“Cathy is fine,” Sarah said, hoping it was still true. “And there is no change in Edward. Both are well guarded.” She hesitated, as she indicated the two men framing her with their big bodies. “Just as you can see I am.”
“Absolutely, ma’am,” Max said, surprising Sarah. She got the feeling he really understood Sheryl’s fear for her daughter as he added, “We have some of our best men with Cathy and Edward. They’ll be taken care of.”
Sheryl shifted her attention to Max, feminine appreciation flashing in her eyes, and Sarah introduced him. They shook hands and murmured a greeting. “Max has been working closely with our team on this particular case.” Sarah motioned to Jag next. “And this is Jag. He heads the team that Max works for.”
Sheryl’s gaze narrowed just a bit on Jag, before she accepted his hand. “What kind of team would that be?”
“Similar to mine,” Sarah responded, smiling, quick to ease Sheryl’s mind of any concerns and take the pressure off the men to respond. “Only with a lot more brawn.”
A tiny laugh bubbled from Sheryl’s throat. “I can see that.” She lowered her voice for Sarah’s ears only and added, “Interesting company you’re keeping these days.” Then to all of them she said, “Come in.” Motioning them forward as she stepped back into the house, she gave them room to enter.
Sarah went first, with Max and Jag behind her. Once in the hallway, they followed Sheryl into a living room decorated in warm blues with a brick fireplace in the center. Sarah sat on the couch next to Sheryl and Max sat on the matching love seat to her direct left. Jag walked to the mantel and looked up at the picture of a mighty-looking archangel hanging as the centerpiece.
He glanced over his shoulder at Sheryl. “You like Michael, I see.”
“Michael is a brave warrior,” Sheryl explained. “I feel safe with him around.”
“I’m a bit partial to Raphael myself,” Jag said, leaning an elbow on the ledge beneath the picture. “Raphael is a healer of earth and humanity.”
Sarah and Max exchanged a look and she almost thought she saw a hint of a smile on his lips, his dark mood seeming to lighten a bit. “But Raphael isn’t a warrior by nature,” Sheryl countered.
“That’s true,” Jag agreed, looking impressed with her knowledge. “He raises his sword reluctantly, but no less efficiently.”
Sheryl tilted her head. “You know your archangels.”
“As do you,” Jag replied. “You practice angel magic.” It wasn’t a question.
“My family is rich in inbred magic, though how we practice those gifts may vary. Angel magic just happens to be what speaks to me.” She directed a grave look at Sarah and directed the conversation to her obvious worries. “Talk to me, Sarah. What was so dangerous that it couldn’t be discussed on the phone?”
Sarah took a moment to explain the situation with Vars and Allen. The minute Sarah said Shadow Masters, Sheryl paled.
“There are stories,” she said. “None of them good. Some from sources that make me believe it’s true. Three men who sold their souls for wealth and power, even immortality. Their souls are said to be locked inside the magical stones. These Masters are said to be dark powers in the magic world, all able to kill you with a mere spoken word.”
“I’m remembering something,” Sarah said, shutting her eyes, trying to focus on what Kate had tried to communicate in the cabin. “The stones hold the souls. The demon wants the souls released from the stones so he can use them somehow to free himself.” She looked at Sheryl. “Does that sound right?”
Sheryl nodded. “I’ve heard stories that seem to support that conclusion. It’s also said that the Masters use the stones to perform black magic, and that the power collected by those stones is immense. If their souls are released, the demon would have that power to use for his own purposes.”
“Such as freeing himself,” Jag stated. “Any idea how Allen would be involved? How he would get the Masters to release their souls?”
“None,” Sheryl said. “And honestly, I can’t be certain of any of this. I am simply making educated guesses. I would conclude that the Masters will die when their souls are freed, though. Allen must be the carrier who delivers them to this demon.” Sadness flashed across her face. “Poor Allen. It sounds like all he really wants is his wife back. The pain of losing a loved one can be a dangerous thing.”
