Touch of Lightning

by Carin Rafferty

Alone. Forever.

  As the words reverberated in her mind, she again cried, “Stop it!”

  But the voice ruthlessly reiterated. Alone. Forever.

  With a sob, she raced out of the cave. As she fled into the forest, she paid no attention to where she headed and she didn’t care. She had to get away from the voice.

  But no matter how fast she ran, its foreboding words stayed with her. Alone. Forever.

  Tears filled her eyes. Why did everyone abandon her? Why did they leave her alone?

  Retrieve the triangle, and you will never be alone again.

  “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely, as the image of the meadow again formed in her mind’s eye. This time she knew its location, and she veered in that direction. “I’ll get the triangle, and I’ll never be alone. Never.”

  ABSORBED IN THE mind-reeling ramifications of what he’d learned about the talisman, Sebastian took several steps into the cave before glancing around the chamber. He saw the sleeping bag unrolled in front of the fire, which had nearly burned down to embers. It still cast enough light, however, for him to see that the trunk had been opened. A small pile of clothes lay on the ground in front of it.

  As his gaze roamed the remainder of the cave, he suddenly realized that Sarah was nowhere in sight. He dropped the wood he carried to the floor and glanced around the cave again, refusing to believe she was gone. But she was.

  “Sarah? Where are you?” he yelled, spinning around and running to the opening.

  She didn’t answer, and he tried to connect with her mind. When nothing happened, he felt a stirring of panic. Was his magic malfunctioning again?

  He quickly chanted a short, nonsensical spell and flicked his fingers toward the ground. Spell lightning shot from his fingers and created a tiny whirlwind at his feet. As it dissipated, he frowned. If his magic worked, why couldn’t he connect with her?

  He knew there were a half dozen possibilities, but his instincts said it was because the talisman shielded her from him. A frisson of alarm raced through him, because he suspected the talisman had led her away from here.

  Damn! When he’d left the cave, he should have cast a spell over the opening, trapping her inside. So why hadn’t he done that?

  Because he’d been so caught up in the sexual chemistry igniting between them that he’d had only one thought on his mind. To get the hell away from her before he lost control and made love to her.

  After muttering a violent curse, he cupped his hands around his mouth, bellowing, “Sarah! Answer me! Where are you?”

  He started when a voice said behind him, “She cannot hear you, wicáhmunga.”

  Sebastian swung around. The spirit hovered in front of the fire, his outline so faint Sebastian could barely see him. “Where is Sarah?”

  “In the forest.”

  “I know she’s in the forest,” Sebastian said, exasperated at the spirit’s literal interpretation of his question. That was the major problem when dealing with spirits. They took everything literally. “Where, exactly, in the forest is she?”

  “I do not know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Aren’t you in contact with her?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Sarah does not remember me, so she refuses to acknowledge me.”

  “Then how do you know she can’t hear me calling her?”

  “It is the way.”

  “The way of what?”

  “If you are meant to know all, you will understand,” the spirit said, disappearing.

  Sebastian considered summoning him back. He knew, however, that even if he could conjure him up, the spirit wouldn’t—probably couldn’t— say any more than he already had. His words implied that destiny was at work here. Even if a spirit wanted to, he couldn’t reveal a human being’s destiny.

  “But whose destiny are we talking about?” Sebastian mumbled as he stepped outside and studied the woods, looking for some sign of Sarah. “Mine? Sarah’s? Butler’s? Or are all three of our fates tied together in some magical continuum?” He knew that only time would give him the answer, so he couldn’t waste it pondering the problem. He had to concentrate on finding Sarah. It was critical that he get her to Sanctuary before Butler arrived. But if he couldn’t connect with her mind, how was he going to find her?

  As he considered his options, he raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t cast a spell because it would physically affect her. A minor spell had almost killed her; a major one like he’d have to use to find her might destroy her instantly. He could, he supposed, go looking for her, but he didn’t know in which direction she’d headed, or even how long she’d been gone. He could wander for days and never find her.

