Undoing the top button of her suit jacket, Regan stepped over the mail. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed her alarm clock and turned to glare at its illuminated face. It was still thirty minutes slow.
"You're the reason I missed my meeting,” she accused. “I worked weeks on that presentation, and who knows when Mr. Taki will be in San Francisco again.” Still glaring at the clock, she shrugged out of her jacket, tossed it on the bed, and reached for her jeans.
* * * *
Wearing jeans and a pink T-shirt emblazoned with Garth Brooks’ cherub-cheeked face, Regan smoothed the last wrinkle from a pale-green comforter. “I don't care what Mama would say.” She punched a lace-edged pillow into shape. “Making it now is stupid. I'll just be messing it up again in a few hours."
"Are you decent?” a voice called from the other side of the bedroom door.
"Come on in, Ben."
A tall black man stooped to get through the door. Regan smiled. He'd finally remembered to duck after banging his head on it three or four times.
Ben Samson. What would she have done without him these past years? She'd come to think of him and his basset hound Maggie as family, the only family she'd had since Kelsey's disappearance. She remembered the storm that had brought them together.
* * * *
It was the third week of constant rain, of her stepping around buckets that caught the persistent plop-plops coming from the ceiling. This morning a new drip had showed up, and she had used her last bucket.
The doorbell chimed. Regan propped the mop against the stairs and skirted the puddle. “That better be someone from the homeless shelter, or Reverend Joab or not, I'm calling a roofer."
She opened the door. A tall black man stood there. Water dripped off the brim of his fedora hat.
I already like him, she thought.
"Ma'am.” He raked the hat from his head. “My name's Ben. Reverend Joab sent me.” His hair was steel-wool wiry, salt-and-pepper gray. Her heart sank. He's too old to be climbing around on my roof. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he smiled and looked at her with dark, hopeful eyes, and she was lost.
* * * *
"Left in a hurry this morning, didn't you?” Ben said, and the memory evaporated.
Regan poked the pillow one last time and tossed it on the bed. “It was the stupid blackout."
"Saw it in the paper. Something to do with Mount Diablo, along with last week's heat wave and today's pea soup fog."
"Did they say what caused it?"
"They're ‘investigating the source of the disturbance.’ That's what they're doing."
They grinned at each other. “In other words, they don't have a clue, as usual,” Regan said.
From the backyard a low baying sounded and her grin changed to a frown. “Sounds like Maggie has Duchess treed again."
"I better go corral her,” Ben said. “Last time Maggie chased her cat, Mrs. Claude said she was going to call animal control.” He backed through the door, then stopped. “I almost forgot. I've got a surprise for you in the garden."
"You finished the wall."
Ben nodded.
"I'll be right down."
* * * *
Passing the kitchen table, Regan glanced at the oatmeal-encrusted bowl still waiting there.
"I know, Mama. It's Grandma's good china, but I just didn't have time. Why can't I get organized? Kelsey always was.” She shrugged and walked out onto the enclosed sun porch that Ben and Maggie called home.
As always, she glanced with a smile at April's photo of frolicking calico kittens on Ben's “Puppies and Kittens” calendar. As the date registered, she frowned. April tenth? Where had the ninth gone? She couldn't believe it. It had happened, just like the platitudes everyone mouthed at her. She'd finally gotten through an April ninth without all the aching memories and stomach-knotting fits of frustration. Maybe I am starting to accept that Kelsey is gone, she thought, and that I'm never going to see her again. Her eyes filled with tears. How could someone go on a photo shoot and just disappear? Seven years. Seven long, heart-breaking years. Shaking her head, she blinked the tears away. Kelsey's gone and I have to accept it. Tomorrow I'll call Reverend Joab and arrange for them to come get her clothes. She nodded her head. This time I'll really do it.
She stared out the long narrow windows of the porch. Ben, with the floppy-eared basset hound at his heels, crossed the backyard and perched on the last of the porch's flagstone steps. He motioned for Maggie to sit, and for once she did. Ben shook his finger in front of Maggie's nose. Regan couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was probably along the line of “love thy neighbor,” even if it was a cat.
