Knights of White Bundle

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Allen smiled, knowing he would not fail, aware he now wielded great magic, borne of his connection to Prince Vars. Yes. He would deliver those souls, and he would have his Kate.

  Chapter 4

  Max and Sarah didn’t speak as they walked toward the sheriff’s office, both watchful, the edginess they shared as evident as the puddles of ominous black rain splashing around their feet, its mere existence seeming to scream with silent threat. But there was a connection between them that didn’t need words, an understanding that what they faced would be faced together. Not to mention a charge of awareness, of attraction, that seemed to heat his arm where her hand rested.

  In Sarah, Max found a brave, feisty female; she was bold and uncompromising about being different, about being a medium. A woman who accepted his admission about hunting the supernatural. He had no doubt she had questions about who and what he was; yet, she had still accepted him. She even wanted to trust him, though she was fighting that desire. If she were, indeed, his mate, she would instinctively trust him. But she had baggage of some sort telling her those feelings were wrong. He could feel it in her, feel the worry, the hesitation.

  Still, there was something surreal about finding a mate in this time of judgment for himself, a time that might well forge his demise.

  He shoved that thought aside as the sheriff’s office came into view, noting the pitch-black interior. “It looks as if no one is home,” he commented. “If the entire town broke out in rage like the hotel occupants did, I imagine they’re out trying to clean up the aftermath.”

  “Either that or they don’t have any candles,” Sarah said, indicating her bag. “Glad we brought our own.”

  They took the stairs and found cover from the rain beneath a small overhang. The meager space demanded they stay close, bodies touching. Which is where Max wanted Sarah, anyway—close and safe.

  He dropped the umbrella to the ground beside the stairs as Sarah tried the locked door and then knocked. No one came to the door, no one called out in response. “We still have to go in,” Sarah said. “He was expecting me. It seems logical he’d have a file with notes to hand over.”

  He slanted her a sideways look. “Are you asking me to break into the sheriff’s office?”

  She didn’t look even mildly ashamed of her request. “Desperate times require desperate actions.”

  A smile touched his lips at that and he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small leather case he kept there for just this type of situation. In about sixty seconds, Max had the lock popped.

  “Impressive,” Sarah commented. “Not sure I want to know where you learned that.”

  “You never know when a skill might save a life,” he said, thinking of the many things he’d encountered in the four hundred years he’d lived. “I like to be prepared.” Besides being a fairly capable locksmith, Max could hack into just about anything electronic in existence, a skill he’d put to use for the Knights on more than one occasion.

  He shoved open the door and surveyed the interior, before letting Sarah enter. Max’s instincts reached well beyond that of a normal human, and they told him the building contained no threats, but caution dictated he do a walk-through just to be safe.

  Once Sarah was inside the lobby, he locked the door to keep out unannounced visitors. He turned around to find himself almost toe to toe with Sarah, her gaze locking with his. The setting was dark and intimate, the attraction between them hot and heavy. The desire to claim Sarah, to possess her, burned him inside out. Flaring to life without warning, threatening his control. This was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The primal side of him, the part touched by a Darkland Beast, a demon, cared nothing about time and place, about danger. It simply wanted Sarah.

  “It’s very dark in here,” she murmured, her voice washing over the rawness of his nerve endings and calming him a bit. Ironic how one woman could cause the same rawness that she could calm.

  Before he could stop himself, he reached up and caught a soft strand of her hair between his fingers, the desire to touch her too intense to resist. Her eyes widened with surprise, and he saw the flash of uncertainty in her gaze. As if she wanted to pull away but couldn’t. Damn, how he could relate to that feeling. This woman was going to be his undoing if he wasn’t careful. If she knew how much he burned to taste her, to feel her softness against his body, she’d likely run for cover.

  Her soft scent lifted in the air, insinuating into his nostrils, and Max felt his willpower sliding away. He knew he had to distance himself. “Stay by the door while I have a look around,” he said, but he didn’t move. He was too transfixed in the awareness between them, by that desire to taste her that wouldn’t let go.

