by Meg Allison
Samantha’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “I’m sure Nathan has other things—”
“Great idea,” he interjected. There was no way he was letting the woman out of his sight. He had to be sure there was no way, no opportunity for that drawing to become a reality. “I’d love to meet more of your colleagues. And we can finish our earlier discussion.”
She twisted the strap of her purse. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“Yes,” he said, only a part of it a lie. Samantha’s life was priceless and he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side, no matter who else would be watching over her.
Her sharp nod told him she wasn’t happy with the situation. Was she feeling ganged up on? Cornered? It couldn’t be helped. Not now. And he didn’t dare tell her the truth when he wasn’t sure how she’d take it. Nathan looked up to find Davu studying him intently.
“Yes,” the other man added. “Most things in life can wait. Life itself, on the other hand, must be lived as it’s given.”
Samantha glanced heavenward as she laughed. “Come on, Cookie,” she said to Davu as she hooked her arm through his.
“I thought I asked you not to call me that?” the big man reminded her. There didn’t seem to be any anger in his tone, however.
Nathan could only wonder, but didn’t dare comment. Not yet. Not until he was sure how deeply the other man’s sense of humor might run. As they left together, she wound her other arm around Nathan’s. He looked down at her and couldn’t help but smile. Just being near her made him feel so damn good inside.
“I nicknamed Davu ‘cookie’, because he sounds like a fortune cookie half the time,” she told him. “I thought it would stop the Confucius syndrome, but the goof seems to like it.”
“I am not a goof, as you so eloquently put it,” Davu protested lightly. Then he looked up at Nathan, humor glinting in his dark eyes. “Did I not tell you she’s like an annoying little sister?”
Chapter Eight
They climbed into Davu’s rented sedan, Nathan insisting that Samantha sit up front while he took the backseat. She wasn’t comfortable with the idea of him coming with them. There was still so much she hadn’t explained to him about the chosen, let alone the Sentinels and their council. Meeting the stuffed-shirts in charge of keeping order over the group of gifted warriors might not be the best introduction, particularly if they were going to discuss Catania in any depth.
Davu steered through Savannah traffic with the expertise of a taxi driver, albeit without some of the scary driving habits. She trusted his skill behind the wheel as much as any man’s, but he could get distracted. And he tended to have a heavy foot.
“I resent being included with the other ‘stuffed-shirts’,” he murmured as he apparently read her thoughts. She scowled at him but it merely had the effect of amusing him further. He glanced in the rearview mirror at their passenger. “Samantha has explained what being chosen means?”
“Somewhat, but I wouldn’t mind if you elaborated a bit. I’m a detail junkie.”
Davu chuckled, the rich, deep baritone somewhat soothing to her frayed nerves.
“Good,” he said. “Details can either make or break you,” he glanced at his mirrors and smoothly changed lanes.
“It is recorded that near the dawn of time, the sons of God took daughters of man as their wives,” he began, weaving the story as any master storyteller might. She almost expected to hear sound effects. “They conceived children, both sons and daughters, who were born possessing fantastic talents and abilities that were, let’s say, much beyond common human understanding.
“Each child was given a mission of sorts from birth—a task they had to fulfill. The overall goal of the chosen, however, was to protect their human cousins.”
“From what?”
Davu flicked another glance at the mirror. “Demons, for the most part. From themselves as well as others.”
She felt it then—the disbelief, the doubt. Unease.
“He thinks you’re crazy,” she thought. Davu only smiled and stopped for a red light.
“He believes,” he said aloud. “Deep inside, his spirit recognizes the truth of what I’m saying. It will take time for his conscious mind to catch up. It is unfortunate, but necessary.”
She blushed and glanced over her shoulder where Nathan watched them, his brow furrowed.
“Davu…” she cautioned, but he seemed not to care.
“No time for coddling,” the Sentinel told her. He looked at Nathan’s reflection then and stepped on the gas. “You do believe—part of you does. Normally, I wouldn’t push someone in your position with too many facts. But I think you know we have little time left to catch this killer before other women die. They may not be important to society, as a whole, but they don’t deserve the fate this monster is attempting to deal them. There will be a lot for you to accept in very short order, Nathan. I apologize, but there is no way to help it now.”
Silence.
“All right,” Nathan said after a moment. “Say I do buy into this story…this legend of yours. Where are these chosen ones today? And the demons? I can’t say that I’ve ever seen either one.”
Davu waved a hand in the air. “Everywhere, all around us,” he said. “Both the chosen and demons look human enough. Most of the chosen race has blended with human society and learned to hide their talents—not unlike the way you’ve hidden your own. I doubt you would know one from the other unless you had that particular ability.
“The chosen are as you and Samantha, ordinary people for the most part. Demons, ah…they are another matter altogether. But they don’t tend to have horns or cloven hooves, unfortunately. Pity. It would make my job so much easier if they did.”
“And your job is what, exactly?”
“I’m a councilor to the Sentinels, as is Samantha. I’m also an active Sentinel. The later are a group within the chosen who guard and protect the others. We are given the task because of our particular abilities and natures.”