Regan opened the screen door. “Hey, Mags.” The basset hound gave a loud bay and scrambled up the two steps to the porch door.
Laughing, Regan knelt and began their greeting routine; first a good ear scratch, then a flip to the back and a long tummy rub.
"I hope you like it,” Ben said, framed by the open screen door.
"The rose garden wall?” Regan patted Maggie one last time and stood.
"Yes."
"Let's go take a look at it."
"You really can't see much right now."
"I'll let my fingers do the looking. Hey, maybe we should take a bottle of champagne and christen it.” Regan stopped beside him and shivered. “God, what's with this crazy weather? It must be ten degrees colder then it was two hours ago."
He shrugged as they started across the back yard. Halfway across, she heard the musical notes of the front door's chimes. “Are you expecting anyone?"
Ben shook his head.
She glanced in the direction of the rose garden and hesitated. The bells chimed again. “Damn. It's probably a salesman, but I'd better check."
Frowning in annoyance, Regan went to the front door and looked through the oval pane of glass. A tall man stood in profile in the frosted sconce's light.
Sudden waves of emotion flooded her; happiness, anger, and despair. She felt her eyes fill with tears and in stunned surprise she wiped them away. What was wrong with her? She didn't even know this guy.
In his dark pants and green tunic, he looked like a wandering troubadour. Probably some down-on-his-luck thespian. Then he turned to face her, and Regan gasped at the birthmark on his cheek. Her hand crept to her shoulder and she shivered. She took a step back, shaking her head as she rubbed her goose-fleshed arms.
So their birthmarks resembled each other's. It meant nothing. Resembled, a voice inside her head parroted with amusement. They're identical.
Taking a deep breath, she unlatched the door and opened it only as far as the chain allowed. The man's eyes widened.
"Thea?” he whispered. “No, it cannot be."
"What?"
"I am sorry. For a moment, I thought I knew you."
Regan shook her head. “No, we've never met,” she said, ignoring the surging emotions inside her. He stepped closer, tripping on her welcome mat in the process and grasping the door jamb to remain upright.
"Are you all right?"
He took a deep breath and straightened, his gaze never leaving Regan's face. “Fine, thank you."
"Okay. Well, tell Reverend Joab I sent the check yesterday."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I sent the check I promised yesterday. You're from the homeless shelter, right?” She added at the blank expression on the man's face.
"I am not."
"Then what do you want?” she said abruptly.
"Regan Cafferty?"
She frowned. He knew her name. “Who wants to know?"
"I am Peter Canterville. I have come to take you to your sister, Kelsey."
Chapter 3
"UH-HUM, UH-HUM, UH-HUM.” The sound, like the buzz of a persistent fly, penetrated Kelsey's consciousness. She glanced up from the map-strewn table. “Enter."
The recruit was young, no more than sixteen. Kelsey's eyes flicked over his washed-out blue woolen shirt and trousers. Some uniform, she grimaced
. Well, at least they're all the same color. The recruit snapped a salute and her grimace turned into a frown. He should be home thinking of girls and dates, not standing sentry at a battlefield's edge. Am I the only one in this world to think this is wrong?
He stiffened at her frown. “One has returned, Queen's-Commander."
Only one? “Show him in."
"I must aid him."
"Aid him? Then why are you standing there?"
The young man flushed and scurried from the tent. When he returned, his arm encircled the waist of another. Sweat matted the man's gray hair and beard. One sleeve hung from his shoulder by a thread. Dried blood stained his tunic and trousers.
"Nigel.” Kelsey jumped to her feet.
He motioned with his hand. “Do not fret,” he said, “it's not all my blood."
"Take my chair.” Kelsey pushed it forward. The young recruit turned toward the chair, but the grizzled soldier pulled away from him. “I'll not sit while my commander stands."
Kelsey saw that only his will and pride kept the old soldier upright, and she swore beneath her breath. “You old fool. Get us another chair, lad."
