Dark Warrior

by Rebecca York

  She nodded. “You’re right. I’m not thinking straight.”

  Feeling like her heart was breaking, she turned and ran back toward the spa, fighting to keep the tears blurring her vision from welling over.

  She could feel Jason’s gaze on her. Would he stop her—the way a typical Minot would take matters into his own hands?

  But he stayed where he was, and she knew he understood that the two of them would only work out if she gave herself freely to him.

  She was out of breath when she reached the gate.

  “What’s wrong?” the guard asked when he saw her in the glow from the floodlights.

  “I got sand in my eyes.”

  “They’re looking for you.”

  “Thank you,” she answered, as though he’d given her information she hadn’t previously possessed.

  She walked onto the spa grounds, which were strangely quiet. She knew the guests were gone, but she’d expected to see some of her sisters.

  Where was everyone?

  With a feeling of dread, she headed toward the lounge where the women usually gathered in the evenings.

  Before she reached the building, she saw Cynthia striding toward her.

  “Where were you?”

  “Up in the hills.”

  Cynthia’s gaze was piercing. “The guard said you left with Jason Tyron. Why? Where is he?”

  “I don’t know where he is. He gave me a ride into the desert. Then he left,” she said. That was true, as far as it went, but she felt like she was digging herself into some kind of hole as she spouted the explanation.

  “And what were you doing out there?”

  “I went to a place of power that has served me before. Why are you asking so many questions? What’s happened?”

  Cynthia’s eyes were fierce and sad.

  “Tessa’s missing. We thought you were missing, too.”

  “No!”

  Sophia felt like she’d been hit by an adobe brick in the center of her chest. While she’d been out in the desert with Jason, something had happened to her sister.

  She reached to steady herself against one of the garden walls.

  “Missing?” she gasped. “How can that be?”

  “Did you help her get away from the spa? Is that what you were doing?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t even know she was gone.”

  They stood facing each other.

  When the high priestess reached to touch her, she took a step back, and Cynthia gave her an appraising look.

  “Are you afraid I’ll read your thoughts?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “I feel guilty. I should have considered that something like this could have happened.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve never seen Tessa doubt herself more. I think she was worried that she was putting us all in danger by staying here. I should have seen that.”

  “Did she give you any idea where she might go?”

  Sophia shook her head, wishing she’d paid more attention to her sister’s mood before charging off into the desert with Jason.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  RAFE BENT TO the computer screen. His informant, one of the guards who covered the spa gate, had told him about the blue Ford truck leaving the Ionian compound—with Sophia and Jason Tyron, the vet.

  Going where? He’d like to know.

  But the guard had also given him a more tantalizing bit of information. Tessa had also left the spa.

  Rafe could have gone looking for Tyron.

  But not when he had a chance of capturing Tessa. He glanced up at the red mountains that stood out in the view framed by his window, picturing her alone and vulnerable.

  Had she stayed in the area? It was possible, but not probable. Why would she leave and hang around where her sisters could find her?

  She’d want to get away, and he knew from his current research that she hadn’t rented a car.

  She was probably taking a commercial flight, unless she’d been stupid enough to hitch a ride. Or could she have driven out of there in one of the vehicles the Ionians owned? His informant hadn’t said. And Rafe couldn’t exactly call him back and get a full account. The guy knew the Ionians were under siege. He’d lose his job—or worse—if they discovered he’d ratted out Tessa.

  With a sound of frustration, he turned back to the computer.

  He had a number of sophisticated search engines on his hard drive that could crack into proprietary databases. If she’d gotten on a commercial flight, he’d know where she’d gone.

  Would the Ionians do the same thing—try to trace Tessa through the Web? He was pretty sure they wouldn’t even think of it. They might pride themselves that they were keeping up with the modern world, but their feet were firmly planted in the ancient past.

  And even if they thought of doing some kind of Web search, he was sure they wouldn’t have access to the expensive databases at his disposal. They wouldn’t think they needed them—not when they had psychic powers.

  Hopefully when he found her, he’d have a head start on getting control of her.

  Or was he making too many assumptions? The only way to find out was to go ahead with his plans.

  IT was early in the morning when Tessa landed in New Orleans. She’d caught a ride to Sedona with a tourist group viewing the Red Rock Country, taken a bus into Phoenix, then gone straight to the airport to find a flight. Luckily, she’d only had to wait a few hours, because the whole time she’d been in Phoenix, she’d expected to look up and see a group of her sisters charging toward her, lips firm and eyes fierce.

  But it looked as if she’d made a clean getaway.

  On the plane, she’d thought she could hear them calling to her, and she imagined them in the temple, sending out their thoughts. Or maybe she was just making that up.

  In any event, she closed her eyes and blocked the contact. She hadn’t left the spa to keep her sisters apprised of where she was.

  After getting off the airport shuttle at a hotel near the French Market, Tessa dragged in a breath of the humid air, so different from what she was used to at the spa. But New Orleans was the best place she could think of to go.

