Guarding Jeannie tp-5

by Beverly Barton

  The old stables at the back of the house! The animals bedded there, and Manton carried food and fresh water out to them every day. Perhaps he'd accidentally fallen and hit his head last night or early this morning.

  I'm going out to the old stables behind the house, Jeannie told Sam telepathically. Meet me out there.

  Wait for me, he said.

  Manton's in the stables, Sam. I know it. I can feel it.

  He repeated his telepathic message. Wait for me.

  Jeannie's need to find Manton urged her through the house and out onto the back veranda. A row of trees in the backyard arched over in the wind, many of their tops touching the ground. Bending in the wind, a young sapling groaned, then toppled over, its roots lifting and falling, finally tearing loose.

  Jeannie fought the wind as she made her way off the veranda. The stable doors hung open, creaking as they slammed open and shut. With the wind stinging her eyes, Jeannie squinted and gripped her cane tightly. The black sky emptied heavy rain onto the earth, and the wind roared a warning. Instinctively Jeannie knew the tropical storm had graduated to a hurricane, and it was only a matter of time until its full force hit Le Bijou Bleu.

  She made her way to the stables, slipping inside as one big door swung open. Darkness surrounded her. She felt Manton's presence. He was somewhere nearby, but he was still unconscious.

  Suddenly cold, menacing evil surrounded her. For one brief second, she forgot to breathe. Her heart stood still. And in that moment she knew. Sam! her mind screamed. Help me, Sam!

  "I've been waiting for you," the voice said.

  Jeannie spun around. There in the doorway behind her, the faint light from outside casting shadows across his handsome freckled face, stood Maynard Reeves.

  Chapter 17

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  "So nice of you to come out in this bad weather to meet me." Reeves took a step forward, his toothy, charismatic smile spreading across his face.

  Jeannie stepped backward, away from the threatening presence. "I'm not alone. Manton's here, and so is Sam."

  "I've already taken care of that stupid giant you call Manton."

  "What have you done to him?"

  "He's sleeping peacefully, him and his dogs. I used a tranquilizer gun to bring your Manton down. I shot him twice, so he'll sleep a long, long time."

  Reeves moved toward her. A flash of lightning struck nearby. Jeannie gasped. Reeves laughed. Shards of light flashed through the open doors and the wide cracks in the rotting wooden walls of the old stables. A shiny 9 mm handgun glistened in Reeves's hand.

  "Sam will come out here to find me." Jeannie felt something warm and soft curl around her leg. One of Manton's cats.

  "Let him come on out. I want him to find us. The witch's guardian doesn't deserve to live. I'll destroy him first, before I punish you for your evil."

  Reeves moved closer and closer. Jeannie backed farther and farther into the darkness, her escape hampered by her inability to maneuver without her cane.

  Sam! Sam! Hurry. Please hurry. And be careful. Maynard Reeves has me trapped in the stables.

  As she backed away from the approaching madman, Jeannie lost her balance. The raging wind battered the old wooden stables. Lightning zigzagged from heaven to earth. Hard, heavy rain pelted the island. Jeannie fell, landing on her backside, her cane hitting the dirt floor, just out of arm's reach.

  Reeves hovered, glaring down at her, his smile wide, showing all his teeth. His eyes glowed in the darkness. Jeannie scooted backward. Her heart hammered, rumbling in her ears like a hundred bass drums. The damp earth stuck to her palms as she used her hands to propel herself backward.

  Reeves stomped one big foot down beside her hip. She clenched her teeth. He lowered the other foot, straddling her as he bent over, reached out and seized her. She sucked in air. He jerked her up off the floor. She hit him, her hands flailing against his chest. Reeves grabbed her by her hair, pulling her face against his, so close their noses touched. The more she struggled, the tighter he clasped her hair and the deeper his fingers bit into the gun he held pressed against her back.

  Reeves licked her face, from chin to forehead. Jeannie closed her eyes, struggling to make contact with her attacker's inner thoughts and feelings. Anger! Hatred! Passion to possess her power! If only she could hook on to his emotions more firmly, she could begin drawing them from him.

