Dealers of Light Read online

  Emmie.

  Cara straightened and rubbed her hands down the sides of her blouse and pants. She’d witnessed death numerous times, but this was different. Emmie was a friend—a Dealer. Sniffing, she rubbed her nose and went to the door.

  Three nurses paced the hall, hands on hips. Cara cleared her throat and they froze.

  “Emmie?” Regina whispered.

  When Cara shook her head Regina bit her bottom lip and turned away. The three women rushed past Cara into the room. She palmed the wall to steady herself, Emmie’s warnings ricocheting through her brain.

  Nicki.

  She hurried to the exam room, but only a cotton exam gown piled on the floor remained. Damn it. Her heart sank.

  Maybe Nicki went to the waiting room. Cara rushed out of the room to the right and ten feet to the door that separated the public area from the clinic. She pushed through the door and stopped, stone still, one hand on her chest.

  No Nicki.

  A gray-haired man and a teenage couple holding a baby sat in the straight, blue plastic chairs lined against the walls. They shifted in their seats and gazed at her, brows raised. She paced past the patients and out the glass door. She had to squint in the bright sunlight, but a cool fall breeze dispelled the heat. Two cars in the lot and three parked on the narrow street. No Nicki.

  Buildings in this older part of Norfolk were packed close together so even if Nicki had only walked a half a block, she was out of sight from here. Cara bit her lip and, after a last scan of the parking lot, surrendered, returning to the waiting room.

  Back in the clinic area, she leaned over the counter where Rosa, the check-out receptionist, typed away on the computer. “What happened to Nicki? I asked her to wait for me until I finished with Miss Emmie.”

  Rosa paused in her typing and pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Not long after Emmie came in, Nicki rushed out. She didn’t say anything to anyone.”

  Cara pressed her lips together in a firm line. She’d already lost one patient today, she wasn’t about to lose another. Dammit, Nicki, what did you see?

  Chapter Two

  “Sean?” Rolf Van Harding paused on the threshold of the foyer with its glistening white marbled floor. He glanced at a massive brass and crystal chandelier suspended from the two story ceiling. Then his gaze went to his favorite medieval tapestry hanging on the side of a sweeping marble staircase, and across to the rich tones of his Rembrandt on the opposite wall.

  He let out a deep breath, thankful his loyal staff had readied his new, temporary home so quickly.

  “Here, sir.” His right-hand man strode into the foyer with his familiar, rigid military bearing. Sean held out a sheaf of papers. “Here are the latest reports from the other groups.”

  “Excellent.” Rolf yawned and flicked through the papers, noting nothing of vital importance. He brushed a hand across his burning eyelids. “Is everything settled in the house?”

  “Yes, sir. The crates came from London only yesterday, but all the rooms are furnished.” Sean rubbed a hand over his chin. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like hell, Sir.”

  Rolf thrust the reports back at Sean. “Milan was hell.”

  “At least all the Takers were destroyed.”

  A flush of feral triumph warmed Rolf’s otherwise exhausted body. “Yes. All dead, their remains scattered to the four winds.”

  Sean cleared his throat. “There’s one small problem.”

  “What?”

  “Some of the crystals on the globe were crushed in transport. They’ll have to be replaced.”

  Irritation coursed through Rolf, amplified by his fatigue. He struggled to push the ire away. The globe would still shield him sufficiently for a day or so, even at half strength. He had time to repair it. His gaze switched to the Grecian urn on a table under the Rembrandt, its familiar beauty calming him. He remembered buying the urn in a bazaar for pennies four hundred years ago. But more immediate needs forced away the pleasant memory. “How did the damage occur?”

  Sean flushed but held Rolf’s gaze. “Sorry, sir. One of the straps bracing it inside the crate broke.”

  “Unfortunate.” He’d hoped to begin the hunt right away, but it wouldn’t be safe without the globe working properly. Keeping his presence hidden was too important. “I’ll have to find somewhere locally to buy more.”

  “I thought so.” Sean let out a breath and handed a small piece of paper to his boss. “Here’s a list of possible stores in the area.”