“Natures?”
“We tend to be very aggressive.” Samantha snorted and Davu cast her a wry glance. “All right then, we tend to be hot-headed, arrogant, war-mongering bastards. Is that better?”
She grinned. “It’s much more accurate, yes. Please continue.”
“So, you’re soldiers?” Nathan asked.
Davu shrugged his broad shoulders. “You might say that, yes. In a sense, we are soldiers.”
“Who do you guard exactly?”
“Humans who are preyed upon by the demons. Others of the chosen who are abused or in trouble. We guard those who are in need. Anyone who is in need.”
“So, because I draw these deaths before they happen…that makes me one of these chosen people.”
“Yes,” Davu agreed. “All extraordinary talents, all preternatural abilities stem from this godly heritage we possess. There are many different types of gifts and some genetic lines have been diluted, if you will, from intermarriage with those wholly human. But all who claim a special gift are of the chosen. Many are never educated regarding their ancestry. Many gifts are wasted, misused or never realized at all.”
“Tell me about the gifts. I know Samantha is empathic. I draw the future, at least, on a small scale.”
Davu nodded. “Yes, and there are others who are able to speak to the dead. Some easily discern between good and evil. Adam, for instance, had the gift of intuition—the ability to know something to be true or right. His hunches, if you will, were more than good police work. It was his gift.”
“Had?” Nathan glanced from one to the other. “You mean he lost it? You can lose a gift?”
Samantha bit her lip. She hated talking about her brother like this, but Nathan would learn about Adam sooner or later. He had to know that gifts could be completely lost beneath the weight of addiction.
“Yes,” she told him. “Adam once lived by his instincts. But one day he made a decision that turned out to be wrong. Very wrong. Someone he cared about died.” She shrugge
d. “He hasn’t trusted himself with it since then. But he hasn’t lost it, not yet. I still see sparks of his intuition shine through, usually when he’s not thinking about it.”
“Okay, this actually makes sense in a way,” Nathan said. His words lifted her hopes a bit. “All these different gifts…and then you,” he looked at Davu, “You read minds.”
The Sentinel grinned. “Smart, as well as gifted. You’ve gotten yourself quite a good catch, Samantha.”
She stared at her lap as her cheeks burned. “I haven’t caught—” But he wasn’t listening.
“Yes, I can read thoughts,” he conceded to Nathan. “If I’ve inadvertently demonstrated my ability, I apologize. I try not to trespass, but sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it, particularly if the individual’s thoughts are very clear and I’m distracted.”
Another moment of silence followed as Nathan seemed to digest this information. She twisted the seatbelt in her hands and waited for him to say something. Anything. Unfortunately, her own emotions were so jumbled that she couldn’t read his clearly.
“So, this meeting we’re going to has something to do with this councilor job?”
“Yes,” Davu replied. “If the Sentinels are the soldiers, I suppose you might say the councilors are the military police,” he grinned then as if he found the notion highly entertaining. “We, as a body of five individuals, are responsible for making and enforcing rules for our people…or at least, for those who know of their heritage and act accordingly.
“Many years ago, we found that a group such as ours was necessary to keep our people in line and to also help keep their existence secret from the humans. Human police are often no match for a chosen one intent on creating havoc.”
“But, why be secretive? Why not share your story with everyone? Let the humans know about your abilities and talents?”
Davu’s mouth twisted slightly. “We tried it that way…once upon a time. Once we lived in the open. We shared our gifts willingly.”
“Didn’t go well, I take it?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Davu affirmed. “Let’s just say we have found, from past mistakes, that it is better for us and human beings as a whole, if they are unaware of our existence. But, that’s a story for another time and place…because…we are here.”
Nathan looked out the car window and his eyes widened. “This is Liam’s house. Your secret organization meets at Liam’s home?” He looked at Samantha. “Is he a councilor, too?”
“No,” she said. “Our father was, and when he chose to retire, they appointed me in his place. The council was once a body of twelve, but those numbers have dwindled a lot in the past fifty years. Now we’re lucky to keep the number at five.”
“Your brothers—they’re all gifted?”
“Yes, but most of them choose to ignore their gifts or only use them on rare occasion. I don’t blame them for denying council responsibility. They’ve each chosen law enforcement as their occupations, except for Eric. I can’t ask them to continue that in all aspects of their lives. They need a break.” She shrugged and waited as Davu got out and rounded the car to open her door.
When the three of them all stood on the sidewalk, she looked at Nathan with some trepidation. He had to believe, had to accept so very much on top of his horrible visions. Could he handle it all?
“I know this is a lot to take in,” she said. “Give it time. I promise it will make sense eventually.”
“Was it hard for you?” he asked.
“It’s all I’ve ever known,” she said. “I grew up with Davu and others like him at the dinner table every week,” she touched his arm, grateful when he didn’t flinch, “You’ll get there. Just…let it sink in. Suspend your disbelief for a while.”
He forced a smile. “I’ll take your word for it—for now.” Nathan glanced at the house. “Shouldn’t you two get inside?”
