“Yeah.”
“That’s cool. Can we start playing again?”
“Sure.” Brandon blew out a quick breath and called out the next song to the beat of his foot thumping on the stage. “One, two, three, go!”
An hour later the concert was over and Brandon stood in front of the stage praying with people, hearing their stories, signing autographs, and scanning the back of the room. There was no use—the stalker had never shown up after a show—but he couldn’t help himself.
As the last concertgoer turned and waved one more time at Brandon, Kevin clicked up to him on his right. “Done?”
Brandon glanced at the crew milling around the stage, breaking down their gear. “The stalker was here again.”
“Yeah, Anthony told me.” Kevin nodded. “And we were ready. The guys watched hard.”
“And?”
Kevin stepped closer and lowered his voice. “They saw him tonight.”
“What?”
“Apparently he left from a door fifty feet from where two of them stood. They went after the guy.”
“Talk to me.” His heart pounding, Brandon stared at Kevin. “Who is he? What does he want? What’d the guy have to say?”
“They didn’t get to talk to him.”
“Hold it. They see the guy leave the concert, they’re only fifty feet away, and they couldn’t find him?”
Kevin shook his head. “I don’t know what happened. They say they ran after him. Turned the same corner the guy did three seconds earlier, but when they got there the hall was empty. There were only two doors and both were locked.”
Heat washed over Brandon. Zennon. Had to be. Or someone who had learned Reece’s teleportation trick. The former was more likely. Fine. Zennon wanted to stalk him? Brandon would hunt the demon in return.
“Next concert I want security racked and stacked every ten yards. We’re going to corner this guy and find out who he is. And if he’s not human, I know who and what he is, so we’ll get ready for that possibility as well.”
“Something right here”—Kevin pointed to his stomach—“tells me there won’t need to be a next time.”
EIGHT
BRANDON STARED AT KEVIN AND GAVE A SLOW NOD. AS he’d told Marcus that afternoon, his gut was saying the same thing.
Twenty minutes later Brandon hefted his Nike bag onto his shoulder and strode for the back door of the arena. Just before he got there, two of his bodyguards fell into step with him, their black steel-toed boots clicking on the concrete floor of the hallway.
“Thanks, guys.”
“No problem, Mr. Scott.”
“You keep calling me Mr. Scott, either of you, and I’m going to lay you both out with one punch.”
The second bodyguard cleared his throat. “I have grave doubts you’d be able to accomplish that, Mr. Scott. I don’t believe you could do it with ten punches.”
The first bodyguard gave a mock cough. “Maybe twenty.”
Brandon put his hand against the back door and grinned. “That’s why I love being around you two. Let’s go.”
Brandon saw the man’s moving silhouette the instant he stepped through the backstage door leading to the roped-off parking lot. The streetlight above and behind the man cast a long shadow of him that ended at the bottom of the steps in front of Brandon and his bodyguards. If the man saw them, he didn’t acknowledge it and continued to saunter across the huge parking lot with his head down.
“Hey!” Brandon called.
The man stopped but didn’t turn to face them until five seconds had passed. When he did, he lifted his head and gave a single nod.
Brandon glanced at his bodyguards. “That the guy from earlier tonight?”
“Without a doubt,” the one on his right said.
“Ready to find out who he is?”
Brandon didn’t wait for an answer and marched down the steps, guards at his sides, toward the man who stood staring at him, legs shoulder-length apart, hands behind his back, blond hair thick and cut short.
From the stage the man had looked close to Reece’s height. Up close it was obvious the man was at least a few inches taller. At least six six.
Brandon stopped ten yards from the man. “Can I help you?”
“You’re the one who called to me. So perhaps I’m the one who can assist you.” The man folded his hands in front of him.
“You’ve been showing up at my concerts.”
“Really?” The man tilted his head and gave an astonished smile. “I’m surprised you’ve spotted me. I tried to be more discreet than that.”
“Is there something you want from me?”
The tall man studied each of them for at least ten seconds before responding. “No. Not yet.” He turned to go.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who would rather talk to you another time.”
“You’ve been coming to every one of my shows for two weeks now.”
The man turned back around. “As I said before, I didn’t realize you saw me. I’ve always left before your concert was over. I wouldn’t want you to think you had a stalker, nothing as unsettling as that.”
A hint of laughter in the man’s eyes seemed to say this statement wasn’t quite true.
“I think you did want me to spot you.” Brandon glanced at his bodyguards who both looked ready to jump the guy. Good.
“This is true.” The man clapped his hands together three times, softly enough that there was no sound. “Well done, Brandon Scott.”
“Well done that I’ve seen you?”
“Yes. But to repeat myself, this is not the time to talk. But when it is time I wanted us to have met so you’d be more open to further conversation. I mean you no harm.”
“If we had a conversation, what would it be about?”
The man stared at the sky as if waiting for instructions. “That would take more than a few moments to explain, and I’m sure you are exhausted.”
