by Nora Roberts
them all.”
“I can do anything. I can do anything, and there’s nothing and no one to touch me. Give me the amulet, Tate, and I’ll spare your parents.”
Her head whirled as she remembered. She closed her hand protectively around the stone. It seemed to pulse quietly against her palm.
“I don’t believe you. You’ll kill me, you’ll kill all of us, and for what, some wild notion that a necklace will bring you power and impunity?”
“And perhaps immortality.” Yes, he’d begun to believe that, begun to see the truth of that. “Others have believed it, but they were weak, unable to control what they held in their hands. I’m different, you see. I’m used to command, to harnessing power. That’s why it belongs to me. What would it be like to live with every wish, every thought possible? To win everything. To live forever if you wanted it.”
His breath quickened, coming hard against her ear. “Yes, I’ll kill you for that. I’ll kill all of you for that. Do you want me to make you suffer first?”
“No.” She closed her eyes, straining her ears for the sound of the returning tender. If she could somehow signal them, or Matthew, there might be a way to stop VanDyke from killing all of them. “I’ll give it to you, and pray to God it gives you the life you deserve.”
“Where is the amulet?”
“Here.” She lifted the stone she still held in her hand. “Right here.”
Stunned, he loosened his hold enough for her to jerk away. But she didn’t run. There was nowhere to run. Instead she faced him, eyes cold and defiant, her fingers still circling the brilliant center gem. She could see his face go lax, soften like glass heated. But the gun never wavered.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said quietly. She couldn’t appeal to his reason. So she would appeal to his madness. Perhaps, just perhaps, she had a weapon after all.
“For centuries it’s waited to be held again, worn again, admired again. Do you know there wasn’t a mark on it when I took it from the sand?”
She turned the stone so that it caught the white beam of the moon. Light and shadows danced. It was quiet, suddenly so quiet, she could hear each separate whisper of the waves kissing the hull.
“Time, water hadn’t touched it. It would have looked just like this, bright and gleaming, the last time she wore it around her neck.”
When he continued to stare, his eyes locked, hypnotized, on the amulet, she inched back, still holding the stone out. “I think she wore it that morning. The morning they came to execute her. And he, the man responsible for condemning her, waited outside the cell, and took it.”
Her voice was quiet, almost soothing. “He couldn’t have her, but he could have that last physical link she had to the man she loved. Or so he thought. But he just couldn’t break that very intimate connection between them. Neither could death. She spoke his name in her mind as the smoke filled her lungs and the flames licked at her feet. Etienne’s name. I can hear her, VanDyke, can’t you?”
Caught like a rat by the gaze of a snake, he stared. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “It’s mine.”
“Oh no, it’s still hers. It always will be. That’s the secret, VanDyke, that’s the magic and the power. The ones who didn’t understand that, and coveted it for their own ends are the ones who brought the curse on their own heads. If you take it,” she said softly and with sudden certainty, “you’re damned.”
“It’s mine,” he repeated. “I’m the only one it was meant for. I’ve spent a fortune to find it.”
“But I found it. You’re only stealing it.” She was nearly at the rail now. Was that a motor? she wondered. Or just her wishing? If she shouted now, would she save the people she loved, or kill them?
VanDyke’s eyes snapped back to hers, and her heart sank like a stone in the sea. Those eyes were clear again, calm again, without that thin glaze of madness.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Stalling for time until your broad-shouldered hero charges to your aid. A pity he hasn’t so you could die together, romantically. Now I’ve indulged you long enough, Tate. Take off the amulet and give it to me or I’ll put the first bullet in your gut instead of your heart.”
“All right.” Her fingers were oddly light and steady as she drew the chain from around her neck. It was almost as if they weren’t her own, as if she were floating somewhere beyond her own flesh. “If you want it so desperately. Get it, and pay the price.”
Braced for the bullet, she tossed it high and far over the sea.
He howled. The sound was inhuman, like a beast tasting blood. And like a beast he shambled to the rail and plunged into the dark water. Before he’d disappeared beneath, she was after him.
As she cut through the water, part of her brain registered the dangerous folly of the act. Yet she was compelled, driven to fill her lungs with air and dive blind.
Reason told her he would never find the amulet in the night sea without mask or tanks or time. Nor would she find him or the treasure she’d flung away.
Even as logic began to balance impulse, she saw the shadow of movement. Rage she hadn’t even known had rooted inside her burst free. She was on him like a shark.
Here, in the airless world, his superior strength was countered by her youth and skill. His blind greed by her fury. There was no gun now, only hands and teeth. She used hers viciously.