  Her teeth scraped her bottom lip as if she were thinking the same thing. The action drew his gaze, tempting him further, pushing him to take what he wanted. The beast clawed and pressed, devouring his willpower.

  “You might want a candle,” she suggested, reaching for her bag.

  Her words helped jar him back to reality. “I don’t,” he said a bit abruptly, as he reached for the control he’d been about to lose. He turned away from her, starting his inspection of the office.

  As for the candle she’d offered, the truth was that his night vision was as good as his day vision. And staring into those deep-green eyes of Sarah’s was driving him insane with want, a feeling he shook off, reminding himself of the need for a clear level head, ready for battle. Ready to protect Sarah and defeat an enemy.

  That thought helped him step into duty mode. It didn’t take long for him to finish his scan of the few small offices he found and confirm the building was secure. On the way back to the lobby, he grabbed a roll of paper towels from the bathroom in case Sarah wanted to clean off a little.

  Sarah was grateful for a few minutes alone as Max inspected the offices. Her emotions were reeling as she lit the four candles she brought with them from the inn. She’d wanted Max to kiss her. Wanted it in such a desperate way, she’d darn near grabbed him and pulled his mouth to hers. This was so not like her. Not one bit. She didn’t get distracted from her work. Didn’t get close to people, especially not strangers, not men. But something about Max had her twisted up with need. Had her wanting things she’d long ago decided her work made impossible.

  Before she had time to analyze her feelings, Max was back. “We’re good,” he said, stopping in front of her. “I need to check out the computers and see if I can get anything working.” He was close. So close she could feel the heat of his body. She reached for the paper towels in his hand, needing a distraction, a reason to avoid eye contact.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking a step backward to give herself some distance from Max and then busying herself cleaning her boots. “I’m getting mud everywhere.”

  “I’m sure the sheriff will understand.”

  She tossed the dirty towels in the trash. Her hands went to her hips, and she blew hair out of her eyes. “It’s strange he’s not here. And what about his staff? Where are they?”

  Max leaned on the desk, casting his ruggedly handsome features in candlelight. “Based on what I saw as I looked around, there’s only one deputy. I assume there’s a secretary. And if the violence that broke out at the inn occurred all over town, maybe someone got hurt. If so, I’m sure they had their hands full with the aftermath.”

  “Good point,” Sarah said, agreeing. “And since no one seems to remember what happened, I’m sure there’s a lot of confusion.” She paused, thinking a moment. “I wonder if the sheriff even knows what happened.”

  “I’d venture to say he is as confused as everyone else, and still trying to deal with any chaos caused by today’s events. Everyone but you and me were affected at the inn.”

  “Everyone but you and me,” she repeated, feeling torn about that similarity between them. Should she be relieved or suspicious to find someone else who couldn’t be touched by this thing—whatever it was?

  Abruptly, he pushed off the desk again, but not befo
re she saw a flash of understanding in his gaze. He knew she wanted answers and he wasn’t ready to give them. “Let’s check out the sheriff’s office,” he said. With those words, he turned away, shutting her down before she could begin questioning him.

  Sarah grabbed a candle and followed him, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook. Because she was going to demand they clear the air, that he start talking. Feeling this kind of intense attraction to someone she didn’t know made her vulnerable. She didn’t like vulnerable. Despised it, in fact.

  She took a step forward, when a sudden awareness of a spiritual presence took hold—it was the woman from the car accident. Sarah forgot Max, focusing on the connection to the spirit, trying to understand any message that might be sent to her. What Sarah felt in that moment was urgency, an urgency to find out more about that car accident. Driven for answers, she headed toward the back offices.

  Max had already grabbed several stacks of files and was setting them up on top of a table in the break area. She set her candle down, as well. “Are these all the case files?”

  “From what I can tell,” he said. “But I’m going to check the deputy’s office. Anything particular you need?”