“The only thing on my schedule tonight is going back to the hotel, and my energy level is peaking at the moment.” He motioned to the bodyguards on his right and left. “My friends and I have plenty of time to hear why you’ve been tracking me. So start talking.”
The man took a stride forward and glanced at Brandon’s bodyguards. “Can we do so alone?”
“Not thinking that’s going to happen.”
The man pursed his lips. “It would be better if we spoke alone.”
“Do you want me to repeat what I just said, or would you like to play it over in your head by yourself?”
“I understand.” The man looked up to his left as if studying the bright quarter moon that cast a dim light on the parking lot. He glanced at Brandon’s bodyguards, frowned, then turned back to Brandon but remained silent.
Brandon pulled his bag from his shoulder and reached into it. “Listen, how ’bout I give you a few signed CDs and a couple of signed photos and you stop following me around on tour.”
“If that were possible, I would do it.”
“Who are you?”
“One who would help you.”
“Sure. Got it. You’re going to help me.”
“Yes. I would like to.”
“Great. Then it’s settled. Stop coming to my concerts. Thanks. That will help a lot.” Brandon glanced at his guards. “Time to go.”
“As you wish.” The blond man put his hands behind his back again and stared at Brandon with eyes that seemed to cut holes in his head.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Are you Zennon?”
The man frowned and his eyes grew dark. “My name is Tristan, and I look forward to meeting with you again soon, as well as with the rest of your band.”
“My band?”
“The Warriors Riding.”
“How do you know about them?”
“In time I’ll explain that to you.”
Brandon slung his bag back on his shoulder and glared at the man. “Just Tristan? No last name?”
&n
bsp; “Barrow. Tristan Barrow.”
“And if I don’t want to see you again?”
Tristan pointed to the sky. “That’s not my choice, and not yours.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m on your side.”
Doug’s e-mail yesterday with Sunday night’s agenda had hinted that an increased attack from the enemy was coming. Maybe Reece’s mentor was right: Brandon had Tristan the stalker, Marcus was seeing visions that seemed to be more than visions, and Reece was struggling with the loss of his eyes.
Dana flashed into his mind but that didn’t mean the Spirit was giving Brandon a specific warning about her. She filled his thoughts unbidden on a daily basis. An hourly basis. And he didn’t want her to leave his brain but he should. She’d made that abundantly clear after the fourth time he’d asked her to have coffee—just the two of them—and she’d made him promise to stop asking. There was no hope for them. Why couldn’t he get that through his head?
Regardless, whatever kind of assault was coming against Reece, Marcus, and him would include her as well.
NINE
THE SAIL SNAPPED INTO PLACE SATURDAY AFTERNOON as the wind took hold and the boat surged forward, the San Juan Islands in the foreground, sun drenching the scene enough that Dana and Perry both wore sunglasses.
They sailed for a time in silence, the briny smell of the sea and the slap of the water against the hull of Perry’s boat enough to fill Dana’s mind and imagination. She’d been working too many hours at the radio station, battling to keep her job, battling the pressures of sales goals that never grew easier to meet. And anytime she wasn’t there she spent working on the classes she taught at Well Spring to the ever-growing number of trainees. She needed this break.
When she and Perry had gotten together at the end of summer last year to talk things out it had been healing, better than expected, and their getting together every three or four weeks had been unexpected as well. He hadn’t pushed her to go deeper during the past eight months, which of course made her go deeper with him at times than she’d intended. She liked him. Enough for a serious relationship? No. She didn’t think about a future together. Today and maybe tomorrow was plenty.
They anchored off Friday Harbor and Perry motioned toward the front of the boat. “If you want to get comfortable up there, I’ll go down here”—he pointed below deck—“and bring up some food and some adult refreshments.”
Dana eased toward the bow as the wind whipped through her light brown hair and lifted it off her shoulders. She knew what she wanted. But what did Perry want? Did he think they were dating again? He hadn’t tried to kiss her which was a bit shocking and a relief. She didn’t want to be forced onto the path a kiss would certainly lead them down.
Stop it. Hadn’t she just told herself to think about today only? She was having another relaxing afternoon with a friend. Nothing more. What was wrong with that? Even if she and Perry grew back into something more, what fault could that contain?
She reached the bow and stretched out, one leg over the other, leaned back on her elbows, and watched the green waves and the seagulls cantering on the wind, the sun lighting up their wings like snow. If heaven was better than this, she didn’t think she’d be able to stand it.
Perry emerged from below a few minutes later with a plate of strawberries surrounding a small glass bowl of melted chocolate and a bottle of champagne, his dark curly hair begging for a trim. “Voilà!” He grinned and climbed out to the bow to join her. “This should keep us occupied for a few minutes at least.”
As she stared at him and the strawberries and champagne, Dana didn’t know whether to laugh or grab a life jacket and jump overboard. Strawberries and champagne? It was all too clichéd and over the top for just friends. Did she want more? Yes. No. The fickle nature of the undecided human heart, like a garden of flitting butterflies that can’t decide where to touch down.
“You’re not getting all romantic on me, are you?”
Perry reared back his head. “I’m shocked you would think that.”