“Yes, that we should,” Davu agreed with some reluctance. “Let’s get this farce over with.”
* * ‡ * *
Samantha felt her heart race in time with the sound of her three-inch heels as they clicked against the limestone walk. The sensation increased until she was almost disappointed when the huge oak doors didn’t swing open on their own accord as they climbed the front stoop. Tall windows overlooked the walkway and gardens, silent sentries from decades gone by. Something or someone watched from those windows whenever she visited Liam’s home. She reminded herself that she needed to bring Camille to visit one day—just to see if the spirit who haunted the antebellum mansion had something to say.
She lifted her fist to knock, and the right door swung open. Her breath caught. Liam gazed down at her, his characteristic charm stretched a bit thin. She could feel the tension radiate off him.
She forced a smile. “We’re late?”
His mouth twitched into what she supposed was the best smile he could manage in the circumstances. “Not late, but not soon enough,” he replied, then stood back and motioned them into the foyer. “Everyone else was early.”
“Lucky you,” she murmured as she stepped past him, followed by Davu and Nathan.
“Nathan?” Liam seemed pleasantly surprised by the man’s presence. He glanced at Samantha, a question in his blue-green eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here today,” the two shook hands, “To what do we owe this honor?”
“I thought the lad could use a crash course in Sentinel politics,” Davu explained smoothly. Samantha frowned at him. This was the first she’d hear of it. Did he really expect Nathan to sit in on the meeting about to take place?
“Davu…” she began.
“Nonsense,” he insisted before she could voice her objection out loud. She hated it when he did that sometimes. “He has a gift he needs to harness. The sooner, the better, we all know that. There is little time for gentleness now—the hours are ticking by; lives are being cut short.” He looked at Nathan and the two seemed to communicate on some other level. “We can’t be too careful now, can we?”
Nathan slowly shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “There might not be much time left before…” he glanced at Samantha and snapped his mouth shut. Nathan took a deep breath, still staring at Davu. “I need to learn everything I can.”
“But—”
“It’s settled,” Davu interjected, his tone left no room for further discussion. “Now, let’s join the lions in their den. I’m sure Liam would appreciate having his home to himself as soon as possible.”
As they walked through the entry, Samantha tried to steel her nerves for the onslaught to come. Most meetings of the Council to the Sentinels ended in disagreements if not full-blown fights. The anger and frustration were the most difficult for her to block in such a confined space. She wasn’t sure she could handle it while worrying about Nathan’s reaction to it all.
The third door on the right opened to a large, light-filled room once used as a formal parlor. Liam had converted it to a meeting room about a year earlier. A long, narrow table of deep mahogany spanned about two thirds of the length of the space. High-backed chairs of matching design flanked the piece and seated up to twenty, not that they ever required so many for council meetings. Once a body of dozens, the group had slowly dwindled over the centuries until they were lucky to manage a complete quorum at any one time.
Samantha took another breath as she gazed up at the subtle blues and greens Liam had chosen for the décor. Such colors were known to promote peace and relaxation—something they’d all need by the time this over.
“Davu, Samantha…” Gustaf Ivanovich greeted them as they entered the room. He looked older than she remembered. The gray streaks in this hair far outnumbered the dark hair of his youth. There were deep-set frown lines between his brows and at the corners of his mouth.
“Who is he?” a voice demanded from behind.
Samantha turned to find Maurice Rendell staring down his nose at them as Nathan followed Liam to a small sofa near the window on the opposite end of the room. She employ
ed her best fake smile.
“Who is who?” she asked sweetly.
“The gentleman seated there with your brother,” Maurice snapped, his ice-blue eyes fixated on the men as he spoke at her. He never spoke directly to her—she was a woman, after all. “Why did you bring an outsider?”
“I asked him to come,” Davu said so the other man had to turn his attention to him. Maurice was afraid of Davu, but didn’t seem to realize it was so obvious.
“The young man is chosen,” Davu continued. “He’s a friend of Samantha and Liam.”
“But why bring him here?” Gustaf pushed the point. “He doesn’t belong. Being chosen doesn’t equate with attending closed council meetings.”
Samantha could feel the anger leaking around Davu’s normally tightly controlled emotions. “All children of the chosen deserve to know of their heritage—of their destiny. What better way for him to learn than from the council who governs our warriors?”
The other men didn’t look convinced. “This is a private meeting, Davu,” Maurice said. “Even you must realize the urgency of our agenda? Why we must keep things private? Especially from an untried member of the chosen who is just beginning to learn of our ways.”
Davu’s smile was tight and without warmth. “There will be nothing said today that he cannot hear, Gustaf. And yes, I’m quite aware of the situation. It was I who informed you of Javed’s presence in Savannah, if you’ll recall?”
Maurice looked away and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. But if this leads to any type of exposure for the Sentinels, it will be on your head. Not mine. Now, if everyone will please be seated. Let’s bring this meeting to order. I’m sure we all have other things we could be doing.”
Samantha caught Davu’s gaze.
“I don’t like him,” she thought. “He’s a pompous ass. They all are. How did the council degenerate to this level?”
