Touch of Lightning

by Carin Rafferty

  Appalled by the impulse, she gestured him toward the other side of the fire. Then she tucked her hands into her pants pockets to keep them out of trouble.

  At her gesture, he hesitated, glancing from where she stood to the cave door. Obviously, he knew what she was up to, and she expected him to object. He surprised her by walking past her and sitting down without uttering a word.

  As soon as he sat, she knelt in front of the fire, leaned back on her heels and said, “Okay, talk.”

  “Tell me about John Butler.”

  She blinked, startled. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. Regarding him warily, she said, “Why?”

  He drew up a knee and rested his forearm on it. “Because he’s the enemy, and to fight him, I have to know about him.”

  “And why should I believe that he’s the enemy?”

  “Come on, Sarah,” he chided. “A little while ago, you said he gouged out a woman’s eyes, and when I was wrestling with your damn snake earlier, you said he couldn’t hop on a plane because he’d killed a man. I was too busy trying to keep from getting bitten to give that any thought. Then, everything else started happening, and, quite frankly, I forgot it until you mentioned the woman’s eyes. But the moment you told me Butler had killed a man, I should have realized what was going on.”

  “And just what is going on?” she asked warily. If he really didn’t know anything about John Butler, she wasn’t sure she should tell him anything.

  “I’ve already told you that. The talisman’s goal is to destroy mankind.”

  “You said you didn’t know that for sure.”

  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” he grumbled.

  She shrugged. “It’s been my experience that when people want you to make things easy, it’s because they have something to hide.”

  “I’m not trying to hide anything from you,” he denied impatiently. “I’m trying to clear up some questions so I can come up with a plan. So please, Sarah, tell me about Butler. Specifically, how do you know about him? Do you know how he got the circle? What, exactly, has he done since he got it? What does he look like? How close is he? I need to know everything.”

  Answer him, Sarah, Wanága urged.

  “I know about Butler the same way I knew about you,” she said. “I saw him in a vision.”

  “A vision?” he repeated, his expression skeptical. She didn’t know why his disbelief irked her. Few wasičuns believed in her abilities. For some inexplicable reason, however, his skepticism particularly rubbed her the wrong way. “Look, wicáhmunga, if you’re going to doubt my veracity—”

  “I asked you not to call me that,” he broke in, frowning. “I am not a wicáhmunga. I’m a warlock. And I don’t doubt your veracity. I’ve seen enough of your . . . talents to believe you have visions. In this instance, however, I’m questioning your terminology. A vision is psychic foresight or hindsight. I suspect that what you experienced with me and Butler was in real time, which makes it a mental link, not a vision.”

  Sarah gnawed on her bottom lip as she considered his words. Finally, she said, “You’re partially right. The vision I had of you was in the present, which confused me. My visions are always of the past or the future. But my first vision of John Butler had the familiar echoes of the past, and I knew it had already happened.”

  “Are you sure it was in the past?” he asked, leaning toward the fire and staring at her intently.

  His scrutiny made her uneasy, and she rubbed her hands against her thighs as she replied, “I’m positive. Why?”

  “I need more information before I can answer that. Who did you connect with first? Me or Butler?”

  “You.”

  “Tell me what happened,” he stated. “I need to know exactly when you connected with me.”

  She hesitated, and Wanága suddenly said, Tell him.

  Reassured by Wanága’s approval, she told the wicáhmunga about envisioning an unfamiliar forest and seeing him walk through a golden barrier. He looked surprised when she mentioned the barrier, but he didn’t interrupt until she reached the part about the lightning wreath appearing after he put on the triangle.

  “You saw a lightning wreath?” he asked incredulously.

  “You saw it too,” she replied. “When the lightning struck you—”

  “Lightning struck me?” he repeated, looking so dumbfounded that she knew he wasn’t faking it.

  “You don’t remember the lightning?” she questioned, wondering if she should tell him it had struck him a second time right here in this cave.

  She cast an uneasy glance down at her burned hand, and her jaw dropped in shock. The burn was almost healed. But that was impossible! She quickly looked at the wicáhmunga’s hand and frowned in concern. His wound wasn’t healing. If anything, it looked worse, and she switched her attention to his chest. His triangle covered that burn, but she saw a small trickle of blood oozing from beneath the silver object. Raising her gaze to his face, she saw that he too was comparing their hands with a puzzled expression.

  “You need to tend to your wounds,” she said. “They must be painful, and you should protect them against infection.”

  He glanced up and shook his head. “I can control the pain, and I rarely get infections. It’s one of the benefits of being a warlock. Let’s get back to when you first connected with me. What happened after the lightning struck me?”

  “You laughed,” she replied. “Then you seemed to look at me—which, of course, was impossible, because I wasn’t really there—and you said my name. It frightened me, and I ended the vision.”

  “And then you connected with Butler?”

