The women and their children were housed behind this grassy knoll in small cottages that had been built for the Civil War widows. Danica could spend hours discussing how she wanted to restore the little bungalows and bring back traditional farming, instead of simply mowing the grass. She thought it would be therapeutic for the children.
Jake thought it was a good idea and somebody should clean up the old cemetery, too.
“It’s a gorgeous bit of country, Jake,” Astrid commented, her voice deceptively soft. “Did you see the owls go past?”
“I think we’re pretty damn exposed out here.”
“Is your skin crawling yet?”
“No, but I don’t read battlefields. That’s Logan’s business.”
“Flatland with water running past and a few houses in a circle at the center to defend,” she mused. “It hasn’t changed much in the past centuries.”
She tucked her hand into his elbow and allowed him to head for the largest bungalow. All of the shelter’s residents had been moved to other safe houses, supposedly only for the night.
The tears shed had racked his heart.
“Who’s buried here?” Astrid stopped at the cemetery gate. It was a simple place, with an arch over the gate and roses laced with thorns around the wrought-iron fence.
“Civil War dead, mostly. This was a signals post for both Blue and Gray during the War but the marsh brought a lot of fever.”
She stooped and sifted her hand through the dirt, her eyes shadowed in the darkening light.
“How many men do you think will come?” he asked abruptly.
“Maybe a dozen, quite possibly more. Certainly well-armed.”
“What do you call well-armed?” he asked warily.
“Fifty-cal rifles, C-5, RPGs, worse.”
“No way. Any of that would tear apart those buildings like they were tissue paper. You don’t use that crap against civilians because there won’t be anything left of them afterward!”
“Exactly.” Worlds of anguish and experience dwelt in her voice.
Full realization of his opponent hit him and his knees almost buckled.
“If the bastards are willing to kill a government bureaucrat and a well-known lawyer to put a Pentagon lab on this spot—”
“Then they won’t stop at butchering unknown women and children who have already dropped out of the system. No.” Astrid kissed his hand.
He held her tighter than his hope of heaven until his blood stopped running cold. It was a long time before they started walking again.
“Can you stop them with your magick?” He wanted some hopeful shit for a lullaby before he went to bed.
“Not if they’re well-armed and numerous.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Do you have the weaponry to hold them off?”
“Against that kind of firepower? I’m not SWAT. No.”
“ ’Fraid of that.” She took the first step into the bungalow.
“But I’m a kubri.” He caught her by the waist. “Lots of power there for you to work with, right?”
“Lots of chances for things to go wrong, Jake!”
“Can I give you enough magick to stop them?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes and the sun painted her skin crimson.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No—but I don’t want to lose you the way I lost Gerard!”
“You won’t. I promise you, I’m going to be a pain in your ass for years.”
“Really?” One emerald eye regarded him dubiously.
“I swear by the grave of every Hammond who ever defended the Old Dominion that I will stay with you.”
“Okay.” She blinked back tears. “Let’s go practice the bond. We’ve got a few hours yet before they’re likely to arrive.”
“Where’s my brother?” Logan braced his hands on his hips and glared at the intruders. Thank God he’d paid attention to his instincts and come home early.
Danica, one of Jake’s coworkers, and two strangers stared back at him from his garage.
Worse, the dude had the keys to Jake’s Mercedes in his hand.
“Easy now, big guy,” the stranger crooned. “Nothing here to worry about.”
“Yeah?” If he kept talking long enough, one of the neighbors should see the light and check them out. Lafferty was the biggest busybody around; he’d do. That’d be better than using guns in Jake’s neighborhood. Not that he lacked those. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Logan, Jake said we could borrow his Mercedes.” Danica edged forward.
“Jake said what?” Jake hadn’t let anybody touch his vehicle since first Logan, then their dad had wrecked his car.
“It’s an emergency and we need a very trustworthy car.” She gulped.
Shit, she’d been crying.
“That’s built like a tank,” the other woman added flatly and came forward into the light.
“You’re the lady I saw by the river, with the mother and child. Who disappeared.” Damn, she was beautiful close-up.
Her mouth thinned. “Yes.”
“Hammond said I could drive it,” the guy contributed in the world’s purest Boston accent.
“Riiight.” Logan reached for his cell phone. “I’m going to see what he has to say about this.”
“Not now, he’s already on guard duty,” the woman snapped.
Logan’s hand froze millimeters above the holster at the small of his back. He couldn’t even wiggle his fingers.
Danica whimpered.
“Crap.” Logan counted to three and smiled at the bitch, as if nothing was wrong. He’d seen crazy shit before but not like this. Time to fall back on SF basics: improvise, adapt, overcome. “If I promise not to call my brother, will you free my hand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then.” He held up his hands and waggled his fingers at them. “How about I offer you another deal?”
“What?” She sounded suspicious as an Afghani bazaar dealer. Good, that might help keep them all alive.
“I’m an excellent bodyguard and I’m very well-armed.” Especially after he got back into Jake’s house. “Why don’t I come with you, wherever you’re going?”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I ain’t letting Jake’s car out of my sight. Call it a brotherly love kind of thing.” Like maybe it will lead to where you’ve hidden my brother.