Sarah barely kept her eyes from Max’s but she knew Sheryl’s words had to touch him as much as they did her. They’d both felt that pain. Both had felt the desperation of grief, too.
“Do you have any idea who these Masters are?” Sarah asked, hoping for some semblance of a lead.
Sheryl shook her head, her lips tight. “You can’t go asking questions about these men. If they’re real—and I believe they are—they’ll kill you before you get anywhere near them.”
Sarah grabbed Sheryl’s hand. “If we don’t find them, a lot more people will die than just us. There has to be someone we can go to who can help? Someone who can be trusted?”
Sheryl swallowed hard, her apprehension palpable. Seconds passed, and somehow they all knew to leave her be, not to press. Finally, she pushed to her feet and left the room. Sarah glanced at the men, their expressions seeming to indicate they were feeling the same uncertainty she was. Her gaze lingered on Max. His hair had a windblown look, a bit too long, a bit too wild. A bit too sexy and distracting. And as his eyes met hers, she saw through the cold shell he had enclosed himself in, saw a moment of tenderness.
Sheryl returned in a scurry of movement, and handed Sarah a piece of paper. “This is opening a door I shut tight, but if you go to this man and tell him I sent you, he will help you. I’m sure he will call me to confirm and that’s…expected.” She hesitated. “He is dangerous, Sarah, but he wants to please me.” Her gaze went to Max who now stood behind Sarah. “Still, he’s volatile. His mood can turn dark quickly. Get in and get out.” She shut her eyes. “There was a time when the dark side of magic touched me more than I like to admit. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share that with Cathy. I’ve taught her to learn about the dark side of magic as a way of defending herself against it, and that’s the right reason. She has no idea I learned about it for the wrong reasons. After her father left us, I needed someone who actually accepted our world. Someone who embraced magic. I swear, I didn’t know—”
Sarah squeezed her hand. “Don’t do this to yourself,” she said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Honestly, I think you should tell Cathy because she loves you and she’ll be there for you. But I won’t break your trust.” Concerned for Sheryl’s safety, Sarah asked, “What will happen once you open this door?”
“You just stop this demon from rising,” she said, stiffening her spine, her resolve firming as Sarah watched. “I can handle myself. Don’t underestimate Caden, though. He knew my family had a strong foot in magic. He wanted the power he thought us joining could bring him. The man is gifted with dark magic no human should possess. It’s downright frightening. But if these Shadow Masters exist, he’ll know how to find them.”
Sarah had the feeling Sheryl was opening herself to painful repercussions by letting them use her name with Caden. “Thank you.”
“Thank me by getting my daughter out of that town safely.” She eyed the men at that point. “I’m talking to all of you now.”
The men were quick to promise their protection as Sheryl walked them all to the door. After hugging Sheryl goodbye, Sarah stood on the porch with Jag and Max by her side. She looked at the piece of paper that held the name Caden Neil and a Houston address.
“Houston,” Sarah said holding up the paper for them to see.
“This could get us no place fast,” Max said. “I know you’re worried about the men, Jag. Houston’s only a few hours from the inn. Sarah and I can drive it.”
“Once I’m inside Nowhere, we can’t guarantee communication,” Jag cautioned. “You’ll be on your own.”
“Just make sure Allen doesn’t get back to that cabin i
f he makes it back to town,” Max said. “What we’re doing may or may not lead anywhere.”
Jag gave a slow nod of approval and looked at Sarah, offering her his arm so he could orb them back to the van. “Ready to go?”
She remembered the conversation she’d had with Karen about Max believing in himself. And she thought of the care he’d shown for Sheryl, for her team, for everyone but himself. Suddenly, it felt very important he know she saw the human in him, not the beast.
Sarah reached for Max’s hand, her gaze finding his. Without words, she hoped he saw the message in her eyes—that she was with him, ready to fight. He couldn’t push her away.
When she saw the ice of his stare melting, she knew she’d at least touched some part of his emotions. She turned to Jag and took his arm. “Now I am.”
Jag’s eyes warmed and she took strength in his obvious approval. She turned back to Max, the man who’d taken her life by storm. Her hand tightened on his, as his did on hers, their palms melting together as their bodies had only hours before.