She laughed. “What am I doing here with you?”
“Soaking in the sun, the wind, the waves . . . soaking in each other. Same thing we’ve been doing for the past ten months.”
“Nine months.”
“Nine and a half.”
“Fine.” She took a sip of the champagne. “Soaking in the first three on your list can work, but the last one isn’t on the menu. Sorry.”
Perry grew silent and took off his sunglasses.
“What?”
“Can you take off your sunglasses?”
She did.
“I want to soak in each other.”
“Don’t go there, Per—”
“Don’t blame it on me. You’ve changed. You’re more open—way more open about what’s going on inside you. You’ve cut up the sixty-foot pole that kept people away. There’s a . . . peace around you that was never there before. It’s like you flipped a switch. It’s hard not to think of the future.”
“Try harder and don’t think about it. It’s been nice the way it is. Let’s keep it that way.” She grabbed a strawberry and tossed it overboard.
“Hey!”
“It’s symbolic of what I’m going to do if we don’t take our relationship one day at a time.”
Perry scratched his cheek and fiddled with the sunglasses he held. “I suppose if you jumped in, I could rescue you from drowning.”
“Stop it.”
They said nothing for five minutes or so, taking the time to dip the strawberries in the chocolate and savor their taste. When Perry spoke he thankfully changed the subject.
“Tell me more about this group of yours. The one you went to Colorado with and seem to meet with on a regular basis. Do they know we’re seeing each other?”
So much for changing the subject. Dana sat up and dipped another strawberry in the chocolate. “We’re not seeing each other.”
“We’re not?” Perry frowned.
“Do you want to hear about the Warriors Riding?”
He nodded.
“You haven’t shown much interest all this time, and now you want to know about them?”
“I figure the question is long overdue.”
“We’re doing amazing things together. Things I never would have believed. My eyes have opened to the spiritual realm in ways I never even imagined could be true.”
“This I need to hear about.”
How much should she tell him? Probably more than a little, but much less than all. She didn’t want to overload him, but without some concrete examples of what the Spirit had done her statements would be vague platitudes. So she told him about how God had spoken new names to each of them, talked about deep intercessory prayer and how each of their little band had been healed of some of their deepest wounds. But she didn’t go so far as to tell him they’d sent their spirits inside each other’s souls.
She told him about teleporting their bodies to various places around the country by the power of God’s Spirit. About their experience fighting the vine that tried to burrow its way into Brandon’s chest at his concert, and how they’d been running frequent four-day training sessions at Well Spring in Colorado for hundreds of those who wanted to go deeper into the things of the Spirit.
When she finished she took a long sip of her champagne and gazed at Perry. “Do you think I’m nuts?”
“Wow.” Perry blinked and rapidly shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re nuts, but wow. I’ll have to take a little time to get my head around this.”
“You think we’re crazy.”
“Maybe a little.” Perry dipped a strawberry in the chocolate and bit off half of it and looked in her eyes. “One more question.”
“Sure.”
“You said one of the four of you is named Brandon Scott.”
She nodded.
“But this isn’t your ex-fiancé, Brandon Scott, is it? The names are just a coincidence, right?”
Dana shook her head and put her sunglasses back
on.
“Are you kidding? You spent four days in Colorado with him? And now you do training with him? And get together as a group on a frequent basis?”
She nodded again.
“Wow.” Perry popped his strawberry into his mouth and took a long time to chew and swallow. “Isn’t it kind of weird being around him?”
“It was at first.” She folded her arms. “It still is a tiny bit, but not much. We worked it out.”
“Worked it out? Really? How do you work out something like that?”
The memory of Brandon being in her soul and the war that they waged flooded her mind. The closeness she’d experienced. The fractions of seconds where it felt like it did when they were engaged. “It’s part of the healing Jesus did. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
“You’re okay being around him a lot?”
“It’s okay. It’s even good.” She hesitated. It was good at times. But then there were those moments when she didn’t know what to feel. When she wished for . . . no. She wouldn’t entertain insane thoughts about Brandon. “Most of the time it’s good.”
Perry folded his arms and stepped back. “Do you still have feelings for him?”
“They’re gone.” She turned and focused on a seagull flying low over the water to her right.
“You’re sure?”
A tinge of warmth spread across her face and she hoped Perry couldn’t see her blush. “Why is that so important?”
“Because if we’re . . .” Perry took a sip of his champagne.
“If we’re what? We’re friends, right? Taking it one day at a time? I thought we just had this conversation.”
Perry squinted out over the sound toward Lopez Island. “True. My apologies. Your feelings or lack thereof toward Brandon should be none of my business. For now.” He glanced at her, then back to the island. “But if certain scenarios play out, it might become my business.”
Once again her emotions whipped back and forth like a loose sail in a prevailing wind. She should feel good about Perry’s thinly veiled insinuations about their future. For the first time in . . . forever, she didn’t want a guy in her life. More important, she didn’t need a guy in her life. Which made her want to have someone in her life. It made no sense and all the sense in the world.
Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel) Page 5