  She sat down at the table and reached for a file. “Yes, and this would be so much easier if the sheriff were here. He could find what I’m looking for right away, I’m sure. It’s a car accident on the bridge leading into town. It’s somehow related to what’s going on.”

  He leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb. “What’s the name?”

  She shook her head. “I only know the husband’s name. Allen. And before you ask, I know this sounds crazy, but I had a vision as we drove across that bridge. Sometimes that happens. The spirit wants me to know something, and it makes me relive the event.”

  “Relive the event?” he asked, his voice holding surprise. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “One minute I was talking with Cathy and Edward. The next I was transported into that woman’s car, living through her crash.” She paused and let out a heavy breath. “And her death.”

  “Holy shit,” Max murmured, stunned. “How often does that kind of thing happen to you?”

  “Not often,” she assured him, “but the experience isn’t something you get used to. It’s a bit like how I’ve heard seizures described. I completely zone out. Everything around me disappears.”

  “What if you were driving, or doing something dangerous when that happened? You could be killed.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think the spirits are trying to kill me. Just communicating. My mother had the same thing, and it never happened at a time when she could get hurt. And, like I said, that type of experience is rare. Usually I just hear whispers in my head, and I have to decipher their meaning. Or I have a vivid dream. Often I dream about a case before I’m officially involved. That’s what happened with this town. I dreamt about it and the next morning the sheriff called.”

  “Okay,” he said, scrubbing his jaw, obviously thinking aloud. “Let me get this straight. You dreamt about this town. You had a vision of the car accident.” He cast her an inquisitive look. “Are we thinking the woman who died on that bridge is haunting this town?”

  A couple of files flew off the table onto the floor and a book pounded down on top of them. Max pushed off the doorframe. “What the—?”

  “She’s here, and no, she’s not the one causing havoc.” She smiled. “And obviously, she doesn’t like that you suggested otherwise. She wants to help us.”

  Max mumbled to himself and then motioned toward the stuff on the floor. “The woman from the bridge did this?” Sarah nodded. “And I suppose she thinks it’s funny to throw things around like that? To try to spook someone?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Tell her I’m not laughing,” Max said, bending down to grab the files. He paused to glance up at her. “That is, if you can talk to her. Can you? Obviously she can communicate with you.”

  “It’s a one-way conversation. They do all the talking,” Sarah said. “I just listen.”

  Still kneeling by the fallen items, Max balanced his weight on his heels, hands on his muscular thighs. “How do you know she isn’t tricking you? What if she is the one doing all of this?”

  “She’s not tricking me,” she said. “I can’t explain it, but I get a real sense for who these spirits are. Especially when I am in one of those visions. This woman is worried about her husband. He’s involved. We need to find out who he is and talk to him.”

  Max grabbed the files and the book from the floor and then joined Sarah at the table, setting the materials down in front of him. “Okay then. You trust her, I trust her. “Maybe this spirit was telling us something by throwing these specific items on the floor.” He reached for the book. “This is the town history. I’ll read through it and look for anything that might help. Maybe a myth or a legend of some sort. Usually there is some distorted truth to those things. Maybe something about that bridge.” He inclined his chin to indicate the files. “Hopefully, one of those is your car accident.”

  Sarah blinked with surprise. She simply couldn’t get over how easily Max accepted her world. “The way spirits talk to me doesn’t freak you out at all, does it?”

  “Macho guys like me don’t get freaked out,” he said, smiling as he referred to what she’d called him earlier at the inn. But as quickly as that smile had appeared, his expression turned serious. “I accept easily what others don’t, because I’ve seen a lot of things, Sarah. A lot of them ugly. Things you might not want to know about.”

  She did want to know. Had to know, in fact. But before she could say as much, a sound at the front of the office had her pushing to her feet.

  Already standing, gun in hand, Max said, “Stay here.” He didn’t wait for a response, rounding the corner, gun stiff-armed in front of his body.