They watched in silence as the boy hurried from the tent.
"He will make a good warrior someday,” Nigel said.
She scowled. “Not if I have anything to say about it."
The tent flap flew open and the recruit entered carrying a folding chair.
"Here, across from me,” Kelsey said.
"Queen's-Commander.” He snapped another salute, bobbled the chair, and it crashed to the floor. Red suffused his face.
Behind the boy, Nigel grinned. “Enough. Report to your post.” Then his face paled.
"Sir.” The boy squeaked out the single word, then he pivoted and fled through the tent's opening.
"Now sit and tell me what you discovered."
Nigel hobbled to the chair and settled into it. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I am the only runner left, and I couldn't get through."
"I sent six. Are you sure?"
A muscle twitched in his jaw as he opened his eyes. “I saw their bodies in a Ru'taha camp."
"Then we can expect no help,” Kelsey said.
Nigel raked his fingers through his hair. “Dirkk masses more Ru'taha and Black Vipers at the throat of the valley."
Kelsey's hands clenched into fists. “Damn. Why now?"
"Can he know?"
"About Regan? No, unless...” She saw Nigel shift in his chair, then wince. “Enough. Go to Helena. We'll talk more once she's tended you and you've rested."
Nigel levered himself from the chair. “I am sorry my news wasn't better."
Kelsey laid her hand on his trembling arm. “I'm happy you're here to give it to me."
She watched the old soldier limp from the tent, his dirt-caked boots leaving a trail behind. She walked to the open flap and beckoned her adjutant. “Find Rourk for me."
* * * *
Rourk Bannion hesitated outside Kelsey's tent. His left hand tightened around the silver helm he held against his side. Would he find commander or lover inside? Considering their parting this morning, he preferred commander. He took a deep breath and entered. “You sent for me?"
Kelsey glanced up from the table. “Nigel's back.” He wanted her to come to him, to take him in her arms. But she'd drawn the lines, and made it clear that, while on duty, she was his commander, nothing more.
"I heard,” he said, waiting.
"Damn. There's just no way.” She flipped the map over, resisting the urge to wad it into a ball. “He didn't get through. No one did."
"We are on our own."
"There's more.” She stood, walked to the tent's flap, jerked it open and stared outside. “Dirkk is massing Ru'taha and Black Vipers at the mouth of the valley."
"He means an all-out assault?"
"It looks that way."
"Then he must know about Regan."
"If he does, it confirms our fears."
"It's Thomas who's the traitor. I feel it."
She faced him. “I have to know for sure. Find out."
He nodded. “How long can we last?"
She turned away. “Regan and Peter should arrive soon. Tonight may be our last night alone."
"By the horns of the Dark One!” Rourk placed his helm on the table. “Do not dance around my question. You will slip away this very eve. You know what Dirkk will do to you if you're captured.” His jaw tensed.
She shook her head. “We settled that this morning."
"Nothing was settled.” Rourk grabbed her by the shoulders. “Damn you. I've lost one child and love. I'll not lose you."
Kelsey leaned her forehead against his chest. “With Regan's power..."
"Enough of Regan. You don't know if Peter found her, or even if she will come."
Kelsey twisted away from him. “She'll come. We promised each other."
"Your sister believes you are dead."
She stiffened. “Even if she doesn't come, we fight, win, and fight again. One thing I know, Dirkk won't take even one more of us to form into Ru'taha with his filthy magic."
Rourk closed his eyes. “I will take your life myself before I let him touch you."
The tent flap was pulled aside and her adjutant stuck his head in. “Queen's-Commander, the outlying forces are under attack.” Fear undercoated each word.
Rourk's eyes snapped open. Without a word, he grabbed his helm and pushed by the man.
"Sound the call,” Kelsey ordered.
"Yes, Queen's-Commander.” His voice faltered, but he sprinted away.
The tent flap dropped and she was alone. She reached for her pendant, frowned when she found nothing and clenched her empty hand. “So it begins. Don't let me down, Regan."