“That’s crazy,” the man exclaimed. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“You don’t know what kind of passenger you’re buying, mister. I ride shotgun real well.” He eyed the woman. “What do you think?”
She gave him a long considering stare that seemed to expose all of his dirt and most of his hidden agenda.
“We’ll do it. He can carry the money instead of you, Danica.”
Carry the money? What the hell was going on?
“Yes? Oh yes!” Danica bounced into the air and leaped on Logan. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
She kissed his cheek.
He hoped he’d survive the night without meeting any MPs or cops.
Or whatever the hell else was chasing this bunch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Mist thickened the air and lay like jewels on the tree branches. It was early morning, the start of an urban workday, but the sun was still a hazy jewel in a gray sky, not an all-powerful god.
A truck’s engine rumbled in the distance, then abruptly whined to a higher pitch.
“Must have hit that patch of dirt when they came off the main road,” Jake commented, keeping his voice soft enough not to carry.
“Maybe they’ll get stuck,” Astrid answered. Pity she didn’t have enough spare magick to make the wish a reality.
They stood close to the old cemetery, far enough from most of the cottages to observe but not be seen. It also put them more than a hundred yards from where the road entered the living quarters.
But the heart and soul of Enfield House�
��s magickal reserves slept here, shimmering deep under the dirt like a silver caudron.
They both wore soft black wool clothing and high-topped, pure leather boots. No synthetics, not today with this much magick likely.
“They should reach the first cottage right about now,” Jake said. “Polite thing to do is post a notice, knock on the door—”
Whomp! An enormous bellow roared across the meadow. An instant later, fire jolted the low-hanging clouds and wood crackled its death throes. The water-spangled mist deepened to a darker gray and the woodlands’ clean scent faded into rough-edged smoke.
Astrid closed her eyes before the tears spilled over.
“Where the hell did those bastards get a flamethrower? No other way for them to burn buildings that fast without a bomb,” Jake said furiously. “Never mind; any pocket anarchist can build one. Shit, shit, shit.”
“Half an hour for a cottage to burn?” Astrid wondered.
“More like five minutes, fifteen at the most. It’s old wood, which hasn’t been tended.” Jake pounded his fists together. “Bastards can claim the property owner’s right to clear unsafe buildings.”
“But they didn’t knock.”
“We’re the only ones who know that.”
The rapid beating of a helicopter’s blades overhead reinforced the enemy’s plans for privacy.
Whomp! Another bellow and the harsh tang of smoke deepened. A man laughed and the unmistakable chug-chug-chug of .50 cal bullets ripping apart walls tore into Astrid’s heart. Anybody left inside would be bloody sawdust.
Jake lifted his rifle and swept the field with his thermal sights. “How many?” Astrid asked, just to confirm the bad news. Any sahir who’d murdered twice and built two excellent invisibility spells—the mask and the license plates—would probably want a solid phalanx of farasha thugs to clear his property.
“Your estimate of two dozen was pretty good, honey. None of them in full body armor.”
“Wonderful.”
Did she and Jake have enough magick to stop them, even with Enfield House’s assistance?
“May be on the low side, though.”
“Damn.” Her stomach rolled over and headed for her knees.
“Do you have any magickal ways to stop them, honey? Otherwise, I’m going to use some old-fashioned cop tricks on them. You can stay here where it’s safe until the local police arrive.”
“Wait!” She caught his hands. There was no way one man could stand up against two dozen brutes, armed with flamethrowers or worse.
Like it nor not, she’d have to risk both their lives to summon enough power to stop the other sahir’s army.
Jake’s big Mercedes shook like a drunk in a California earthquake but the Bostonian still handled it like a race car driver. He made three lanes out of two, drove the wrong way down one-way streets, and turned in front of cop cars.
Logan was reluctantly impressed. He was also glad Elswyth had talked Danica into staying home. Whatever was going on here was meant for pros, not amateurs. He might not be briefed in, but he’d play out the hand.
“Holy crap!” A dozen bricks flew across their path from a construction site. “But it’s foggy today, not windy.”
Elswyth shot him a pitying look and said nothing.
Nathan peeled right and shot into a parking space, barely big enough for a Volkswagen Beetle, but right in front of the courthouse. He leaned over the seat. “Hurry up and redeem the damn mortgage. I have to protect the car, so I can’t help you from here.”
Nathan had been helping? What would it have been like if he hadn’t?
Elswyth was already sliding out the door. Logan started to open his on the other side but she grabbed his hand.
Logan glanced back at Nathan, so startled at being treated like a child that any reassurance was welcome.
Nathan met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Don’t let go of her if you want to live.”
Dude was dead serious. Logan almost wished he was back doing combat search and rescue where intel gave him some idea who the bad guys were.
But he latched onto the lady with one hand and his trusty Sig Sauer with the other. He could fight his way through hell one-handed.
