Thea Harrison: Rising Darkness

Words exploded out of her with violent force. “I’m not leaving you again!”

Sword gray eyes met hers in brief, perfect understanding. He let go of her, took his gun in one hand and started down the drive. “Come on then.”

A car revved to life near the cabin. Michael spun, grabbed her good arm and dragged her into the tangled brush. Her aching body whimpered at the headlong pace. One of his hard hands clamped on to the back of her neck and pushed her to the ground.

“Stay down,” he hissed.

She ducked her head and stayed down.

Gleaming black metal flashed between gaps in the foliage as the limousine roared past them. Michael stood and sprayed it with gunfire, but the car was armored. It disappeared. The Deceiver’s raging presence faded.

Silence descended. No birds called. No wind rustled the trees. The mass of dark spirits had scattered. The scene seemed as peaceful as it had been before the intruders had arrived.

She sensed Michael scanning the area before he shouldered his gun again and knelt beside her. That was when her body exerted control, and she started to shake so hard her teeth clattered.

He eased an arm under her shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position. Then he wrapped his arms around her so tightly she thought he might break one of her ribs.

“Easy,” she gasped as her gunshot wound gave a warning throb, and his hold loosened. She could feel tremors shuddering through his long hard body. He pressed his hot face into her neck.

She managed to get her good arm around his waist.

“Shoulder wound?” he asked. His hands passed compulsively down her back.

She nodded. “I’m okay,” she gritted. “If I get enough quiet time, I think I can heal it. You?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Pulling back, she glanced down his body, noting the tears in his clothing that indicated injuries underneath. No matter what he said, those wounds needed attention. They needed to get back to the cabin. She needed her first aid kit.

She looked up and their eyes met. He said between his teeth, “What the hell were you doing?”

She struggled to speak coherently. “I did what I had to. I thought—I felt him start to tear you apart somehow. I didn’t know there could be anything so horrifying. And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep from feeling that again.”

He rocked her. His voice vibrated in her ear. “I’m so pissed at you I can’t see straight. And grateful too. We’re both alive and that’s what counts. Come on. We don’t have time to dissect what happened.”

He raised her to her feet and kept a supporting arm around her. She put her good arm around his waist as they limped back to the cabin. “I was so sure I had him,” she said. “He was dying, but then he drove away. Can he heal himself?”

“We all can heal ourselves to a certain degree,” Michael said. “But not to the level of your abilities. In any case I doubt he healed himself. He takes life, he doesn’t repair it.”

If Michael believed Astra could have healed Mary’s old psychic wound, apparently, Astra had more aptitude for healing than most of the group. “I saw Astra fighting with you,” she said. “Then she disappeared. She wasn’t injured too, was she?”

“No, but she is weakened.” His mouth tightened. “She used all her strength in the fight. We can’t expect any more help from her for a while.”

It was illogical to take that news as a blow, since any anything Astra could offer was so limited by distance anyway, but still her shoulders sagged. She felt that they were more cut off than ever, and very alone.

They reached the edge of the clearing. Michael glanced at the bodies on the ground. He said, “Go straight into the cabin. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She ignored the order, refusing to turn away from the carnage. Instead, she stared at the body of the handsome man that lay curled on the ground. “That’s my ex-husband,” she whispered. “Did you see him earlier? That’s Justin’s body.”

She walked over to Justin, and he followed. Remembering the black diamond aura that had surrounded him, she cautiously paused to study the edges of his curled figure. Just as she had suspected, the aura was gone.

Awkwardly, she went down on her knees beside Justin and touched the fingers of her right hand to the carotid artery, just below his jaw. There was no pulse. Gently she stroked his hair back from his forehead while tears swam in her eyes.

I loved you, she thought. Not the way either of us hoped we would when we got married, but I did love you. If I could take that day back again, I would. And I would do something else, something wiser and better. I would have been patient with you, and I would have gone to see Tony. Or I would have stayed home to send you away. Justin, I am so sorry.

Michael stood beside her and waited until she looked up, even though he favored one leg. His expression somber, he said quietly, “He’s dead.”

He didn’t phrase it as a question, but still, she nodded. Passing her hand one last time over Justin’s hair, she struggled to her feet.

Michael put a hand underneath her elbow to help her. He said, “We both felt the Deceiver’s presence leave with the limo. He’s migrating from body to body without dying and being reborn.”

Killing people and taking over their bodies. Michael’s harsh voice sounded matter-of-fact, yet her mind whirled. “That soldier was one of his drones. Do you think he migrated over to that body?”

“Yes. He kills people’s spirits, and either controls them or he takes over their bodies. That way he always remains at full strength as an adult, and he never forgets who he is or where he came from.”

She shook her head. “How?

“I don’t know. None of the rest of us would do such a thing. We haven’t developed the knowledge or the skill for it. All I know is he’s created a lot of drones.” Michael’s chest heaved as he looked around at the bodies in the clearing. His bloody face was set in grim lines as he turned to her. “I really want you to go inside now.”

She stood her ground, staring up into his gaze. “What are you going to do?”

“If any of these survived, I need to put them down.”

It was her turn to stare at the bodies scattered across the clearing. The physician in her rebelled against Michael’s implacable words. It was one thing to fight and kill in self-defense, but to slit a man’s throat while he lay helpless, unable to defend himself?

“These are people,” she whispered. Or at least they used to be.

“They’re drones .” He emphasized the last word. “They’re just like the men who attacked you. The Deceiver can control them. They will continue to act out the last orders they received from him. That means if any of them are still breathing and they get to their feet, they will attack us again.”

“They’re his victims too. If any of them are alive, I need to see if I can help them.” She straightened her spine and said in a soft voice, “You already know this, Michael. That’s what I do.”

He raked a hand through his hair and swore savagely under his breath.

A shimmering presence formed beside them, appearing to focus all of its attention on her. It was Nicholas. He said, Two have survived.

She sucked in a breath. There was her answer. “I need my first aid kit out of the car.” She looked at Nicholas. “Will you keep watch over the survivors and let us know if they start to stir?”

Yes, said the ghost. What will you be doing?

She turned her attention back to Michael. “I’m going to do triage.”

TRIAGE.

Allocating treatment to patients according to a system of priorities. Usually triage was designed to maximize the number of survivors, especially in disaster situations.