by Lara Nance
“You do?” Cara’s heart flipped. “How can you know what Desmond has planned?”
“It’s not so much a time as an event,” Rolf said.
“An event?” Sean frowned.
“Yes. There is a time each month when a Light-dealer’s powers are at their strongest. Only an ancient would know this.”
Cara had never felt stronger at any specific time. “I don’t understand.”
“Exactly. You wouldn’t know. There is no difference in how you feel. It’s a difference in possibilities, not abilities.”
Cara frowned. That makes no sense.
“Then when, sir?” Sean asked. “When will it be?”
“In two nights,” Rolf said. “When the moon has waned and its lunar pull cannot disrupt the flow of Light.”
She collapsed in the chair. Sean’s eyes flickered from Rolf to her and he twisted the folders in his hands. Two nights! They couldn’t hope to do anything to stop the Takers in so short a time.
“What can we do?” Sean asked. “We can’t defeat this plan by then.”
Rolf handed Sean the bundle of papers and settled his gaze on Cara. “Cara, call your friends. Have them meet us at the Norfolk City dock in two hours. We’re leaving.”
###
A few minutes before noon, Sean dropped Cara, Dusty and Rolf on the curb at Norfolk’s Waterside complex beside the city dock. Rolf carried a black box containing the golden crystal device.
“There she is.” Rolf’s voice held a note of pride as he pointed to the boat taking up the entire length of the outer dock. “Avalon.”
Cara stared, open mouthed, at the enormous ship. Glowing mahogany and gleaming brass fit with the other antiques and precious items Rolf collected. “Wow.”
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Rolf paused at her side. “Avalon is a Trumpy. A new one. They just started making them again.” He glanced down at her. “Do you remember the old US presidential yacht that was eventually sold?”
“Yes,” she said. “Called Sequoia.”
“It was also a Trumpy. An old one, built in the 1920’s. Trumpy was the name in ship building elegance for another era.”
“How appropriate for your collection,” she murmured. “How big is it?”
“One hundred twenty-five feet.”
“Double wow.”
As they drew closer, she admired the details of the clean, white hull and rich mahogany of the upper cabin structure and pilot house, shiny with a thick varnish coating. Crew members in navy blue uniforms scurried about the deck. On the top sat a small launch made entirely of mahogany with lifts at each end, which could hoist it up and over into the water. Radar and other electronic structures spiked up from the roof of the bridge.
Rolf took her by the elbow and hurried her on as her feet lagged in proportion to her growing awe of the imposing ship. “Come on, Cara.”
Once onboard, Rolf showed her to the cabin she would use and in clipped tones indicated the general layout of the ship.
“Please, excuse me now. I have to consult with the captain on what course we will need to take. Make yourself at home and keep a lookout for your friends.” He hurried away and left her feeling insignificant in the spacious salon. She glanced at the windows placed along both sides of the salon, all precisely half covered with burgundy shades. Very ship shape.
She wandered over to the mahogany bar beside the stairs. A wide variety of liquor and wine bottles sat in a shiny brass tray on the counter behind the bar. It would keep them secure while the boat was moving. The wall behind the bar was a six foot long, built-in book shelf. A flat screen TV hung from a ceiling bracket to the left of the bar.
Across from there, a sitting area of plush, off-white couch, loveseat and wing chairs circled an oval mahogany coffee table. She strolled past them and paused at the polished dining table for ten.
Cara turned in circles, blinking at the lavish furnishings. The aura of an elegant past blended with state of the art technology. She floated in a crazy dream, headed into the future with no idea of the course or outcome. The opulence of all this took her breath away.
“Ma’am, I think some of your friends are coming.” One of the crew stuck his head in the door from outside.
She pulled herself back to reality and followed him outside. Amber and Tor, loaded with bags, stopped twenty feet from the boat, staring with mouths hanging open.
“Hey.” Cara waved to them and they quickened their pace. Tor still wore his police uniform, his brow creased in worry.