  “So that leaves me with only one choice,” he said, with a fatalistic sigh. “Try to find her in the same way I initially found her. Touch the triangle.”

  Even as he made the statement, he knew that by touching the triangle, he flirted with danger. The more he touched it, the more control the talisman would have over him. And the more control it had, the quicker it would corrupt him, making him as irrevocably evil as Seamus Morpeth.

  “I am not like Seamus. I’ve encountered evil before, and I’ve not only endured those confrontations, I’ve been made stronger because of them. That’s why I’m the troubleshooter—the most powerful warlock alive,” he declared, needing to hear the encouraging words aloud.

  Unfortunately, they didn’t assuage his fears, but they did put the situation into perspective. He was the troubleshooter, and this was his job. He raised his hand to the triangle.

  The moment he touched it, he heard a soft whirring sound overhead. He looked up, and his jaw dropped in shock. Spinning above him was a wreath of lightning, just as Sarah had described to him earlier. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Why was it choosing to reveal itself now?

  Because he’d consciously chosen to use the triangle to find Sarah. By doing so, he’d acknowledged the talisman’s existence and its power. He had, in effect, given it permission to lay claim to his soul.

  When a lightning bolt broke free from the wreath and flew toward him, he shuddered in terror and tried to pull his fingers away from the triangle. Before he could, the lightning struck the back of his hand. His body convulsed from the electrical jolt, and he screamed in agony as he fell to his knees.

  But, oddly enough, as excruciating pain inundated him, he also felt tremendous physical energy surging through him. He’d never felt so alive, so vigorous.

  When the lightning finally released him, he felt as if everything mas­culine in him was magnified, strengthened. The sensation was so intense, so potent, that he didn’t even care that his vision was blurred.

  As he closed his eyes and basked in the glory of male puissance, he acknowledged that he’d been wrong about the talisman. It wasn’t out to destroy mankind, but to purify it. It had chosen him and Sarah to create a new race—a pure and extraordinary magical race—that would cleanse the earth of the weak masses. Through the talisman, they would restore the world to its natural order.

  He smiled and stroked the triangle. His eyesight would clear momentarily, and then the triangle would lead him to Sarah. Once he found her, he’d do what he should have done the moment he met her. Stake his carnal claim upon her.

  WHEN SARAH reached the moonlit meadow, she raced to the spot where she’d buried the triangle. Dropping to her knees, she clawed at the dirt with her fingers. She knew that if she didn’t dig up the triangle quickly, the voice would abandon her, and she’d be alone forever.

  When she finally uncovered a piece of chain, she grabbed it and jerked it out of the ground. Holding it up, she stared at the silver triangle dangling in front of her.

  She gasped, startled, when the object suddenly glowed, emitting a white-hot light. When she heard a strange whirring sound ov
erhead, she glanced up and her jaw dropped in shock. Above her circled a wreath of lightning bolts.

  Put on the triangle, the voice suddenly commanded.

  “No,” she whispered, terrified. The wreath circled faster, and she knew instinctively that lightning would erupt from it and touch the triangle. When it did, she would writhe in excruciating pain.

  As panic surged through her, she tried to throw the triangle to the ground, but its chain adhered to her skin like metal to a magnet. With a moan, she grabbed the chain with her other hand and yanked, but it continued to cling to her flesh.

  Put on the triangle or be alone forever.

  As the voice issued the portent, a lightning bolt broke free of the wreath and struck the triangle. Electricity zipped up the chain. As it arced through her body, Sarah screamed in agony.

  The pain disappeared a moment later, and Sarah gazed around her surroundings in bewilderment. She no longer knelt in the meadow, but stood in a shabby motel room. A full-size bed nearly filled the small space, and a threadbare, red chenille bedspread covered a mattress that dipped deeply in the center. A badly scarred pine nightstand was crammed into the corner below a minuscule window, whose red curtains were as shabby as the bedspread. A shadeless wall lamp was bolted to the wall above the nightstand. However, its bare bulb only provided a dim circle of light that didn’t stretch the length of the bed. Except for a coin-operated television set chained to a shelf on the wall, there were no other furnishings.