  "No!" Reeves screamed, shoving her away from him with such force that she fell backward onto the floor, her fragile body hitting the damp earth with a jarring thud. "You will not use your wicked talents to possess me, witch! I will destroy you, and then God will bless me with your powers."

  From her position on the floor, all Jeannie could see was the trembling outline of Reeves's body. Even from several feet away, she could feel his rage. His murderous intent swirled around her, more powerful and far uglier than the raging storm assaulting the island.

  The metallic taste of fear coated her tongue. A sour, salty bile rose in her throat.

  Stay where you are, Jeannie. Don't move. Don't make a sound. Act as if nothing has changed. Sam cautioned Jeannie telepathically as he entered the stables, his footsteps indiscernible, masked by the storm's fury.

  Be careful, Sam. Reeves has a gun.

  Reeves held the 9 mm in his shaky hand, aiming it directly at Jeannie. He laughed, the sound hysterical and shrill. "Shooting you would be so easy, but not appropriate for you, Jeannie Alverson, spawn of Satan. No, a witch must burn. You will be a sacrifice to the Lord."

  Sam Dundee swooped down on Reeves like a hawk clawing its helpless prey. Grabbing Reeves by the shoulders, Sam lifted him and tossed him into the air. Reeves shrieked as he landed against the wall, his gun sailing out of his hand and disappearing in the darkness.

  Stay where you are, Jeannie, Sam told her.

  A slash of lightning illuminated the stables momentarily. In a split second, Jeannie saw Sam, his face contorted with rage, his Ruger aimed in Reeves's general direction. He fired a shot. Reeves bellowed. When a second and then a third brilliant explosion of lightning hit the island, she saw it glimmer off Reeves's gun, which lay halfway between Sam and him. Reeves grappled for the gun with one hand while he clutched at his bloody shoulder with the other.

  Another shot rang out, then another. She had no idea who was doing the shooting or whether either bullet had hit its target. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she watched while two shadowy figures lunged headlong at each other. She could distinguish which man was which solely from Sam Dundee's massive size. He was a couple of inches taller and much heavier than Maynard Reeves.

  The sound of fists hitting flesh reverberated inside the stables. Thuds. Thumps. Knocks. Ragged breathing. Sam Dundee, his back to the outer wall, landed a resounding blow to Reeve's midsection, knocking the breath out of him and laying him out flat on his back.

  Sam stood over Reeves, his chest heaving. Jeannie waited for Reeves to stand. He didn't. Another shot rang out. Sam's body jerked from the impact as the bullet ripped through his side. Jeannie screamed.

  Reeves lifted his shoulders off the floor, gripping the 9 mm in his trembling hands. "God is on my side! He will help me destroy both the witch and her guardian."

  In one quick, practiced move, Sam lifted his leg, pivoted around and slammed his foot into Reeves's hands, plummeting his gun into dark oblivion. Before Reeves had a chance to react, Sam brought his foot around again and knocked his opponent flat on the floor.

  The roar of the hurricane force winds shook the stables. The wall directly behind Sam collapsed. Jeannie screamed again. The old timbers fell on top of Sam, knocking him to his knees, then flat on his face, covering his body completely.

  The wind roared like a mighty jet plane. Rain poured into the stables, washing over the remains of the toppled outer wall.

  "Sam!"

  No response.

  Sam!

  She tried again to contact Sam, but he didn't answer. He had to be unconscious. And with the weight of those
heavy old boards crushing his body, he was probably seriously injured. She had to go to him. Help him. Save him.

  Lifting herself onto her knees, she felt around the damp dirt floor for her walking stick. Suddenly she saw her cane, lying several feet to her left. Then realization dawned on her. There was light inside the stables, pouring in from outside.

  The deafening rumble subsided. The wind stopped. The air became perfectly calm. Jeannie knew enough about tropical storms to know that the island was encased in the eye of the storm, that eerie, calm core in the center of the massive, spiraling clouds and driving rain.

  Jeannie crawled on her knees across the stables, clutched her cane and lifted herself up off the floor. She scurried to the pile of heavy boards lying in a heap, completely covering Sam Dundee.

  Sam, you're going to be all right. I'll take care of you. I promise.