“Cara.” Amber climbed up the stairs to the deck, face pale. One of the crew took their bags, and Amber enveloped Cara in a hug with trembling arms. She stepped back and her gaze traveled over Cara’s face. “Honey, you look horrible. Are you okay?”
“Just a little battered.” Cara motioned to the dock. “We need to keep an eye out for the rest of the group. They should be here any minute.”
“Are you sure Rolf is right about this?” Skepticism and worry etched new lines on Tor’s face. He linked arms with his wife. “I just walked out of my job and Amber closed up her store.”
“But I did bring all my crystals as you asked.” Amber held up a black bag.
“I know, I know. I’m completely freaked out by this, but we’re doing the right thing. We have to get out of here.” Cara leaned against the rail. “We’ll have more time to talk later and you’ll get more information. For now, please trust me. Nothing is more important than us leaving.”
“There’s Shana, Marc and Alistair.” Amber pointed to the dock.
“Come on,” Cara motioned. They tread the gangplank to greet their friends.
“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” Shana said as they approached. “I thought we were going on Rolf’s boat, not the Queen Mary.”
“It appears to be a Trumpy,” Alistair said, clearly pleased. “Lovely vessel.”
Crew members stepped forward to take their bags.
“Come inside.” Cara led them into the salon, heart filled with sympathy for what they all must be experiencing with this confusing and abrupt departure from their lives. There wasn’t enough time to explain everything when she called them. She’d just asked them to trust her. It was a testimony to their friendship that they had walked out of jobs and away from their lives to follow her instructions. Hopefully, once all the information was laid out, they would understand.
“What’s that?” Tor pointed to a lump of tan and silver fur in the crook of Alistair’s arm.
“Oh, when Cara told us about how dogs can detect the BD’s and how useful Dusty has been, I decided to adopt a dog myself. A friend of mine was moving away and gave him to me yesterday.” He reached down and scratched the head that emerged. It was a tiny Yorkshire terrier. “This is Rambo.” The little dog yelped, its ears pointed into the air, intelligent brown eyes shining.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Rambo?” Tor said. “Dude, how did he get a name like that?”
“Er, I’m not sure. The owner said it fit him, though.” Alistair gazed at the dog and pursed his lips.
“That’s not a dog, it’s a rat.” Shana sniffed.
“He’s not a bloody rat.” Alistair raised his chin. “Yorkies are fearless rat killers, I’ll have you know.”
“Hey, he’s kinda cute.” Marc walked over and scratched the little guy’s head. Marc’s cheeks flushed pink, and he looked rested for once.
The rest of Rolf’s men arrived and came inside to find their cabins and settle in. The deck vibrated beneath Cara’s feet as the engines rumbled to life. The crew bustled around outside, casting off lines and raising fenders.
Rolf joined them, climbing down the steps from the bridge. “Welcome, everyone. I apologize for the abrupt departure, but time is running out. We need to be as far from shore as possible by tomorrow night.”
“Where are we going?” Marc asked.
“To sea. Straight out into the Atlantic,” Rolf replied. “As fast as the ship will carry us.” He turned to Cara, his gaze locking on hers. “Or w
e’ll all end up dead.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I would appreciate it if you’d mind your bloody feet and not step on my dog,” Alistair said to Shana as she crossed the salon for the fifth time. Rambo scurried away from the danger of Shana’s pacing to press against Alistair’s ankle.
“Well, put a bloody bell on him or something so we’ll know where he is.” Shana strode back across the room.
Even though they all trusted Cara, Rolf knew it didn’t stifle their fear of the unknown. Time to give them more information.
Cara entered the salon from the other end where stairs led to the cabins below. Dusty stayed by her side. Her gaze found Rolf’s at once, and her half-smile sent a thrill through him. He had to admit, despite her damaged face, he still found her beautiful—perhaps a product of her inner beauty, which became more apparent every day.