Viper dumped a drawer onto the floor, one ear open for sirens. None yet, just the lovely sound of trash going up like firewood and some hired hands taking target practice.
He’d brought more staff than necessary but he had the cash. He needed to get in and out fast, to get the job done before any cops or firemen arrived. Not that those would stop him—but he’d always prided himself on a clean getaway and dead cops made for determined pursuers.
Dammit, didn’t any of the bitches know how to steal? At least one of them should have robbed her husband before running off, then hidden the loot here. They hadn’t taken any suitcases with them when they evacuated last night. So the money should still be here.
Or some jewelry. He knew a couple of fences in Europe who’d give him a good deal on diamonds. That might give him enough cash to escape from Mr. Big.
He wrenched another drawer open with redoubled zeal.
The boys would wait for him. They had to, since they wouldn’t get the rest of their pay until the trip home.
“Hold onto my hands, Jake,” Astrid ordered. Calm settled into her bones, the clarity of a sahir taking the first step into a spell.
“But I’d have to turn my back on them,” he objected.
“We need to share our touch, our sight, our breath, our hearts. The focus is mine, as sahir, but the strength comes through you.”
“Gotcha.” Jake’s dark eyes met hers and filled her with absolute trust.
She had to believe this would work. No matter who backed that army, she must have faith that she and Jake would win on this battlefield, not die the way Gerard had.
Jake’s hands wrapped around hers in the beautiful, rough grip of a strong man. She turned her hands and caught his wrists until they were completely linked.
Power hummed at their heels and sniffed their flesh, like a torch’s first tentative approach to a bonfire.
Whomp! Wood’s death cry screamed through their bones as fire tore another old building away from its link to the earth.
Astrid’s stomach heaved hard then settled back into place.
She must risk everything.
“Dear God!” Jake braced his feet wider to stand fast. “Do you have your prism? We need it real soon.”
“Between us.” She pointed with her chin.
Summoned by its name, the crystal spun slowly between them. Rainbows of light danced through the mist in tiny sparks, only to shudder every time another gust of smoke passed by.
Astrid focused every bit of her being, every drop of blood, every dream of seeing tomorrow with Jake, until she became a creature of willpower, bright as a tall candle. She aimed herself into the prism until she found a place where time didn’t exist. There she chanted a spell glimpsed in Gerard’s family library, one that even the Shadow Council’s Elders would have shaded their eyes against.
Boom! The universe spun like a giant kaleidoscope around her, colors shaping and reforming around her head faster than blades could carve flesh.
Afterward, the physical world gleamed in silvery-bright lines of force, shaded by brilliant shades of health and power, beyond the prism. The barren rosebushes lifted their heads when she spoke again.
“Do you feel the earth, Jake? The land your ancestors farmed and died for? Are buried in?”
“Yes.” His gaze was fixed on the lights.
“Reach down and become one with it.”
She opened the portal a little wider, broad enough for a powerful trio of kubris and their sahirs. Not a rookie kubri and an unrated sahir, who might shatter and die in the attempt.
Jake’s grip loosened to become a bracelet that existed in both this time and the past. His smile shifted to a seer’s, which understands more than the pen can write.
Thank God. He’d entered the spell safely—but could
he channel enough power?
Golden motes sparked and floated into being around him. They dove back into the earth, then spun up through his bones until he became luminous.
Kubri, the conduit, the bridge to power . . .
His eyes met hers and the golden fire leaped between them. For the first time, she tasted the earth’s full power, which was only possible when a sahir freely joined to a single kubri. It whirled through her faster than light, richer than brandy, deeper than the sea.
She could have wept for its glory.
Instead she sang a single note and her prism rang like a bell.
A shockwave passed through earth and sky, not of force, but of seeing. Everything became suddenly clearer, as if a telescope had suddenly come into focus. Every color was richer and deeper, as if seen through the finest stained glass.
The fog faded slightly.
They hadn’t done enough yet to cleanse the evil. Damn.
“Let all warriors within sound of this bell rise to defend Enfield House. As you fought before, may you fight again!”
She repeated the incantation twice more, each time singing the note slightly higher until she closed the chord. The shockwave ran deeper through earth and air each time until the fog faded to wisps.
Jake said nothing and his golden aura remained steady, pouring power into her, hot as a smithy’s fires. She could still stand upright and focus their attack, not collapse from exhaustion or the pain lurking at the spell’s edges.
She hummed very softly and waited.
A handful of men appeared at the wood’s edge, half-hidden by the rapidly evaporating fog. All of them wore the fine gray uniforms of the Civil War’s early years, with the casual ease of men to whom weapons were more necessities than toys. Their outlines were clear-cut, yet their bodies lacked substance, like filmstrips held up to the light.
Jake squinted.
Astrid closed her eyes and prayed as she hadn’t since she’d left Nebraska during that spring blizzard over a century ago.
“Grandpa?” he said incredulously. “Great-Grandpa Joseph?”
Chime! Another shock wave rolled the ground. Every one of the men became completely, utterly solid, as if made of flesh and blood, not celluloid or glass.
The Shadow Guard Page 22