  Max entered the lobby just as a big burly cowboy in uniform charged through the door, a 9 mm pistol in his hand. Though Max had no doubt this was the sheriff, he also didn’t know what the man’s state of mind was.

  “Put the weapon down, son,” the sheriff ordered. “No reason anyone has to be hurt.”

  “Normally, Sheriff,” Max drawled cautiously, “I’d be happy to comply. You are wearing a badge and all. But forgive me if I’m cautious. We haven’t exactly been received by a welcoming party.”

  “Who is we?” the sheriff asked.

  Sarah appeared beside Max, carrying a lighted candle. “Sarah Meyers, Sheriff Jenson. And this is Max.”

  A flicker of recognition sparked in the sheriff’s eyes. “I was expecting you, Ms. Meyers. Will you be kind enough to tell Max it’s not smart to draw a gun on the sheriff, and it’s downright stupid to do it in his own office?”

  “Max,” Sarah said, her hand touching his arm.

  “Where’s that deputy of yours?” Max asked, not ready to lower his gun quite yet. After what he’d seen back at that inn, he couldn’t be cautious enough. He wouldn’t die from a bullet wound, but Sarah would.

  “I’d like to know, too,” the sheriff said. “But it appears we have no phones.”

  “Max, please,” Sarah whispered. “Put down the gun.”

  Slowly, Max complied, easing his gun to his side, finger still on the trigger. He stepped in front of Sarah as he shoved the Glock into his holster, protecting her with his body until he was sure she was safe.

  “Now you,” he ordered the sheriff, sidestepping as Sarah tried to get around him.

  The lawman looked as if he might refuse, but after a second he blew out a breath and harnessed his gun. His finger slid over his long mustache and then tapped his cowboy hat back on his head. “I hope the two of you are really here to help, because we need it.”

  “We are here to help,” Sarah said, casting Max an irritated look, as he finally let her step to his side. Her gaze caught on the sheriff and then went past him, to the window. “The rain stopped.”

  “For now,” Sheriff Jenson agreed. “Still cloudy as hell, though.” He flipped the li
ght switch. “And no power yet. No phones or Internet, either. Truck worked, though, and so did my flashlight. Hope that’s a sign some of this has passed.”

  Sarah glanced at her wrist. “My watch is working again. From my best estimate, it rained a couple of hours at the most. I expected six hours of rain.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her eyes lifting and catching on Max’s. “Today is June 6. The sixth month, the sixth day. I’m wondering if there is a third six we haven’t identified.”

  “As in the sign of the devil?” Sheriff Jenson asked. “Just what are we dealing with here, Ms. Meyers?”

  Devil. Demon who received power from the devil. Max didn’t know the answer, but he’d seen plenty of bad stuff. He’d fought demon soldiers by the hundreds. Winning those battles had been a matter of raising a sword. A Darkland Beast died when its head was cut off. Max had a damn bad feeling this spirit stuff was a lot more complicated than that, a lot nastier. That Sarah appeared quite rattled didn’t comfort his worries. This was familiar territory to her, and her obvious unease wasn’t a good sign.

  “Whatever it is,” he assured her softly, “we’ll beat it.”

  “Ms. Meyers?” Sheriff Jenson said, his tone more demanding this time. “What are we dealing with?”

  “Call me Sarah, Sheriff,” she said, turning to face him. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, but things are looking really bad. I need some information and I need it fast. I had a vision about a car accident on that bridge coming into town. About a woman who died there. I need to see the case file.” The sheriff’s face noticeably paled.

  Sarah studied him. “What is it, Sheriff?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, obviously flustered. “I’ve never been a believer in ghosts and all the paranormal junk—”

  Sarah interrupted him. “But you invited me here.”

  “Right,” he said. “I’ll be frank. I didn’t want you to prove I had ghosts or spooks. I wanted a scientific explanation for all of this. Which brings me back to that car accident.”