He clawed at her, desperate to reach the surface and breathe again. With her own lungs aching, she dragged him back, until a kick sent her spinning away.
Up again through the dark water she rose, nearly despairing that she would reach the surface.
He waited for her there, lashing out wildly, and she fought to fill her empty lungs. His face was distorted by the water and salt in her eyes, obscenely feral as he struck out. They fought in a terrible silence broken only by gasping breaths and swirling water.
His eyes rolled white as he pulled her under. The sea embraced them greedily.
She swallowed water, choked. The salt stung her eyes as he held her down and gulped air for himself. Fumbling, her hands lost purchase on his slick wet suit. The buzzing in her ears became a roar. There were lights glowing, bursting in her head, in front of her eyes.
No, she thought, fighting free. A light. A single light shining against the sand. He was racing toward it, diving, diving through the glassy black water to white sand where the amulet lay like a bloody star.
She watched him lift it, saw his hand close around it greedily. The soft red glow shone luminescently through his fingers, and deepened, darkened. Bled.
He turned his head, looked at her in triumph. Their eyes met, held.
Then surely he screamed.
“She’s coming around. That’s it, Red, cough it up.”
Through the harsh sounds of her own racking heaves, she heard Matthew’s voice, the tremor in it. She could feel the solid wood of the deck beneath her, his big hands cradling her head, the damp rain of water leaking onto her skin.
“Matthew.”
“Don’t try to talk. Christ, where’s the damn blanket?”
“Here, right here.” With calm efficiency, Marla covered her daughter. “You’re all right, honey, just lie still now.”
“VanDyke—”
“It’s all right.” Matthew glanced around to where the man sat huddled under LaRue’s ready bangstick. He was half drowned and quietly chuckling to himself.
“The amulet.”
“Jesus, it’s still around her neck.” Matthew slipped it off with an unsteady hand. “I didn’t even notice.”
“You were a little busy saving her life.” Ray squeezed his eyes tight and absorbed the relief. When Matthew had dragged Tate from the water, he’d been sure his only child was dead.
“What happened?” Tate finally found the strength to open her eyes. Overhead was a circle of pale, concerned faces. “God, I hurt all over.”
“Just be quiet for a minute. Her pupils look normal. She’s not shaking.”
“There c
ould be delayed shock. I think we should get her out of those wet clothes and into bed.” Marla bit her lip, and though she knew it was foolish, checked Tate’s brow for fever. “I’ll make you some nice chamomile tea.”
“Okay.” A little woozy, Tate smiled. “Can I get up now?”
Muttering an oath, Matthew picked her up, blanket and all. “I’ll put her in bed.” He paused briefly for a last glance at VanDyke. “LaRue, you and Buck better get what’s left of him over to Nevis, give him to the cops.”
Vaguely curious, Tate stared. “Why is he laughing?”
“That’s all he’s done since Ray hauled him in. He laughs and mutters about witches burning in water. Let’s get you in a hot bath.”
“Oh, let’s.”
He was patient. Matthew drew her bath, massaged her shoulders. He even washed her hair himself. Then he dried her, tucked her into a nightshirt and robe and put her to bed.
“I could get used to this,” she murmured, letting her still light head rest against plumped pillows while she sipped the tea her mother had brought in.
“You stay put,” Marla ordered, fussing with the blanket. She glanced up at Matthew. “Ray went along to Nevis. He didn’t want to let VanDyke out of his sight until he was in a cell. Do you want me to let you know when they get back?”
“I’ll come up shortly.”
Marla only lifted a brow. She had a feeling Tate had one more crisis to deal with. “I think I’ll go brew a big pot of coffee. You rest, honey.” She kissed Tate’s forehead and closed the door quietly behind her.
“Isn’t she the best?” Tate began. “Nothing ever shakes that wonderful Southern panache.”
“You’re about to find out what shakes a Yankee temperament. What the hell did you think you were doing?”
She winced at the volume. “I don’t know, exactly. It all happened so fast.”
“You weren’t breathing.” He caught her chin in fingers tensed and trembling like plucked wires. “You weren’t breathing when I pulled you out.”
“I don’t remember. Everything after I dived in after him is jumbled and kind of surreal.”
“You dived in after him,” Matthew repeated, spacing each word.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said quickly. “I threw the amulet into the water. I had to take the chance that he’d go after it instead of shooting me.”
His heart, which had already suffered violently, stopped again. “He had a gun?”
