Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(82)

Hard cold fact: he was going to die tonight.

John’s vision went red around the edges. The rushing in his ears drowned out the intonations. His head lolled to his shoulders.

But instincts were a bitch. And survival was the most relentless nag of them all. Even after all he’d been through, he didn’t want to let go. Neither did he want to face whatever horrors his captor had planned for tonight.

John lifted his head an inch. The frozen air caressed his bare skin. Another moan brought his head around to the other side. Two more forms were slumped in front of upright poles. His heart did a double take. Two more poor souls were going down with him.

And there wasn’t jack shit John could do about it.

He swiveled around at a scraping sound. His captor was arranging a limp body, a young man, on the flat-topped center stone strewn with pillar candles.

“Tonight we seek an ancient power.” The old man moved to stand in front of John. His voice was deep and accented as it carried across the clearing. He shoved a few dusty crumbs into John’s mouth. John tried to spit them out. The old man backhanded him across the face. Pain slammed through his cheek as the old man continued. “The power that rules all of the universe. The power that has united us all from when we received our first meal of blood in the womb.”

There was a rustling of nylon in the frigid night. The old man began to chant as he circled John.

“In blood we find peace. In blood we find nourishment.”

The old man moved behind John. A thin cord encircled his neck. His numbed skin pumped a gallon of sweat to its surface.

“In blood we find power.” The cord around John’s neck tightened. “In blood we are united.”

John’s neck was jerked back, his wind cut off. In his peripheral vision, silver flashed in the firelight.



Jayne gripped the door handle as the Yukon lurched to a stop in front of a dark rectangle. Neither she nor Reed spoke as they slipped from the vehicle and drew their weapons. Reed’s subcompact Glock felt secure, well balanced in her grip. She followed his instructions, providing cover while he opened the door.

His heart might have been lost to her, but she’d help him save his son.

The single room was empty, but the chain attached to the woodstove was an obvious clue. Someone had been held prisoner here.

Jayne’s stomach flip-flopped with pity and fear as memories flooded her. Someone else had suffered as she had, probably more. Her eyes found dark splotches on the rough wooden floor. Blood? Definitely more.

Reed motioned toward the door. On the porch, he stood and listened. Chanting floated on the wind. They both followed the sound to a game trail behind the cabin.

They crept down the dark path. Jayne tried to be as quiet as possible, but she was more accustomed to concrete than to forest. As they drew closer, the crackling of a large fire covered the sounds of their approach.

Two SUVs were parked in a small cleared area next to a stand of thick evergreens. One had a plow attached to the front.

Reed moved around the evergreens, using one hand to hold her behind him. Jayne tiptoed across the icy ground, testing each step and trying to avoid the crunchy spots.

Reed stopped short, reached a hand up, and pushed the branch of a Scotch pine aside. They both sucked in a breath at the scene before them, illuminated by a huge bonfire in the center of the clearing.

Six-foot wooden posts ringed the perimeter. Opposite the fire, three shorter posts formed a triangle around a body on a stone altar. And tied to those three posts were three people. Jayne squinted. The closest figure looked like Scott. From his slumped position, he didn’t appear to be conscious. At least she prayed he was only unconscious. The second figure, maybe Brandon, stirred and let out a soft moan.

The third was about to die.

“No shot. They’re too close to him,” Reed breathed in her ear.

A parka-clad figure stood behind the last captive. Red-and-gold flames flickered on a young, thin face and struggling body. The man looped something around the kid’s neck. Murmurs floated across the brittle air. Silver gleamed in the light of the blazing fire.

A knife!

“That’s Aaron.” Reed’s voice was barely a whisper.

Fear gripped Jayne’s insides and twisted. Aaron was going to strangle that boy and cut his throat. Her gaze darted to the stone slab. On it, next to yet another body, rested a wooden club.

It was the triple sacrifice, the bog body’s fate.

Jayne reached out for Reed. Her hand moved through empty air. She’d been so transfixed by the scene, she hadn’t noticed him slip away. Jayne lifted the pistol and took aim. Still no shot.

The boy’s head jerked backward.

“No!” The shout leapt from Jayne’s throat. Her feet started running toward the doomed boy before she could think.

A shadow burst from the trees and tackled the man with the knife. Reed! The kid slipped to the ground. Still attached to the post by the wrists, his body twisted awkwardly. Behind the boy, the two silhouettes grappled. Jayne’s vision tunneled down to the struggling men. Other than their grunts and movements, all sound was muted. In a surreal haze, she flew past Scott and Brandon.

Aaron lunged, weapon extended. Reed evaded. The knife slashed horizontally, level with Reed’s midsection. Jayne’s heart catapulted into her throat as Reed stumbled, then steadied himself with a palm on a wooden post. He swayed, reaching for the gun on his hip. The crazy man advanced.