Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(46)

A tiny seed of hope formed in John’s chest. He could melt snow to drink. Without the tainted water, he’d be able to think. Unless the protein bars were drugged. He’d go without for a while and see if he felt clearheaded.

He pulled the sleeping bag closer to the stove and extended his wet feet toward its warmth. His brain was still mush. Tomorrow, though, he had to figure a way out of here. Moving him to this even more remote location wasn’t a good sign. It meant something was going to happen.

And John knew it wasn’t going to be something good.



He glanced at the small rectangular window high on the cellar wall. Dawn brightened the sky. Tomorrow at midnight he would usher in the winter solstice with three deaths. By the time the sun rose on the darkest day, three men would be reborn.

He pulled a box from the rows of shelves and set it on the workbench. An English associate had sent him the package after a very special request. He carefully lifted the boughs from the white paper wrapping. A white berry fell from the greenery and rolled to the floor.

Fresh mistletoe. Cut from a great oak by a Druid priest with a golden sickle on the sixth day of the new moon.

He began to lay out his ceremonial supplies on the workbench next to the mistletoe.

The burnt stub of last year’s Yule log, along with the thick section of oak he’d selected for the coming ceremony. He wrapped his hand around the amulet that hung from his neck. The tiny vial contained ashes from the previous year’s fire—and therefore a bit of power from the sun’s rebirth.

Two gallons of moose blood in plastic milk jugs went on dry ice in an igloo cooler. The circle must be consecrated.

Sturdy rope.

Three thin leather garrotes.

His boline, its sickle-like blade freshly sharpened.

Three hand-carved oak vessels to catch the lifeblood that would be their salvation.

Only three things were missing: the boy he’d already collected and moved during the night to the cabin near the clearing, the woman who’d escaped, and the final, yet unnamed, sacrifice.

Whom should he choose? Someone who wouldn’t be missed right away. Someone whose disappearance could be easily excused.

The answer came in a sudden rush of divine epiphany.

One of the troubled teens at the Youth Center would be perfect. A few had run away in the past.

Perfect.

Everything was lining up perfectly.

A sign from the gods that he was on the true path to redemption.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


“I’ll call you later.” Reed watched Scott gather the bag of fresh bagels and the gallon of orange juice from the backseat. The roads in town had been plowed and salted with Yankee efficiency.

“You’ll be here all morning, right?”

“Yeah. Brandon’s mom is working the breakfast shift at the diner. He has to stay with his little brothers.” Scott’s breath clouded in the morning chill.

“Let me know if you guys go anywhere else,” Reed said.

“’Kay.” Scott jumped down from the cab. He paused at the passenger window. Jayne lowered the glass. “It was nice to meet you, Jayne. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Scott. You too.” Jayne leaned out and gave him a quick hug.

With a final wave Scott walked up the shoveled walk to the front door of the tiny Cape Cod. Across the street, the sun rose over the trees behind the cemetery. Only the tallest headstones poked out of the thick drifts.

With a crunch of tires on ice, Reed pulled back out onto the street. Next to him, Jayne rested her head on the passenger window.

Reed took a gulp of scalding coffee from his travel mug and pushed back the guilt. He’d deliver Jayne safely into Hugh’s custody and make sure that all was well before leaving her there. He’d miss her, but she’d go on with her life. She had a family that loved her. Her three brothers would make sure the scumbag in Philadelphia didn’t bother her.

The very idea of her assailant walking the streets burned in Reed’s gut. He’d seen countless violent predators evade the system. The fact that Reed was well versed in reality didn’t help him deal with the truth. A woman like Jayne didn’t deserve to have the jerk who’d attacked her on the loose. For that matter, no woman did. But Jayne was special.

To him.

Shit. How had that happened?

Jayne didn’t need to be bogged down with him. So why did he feel like someone was carving a chunk from his heart with a spoon? And why had he spent the rest of last night thinking about running away with her to a tropical island, somewhere far away from Huntsville or Philadelphia? In this fantasy land, Reed wouldn’t have to worry about the media. Jayne wouldn’t be in danger. They could get to know each other without the stress of either of their pasts.

He could kiss her without worrying about taking advantage of her vulnerability. He’d barely resisted last night, despite her fragile state.

The spoon’s dull edge dug deeper.

Damn it. He was doing the right thing. She couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe.

“It’ll be OK.” He glanced at Jayne, but her face was still turned away from him. She nodded and picked at the edge of a bandage poking from her sleeve.

The ache in Reed’s chest deepened. “Hugh’ll take care of you. He’s one of the good guys.”

Hugh wouldn’t shirk responsibility. Ever.