  Where is this place? Why am I here? she wondered, confused.

  “Ah, Sarah, I see you’ve finally arrived,” a man drawled.

  Sarah jerked her head toward the sound of his voice. He stood in the darkened bathroom doorway across the room. The bare bulb beside the bed didn’t put out enough illumination for her to see his face.

  When he swaggered toward the bed, Sarah noted he was short for a man. He was also shirtless, revealing a wiry physique that, when clothed, would look deceptively scrawny.

  “Deceptively scrawny is right,” he said, suddenly flexing a muscular biceps.

  Sarah stared at him in shock. He’d read her mind!

  “Of course I read your mind,” he stated impatiently as he reached the bed and threw himself down on the mattress. Placing his hands behind his head, he stared up at her impassively. “That’s part of our power, Sarah. Or at least it was until he inhibited you and made us weak. But I’m going to tell you how to get your power back, and then we’ll be stronger than ever.”

  As Sarah listened to him, she studied his face. His hair was short and dark, but it was wild, unkempt. Obviously, he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, giving him the scruffy look of a bum. But the image of a bum was not reflected in his eyes. They were a clear and cunning ice blue, and she could see his malevolence in their frigid depths. She knew intuitively that he lacked a soul, so why did he enthrall her? What drew her to him? And “drawn to him” was the only way she could describe the feelings moving through her.

  “You are drawn to me because we are the inheritors of the power,” he said, suddenly sitting upright and lifting his hand toward a circle hanging from a chain around his neck.

  As he caressed the circle, Sarah frowned. She knew she’d seen the object before, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring the memory into focus.

  “You can’t remember because he inhibited your power,” the man reiterated bitterly.

  “Who inhibited my power?” she asked, returning her attention to his face.

  “Sebastian Moran.”

  “Sebastian abandoned me,” she said, anger stirring inside her. He’d told her he’d be back, but he’d lied. He’d left her alone in the cave, not knowing who she was or where she was.

  “No, he wants you to think he’s abandoned you,” the man corrected, interrupting her thoughts. “Then, when he returns, you’ll be so happy to see him you’ll give him anything he wants. And he wants your triangle.

  “But you can’t give it to him,” the man stated urgently. “Moran’s a demon who wants to steal our power. Once he has it, he will kill us.”

  “A demon?” she repeated dubiously. She wasn’t sure if she doubted the existence of demons, or the concept of Sebastian being one. Both concepts seemed preposterous.

  “Believe me, Moran really is a demon, Sarah. He suppressed your power and took away your memory because you were too powerful for him to fight. That’s why you must put on the triangle. It will restore our power, and we can defeat him.”

  “I can’t put on the triangle,” Sarah whispered fearfully. “It draws the lightning, and—”

  “The lightning is a part of our power, Sarah. It hurts us because you fight it. Embrace it and it will make us all-powerful.

  “Now you must return,” he said, his voice again urgent. “Moran is near the meadow, and you must put on the triangle before he can take it away from you. Trust in it, and it will protect you from him until I arrive. Then you’ll no longer be alone.”

  As the room disappeared and Sarah found herself again kneeling in the meadow, the man’s words repeated in her mind. You’ll no longer be alone.

  She knew his statement should reassure her, but for some odd reason it frightened her. Before she could analyze her fear, she heard a noise behind her. Knowing it was Sebastian, she leaped to her feet and spun around to face him.

  When her gaze landed on him, she tried to scream, but it came out as a terrified whimper. He stood in shadow at the edge of the meadow and his eyes glowed so brightly they looked like two brilliant, pulsing moons hovering in the air. At that moment, she knew the man in the motel room had told her the truth. Sebastian Moran was a demon.

