Sara sat huddled on the floor of her own cabin on theLa Ranchitain Palo Pinto County. Somehow the thugs who had kidnapped her knew of this place. She tugged at the ropes binding her wrists and then winced as the bonds bit deeper. Her ankles weren’t in much better shape, and she wiggled her toes to keep her feet from getting numb. At least they’d taken the gag out of her mouth.
She studied her captors as she leaned against the wall near the sofa. They were sitting at the table, throwing dice that one of them had brought. They looked like brothers, one in his early twenties, the other about her age. They both wore jeans and T-shirts. A white slash on the lower arm of the older one carved through an intricately scrolled tattoo. Probably an old stabbing wound. The younger man’s nose was crooked and flattened on one side. Both of them wore backward baseball caps over somewhat stringy brown hair. Street fighters.
“She looks like a good screw,” the younger one said as he glanced over to her. “We could each have a turn before anyone shows up.”
“Shut up,” the older one said and threw the dice. “We ain’t bein’ paid to bang her. The guy wants her fresh.”
Reluctantly, the younger one turned his attention back to the game and Sara breathed a small sigh of relief. A reprieve, at least for a little while. Hopefully by now, Michael would have called, but then she remembered that he thought she was with Lucas. And Lucas thought she was with Michael. How long would it be before anyone thought to actually look for her?
And what about poor Nim? Had that last pitiful attempt to help her actually killed the faerie? She squeezed her eyes shut to keep back the tears.
Nim had come to her on her fifth birthday. She had just begun to notice the bright little movements of sylphs twinkling in shafts of sunlight and had actually seen a tiny green manikin riding a blade of grass. Her mother had been excited when she told her and said something about having a “gift”—and that night Nim had come to her.
“I will be your protector from the Darkness,” the faerie had said, and Sara’s five-year-old mind had asked why she couldn’t just turn on a light. The faerie had smiled and said it was a different kind of Darkness she referred to.
And Sara had learned, as she matured and her mind opened to the higher planes through meditation and esoteric study, that it was all too easy to use Power for personal greed and self-fulfillment. Nim had always been there, guiding her so that she wouldn’t manipulate others. Each person must have free will. And once, just once, when Loser Number One had made off with her cash and she was preparing a real curse, Nim had lifted a mystic veil and given her a glimpse into the dark world where entities existed that fed off fear and hate. Sara still shuddered at the thought of almost taking that path. The path that Adam Baylor was on.
Every time Lucas had talked about Adam Baylor, Sara had felt a cold dread creeping into her bones. The man was one of those entities who fed off fear and hate.
She began to chant silently, calling in the Light, letting it fill her. She had to stay strong. She had a feeling she was about to meet the devil.
****
Michael had only been at the mansion a few minutes when the doorbell rang again, and Benton soon appeared in the doorway to the study.
“This just came by express mail,” he said as he handed a flat package to Mr. Smith.
“Did you see the truck?” Lucas asked. “What did the guy look like?”
The butler lifted his head and sniffed. “It was a mail truck, sir. The man was in uniform. Medium height, medium build, brown hair, brown eyes.” He turned to his employer. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, no, you may go,” Mr. Smith said distractedly as he pulled at the cardboard tab. “I wonder what…” His voice trailed off as he pulled a single paper out. He read it quickly and turned pale.
Lucas took the paper. “A certain young lady would appreciate it if you would kindly produce the document that was purchased at Sotheby’s auction. She is sure you will know to what she is referring.”Baylor. Such polite language. He would never put a threat in writing.
“No address to deliver it to?” Michael asked as he looked over his shoulder.
“He’s too clever for that,” Lucas said and swore under his breath.
“Who’s ‘he’? Do you know who’s behind this?”
Lucas nodded. “A man named Adam Baylor. He had a representative at the auction. He’s… He’s a collector, too.”No need to tell Smith the whole story.
“Adam Baylor…” Mr. Smith knitted his eyebrows together. “Doesn’t he own an international brokerage house? Seems that I’ve heard the name.”
“That would be the man,” Lucas answered grimly. “He’s also suspected of laundering money for terrorists worldwide.”
“Oh, my!” Mr. Smith said, putting his hand over his heart. “Then our Sara is in real trouble.”
If only you knew.Lucas paced the floor, the wolf snarling inside him.
“What happens next?” Michael asked.
Lucas stopped. How could the guy look and act so calm? There seemed to be a blue light defining the edges of his aura. Warlock magic? He took to pacing again. “Baylor is a sadistic son-of-a-bitch,” he said. “He’ll make us wait. Give us time to worry. Then he’ll call.”
Mr. Smith started wringing his hands. “My number is unlisted.”
Lucas grimaced. “That won’t be a problem for him.” But what would happen to Sara in the meanwhile? For once, he wished he didn’t know how cruel his grandfather could be. He knew the man would look for any weakness and use it against her. Balor liked to thoroughly humiliate his victims as well as inflict real pain. Lucas closed his mind to the torture and mutilations that had been inflicted on the women in the French, Spanish, and Scottish Inquisitions, all of which had been orchestrated by none other than Balor manipulating the minds of zealous, unbalanced priests.
