Rising Darkness (Game of Shadows #1)(74)

Looking furious, he dropped the vest and hauled her to her feet, scooped up two spare clips and slapped them in her hand. As she stuffed them into her pocket, he grabbed the nine-millimeter, marched her to the bathroom, unlatched the high window above the bathtub and opened it wide. He dropped the gun outside and swung her into his arms.

Her gaze swam with unshed tears. She ordered, “You put the vest on when I’m gone, do you hear?”

“You’re quite the tyrant, aren’t you?” he said, his face grim.

“Yes.” Her fingers twisted in his T-shirt. “I mean it, Michael. Put the vest on.”

“Fine.” He gave her a brief, hard kiss then he raised her to the window feet first.

She wiggled through the space as he pushed her, turning so that she rested on her stomach as she hung halfway out of the window. She grabbed his muscled forearms.

“I’m going to be really pissed at you if you get yourself killed,” she warned. “Don’t think I won’t find a way to hunt your ghost down and kick your ass.”

He kissed her again and stared hard into her eyes. “I’ll see you soon. GO.”

He grasped her by the upper arms and helped to control her descent to the ground. As soon as she gained her footing, she searched for the gun and found it, and looked at the window as she straightened.

He lingered long enough to point in the direction of the path. She saw the subtle break in the bushes and nodded. During target practice yesterday, she hadn’t even noticed it. He passed a hand over her hair in one last caress and disappeared inside.

She looked at the tangled greenery and took a deep breath.

That was an awfully big, strange forest. Whatever was sneaking toward the cabin would be crawling right through it. She could be intercepted on the path to the lake.

Despite all promises or common sense she nearly tried to crawl back through the window. Then she saw a speckled kestrel perched in a maple tree by the path. It tilted its head, focused a huge amber eye on her and mantled its wings. It was such a fierce little thing that, in spite of everything, she almost smiled.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I guess it’s just you and me for a while, kid.”

She stepped onto the path, such as it was. It was narrow and as overgrown as the clearing. From a few feet away, she wouldn’t be able to see it. The kestrel took wing and followed.

When she rounded a curve, a transparent, shimmering form of a man stood in front of her. She jerked to a halt in dismay, for she had already been caught.

The form held out a hand in greeting. Peace. I’m here to help.

She stared. The figure bore none of the malevolence of any of the dark creatures she had encountered. It seemed to wait patiently until she recovered her composure.

She squinted as she tried to see the man more clearly. He was much taller than she was, as tall as Michael. She received an impression of black military-short hair, hawkish features and the glitter of intelligent, dark eyes, but no matter how she tried, she could not bring him into the kind of sharp focus with which she had seen Astra in the Grotto or other creatures from the psychic realm. He was different in some fundamental way.

Who are you? she asked.

I am a compatriot of Michael’s, the man said. My name is Nicholas Crow. After I was killed, I stayed to watch at my post, but the Dark One is not there. He’s here.

This was Nicholas? Her astonishment at meeting the ghost was outmatched by an upsurge of panic.

The Dark One. Nicholas meant the Deceiver. Somehow he had found them. Despite their best efforts, someone had noticed something, or in their preoccupation with their own internal crises, they had let some small thing slip.

He was here.

Come, said Nicholas. He turned and appeared to run down the path.

The kestrel swooped in front of her, eyed her fiercely and flew after the ghost.

Clutching the gun in one hand, she shook her head and ran after both of them.

* * *

WITH A FEROCIOUS sense of relief, Michael watched as Mary disappeared down the path to the lake. Once he was alone he almost didn’t take the time to put on the vest, but then he hesitated. He had known how hard it was for her to leave him, but she had kept her word. He didn’t want her to find out later that he hadn’t kept his.

Moving fast, he stripped off the ammunition and the sword, shrugged on the vest and yanked the Velcro edges into place. The weight of the vest was so familiar to him that he barely noticed it.

He slung the sword in its scabbard onto his back and adjusted the ammunition belts across his chest again. Finally he reached into his weapons bag and pulled out his throwing stars, which were stored in protective leather wrist guards. He fastened those onto each thick muscled wrist.

He could have armed himself in his sleep. All his preparations were automatic. He focused most of his attention somewhere else.

He had set three guardians to watch while they had slept. One now traveled with Mary. It took only a moment to connect mentally with the kestrel and to confirm they were safely on the path and moving away from the area.

They traveled with someone else.

He narrowed his eyes. The kestrel was fast moving out of contact range, and he could not make sense of what it saw. The only things he could tell was that whoever was with them was not embodied and meant to help, not harm.

They were no longer in physical contact with each other, as they had been in the car, and unlike their encounter with the dragon at the gas station, they were both embodied, but they could still speak to each other.