Thea Harrison: Rising Darkness

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.

He said, Mary .

He could sense her astonishment at yet another new concept, but she overcame it quickly. Yes?

I know someone has joined you, but I can’t tell who it is.

It’s Nicholas. He said he came to help.

Good, he said. That’s very good.

Despite their situation, he found room for a wry smile. Nicholas was far more generous than he. If their roles were reversed, Michael would not risk himself for the other man. Too much depended on him.

He turned his attention to the other two hawks circling overhead. Hawks did not count like humans. With some effort and a few educated questions, he was able to translate their responses into a rough head count.

They responded twenty times when he asked them to identify a new enemy. So he had twenty problems approaching on foot, along with a black vehicle that held an unknown number of occupants as it quietly purred down the gravel road toward the cabin.

Three problems were thirty yards away and closing fast.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he exhaled he put himself in his meditative state of mindfulness. He acknowledged all sensory input then let it pass through him, neither clinging to details nor ignoring them.

From that still quiet place, he expanded and heightened his awareness to include the cabin and the surrounding area. As his awareness expanded, his center remained calm and detached, a pool filled with infinite peace. It was the eye of a hurricane.

There—and there—and there were his three nearest problems.

Two problems crept close on either side of the cabin’s gravel driveway. The third moved through the woods to get behind the cabin. That one might discover the path to the lake.

As if he would let that happen.

He took another deep unhurried breath.

Then he became the hurricane.

Sprinting out the cabin door, he pivoted on one heel, leaped for the roof of the porch and landed in a half crouch on the balls of his feet. He scanned the nearby forest in the direction of the third problem. There was a tree twenty feet away that was large and sturdy enough to bear his weight. He raced across the cabin roof and leaped to the nearest heavy branch, ignoring the leaves and smaller branches that whipped across his face and arms.

The problem closest to the path lifted his head and his gun at the sudden, heavy rustling overhead. He searched with calm efficiency among the nearby trees. One of Michael’s throwing stars sliced the air and embedded in his forehead, and he died.

The other two heard nothing unusual, except perhaps for a sudden gust of wind rustling through the trees.

Agile as a cat, Michael leaped to the ground. All his physical movements were enhanced and strengthened beyond the capacity of a normal human, directed by the powerful spirit housed in his body. He took three running steps and vaulted high into the boughs of the large pine tree by the drive. In his mind’s eye, he tracked the energy signature of the man closest to him. He took aim and launched his second throwing star without ever physically laying eyes on the man.

The star took the second problem in the throat, who died almost instantly.

Almost was not quite fast enough. The man’s grip convulsed. Gunfire sprayed the forest as he fell. That was unfortunate, Michael thought, but inevitable. Sooner or later the fight had to get noisy.

The third man spoke into his headset in an urgent rapid undertone.

Mary said in his head, Michael?

Yes? His reply was as calm as hers was shaken.

The third man twisted to dive for cover in thick underbrush. He spun around and shot the man in the temple before he’d taken two steps.

Mary said, I heard shots. Are you all right? I’m sorry. I know you must be busy. I shouldn’t be bothering you, but—

Her fear beat at him through the telepathic contact. He kept his mental voice unhurried and soothing. I’m quite fine. We can be overheard. Don’t say anything telepathic that should be confidential. Just keep doing what you’re doing.

Okay. I’m sorry. God. Her stress strained their connection.

Mary , he said. He scanned the area for signs of the other problems. I haven’t even broken into a sweat.

Yet.

Yes. I’ll go now.

She sounded so perfectly wretched he pitied her. He would be in as bad or worse shape if he were in her shoes, hearing gunfire in her vicinity and unable to do anything. But she was going to have to deal with it. He didn’t have any more time to spare for her, because something was amassing from the direction of the black vehicle.

It was an amalgamation of power, like the towering buildup of a funnel cloud.

He put one hand on the trunk of a nearby tree and leaned on it. Neither side had yet been surprised except, perhaps, for the three dead men and Mary. The black vehicle held his real problem. His real problem had thrown those first men at him as cannon fodder, just to tickle him to see if he was paying attention.

The form of a young, dark-haired woman shimmered into place beside him.

He turned his head and looked at Astra’s crystalline form. She looked both furious and terrified.

They stared at each other. He gave her a resigned shrug.

She snapped, I told you that you shouldn’t have stopped moving!

He could have said a lot of things in reply.

He could have said that he had been tired and the sexy blonde had flirted with him and had said pretty please.

Or he could also have said that even if they hadn’t stopped, their enemy still might have found them. Michael had found Mary so late in the game, while the Deceiver had been so close behind them.

Each statement contained a facet of the truth, and none of it mattered anymore.

And, really, there wasn’t any point in arguing with Astra or kicking himself since somebody else already wanted to do it so badly.