  “Not immediately,” she hedged, recalling that Wanága had forced her to do that. When the wicáhmunga didn’t respond, she continued, “A few minutes later I touched my triangle, and that’s when I had the vision of John Butler.”

  “But it wasn’t in real time?”

  “No. It was definitely a vision of the past,” she said, staring at a spot on the wall behind him and shivering as she called up the memory. “The lightning wreath circled above a pit, and John Butler sneaked up on an older man and hit him over the head with a shovel. I know Butler killed him, because I saw the man’s spirit ascend from his body. Then, Butler climbed into the pit and dug up an object. Lightning struck him, and . . .”

  “And?” the wicáhmunga prodded when she didn’t continue.

  She shivered again, recalling how John Butler had also looked at her. As she’d gazed into his ice-blue eyes, she’d felt drawn into his evil, mesmerized by it. She’d wanted to be a part of it, and . . .

  Sarah, answer the wicáhmunga! Wanága commanded sternly.

  She blinked, ending the memory, and said, “And he seemed to look at me and said my name, just like you did.”

  “When he said your name, did that also have the feeling of the past?”

  As she considered the question, she frowned. “Yes and no. When he said my name, that felt real, but the sense of the past didn’t change. Does that make sense?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered, leaning away from the fire and rubbing a hand over his face.

  “Why unfortunately?” she asked, alarm sparking inside her.

  He dropped his hand to his lap and stared at her pensively. Several tension-filled seconds passed before he murmured, “Who are you, Sarah?”

  “I am the guardian.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re the talisman’s power source.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said, her spine stiffening as her alarm flared toward fear.

  “It’s very simple, Sarah,” he said, leaning forward again. “I put on the triangle because, under traditional magic, it should have connected me with the other two pieces and led me to
the people who possessed them. But I’ve never connected with this John Butler. I only connected with you, and you connected with me before I put on the triangle.”

  “So?” she said in confusion.

  “So you shouldn’t have known about me until after I put on the triangle.”

  “I still don’t see how that would make me the talisman’s power source.”

  “The key is in the vision you had of John Butler,” he explained. “You came to me in real time, because you had to verify that all three pieces were in position to come together. Once you confirmed that I was in possession of the triangle and would bring it to you, you had to connect with Butler so he would bring you his piece.”

  She opened her mouth to object, but he held up his hand. “Let me finish, okay?”

  When she nodded, he went on, “You must have subconsciously known Butler had uncovered the circle, but I think you had to see the event for it to enter your consciousness. Thus, the vision of the past. The reason his saying your name seemed real is that it was. Once you consciously acknowledged that he had the circle, you told him to bring it to you.

  “I didn’t tell him to bring it to me,” she protested. “I didn’t even speak to him.”

  “You didn’t have to speak, Sarah. You mentally linked with him, and once you did, he was automatically drawn to you, just as I was.”

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “You have me completely confused, and I still don’t see how any of this would make me the talisman’s power source.”

  “Sarah, the reason I haven’t connected with John Butler is because we’re nothing more than pawns,” he said. “The talisman is using us to bring the other pieces to you.”

  “But that’s good!” she declared, her shoulders sagging in relief. “That means I’ll be able to stop it from destroying my people.”

  “No,” he said again. “It means the talisman has chosen you to act as its instrument of destruction. The question is, why has it picked you, the guardian, to destroy your people? And make no mistake—they’ll be destroyed along with everyone else.”

  As the import of his words sank in, Sarah couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe. What he was saying wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true! She had conquered the triangle. If she hadn’t, Leonard would have never given it to her.

  Suddenly, John Butler’s voice reverberated in her mind. You’re just like me.

  “No! It’s not true!” she yelled, jumping to her feet and glaring at the wicáhmunga. “I would never hurt my people.”

  He gave her a compassionate look as he asked, “How long have you had the triangle, Sarah?”

  “I’m telling you, I would never hurt my people!” she responded angrily, although it wasn’t anger mushrooming inside her. It was absolute terror. He had to be lying to her. If he wasn’t . . .

  “How long have you had it, Sarah?” he repeated, interrupting her horrifying thoughts.

  “That has nothing to do with this,” she answered belligerently.

  “It has everything to do with it,” he stated. “John Butler has had the circle no more than a day or two, and from what you’ve said, he’s already killed two people, maybe even more. I’ve had my triangle less than twenty-four hours, and the talisman has been manipulating my emotions. It made me sexually demean you. It made me so angry at you that I somehow burned you. If it has gained that much power over me and Butler in such a short time, what has it done to you?”

  “It has no power over me!” she declared frantically. “I spent my life overcoming the triangle’s evil, and I mastered it. It cannot corrupt me.”

  “Your entire life?” he said, his expression shocked. “No wonder it has chosen you!”

  “It has not chosen me!” she screamed at him, taking a step back as she shook her head.

  “Sarah”—

  She wouldn’t—couldn’t—listen to what he had to say. She spun around and ran toward the cave door, telling herself that he was lying to her, trying to confuse her, so she would give him her triangle. What he was saying wasn’t true. She would never hurt her people. Never, never, never!