“Looks like everyone is here.” Rolf advanced into the room and found a seat in a wing chair. He’d never had so many people dependent on him, and it filled him with unease. But no other alternative existed. He wouldn’t leave them for Desmond to turn into Takers.
Cara made her way to the sofa, beside Amber. Dusty ambled over and sniffed at Rambo, but the little dog held his ground with a low-throated rumble. Dusty must have decided he was okay and went back to Cara, settling at her feet. Marc pulled Shana from her pacing to sit beside him on the loveseat.
“I hope you’ve all made yourself comfortable. We’ll be together for some time, so consider this your home.” Rolf gestured around him. “I’ll fill you in on what we’ve discovered so you’ll know what we’re facing.” Rolf gave them the short version of what had been discovered and the history of Desmond. When he finished, no one spoke for several minutes, their expressions a mixture of fear and shock.
Cara rose and walked to the bar. “Drinks anyone?” There were vigorous nods all around. Amber joined her and carried the glasses back to their friends.
Cara brought Rolf a glass of red wine. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and thoughts of Desmond vanished from his mind. Their gaze connected and he floated in the depths of her hazel eyes. How comfortable to lose himself there, to forget about Takers and danger. Reality snapped him back to his responsibility and he broke the contact.
“Do we know how far out we need to go to avoid the effects of this Net?” Marc turned to Rolf.
Rolf refocused. “We can infer some general idea from the radius of cities they have targeted. I hope to reach three-hundred miles from the coast by tomorrow night.”
“But we don’t know for sure.” Tor let out a terse breath.
“No, but I do have some ability to provide protection—and so does Cara.” Rolf glanced at her.
Cara frowned. The others shared puzzled looks.
“Cara has a gift. She can withstand the attempts of anyone to take her Light. I also have this gift. I believe we can come up with a way to extend this shield to include others. It’s something we’ll be working on with the utmost urgency.”
“Emmie.” Amber turned to Cara. “That’s the gift.”
Cara nodded.
“We’ll get as far as we can. Hopefully, with the added protection of the shield, and the luck of the gods, we’ll be safe,” Rolf said.
“But then what?” Tor asked, squeezing each fist to crack his knuckles. “Their plan is going to succeed. They’ll control a chunk of the east coast. How do we take it back?”
“If we return to fight them, they’ll be able to identify us since our energy will still be at full strength. We’ll be sitting ducks.” Shana’s shoulders slumped.
“Plus, if they renew their hold on people by repeating the Net at the end of each moon cycle, you’d be susceptible to that as well,” Rolf said. “We’ll have to find the source of their power and wipe it out to destroy the Net.”
“We’ll have to hide our energy if we go back.” Alistair rubbed his chin. “If they can’t sense us, we’ll have the element of surprise.”
“Right.” Rolf crossed his arms. “Did you bring the crystals, Amber?”
“I just got a shipment so there’s a good variety. Wait, what about the crystal globe Cara told us about? She said you made it to block your energy so they can’t locate you.”
“Yes, it’s here on the boat.” Rolf rose and strolled to a cabinet under the bar. He had secured the golden orb there when they boarded. He carried it out and placed the heavy artifact on the coffee table in the center of their seating. It glowed, with fragments of colored lights shooting from the protruding crystals.
Amber’s eyes widened. “If this works for a location, why couldn’t we make smaller pieces to shield an individual?”
Excellent! Already they were thinking and responding to the challenge. “Exactly. I used a similar method before I learned how to control my energy. But you all will need the shields. We’ll work on it together. I’ve completed a great deal of research you’ll find useful.”
“I think we need to continue fight training,” Shana said. “Will that be possible?”
“Of course. We can work on deck when the weather permits. If the weather’s bad we can move the furniture in here so you can use this area.” Rolf waved a hand at Tor.
“I agree,” Tor said. “At some point we’ll be fighting these assholes. We need to be ready.”