  She had to remove enough of the debris to touch some part of his body, to clasp his hand, to caress his head. Only then could she begin her loving ministrations; only then could she work her magic and save Sam's life. Balancing herself with her cane, she eased down on her knees and laid her cane aside. Finding the intact boards far too heavy to lift, she clawed at the rubble. She saw Sam's hand. She reached for him.

  "You're not going to save him!" Maynard Reeves jerked Jeannie off the ground.

  She gasped. It couldn't be. Sam had shot Reeves and knocked him unconscious.

  Fighting Reeves proved fruitless, but Jeannie fought him all the same. Although he'd been no match for Sam, he was much larger and far stronger than she was. He dragged her out of the stables, through the huge opening made by the wall's collapse. Jeannie hit him repeatedly; he didn't seem to feel her blows.

  All the while he tugged her around the house and toward the beach, Jeannie struggled. She could not—would not—allow this monster, who called himself a man of God, to triumph. If he succeeded in getting her off the island, they were both doomed to drown in the storm, and there would be no one to save Sam and Manton. Even if help arrived in a day or two, it might well be too late for these two men she so dearly loved.

  Sam. Sam. Oh, my darling, please hear me.

  Silence.

  Reeves halted at the top of the hill overlooking the far side of the island, where he'd docked his small boat. "I'm taking you straight to the Righteous Light Church, where my disciples are preparing for your sacrifice."

  "No!" Jeannie screamed. "Don't you realize we'll be killed if we leave the island?"

  "The storm has passed," Reeves said. "God has calmed the seas for my safe passage."

  "The storm hasn't passed. We're right in the middle of the eye of the storm. Don't you know what that means?"

  "You can't trick me with your lies, witch."

  Reeves pulled her into his arms. Jeannie struggled. Threading his fingers through her hair, he cupped her scalp. "When you draw your last breath, the Almighty will bestow your powers on me. He will cleanse them of evil and infuse them with his glory."

  Manton. Manton, can you hear me? If only she could rouse Manton. He was in the stables, not far from Sam. If she could make him hear her, she could tell him that Sam needed him. Manton!

  Jeannie? Manton asked, their link wavering and fragile because of his grogginess. Jeannie, where are you? Are you all right?

  The stable wall fell in on Sam. He's hurt. Maynard Reeves is trying to take me off the island. I need your help. Jeannie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks that Manton was alive and conscious enough for the two of them to communicate. We're in the eye of the storm, and Reeves doesn't realize that we can't sail to the mainland. Sam will die without my help.

  You must overpower Reeves, Manton told her.

  But how? she asked. I'm not strong enough.

  Yes, you are strong enough. Far stronger than you know. Reach inside yourself Draw strength from the depth of your love for Sam, Manton said. Concentrate. Focus all your energy on saving Sam, on saving his life.

  Can you help Sam? Jeannie asked. Are you able to move?

  Not yet. But soon. The feeling is returning to my body. Be strong, little one.

  Reeves licked Jeannie's face. She cringed.

  "If you won't listen to me, won't believe what I'm telling you about the storm—" Jeannie looked heavenward, wondering just how long they had before the eye passed and the storm's fury consumed the island once again "—then at least consider the possibility that we'd be safer in my cruiser than in your small boat."

  Reeves licked her face again. "I can taste the evil in you, but I can also taste the power. The power that will soon be mine."

  "We'll never make it to the mainland alive in your little boat."

  "Perhaps you're right about taking your cruiser." Gripping her painfully about the waist, Reeves tugged her in the opposite direction, toward the other side of the island.

  Manton?

  Yes, Jeannie?

  I have to find the strength to stop Reeves and save Sam.

  Your love for Sam is your strength. No power on earth is greater.

  Jeannie focused on the incredible power surging through her body. She had to overpower Reeves; it was the only way she would be free to go to Sam and save his life. Nothing mattered except saving Sam.

  She felt the tightening of her muscles, the hardening of her biceps. She could hardly believe what was happening to her. A few times with Sam, she had realized she was absorbing a small fraction of his strength, but nothing this forceful. Manton had been right. There was no power on earth greater than love.