“Yes.” She could feel her mind begin to float again and struggled to concentrate. “He must have lost it in the water. I was coming inside.” Gently she took his hand in hers. “He was just there. Just there behind me, Matthew, with the gun jammed into my back. He must have come over from starboard. His gear’s probably still there on the ladder. I couldn’t call for you, Matthew. He’d have killed all of us.”
As calmly as she could, she told him what had happened on deck.
“I took the necklace off,” she murmured and closed her eyes to try to see it all again.
The play of light, the shifting shadows. The way the stone seemed to throb like a heart in her hand.
“I didn’t even have to think about it. I just threw it. He ran past me; he never even looked at me. Just went in.”
“Why the hell did you go after him? I was right here, Red.”
“I know. I can’t explain it. One minute I was thinking I’ll get Matthew, and the next I was in the water. Even as I was diving I was thinking it didn’t make sense. But I couldn’t stop myself. I caught him, and we struggled.”
To bring the picture clearer, she closed her eyes again. “I remember thrashing around with him on the surface, under it. I remember losing air, knowing he would drown me. Then there was this light.”
“Christ.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me you had a near-death experience? The white light, the tunnel, the works?”
As puzzled as he, she opened her eyes again. “No, but it was just as odd. I must have been hallucinating. I saw this glow, and the glow was the necklace. The sand was perfectly white, and I could see it as clearly as I see you. I know it’s not possible, but I did. So did he.”
“I believe you,” Matthew said quietly. “Go on.”
“I watched him dive for it. I was just hovering there in the water.” Her brows drew together, forming a faint line between them. “It was as if I had to be there, had to watch. I’m not explaining this very well.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“I watched, waited,” she continued. “He picked it up and held it, and I could see it bleed through his fingers, as if the stone had gone to liquid. He looked up. He looked right at me. I saw his eyes. Then . . .”
Because she trembled, he stroked her hair. He wanted to gather her close, tell her to forget all of it. But he knew she had to finish. “Then what?”
“He screamed. I heard it. It wasn’t muffled by the water. It was piercing, terrified. He kept looking at me and screaming. There was fire, everywhere. The light and color from it, but no heat. I wasn’t afraid, not at all. So I took the amulet from him and let him go.”
She stopped on a nervous laugh. “I don’t know—I guess I blacked out. I must have. I must have been unconscious all along because it couldn’t have happened that way.”
“You were wearing the amulet, Tate. When I pulled you out, you were wearing it.”
“I must have . . .found it.”
He brushed her hair back from her face. “And that makes sense to you?”
“Yes, of course. No,” she admitted and reached for Matthew’s hand. “It doesn’t.”
“Let me tell you what I saw. When I heard you calling for me, I ran out on deck. VanDyke was in the water. He was flailing around, and yeah, he was screaming. I knew you must be in the water, so I went in.”
There was no point in telling her that he dived until his lungs had all but burst, had never given a thought to surfacing unless she was with him.
“When I found you you were on the bottom, lying on your back the way you do when you sleep. And you were smiling. I almost expected you to open your eyes and look at me. I realized when I was pulling you up that you weren’t breathing. It couldn’t have been more than three, four minutes tops from the time you yelled for me to come, but you weren’t breathing.”
“So you brought me back to life.” She leaned forward, set the cup aside so that her hands were free to frame his face. “My personal white knight.”
“It wasn’t like Prince Charming. Nothing romantic about mouth-to-mouth and CPR.”
“Under the circumstances, it beats a bouquet of lilies.” She kissed him gently. “Matthew, one thing. I never called out.” She shook her head before he could protest. “I didn’t call out. But I did say your name in my head when I thought I was drowning.” She laid her cheek on his and sighed. “I guess you heard me.”
CHAPTER 30
T HROUGH THE BARS of the small cell, Matthew studied Silas VanDyke. Here, he thought, was the man who had plagued his life, taken his father, plotted to murder him and who had nearly killed the woman he loved.
He’d been a man of power, of far-reaching financial, social and political strength.
Now he was caged like an animal.
They’d given him a cotton shirt and pants, both faded and baggy. He wore no belt, no shoelaces, certainly no monogrammed silk tie.
Still he sat on the narrow bunk as if he sat in a custom-made chair as if the dingy cell was his lushly decorated office. As if he were still in charge.
But it seemed to Matthew that he had shrunken somehow, that his body looked frail in the oversized prison clothes. The bones of his face had sharpened and pressed skeletally against the skin as if flesh had melted away overnight.
He was unshaven, his hair matted from seawater and sweat. Livid scratches scarred his face and hands, reminding Matthew of Tate’s desperate fight for her life.