  The burning irritation eased. It wasn’t Sean’s fault the globe had been damaged. “Very good. Any word of potential victim sites from the team?”

  “Not yet. But there are plenty of opportunities in the clubs and nightlife here.”

  A tingle of anticipation pierced his fog of weariness. Soon he would hunt his prey.

  But first he needed rest. Seven long days of death-filled battles left his senses dull to the point of danger. He must be at his best against the familiar evil that drew him here to Norfolk. An evil he’d thought dead centuries ago.

  The urge to hunt tortured him, pushing him ever onward—the compulsion to eliminate the evil Takers. But first, he had to fix the globe or he would become the hunted. “Set up what we have. Let me know if any more news comes in.”

  “I will. But I don’t anticipate hearing anything before tomorrow morning.” Sean left the foyer, heels clicking on the marble floor with sharp precision that echoed under the high ceiling.

  Rolf flexed his fingers, imagining the feel of skin and the tingling flow of energy when he sucked the Light from a Taker, ending their existence. Expectation of the heady sensation prickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

  With heavy legs, he navigated the stairs to the second floor. The smell of fresh paint hung faintly in the air. Passing familiar paintings and tapestries decorating the walls, he paused in the third doorway. His bedroom. Against the left wall, the massive bed stood draped in filmy netting from the ceiling. Two wooden lions guarded the foot opposite a scrolled headboard. The mattress sat on a platform and invited his tired body with its crisp white linens. He closed his eyes for a moment, the memory of flesh-warming heat from the desert chasing the chill from his bones. Back home, the sound of palm fronds brushing against each other in a breeze from the Nile delta would lull him to sleep. The earthy smell of sun-baked bricks hung just beyond his imagination along with the rush of the Nile waters.

  He pushed aside the sheer drapes and fell across the bed without removing his clothes. The need for comfort directed his thoughts to the past, a place he usually avoided. Confusing scenes of pyramids, obelisks and sailing barges crowded his mind. Tiredness kept him from making any sense of the whirling images. The darkness of sleep descended with blessed oblivion.

  ###

  When he opened his eyes, he gazed on a stone balcony in golden sunlight. Where am I? The dryness of the air scored his face, arms and chest. He ran his palms down his exposed chest and his fingers touched a jeweled leather belt holding up a pleated linen skirt. Puzzled, his hands grazed the golden bands circling his upper arms. He wiggled his toes in comfortable worn leather sandals. Before him, the rounded dunes of desert sand stretched to the horizon.

  Turning from the desolate view, he strode back through the doorway, past gauzy linen billowing in the breeze. Inside, his beloved waited for him. My Sakhet. Surging beyond its broken pieces, his heart swelled with tenderness and joy. Her brown eyes swept over him, love mirrored in their depths. His chest tightened to a dull ache of loss. The thin linen of her shift revealed the luscious curve of her hips and the firm swell of her breasts.

  “Bes,” she whispered through full, red lips. The sound of her voice slipped over him like the sweetest honey, rich and full of promise. The ache in his heart throbbed, wanting, needing, with such intensity he stifled a groan and grabbed his chest.

  He strode forward and gathered her in his arms, crushing his lips to hers in a harsh kiss of longing. He welcomed her warm, lush body
to his like rain on parched ground. An eternity had passed since he’d held her. The need and loneliness tightened his muscles, his hands flattening her against him in a spasm of desire.

  His kisses intensified. He traced his hands down her spine, over the curve of her buttocks, cupping them against him. She gently pressed her palms to his chest, severing their connection. The ache morphed into unfulfilled passion, which burned like glowing coals, threatening to consume him if he gave in.

  But she’d refused him. They were life-mates. She’d never failed to meet his passion with her own of equal intensity, and he’d never needed her more.

  “My love.” Her gaze darkened. “Love making is not why I am here.”