  She’d been here once before, on a trip with several of her sisters. Eugenia had wanted them to have some experience of the outside world, and she’d picked New Orleans for one of their trips because of the wide-open atmosphere of the city. It was a freewheeling place where you could walk around on the street with an alcoholic drink in your hand. Listen to jazz drifting from the doorways of bars, see topless women dancing in the windows of strip joints, or buy condoms from a sex shop on Bourbon Street.

  She looked around at the covered market where dealers were selling everything from local produce and bottles of hot sauce to T-shirts, feathered masks, and dried spices.

  This was a place where ancient cultures mixed with modern values. There was an old voodoo tradition in the city. And also women who made their living reading Tarot cards, palms, and tea leaves. Eugenia had said some of them had real talent.

  The palm reading had intrigued Tessa, and on her previous visit here, she’d bought herself a couple of books on how to do it and started working with her sisters.

  She was pretty good at it. In fact, she often did readings for guests at the spa, and she could surely do that here, probably in Jackson Square.

  But first she’d better find a place to stay so she wasn’t walking around pulling a suitcase, which made her look like an easy mark for any of the scam artists she knew were also here.

  But that was the least of her problems.

  It was clear a Minot was after her, and if she was gone, he’d leave the rest of her sisters alone, wouldn’t he?

  She shivered, hoping she wasn’t making the wrong assumptions.

  Firming her lips, she walked into a bookstore at the upscale end of the market where tourist-oriented shops and restaurants were strung along a colonnade. After looking at several guides to the city, she purchased one and took it outside, where s
he sat down on a bench beside a fountain and turned to the section on accommodations. There were lots of places to stay here, from large hotel chains to bed-and-breakfasts. She’d find something inexpensive, and drop off her luggage before going down to Jackson Square.

  BEFORE Sophia’s return, the sisters had searched the spa to make sure Tessa wasn’t hiding out somewhere. Then they’d gone into the temple, where Cynthia had called upon the ancient powers to help them. Because Sophia had been seen leaving with Jason Tyron and was presumed to still be in the area, they focused on Tessa and sent their thoughts out to her, but they got no response.

  Sophia might have tried calling out to her sister on her own, but she suspected it wouldn’t do any good. If Tessa had wanted to be found, she would have stayed here.

  Perhaps this was her fault. What if she hadn’t gone off with Jason? What if she’d tried to get Tessa to talk to her? But she hadn’t done any of that.

  And what about Julia and the other two women who had left?

  She wanted to ask the senior women—Cynthia and Eugenia—if they knew about them. But then she’d have to explain where she’d gotten the information. It was true that Tessa had been the one to tell her initially. But she’d discussed Jason’s parents with him, and if she started talking about Julia, she might give that away.

  Feeling trapped, she closed herself in her room, praying that Tessa would come back on her own.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  RAFE FELT A zing of elation when he found Tessa Thalia on the passenger list of a United flight from Phoenix to Houston and another from Houston to New Orleans. She’d left Phoenix quickly, and she’d only been in the Big Easy for a few hours. She’d probably picked it because an exotic woman like her would fit in. If he acted fast, he could pick her up before she got her bearings.

  And bring her back here?

  No. He’d only used this house to be close to the spa. It had served its purpose, and he wanted her in a location where it would be a lot harder to get away. Somewhere unfamiliar where she’d be off balance. His main residence, the estate in the hills above Santa Barbara, would be perfect. She’d be secure yet comfortable there.

  It was a little like the Ionian compound in that it was surrounded by a fence and equipped with security cameras. But he had other protective devices in place in case any unwanted visitors showed up.

  As soon as he made up his mind about the location, he called his housekeeper, Mrs. Vincent, who answered on the second ring.

  “I’ll be coming back home,” he said. “Have my room ready.” He hesitated. “And also prepare the guest room next to mine.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I’ll send you a list of foods to buy.”

  “Yes sir. When should we be expecting you?”

  “This evening or early tomorrow.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  There was no protest about the short notice of his orders. He paid Mrs. Vincent and his other staff members well, and they knew that it was unwise to incur his disapproval.

  Probably they’d all been sitting around on their asses while he’d been gone. Now they had work to do.

  Rafe hung up the phone and called the number of the general aviation service he used. He wanted to travel on his own schedule, and when he took Tessa back to Santa Barbara, he wanted privacy.

  JASON drove along the two-lane highway and past the access road to the spa. He wanted to turn in and head for the gate, but when he’d gotten home, he’d found a call from Ophelia on his answering machine. She’d told him that the spa was closed to guests until repairs were finished, and he wouldn’t be needed at the stable unless there was an emergency with one of the horses.

  He knew she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. She hadn’t barred him from the spa right after the fire. Something else had changed, but he couldn’t call back and ask or go over there and talk to Sophia, no matter how much he wanted to.

