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Lorna hadn’t taken the time to make any calls while she’d still been at Dante’s house; instead, she’d grabbed his address book, checked to see that both Mercy and Gideon were listed, then run for her old Corolla. While she was on the way to the airport, she put her cell phone to use. She knew she didn’t have time to fly commercial, but she didn’t know how to go about renting a jet. She had a pocket full of cash and one credit card with a five-thousand-dollar limit. If that wasn’t enough money, she didn’t know what she would do.
The only person she knew in Reno who might be able to help her was Al Franklin, Dante’s chief of security. He wasn’t exactly on her favorites list, but Dante not only liked him, he trusted him—and this was an emergency.
Thank God, thank God. Al’s number was listed, too. She’d been afraid Dante would have all his numbers stored on his cell phone, which he had with him. Swiftly, keeping one eye on the twisting road, she punched in the numbers.
“’Lo?”
The sleepy voice reminded her that it was—she glanced at the dashboard clock—not yet ten o’clock on a Sunday morning.
“This is Lorna Clay!” she half yelled. “Dante’s gone—there’s trouble at Sanctuary—he might get killed! I have to get there. How do I hire a jet?”
“Whoa! Wait—what did you say?”
“Sanctuary. There’s trouble at Sanctuary. I need a jet!”
“How is Dante getting there?”
“I don’t know!” Why was he playing twenty questions? Why didn’t he answer her questions? “He just ran out. I’m about half an hour behind him, I think.”
“Go to the airport,” Al said swiftly. “He has two corporate jets. He’ll take the bigger, faster one. I’ll call and have the smaller one fueled and ready. It’ll take longer—you’ll have to put down somewhere for fuel—but you still won’t be more than an hour, hour and a half, behind him.”
“Thank you,” she said, almost sobbing with relief. “I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think I’d help? You said the magic word.”
“‘Please’?” She didn’t know if she’d said “please,” but she’d definitely said “thank you.”
“Sanctuary,” he said.
Wilmington, North Carolina, 1:00 p.m.
Hope Malory paced the kitchen nervously as she waited for the phone to ring. Gideon hadn’t been gone much more than an hour, so she really shouldn’t expect his call so soon, but still…she was anxious. He owed her a serious explanation.
When the phone finally did ring, she lurched forward and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
She held her breath as she waited for Gideon’s calming, reasonable voice on the other end of the line. Her first clue that it wasn’t Gideon was the lack of static.
A woman’s smooth voice caused Hope’s heart to drop. “Is this the Gideon Raintree residence?’
Great. An old girlfriend. A wannabe girlfriend. Maybe a telemarketer. “Yes, but he’s not—”
“Not there, I know,” the woman said, not quite so smoothly this time. There was an almost undetectable hint of panic in her voice. “There’s no time for a proper explanation, but—”
That was the wrong thing to say. “I don’t know who you are, but ‘no time for a proper explanation’ isn’t going to earn you any points with me today.”
Before Hope could hang up the phone, the woman laughed in a nervous but friendly way that caught her attention. “I can only imagine. I’ll make this brief, then. My name is Lorna Clay. Dante and Gideon need us. I’m coming your way on a jet that’s scheduled to land at Fairmont Executive Airport just west of Asheville shortly before six this evening. If you can pick me up, I’ll explain all that I can while we’re on our way to the Raintree home place.”
Hope glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and did some mental math, taking into account the horsepower in Gideon’s Challenger. “I’ll be there.”
During the early afternoon, Mercy spoke to the eighteen Raintree visiting the home place, and together they began making preparations for the attack. By mid-afternoon, ten Raintree who lived within easy driving distance had arrived, including Echo, who had come flying in, tires screeching and horn honking. Her psychic abilities were powerful, but she had not yet mastered them, making her predictions a hodgepodge of sights and sounds and feelings. Mercy knew that one day soon, Echo would fulfill all the promise she now showed, including a latent empathic ability.
The moment Echo stormed into the house, she began calling Mercy’s name as she ran from room to room. She shoved open the door to the study. Wild-eyed and frantic, she rushed toward Mercy and grasped her hand. “I’ve been going nuts all the way here. Seeing things. Hearing things. Help me, please.” Echo clutched her head. “It won’t stop. I had to pull off to the side of the road twice on the way here.”
Mercy grasped Echo’s trembling hands.
Bloody sunset. Silent twilight. Death and destruction. Mercy saw what Echo was seeing and understood the girl’s panic. Working hurriedly, Mercy drew the fear and confusion from her young cousin’s mind, and infused her with calmness and a sense of purpose. But Echo’s mind fought what her subconscious perceived as interference and control.
Mercy clutched Echo by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Calm down. Now. We need you. I want you to concentrate. Can you do that?”