“I hope it’s soon. I’m ready to kick some ass.” Shana’s eyes flashed. “I had to leave a whole floor of dying people who need my help, and that pisses me off.”
Marc gave her a weak grin and walked to a window to stare out at the retreating land. Of them all, he seemed the unhappiest with the situation.
Rolf sipped his wine. They’d have to get over being gloomy and face reality. Their comfortable, cozy existence was over. He turned to Alistair. “We need your help to continue researching ways to defeat Desmond. Your knowledge of history is vital in locating obscure records and weeding out anecdote from reality.”
“Of course,” Alistair said. “My suitcase is filled with rare books, not just clothes. With those and the computer, I have every intention of tracking this phenomenon to the source.”
“Very good. I think we have a good plan. Cara and I will work on combining our gifts to create a shield. Amber will make individual shields using the crystals. Alistair will continue his research and everyone will work on their fighting skills, led by Tor.” It was a start.
Rolf only hoped it would be enough.
###
The next morning, Cara stood at the rail, and the wind blew her hair across her face. She clasped her sweater closer to her chest. The chill of fall filled the air, and the sun had just topped the horizon.
In every direction spread an expanse of dark blue-green water, topped with choppy swirls crested by white foam. Avalon plowed through steady and sure, heading further into the open ocean. Splashes and slaps of water against the hull played against the soft background hum of the engines. The freedom of the open sea filled her with exhilarated energy.
Such heady sensations infused her with the belief they might come out of this alive. She breathed deeply of the cold, salty air and pushed at her fear. With Rolf in charge, surely she could at least hope. Someone so strong and full of ancient knowledge had to be an asset. But Desmond had amassed a league of Takers, and Rolf would not be facing a single enemy. The thought made her shiver.
“Good morning.” Rolf walked onto the deck. He wore a fleece pull-over—black, of course—and black jeans. He held two cups of steaming espresso and handed one to her.
“Thanks.”
He joined her at the rail, leaning his elbows on it as he gazed out to the horizon. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah. Apparently exhaustion is a great sleep aid. And my head doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Very good. A few less Band-Aids, I see.” He squinted at her face.
“True.” She grinned, then turned back to study the horizon. “Where are we? I can’t see any land.”
“We’re about one hundred and sixty
miles off shore.”
“So, by tonight we’ll be pretty far away. Good.” She sipped her coffee, glad for the warmth of the cup between her hands and the strong, bittersweet bite of the espresso.
“A little over three hundred miles out, I hope.” He stood straight, turning his gaze to her, eyes so warm and deep she wanted to fall into them. “You and I need to start working on the link. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“We’ll go to my stateroom so we won’t be interrupted.” Rolf led her downstairs.
Cara’s feet sunk into thick Persian rugs covering the dark wood floor of Rolf’s bedroom. The room was large considering the limited space on a boat. To her right, a big wooden desk took up the far corner. She trailed a finger across its polished surface as she strolled past. Against the back wall sat a queen-sized bed with a dark green satin comforter and a multitude of gold, green and burgundy pillows piled on top. Past the bed, a freestanding gas fireplace faced a plush settee and two over-stuffed chairs, all covered in soft burgundy velvet.
He led her to the seating area and his arm brushed hers as he sank down beside her. Goose bumps erupted on her skin. She rubbed her arms and scooted back in the seat. The power he exuded was a warm rush of energy that soaked into her skin, loosening her muscles and fogging her brain. She reined in her sanity with a firm hand. They had to complete this attempt to protect the others.
“What makes you think we can form a shield?” she asked. “Have you done it before?”
“Not exactly,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Let me explain.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “I have formed a link with another Dealer before, so I know it’s possible. I developed the idea of the shield from what Desmond is planning. He’s going to link up with other Takers and use the combined power to drain Light from people in the near vicinity of those in the link. I think the principle is the same if we reverse the process. We form a link and extend protection instead of absorption.”
“So, if you’ve formed the link before, it’s safe, right?” Cara glanced sideways at him.