Chapter 4
FOR A MOMENT, Regan could not breathe and she seemed to be viewing the stranger from the end of a long tunnel. Then she drew a deep shuddering breath and whispered. “What did you say?"
"I have come to take you to Kelsey."
"My God.” Regan's stomach rolled and dipped. “Did Jack put you up to this? Is this sick joke pay back?"
The man frowned. “I do not joke."
"Get away...” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and finished. “...from my door before I call the police."
The man rubbed his right temple. “Listen, Miss Cafferty, I do not have much time. The rift will close soon. May I enter?"
"A rift?"
"Regan, Kelsey needs your help. Hellfire, we all need your help. You must come with me. You have no choice if you love your sister. How do I make you...?” He broke off and laughed shortly. “Of course.” He reached into his pocket. His hand came out in a closed fist. He thrust it toward the door and she jumped back.
He stared at her for a moment through the narrow opening, then frowned. “You have no reason to fear me. I am just running out of time and patience. Do you recognize this? Kelsey said you would."
He stretched his hand toward her. A pendant and gold chain lay in his palm. The pendant's milk-white stone shimmered rainbow colors in the porch's light.
"Turn it over,” Regan said, her voice just above a whisper.
"What?"
She swallowed, licked her lips, and then spoke louder. “Turn the pendant over."
He did.
Etched in the gold setting of the back was a heart with the initials C.M. & D.M. entwined. They stood for Catherine and Daniel Morrison, her maternal great-grandmother and great-grandfather. Their mother had willed Kelsey the pendant and Regan the matching earrings.
"Where did you get this?"
"Kelsey said you would understand. Now, may I enter?"
"Regan, are you all right?” Ben asked from behind her.
She turned. He leaned against the kitchen doorjamb with Maggie at his side. “How much did you hear?"
"Just the part about the pendant. Is it your sister's?"
"Kelsey always wore it."
"Maggie, stay."
Ben moved to stand next to Regan. He looked the stranger over. Their gazes locked, then Ben nodded. “I think you should at least hear him out. I'll deck him if he tries anything."
Regan hesitated. “All right.” She shut the door, then removed the chain. “Come in."
"Thank you, Regan,” he stopped his face coloring, “I mean, Miss Cafferty. It seems I already know you. Kelsey speaks of you all the time."
"Where did you see my sister?"
"Daradawn. She entered through a rift and has been trapped there for seven years."
Regan stared at him for a moment, then turned and met Ben's eyes. Ben frowned and shrugged. Regan turned back. “Mr. Canterville. You did say your name was Peter Canterville?"
He nodded.
"You're not making any sense. Your world. Daradawn. A rift. Just tell me where you found my sister's pendant."
"I told you. Kelsey gave it to me.” He grabbed her arm. “Come, gather your spells. The walk to the Mountain of the Devil is far."
Regan jerked her arm free. “Don't."
Ben stepped between her and Peter, while Maggie growled deep in her chest.
Peter dropped his hand to his side. His lips tightened. “Kelsey said the pendant would bring you."
"Tell me where you found it. I'll turn the whole thing over to a PI."
"A PI?"
"Private investigator.” She faced Ben. “I know it doesn't prove she's still alive, but do you think the police will re-open the case?"
"Kelsey is not dead, but she may be, she and many others, if you do not come with me."
Regan swung back to face Peter. “Blackmail. That's what this is, isn't it?"
Peter frowned at her. “Blackmail?"
"How much do you want? If you've hurt her..."
Peter's face flushed. “Hurt her? Kelsey is my friend."
"Your friend? Just who the hell are you, and where is this Daradawn? Is it in the Middle East somewhere? Is Kelsey stuck in some harem, or..."
"I do not know what you mean,” Peter said, his voice rising. “I do not know where the East of Middle is, and Kelsey is in no ... harem. She leads my people in a fight for their very existence..."
"Okay, that's enough,” Ben broke in. “You're a loony-bird. We should never have let you in. What we need to do now is call the cops."
The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series] Page 2