  He touched her cheek, grazed the silky contours of her face down to her slender neck. His fingers dove under her curtain of hair and settled at the nape of her neck, ready to share his Light. Her eyes widened. So soft and delicate, he stroked the skin and fixed his fingers to his portal. She stepped back, breaking the connection. He shivered at the loss, his heart falling. She took his hand in hers and led him to the balcony.

  Heat hit him and the intensity of the sun exploded in a bright white ball. Blinking and shading his eyes against the blinding glow, the desert disappeared. In its place, the lush delta of the Nile River spread out, the light green of new growth with tall grass and swaying date palms, the air redolent with the musty peat from the marsh. This was wrong. Where was he?

  “Bes, I came to warn you.” Sakhet’s fingers biting into his forearm broke through his confusion. “You are in great danger.”

  He clasped her to his chest, glancing about for an assailant. “Danger? What do you mean?” Reality burned away any remaining fog, he wasn’t back in Egypt. Sakhet wasn’t alive. Pain seared into his heart with the same blazing despair as when he first lost her.

  “The Takers. They will try to destroy you this time. I am afraid for you.” She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I have seen the future and there is great danger.”

  “My love, you are dead. I don’t understand.” The fiery coals in his chest turned to icy shards, slicing open his heart. He swept her black hair away from her face, searching her eyes for some meaning in this torture—in having her before him, but knowing she wasn’t real.

  “You must be careful, my dearest. A perilous evil is building. I feel it even in the afterlife.” She moved her hands to his shoulders and gripped him, her long nails scraping his flesh. “An enemy with strength to rival yours.”

  “I’m tired, Sakhet. I long to be with you.” He stepped back and her hands fell from his arms. He strode to the stone wall at the edge of the balcony. Weariness washed away the pain and left a gaping chasm of nothingness. The soft pat of her sandals on the clay bricks followed him. “The hunt has gone on too long. Let me pass and we can be together again.”

  “No, you must not let such thoughts enter your head. You must never think of giving up. Have you forgotten what they did to me?” She grabbed his arm, jerking him to face her. Gods, her beauty only grew with her anger, breasts heaving, black hair flowing out behind her like furious wings.

  He’d relived her murder in his nightmares for hundreds of years. With her ancient power, it took ten of them to finally overcome her. After the beating and torture, they took her head because they weren’t capable of taking her Light. He came upon them at the end, bending over her, laughing and gloating at their great accomplishment. She was dead and nothing remained for him but revenge. He slaughtered them all and carried the Light-empty husks of their bodies into the desert where they rotted without last rites of death to ease their souls into the afterlife. And he had never stopped killing them since.

  Her fingertips caressed his shoulder, soft strokes along the hard curve of muscle that had always calmed him. “I am sorry, Bes—so sorry I had to leave you.”

  Pain and anguish welled in his soul. They should have been together forever.

  “You cannot give up. And when you need help, there will be a source.”Rolf raised his face to the sky. No one could help him. He’d been alone so long his heart had hardened against any hope of aid. She meant to comfort him, but her words were empty. He refused to allow any spark of optimism to blossom—it hurt too much when the flame was doused.

  “My poor love.” She glided away from him to gaze out at the scene of the twisting river and the fertile green delta. “What is worse, to be horribly murdered, or to live forever without love and peace?”

  He wondered the same thing. “Why are you here?”

  “To give you strength and hope.”

  “Hope?” He laughed in derision.

  “Hope is there, but you must reach out and take it. You must be open to accept it. Sometimes in our darkest despair, hope arrives.”

  He hung his head, disappointment churning in the pit of his stomach, already full of rancid anguish. “You’re talking in riddles.”

  “The gods will permit no more.” She returned to face him and cupped his cheek. “You will understand, my beloved. In time, you will. Trust me.”

  He put a hand to his brow, the weight of saving the world pressing down on him and filling him with desolation. “You ask too much. I am weary of this task. Let the world pass, let me be with you again.”

  “You will find the strength you need when the time is right. Until then, know I will always be with you in spirit.” She reached behind her neck. The gold chain slid loose and a golden ankh set with a single ruby slid into her waiting grip. She turned his hand palm up.

