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“You let her go, you despicable coward!” Rickie cried, throwing a punch at Boynton’s neck.
Boynton flinched and shivered—but didn’t stop staring hard at Colleen.
“There’s solid help on the way!” Rickie warned.
“I know you’re armed. Let me cut her a little more deeply,” Boynton said.
“No!” Colleen protested, spinning around. “I have nothing on me. Just my ID and a credit card in my pocket. I don’t carry things when I’m going on a two-hour walking tour! I told you—I’m on vacation. Let her go! You’ve got me.”
“Can’t do that,” he said. “She’ll start screaming and bring people too close. I have a plan; we’re going away, but go figure—I lied. I have to kill her.”
Colleen shook her head. “I’m faster than you. Let her go—or I run.”
“I’ll bring you down like a hawk on a pigeon, bitch.”
“Okay. We can see who is right. Or you can let her go. Tie her up. Or are you too stupid a newbie Embracer to have brought along rope?” she demanded.
The blonde girl was, of course, absolutely terrified.
And she was bleeding.
Not badly...
And yet enough. Every time Boynton became animated, the knife cut into her more deeply.
She had to act and now.
But then...
Something flew out of the darkness, and she thought at first that another spirit had joined them, one determined to throw Boynton off if nothing else.
But it was no spirit.
It was Red.
He slammed into Boynton with such force the young woman he’d been holding fell to the ground, crying out. Colleen quickly dragged her away and reached around her back, seeking her little Ruger.
Boynton was screaming; Red had a grip on his left wrist.
But Boynton’s right wrist was free, and the blade was still in his right hand, bearing down toward Red.
“No!” Colleen screamed.
She ran forward, thundering toward the man, determined she could slam his arm even as she reached desperately and instinctively back with her left hand to seize hold of the little Ruger she was carrying.
Boynton threw his arm back; Red ripped half his skin away but lost his grip.
The knife aimed toward Colleen with just inches to spare. She fumbled briefly then found the Ruger. His knife was bearing down hard for the top of her head.
But she didn’t need her gun.
The sound of a shot exploded in the night.
For a split second, Gary Boynton seemed as posed as a historical statue.
Then he fell. Dead. Shot through the back of his head.
And a man stepped from out of the darkness. Mark.
Red barked and jumped away from the dead man, and Ragnar joined the group, coming up behind Mark with his weapon in his hand as well.
“So. Boynton,” Ragnar said. “Go figure. He was in on it too, huh? Thankfully, the stupidest in the group.”
The woman on the ground was sobbing, and Colleen hurried to her. But the gunshot had been heard in the Lower Town where tours were going on, where life was going on in such a historic town. And soon, there were officers, and a medical examiner, and an ambulance for the young woman, who wasn’t so badly injured, other than the trauma that had been her life for those moments.
Traumatized and terrified, she was tearful and grateful, thanking Colleen over and over again and then Red and Mark and Ragnar. She was finally taken away.
And the body of Gary Boynton was taken away.
They reported to the local and county police; more agents arrived.
They were, at last, free to go. Naturally, Colleen wanted to know about Megan.
“She swore she would stay with the tour group,” Ragnar said, agitated.
“The tour must have ended a long time ago now!” Colleen said.
“But she promised she’d stay...”
“I’m here!” Megan cried, joining them on the darkened height where Boynton had thought he could trap Colleen. “And I’m not alone! Jessie stayed with me.”
She indicated their guide, who walked behind her.
“Thank you!” Colleen said.