  But as she burst from the cave into the night-shrouded forest, John Butler’s voice began to reverberate in her mind. You’re just like me.

  “Wanága, help me!” she cried as she raced into the trees, swiping at tears that blurred her eyes.

  She was already terrified, but it was nothing compared to the dread that rushed through her when Wanága didn’t answer.

  AS SARAH RAN out of the cave, Sebastian sprang to his feet and raced after her.

  Damn! Why had he let her maneuver him into sitting behind the fire, allowing her clear access to the cave’s opening? Because he’d needed answers, and he’d hoped that by giving her that edge she’d cooperate.

  When he dashed outside and saw her heading into the trees, he mut­tered a curse and followed her. She hadn’t had much of a head start, but she darted through the moonlit forest with an agility bred of familiarity. Sebastian realized that if he didn’t catch her quickly, she’d escape. If his suspicions about her were true, he couldn’t allow that to happen. She’d hook up with Butler, who had the circle. Ulrich Morgret had buried the circle rather than one of the triangles because he was convinced it was the talisman’s primary force. Sebastian’s instincts said that if Sarah possessed both the circle and her triangle, she’d be unstoppable.

  At the thought, urgency rushed through him, prodding him to run faster. He forced himself to maintain a steady lope. There were too many rocks and fallen trees on the ground, and, unlike her, he didn’t know the terrain. If he tripped, he’d lose her for sure.

  A few minutes later, he saw Sarah cast a quick glance back at him. When she did, she stumbled, landing on her hands and knees. She quickly regained her feet and resumed running, but before she could pick up full speed, he closed the gap between them.

  Knowing she’d ignore him if he asked her to stop, he didn’t waste his breath. Instead, the moment he got within reach, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and lifted her off her feet.

  “Let me go!” she screamed, squirming frantically against his hold as he slid to a stop and pinioned her back against his chest.

  He cursed when one of her heels connected solidly with his shin. When an elbow slammed into his side, he gasped in pain and almost lost his hold on her.

  “Dammit, Sarah! I am not going to hurt you!” he yelled, trying to evade her flailing limbs.

  “Let me go!” she repeated, landing a few more kicks and punches.

  Without even thinking, he mumbled an incantation that would temporarily render her immobile. Spell lightning encircled her and she went limp. Elation shot through Sebastian. His magic was back!

  His elation switched to alarm, however, when Sarah started trembling violently and gasping for breath. He quickly hooked an arm beneath her legs and gently laid her on the ground, kneeling beside her. Her eyes were closed, but one look at her tortured expression assured him her distress was real. What in hell was wrong?

  “Your magic is killing her, wicáhmunga. Remove your spell or she will die.”

  Sebastian’s head shot up. The spirit he’d encountered in the cave stood in front of him, and Sebastian had no doubt that he was indeed a spirit. His feet hovered several inches above the ground, and Sebastian could see the landscape through his incorporeal image.

  “That’s ridiculous! It’s a harmless spell specifically designed for mortals.” Sebastian declared, automatically glancing down at Sarah, his alarm increasing. She still gasped, and her trembling had increased to the point that it was almost convulsive.

  “Sarah is not a mortal,” the spirit said.

  “Not a mortal?” Sebastian echoed, glancing back at him in disbelief. “Then what the hell is she?”

  “If you are meant to know all, you will
understand. Remove your spell,” he reiterated as he disappeared.

  Sebastian returned his attention to Sarah and immediately chanted the words to withdraw the spell. The instant it was gone, her trembling de­creased. Her eyes were still closed, and she continued to gasp. He could tell, however, that she was gulping in air rather than fighting for it.

  As he waited for her to recover, he sat back on his heels. Staring at her in confusion, he considered the spirit’s assertion that she wasn’t a mortal. Again, he wondered if she could be part witch but quickly rejected the idea. The spell he’d cast was as harmless to his race as it was to mortals.

  But if she wasn’t a witch or a mortal, then what was she? A spirit? He discarded that idea, too. A spirit was already dead, so there was no way his magic could kill her.

  Before he could ponder the matter further, she opened her eyes. Since she’d been fighting him when he’d cast the spell, he expected her to at least start railing at him. Instead, she stared up at him, her expression confused, disoriented. Worriedly, he leaned forward and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. She felt like silk, and unexpectedly, desire stirred inside him.

  He jerked his hand away. What in hell was the matter with him? Now was not the time for libidinous pursuits! Unfortunately, that didn’t calm his libido, particularly when she chose that moment to run the tip of her tongue across her lips.

  His fingers itched to follow the sensuous path her tongue had taken. With an inward curse, he firmly planted his hands on his thighs and gruffly asked, “How do you feel?”

  She answered him, but her voice was so soft that he couldn’t hear her.

  Leaning toward her, he said, “What did you say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what you said, or you don’t know how you feel?”