  There was still something crucial he hadn’t told her, hadn’t even dared think about while he was with her. It had to do with what he’d discovered about the Minot. When she found out, how was she going to react?

  He’d made himself totally vulnerable to her, but he should have realized how much her bond with her sisters would color her decisions. She had lived with the Ionians all her life, and she couldn’t simply rearrange her thinking.

  Did that mean he had to win the trust of the rest of the order? Although he didn’t know how that was possible, he wasn’t going to give up.

  AFTER booking a room at a bed-and-breakfast, Tessa walked along the side of Jackson Square, staying out of the landscaped interior with its equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson.

  Behind it was a huge white structure with three black spires, two at the sides and a larger one in the middle. St. Louis Cathedral.

  As soon as she saw the building, she stopped short. She had visited it on her previous trip to the city. But she had also encountered it more recently. When?

  She tried the trick of not thinking about the thing she was trying to recall—and it popped into her head. She’d seen the cathedral in her vision—when she and Sophia had been trying to divine their future.

  It had been burning. But then the spa had burned. So somehow the visions must have been mixed up.

  Now she realized she’d seen the cathedral because she was coming to New Orleans. Only when she’d had the vision, she hadn’t understood.

  That was the way things worked. You could sometimes see the future, but you didn’t necessarily know what it meant.

  She relaxed a little, looking at the crowd around her. The area was full of tourists, which meant that there were also a lot of locals on the streets. Musicians playing jazz, artists doing quick sketches of people, jugglers, palm and Tarot card readers. The latter were mostly women, sitting at card tables, where their customers could join them in an extra chair or one of the iron benches. As she watched them, Tessa hoped there was room for one more practitioner.

  “You look like you need to know your future,” a plump, gray-haired woman in a bright red dress and fringed shawl called out to her. The sign in front of her card table said Madame Victoria.

  Tessa stopped short. “Why?”

  “I think you’re in trouble.”

  “You see that on my face?” she asked in a quavering voice, hoping the woman was simply fishing for a customer.

  “I see it all around you. Like a gray cloak.”

  That wasn’t reassuring news. Tessa considered asking for more information. Perhaps this woman could help her. And do something that the Ionians had not? She dismissed that notion quickly.

  After a polite, “No thank you,” she moved off, wondering if she had made the wrong decision about coming here as she turned the corner and hurried past horse-drawn carriages waiting along the curb. When she saw a man striding purposefully toward her, she stopped short.

  Dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, he was young and good-looking, with dark hair and an arrogant posture that told her he was very sure of himself.

  She was certain she had never met him before, but she was instantly certain who he was. The Minot who had stopped Sophia on the road. She had described him, but knowing who he was now had more to do with his attitude and posture than his looks.

  Glancing wildly around for an escape route, she spotted the cathedral again and realized why she had seen it in her future.

  She could take refuge there.

  Before the man got within twenty yards of her, she turned and ran, dodging tourists and locals alike as she made for the church. If she could get inside, she’d be safe. He wouldn’t dare do anything in a house of worship.

  Or would he?

  She pounded down the sidewalk, hearing him keep pace with her and wondered why. Probably he could catch her at any time, but he was letting her run.

  Had he done that with Sophia?

  Tessa had vowed not to tell her sisters where she was. Now, in desperation, her mind went out to Sophia. He’s found me. I’m in New Or
leans. He’s found me here. You’ve got to help me.

  She had no idea if the message got through. Probably not, because she was so far away.

  But she had to try, because she realized she’d been a fool. She’d run away from the one place where she might have been safe.

  He’s found me. In New Orleans. Help me. Please help me, she repeated as she ran, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs.

  She climbed the steps to the main door of the church and pulled. When the door didn’t open, she cried out, dodged to the side, and went running down an alley along the side of the building.

  “Hey,” someone shouted behind her. “Leave the lady alone.”

  There was some kind of angry exchange. Maybe even a fight, but she didn’t stop to find out what was going on. She just kept running. If she could get around the building, she could disappear, and he wouldn’t find her. Then she’d leave her bag at the B and B and take the first plane home where she’d be safe. Or would he look for her at the airport? Maybe she should take a taxi out of town. It didn’t matter how much it cost. She had the money.

  How had he found her in New Orleans? She didn’t know. She only knew she had to get away.

  After turning the corner, she kept going along the back of the church, heading for the next street. Her side hurt now, her chest burned, and she didn’t know how long she could keep running at this pace.

  She thought she might have escaped until he came up behind her again, his hot breath rasping in her ears. Reaching out, he drew her to him, pressing the front of his body to the back of hers.

  “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right,” he said in a voice that sounded strangely normal.

  “No. Please, let me go.”

  “It’s not what you think. I’m not going to force anything on you. You’ll like being with me.”

  He pressed something against her arm, and she realized he’d stuck a needle in her flesh. Then everything turned hazy, and she sagged against him.