And in that moment, as Jag orbed them back to the van, they were united, no barriers, no worries—just the two of them, no matter what the future held.
As they stood beside the van, Max knew he should let go of Sarah’s hand and push her away. After all, his plan was to scare her off, not draw her close. But as he wished Jag a farewell, he couldn’t seem to find the will.
“I’ll check in with Karen every twelve hours and you do the same,” Jag instructed Max. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll try to find you based on the last update you left. At least that leaves us with some form of communication.”
“And if you don’t check in?”
“Karen will contact Salvador and give you instructions,” Jag replied. “Unless you’re told otherwise, stay your path if it feels productive.” He grabbed Max’s shoulder. “Be safe, my friend.” With a nod, he indicated Sarah. “And take good care of our newest recruit here.” He stepped back from them and disappeared.
Max turned to face Sarah, not sure what to say. She let go of his hand and stepped back from him, grabbing the keys from her pocket. “I’m driving so you can sleep.”
For a moment he considered insisting that he drive, but decided she’d call him macho and she’d be right. He was exhausted, plain and simple. “A little shut-eye would do me good.” She smiled her approval and climbed in the van. Once Max was inside, he leaned his seat back. “If anything seems wrong, if you get even a slight vibe of trouble—”
Sarah inserted the key and turned on the engine. “I’ll scream, you’ll jerk away and draw your blades, and we’ll do battle. Got it.” She cast him a warning look. “Lie down and go to sleep.”
He did as she said, secretly smiling at her bossy attitude, enjoying it more than he should. Enjoying it because she was once again genuinely concerned about him.
And with that secret smile, he drifted off to sleep, hoping to wake with a clear mind and a solution to all their problems. A way to save lives, including his own. A way to make him and Sarah more than a fantasy.
Chapter 17
They’d been on the road about two hours when the sun set. A traffic jam had caused them to lose an hour sitting on the highway. Max had been in and out of sleep the entire time, occasionally sitting up to check on things and then sliding back into a nightmare. She knew they were nightmares because of the way she felt his emotions. It really was quite hard to get used to her sensitivity to him. Being sensitive to spirits had become a way of life, and it only came during their brief visits. But with Max, she got his emotional feed pretty much all the time. And boy, was it intense. He still had plenty of human in him. She didn’t doubt that now. He also had a lot of pain that needed healing.
Another rush of feelings came over her, and this time it was so turbulent, so full of anguish and hurt, that she tensed, fingers turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.
“William,” Max murmured, his head tossing from side to side. “No!”
Her chest tightened, stomach queasy. He was dreaming of the day his family was murdered. She knew because this is what she felt when she dreamt of hers dying. He quieted, but he made a jerky movement with his hand. “William!” Then he shouted louder as he sat up and grabbed the dash, “William!”
They’d entered a tiny town and were about to pass a small ice-cream and burger joint on the right. Sarah whipped into the driveway and stopped the car.
She quickly reached for him. “Max,” Sarah whispered, careful not to startle him, not sure how he would react. “You’re having a nightmare. Just a nightmare.” Her hand stroked his arm, offering comfort.
He blinked and turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing, focusing. “What happened?” Surveying the surroundings, he shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs and ran a rough hand through his hair. “I didn’t even know we’d stopped. I should have been more alert.”
“You had a nightmare,” she said softly, her hand moving up and down his arm. “One of many in the past two hours. You were screaming a name—William.”
Darkness flashed across his handsome features, and he dropped back on the seat. “My brother.”
“I assumed as much,” she said. “You answered a question for me today.”
He glanced her way. “What would that be?”
“The nightmares never end. I had hoped with enough time they would.”
“No,” he agreed, turning away again. “They never end.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Max laughed at her question, the sound bitter even to his own ears. “No. Reliving that day every time I sleep is enough.”