  The metal settled against his flesh still warm from the heat of her skin. His heart dropped and tears burned his eyes. Her favorite necklace. “No.”

  She smiled and curled his fingers over the jewel, covering his hand with hers. “Take this to remember me and the promise of our love. Keep it close to your heart.”

  “Sakhet, please.”

  “Farewell, my love.”

  ###

  Rolf’s eyes snapped open. He gasped and bolted up in the bed, heart pounding. The familiar sights of the bedroom in his rented house fell into focus. Dim light from wall sconces flickered across the tan walls, gold inlaid chests and his treasured onyx cat statue of Best.

  No sign of Sakhet. He let out a deep breath and lay back on the bed. A dream, damn it. Nothing but a dream. Disappointment rose like bile in his chest. She had never come to him like this before, so real he still felt the warmth and smoothness of her skin. Not in all these thousands of years. And then, to do it only to bring a message of hope in his never-ending task of fighting the Takers? Impossible. Yet the faint hint of her jasmine scent hung in the air.

  He sucked in a deep breath to dispel his regret. Grabbing a pillow, he stuffed it under his head and rolled over to his side. On the white comforter beside him, Sakhet’s gold and ruby necklace glittered in the dim light.

  Chapter Three

  Cara pushed open the door of her cottage with one hand, grappling a bag of groceries and her purse in the other. Dusty poked out his head, panting, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. He barked and lunged at the opening. She pressed her thigh into the crack to keep him from running out.

  “Okay, okay. Just a minute, let me get your leash.” She juggled purse, keys, and groceries successfully through the small living room to the kitchen, dodging Dusty’s dancing form, his toenails clicking when he bounced from carpet to linoleum. After dropping the bags on a counter, she turned down the hall to her bedroom and stripped out of her slacks and blouse to don sweat pants, T-shirt and running shoes.

  “Here we go, Duster-Man.” She attached a retractable leash to his collar and ruffled his mutt mix of wiry and soft hair. He tugged on the leash, dragging her along the hall, through the living room to the front door.

  “Hold on a minute, you monster.” She used her body to block until she could open the door and they both tumbled onto the lawn.

  Dusty jumped and barked, tugging at the restraint, sniffing the grass and bushes. They trot
ted down the street and through the protective dunes to the beach. A nip in the air heralded the approach of fall and brought goose bumps to her arms. Only a few people straggled along this northern section of Virginia Beach with pant legs rolled above their ankles, making quick dashes into the cool surf and back.

  She breathed in fresh salty air and let it out with a heavy sigh. The afternoon sun brought tears to her sensitive, puffy eyes and she brushed them away with the back of her hand.

  Dusty pulled to the right and she followed, increasing her pace to a slow jog.

  Emmie’s face intruded into her thoughts along with questions about her cryptic message. Emmie’s memory ignited Cara’s need to run faster. She focused on the running and her breathing, letting the peace of solitude wash over her. Dusty cantered along at her side, matching her pace.

  The episode with Nicki rose in her mind to replace Emmie. The girl must have witnessed something horrible to scare her so badly. Nicki wasn’t frightened easily. Cara u-turned, ready to go home. She’d call Nicki and hopefully the girl would confide in her.

  They jogged to her home where a familiar car parked. Tom. A thrill of anticipation swept through Cara. She smiled, pushed the damp strands of hair away from her face, and hurried forward. He’d been traveling for two days. Otherwise, she’d be getting worried. He leaned against the hood, waiting, his lanky frame achingly familiar. He didn’t return her smile. Her heart sank.

  “Hey, Cara.” He bent to ruffle Dusty’s fur. The dog wagged his tail and barked, jerking on the leash to jump on Tom. He was great at throwing tennis balls on the beach.

  “Hey. Come on in, I brought home a nice bottle of Merlot.” She headed for the door but stopped when he didn’t follow.

  “I can’t stay.” His eyes slid away from hers, and her heart twisted into a painful knot.

  “What’s wrong?” She wanted to rush forward and hug him, but his hooded eyes held her at bay.