street person wheeled an old grocery cart down the opposite sidewalk, the screech, screech of its wheels an anomaly in the abnormally quiet streets. The old man gazed at his shuffling feet, never acknowledging Rolf.

  Rolf raised his head. The sky had cleared and stars sparkled in the inky blackness. The air smelled crisp and clean after the recent downpour. He continued his path, his senses on alert for signs of the Takers.

  He reached King Street before he picked up any hint of the tainted energy—a faint, eerie chill, the trail leading to the west. Exactly the direction they thought the Takers would be from Sean’s hacked information. Good, they hadn’t moved.

  After several blocks, the twinge of evil grew stronger, crawling across his skin. He paused to study the residential area of old restored townhomes. He didn’t need a map, his senses led him to the right, and he continued down a side street with tree branches waving over his head. The limbs cast ghostly waving shadows on the pavement. In the distance, a cat yowled.

  Rolf slowly turned in a circle. The street was dark and empty, the pavement glistening in the light of streetlamps. He kept on in the direction of the Takers. His trail ended at an old three-story house at the end where the street curved in an “L” shape. Moving further into the shadows, he continued to the patch of trees behind the house. Lights glared in most of the windows. He leaned against a large oak tree, content to watch for a while.

  After
an hour, he counted five different people moving about in the house. It didn’t mean there weren’t more, but gave a good indication of what numbers his people would have to deal with.

  Lights in two upper windows blinked out, and he slipped closer, avoiding any pools of illumination coming from the ground floor windows. He crept forward to the back of the house to the area he determined might be the living room, a double window beside the sliding glass doors. He peeked in and glimpsed a brown leather couch and chairs, but quickly ducked as two voices floated from the open window.

  “Why do we have to wait?” a deep male voice asked.

  “Desmond wants to make sure everything is stable before expanding to the next group of cities,” another man replied.

  “The more people we control, the more money is coming in.”

  “Better keep your ideas to yourself. You don’t want to cross Desmond. Trust me.”

  The voices deteriorated to mumbling as the two men moved out of his hearing range. He leaned against the house. Interesting. It seemed they had more time than he anticipated before further expansion. Very good news. With this group out of the web, Desmond’s area of control would shrink.

  He moved into the shadows at the side of the yard and made his way up the street, concealed by trees and hedges until he was well away from the house.

  The location of the Takers had been found and the time had come to test the group. If they were able to eliminate these Takers, they would move on to Desmond himself.

  Time would tell.

  The biggest danger was that Desmond would know at once Rolf had instigated the attack should the South Carolina group go missing, and he’d prepare for an assault. It was a gamble, but Alistair might be right, and they should go after the stone instead of trying to fight Desmond directly.

  On the positive side, Desmond had no idea Rolf had anyone with him other than Cara. A surprise in their favor. The other surprise would be the shield he and Cara could form. Like the general he had been in one of his many lifetimes, he tallied up their assets and weaknesses and, in his mind, played them against those of his enemy.