Beside him, Sarah reclined her seat, and he glanced over to see her lean back and shut her eyes. She didn’t press him for more information, didn’t press him period. She simply lay there with him, for him, and he knew it. No one had ever been there for him. Not even in his human life.
He stared up at the roof of the van, replaying the nightmare, and somehow he just started talking. Still, he didn’t look at her. He kept his focus on the plain black ceiling.
“I grew up in England, a part of the English nobility. My brother was the oldest, the one who’d inherit my father’s title. I never cared about titles and social functions as they did.” He made a frustrated sound. “That’s something I’ve never missed.”
“You don’t have an English accent,” she observed.
“I’ve had centuries to shed that accent,” he reminded her, eyeing the ceiling again. In a corner of his mind, he knew this conversation compromised his plans to push her away. He should be cold, quiet, working to keep her at a distance where he couldn’t hurt her. Instead, he kept talking.
Her voice was soft, gently prodding. “I think you mentioned your brother became a Beast?”
“We both did, but William wasn’t saved. Salvador…” He cast her a sideways look and explained, “That’s the one who created the Knights—he’s a direct descendant to Raphael.” He continued, “Salvador said it wasn’t William’s destiny to join me. Nothing more. No matter how many times I ask, that’s what I get. Everyone loved William. It makes no sense. None.”
Sarah reached for his hand. “Max.” He turned to look at her, sucking in a breath at the tenderness in her gaze as she sympathized, “I understand how you feel. Why didn’t the demon kill me? Why my family? My friend? Not knowing tears me up inside.” Darkness enclosed the van as nighttime fell around them, shadowing her expression. But he heard the anguish in her voice. “Deep down I want to believe my survival had a purpose, but it’s been hard. You’re part of the Knights, and they give you a purpose.”
More than anything, he wanted to pull her close and kiss her, to believe he would beat this test, to believe he could be with his Sarah and control his inner beast.
“Sarah,” he murmured, his body turning toward hers, his willpower fading. The air crackled with their shared attraction, the moments that passed potent as they leaned toward each other. They froze as Max’s cell phon
e rang.
Max eyed the screen caller ID. “It’s Karen.” He hit the answer button and listened a minute. “Cathy?” His gaze went to Sarah. “Before you ask, she’s fine. Nothing has changed.”
Sarah visibly relaxed. Max held up a finger and listened. A few seconds later he hung up. He motioned to the restaurant. “Let’s grab some food before we get back on the road, and I’ll fill you in.”
“All right then,” she said, and reached for her door.
They walked side by side toward the restaurant, and he wished like hell they could be that way for a lifetime.
A few minutes later they sat together in a tiny booth eating burgers and fries again. Sarah listened as Max explained the details of Karen’s call, which had been badly timed. She’d wanted him to kiss her—one more second and he would have.
“Marisol can sense magical abilities. Not the kind a human creates but inborn talents. The minute she met Cathy, she knew she was special. Most of the women who come into our circle come from certain bloodlines. Angelic bloodlines. Karen is researching to see if either or both of you are on the list we hold. Des’s mate is on the list.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. “Angelic bloodlines?” She shook her head. “Unbelievable.” She would have asked more questions, but there were simply too many and too little time. “Does Cathy know any of this?”
Max dipped a fry in ketchup. “Marisol has talked to her.” He leaned back in his seat. “Marisol hopes she can funnel Cathy’s abilities into her own and dispel the demon that is possessing Edward. So far no go, but they’re working on it.”
“Do we know what Cathy’s abilities are?”
“Not yet.” He drew a sip off his straw and swallowed. “The good news is that Karen felt Cathy and Marisol were making progress on how to help Edward.”
This made Sarah think of Vars. “Anything going on inside the town?”
“Jag visited Karen right after he reviewed the town’s situation. It’s quiet there—eerily so. He’s convinced the Sheriff to keep the town on lockdown, so the residents won’t be walking targets for the Beasts. He confirmed the Beasts have taken positions on the outskirts, intending to trap us inside the perimeter of the populated area. But we’re ready. We have Knights in position behind their Beasts. We’ll know when they move, and we’ll hit them from behind.”
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