  With another whimper, she turned and sprinted toward the trees. She had to get away from him before he killed her. She’d run no more than a few feet when she heard Sebastian shout some indistinct words. An instant later, she saw a small flash of lightning fly past her and hit the ground. It immediately burst into a tower of flames that quickly swept the length of the meadow, cutting off her escape route.

  She veered to the right, but the flames leaped down that side of the meadow. She then turned to the left, but the same thing happened. With a cry born as much from frustration as fear, she slid to a stop and pivoted to face Sebastian. He stood where he’d been when she’d first run, his arms crossed over his chest. As impossible as it seemed, his eyes glowed more brilliantly than ever, pulsing in the same eerie rhythm of a strobe light.

  “You cannot escape me, Sarah,” he said, raising his hand and flicking his wrist. The fire instantly spread across the area behind him, enclosing them inside the inferno.

  Sarah frantically searched the flaming perimeter for some weak spot that would allow her to break out. It was as if the fire read her mind, because it grew denser and flared higher whatever direction she turned. Casting a glance back at Sebastian, she wondered if it would be better to plunge into the fire and burn to death than to stay here and die at his hands.

  You don’t have to die, Sarah. Put on the triangle. It will protect you. the man from the motel murmured in her mind.

  As he spoke, she looked down at her clenched fist. She didn’t remember gathering the triangle and its chain into it, but she could feel the triangle’s sharp edges cutting into her palm. If the man was right, all she had to do was put it on and she’d be safe. So why did she feel hesitant about donning the object?

  Put it on, Sarah. Hurry!

  At the man’s urgent prodding, Sarah glanced up.

  Sebastian walked toward her, his long stride eating up the distance between them. Within moments, he’d reach her, and then he’d kill her.

  He’ll kill us, Sarah, because if you die, I’ll die too. You can’t let that happen. You are the guardian, and you’ve sworn to protect your people. I am one of your people, and you must protect me.

  Guardian.
As the word echoed in Sarah’s mind, she saw an image of herself standing in this very meadow. It was spring, and the air was filled with the scent of wildflowers. An elderly, stooped man held the triangle out to her. His voice had the hoarse rasp of old age as he declared, “You are now the guardian, Sarah. Protect the triangle, and through it, your people, from the curse of the evil wicáhmunga.”

  “I remember!” she whispered in awe, as the vision faded. “Sebastian is the evil wicáhmunga, and he wants to destroy my people.”

  Yes! Now put on the triangle and protect us!

  Sarah uncurled her fist, grabbed the triangle’s chain, and opened it into a circle. Hastily, she dropped it over her head.

  As the chain settled around her neck, she heard the whirring sound overhead. She looked up, shivering as she spotted the lightning wreath, but she quickly thrust aside her fear. The man in the motel had told her to embrace the lightning and it would not harm her. His advice had been echoed by the old man, who’d given her the triangle and told her to protect it, and through it, her people.

  Still looking at the wreath, she raised her arms toward it, palms turned upward, and said, “Come to me.”

  Three lightning bolts broke free of the wreath and arced toward her. As one bolt struck the triangle and the other two her upraised palms, thunder exploded with such intensity that Sarah felt the ground shake beneath her feet. Then everything faded to black.

  Chapter 10

  Evil Transformed

  SEBASTIAN WAS halfway to Sarah when she suddenly lifted her arms toward the lightning wreath and said, “Come to me.” At her summons, three lightning bolts broke free and shot toward her. As they struck her, an earth-shaking clap of thunder nearly knocked him off his feet.

  As he fought to maintain his balance, he gaped at the scene taking place in front of him. The wreath descended over Sarah, elongating itself until it encompassed her in a whirling, electrified cocoon. He gave a dazed shake of his head. What in hell was the wreath doing to her?

  When the ground stopped shaking, he eyed the cocoon warily, trying to see Sarah, but it whirled too fast.