  Jeannie grabbed Maynard Reeves by his shoulders, tightening her hands, lifting him off his feet and away from her. He yelped aloud, fear and amazement bright in his eyes.

  "Put me down, you demon-possessed witch!"

  Jeannie flung Reeves from her. His body landed on a muddy patch of ground several feet from her. Jeannie slumped to her knees, her crippled legs as weak as ever.

  Rising into a sitting position, Reeves glared at her. "I am not afraid to fight the devil, for the Lord—" Reeves lifted his arms toward the sky "—will give me the victory." Reeves stood, his once charismatic, boyish smile twisted into an evil leer.

  Raindrops hit Jeannie on the face. The wind whistled through the trees. The eye had passed quickly; the storm would be upon them again in a matter of minutes.

  Reeves took a step toward Jeannie. She looked to his left, where a row of palm trees swayed in the wind, bending their heads as if awaiting execution. Lightning crackled in the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder. In the distance, Jeannie heard the storm's deadly roar.

  Reeves took another step, and then another. Jeannie scooted backward. Concentrate on saving Sam, on the depth of your love for him, she told herself.

  When Reeves was upon her, Jeannie prayed for help. A bolt of lightning hit the enormous old live oak directly behind Reeves, splitting it apart as if it had been hacked in two by a giant ax. Jeannie watched in honor and fascination as one half of the tree uprooted and toppled, crushing Maynard Reeves in its downward path. He screamed once, then fell silent. Blood oozed from his mouth. His sightless eyes stared off into space.

  Jeannie's battle with Reeves had ended. A higher power had indeed decided the outcome.

  Jeannie crawled toward the unmoving man lying beneath the weight of the severed tree. She placed her fingers on the pulse point in his neck. She sighed. Maynard Reeves was dead.

  Sam! She had to get to Sam. In her frustration, she struggled to connect her mind to Manton's. God had granted her one miracle. Would he grant her another?

  Help me. Please help me get to Sam before it's too late.

  She crawled away from Reeves, knowing there was only one way to reach Sam. She would have to crawl, on her knees, back to the stables. The rain poured down, drenching her. The wind toppled her, facedown, into the saturated grass. She lifted herself and continued crawling across the vast front lawn, away from the ocean and toward the house.

  She'd made her way to within twenty feet of the
front veranda when she saw an enormous dark form running toward her. Manton! She stopped, the pain in her knees radiating up her thighs and into her body.

  She lifted up her arms. Manton hauled her up, pressing her wet body against his.

  I'm still groggy from the tranquilizer, Manton told her. I'm weak, and my brain is fuzzy.

  I'm so thankful you're all right, she said. Now, please, take me to Sam. I can't lose him.

  Manton carried her to the stables, depositing her beside the rubble burying Sam Dundee's big body. Manton cleared the boards off Sam. Jeannie laid both her hands on Sam's back. Tears gathered in her eyes.

  Manton picked up a piece of splintered board, laid it over his knee and broke it in half, then handed it to Jeannie.

  Use this as a cane. We need to get to the storm shelter. I'll carry Sam.

  The wind and rain attacked them mercilessly on their trek from the stables to the house. Completely drenched, their skin bleeding from blowing-sand cuts, they went down the dark flight of stairs leading to the storm shelter in the basement, Manton carrying Sam.

  The storm must have damaged the generator, Manton said. We have no power of any kind. Try to find the kerosene lamps and light them. A box of matches will be beside one of the lamps.

  Once inside the shelter, Manton and Jeannie felt their way around in the pitch-blackness. The fronts of Manton's calves bumped into the cot. He laid Sam down gently. Jeannie found the matches, struck one to find the kerosene lamp on the table. She removed the globe, lit the wick and turned to seek out the other lamp. Manton took the matches from her, nodding toward Sam.

  Jeannie hobbled over to Sam and sat down on the floor. She lifted his hand, encompassing it in hers. Concentrating totally on making the connection, she focused her every thought on entering Sam's body, on linking herself to his injuries.

  Manton lit the other lamp. The two sources of light, situated on opposite ends of the room, cast a soft glow that illuminated the entire twelve-by-twelve storm shelter. Walking over to where Jeannie sat on the floor, Manton placed his hands on her shoulders.