Dealers of Light (2 page)

A shiver sliced down Cara’s spine.
Did the temperature just drop ten degrees?
  Emmie’s warm hands still retained some strength despite their feeble appearance. Cara placed her other hand over the one Emmie grasped. “What do you mean?”

“Danger,”
Emmie’s voice dropped even more.

Cara grabbed the arms of the chair and leaned closer until her face was
only inches from the old woman’s. Emmie’s familiar scent of lavender soothed the sharp antiseptic smell of the exam room.

“They
’re like us. In a way. But different, too. Greedy, willing to kill.
Powerful.
” Her gaze bore into Cara’s. “You got to do something to stop them before they hurt people. This is your destiny, child.”

“What are you talking about?”
Cara’s mind whirled at the confusing words tumbling from the old woman’s mouth.

Emmie
closed her eyes, her breathing slowed, and her grip on Cara’s hand loosened. After several seconds, Emmie gasped, and her breaths came in irregular puffs. “Oh, lordy. I got so little time—” 

Cara
guided the light blue knit cap from Emmie’s head. She smoothed back the gray hair, kinky but soft, and stroked her forehead.

Emmie
opened her eyes. “You always been so good to me. I knew the first time I seen you, I said, ‘That girl’s one of us. She’ll help others with her gift.’ And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Cara’s lips trembled as she attempted to smile. She continued to st
roke the hair from the woman’s forehead. Tears stung her eyes, but Emmie needed strength from her, so she swallowed the aching emotions.

“You helped me many times, and now I want to help you. You
gonna need some help with the ol’ evil a comin’. I got something inside me you need and I hurried here to give it to you before I’m gone.” Her breath came in ever shorter rasps, but her face remained calm and peaceful.

“
Emmie, please, just rest. When you’re better you can tell me.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I got no time.
” A frown wrinkled her brow. “This gift is powerful important. I done told you it’s about your destiny. This is what you been waitin’ for your whole life.”

“I don’t understand. Please,
what do you mean
my destiny
?” Confusion clawed her brain. Cara was a nurse practitioner who helped poor people in the city’s free clinic—
that
was her destiny. The only one she’d ever wanted.

“You just put your hand on my chest like you do, and when I go, what I got will go into you.” She
pawed at Cara’s hand, tugging it toward her chest.

“
Emmie, no.” Horror crawled over her skin like a million bugs. “I won’t take your Light. No.” She resisted and bile rose in her throat—taking another’s Light—anathema to a Dealer.

“Now listen here, you do what I say.”
Emmie’s eyes flashed.

S
he didn’t care what Emmie said. Cara would never take her friend’s Light. Burning dread surged in her chest. All this cryptic talk and yet Emmie wouldn’t let her do something to save her. “Emmie, I can’t.”

“Hush up. Listen to this old woman. I know what I’m talking about. It
ain’t my Light you’re takin’, it’s my gift. You got to figure out how to use it or them evil people are gonna cause a lot of heartache and death. I got no will. This is all I got to leave behind. You gonna give me my last wish or not?” Emmie squeezed Cara’s hand until a stab of pain bit into her knuckles.

Cara
froze. She had no choice. Emmie’s words reached the panic in her gut. This truly was the last gift she could give this woman she loved—to consent to her wishes. With a soft sob, she allowed Emmie to guide her hand toward the portal. After years of secretly giving Light to heal, Cara’s fingers trailed the sternum with practiced precision to the dip under the clavicle. She pressed the tips of her first two fingers against the contact area. Warm and dry. So different from Emmie’s clammy forehead. Normally, Cara would be sending the Light into someone, but now she waited to receive Emmie’s gift.

Emmie
sighed. “Ah, yes, good girl.” She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands over the black patent purse in her lap, and closed her eyes. “Not long now. Take care of yourself, child. And warn your friends—the ones like us—the Givers. Warn them about the evil coming. Promise?” she murmured, lips barely moving. 

“
But, Emmie, I’m nobody special. How can I stop some great evil?” Emmie made no sense. Cara’s idea of reality blurred with sorrow and helplessness.

“You’ll
have help when you need it. Now promise.”

“No, you can’t die on me.
Let me help you.” Cara’s heart pounded, desperation surging through her soul.

Emmie’s
gaze did not waver, and the old woman gripped Cara’s hand over the portal. “Promise.”

With her free hand
, Cara clutched Emmie’s faded print dress. “Okay, yes, I promise. But this all makes no sense.”

Cara released the dress and stretched her fingers out on
Emmie’s chest. Did it still rise? An itching temptation urged Cara to send some Light into the woman. But she wouldn’t betray her dear friend’s last wishes. She pressed her lips together and waited, kneeling on the hard tile floor.

“No
…time to…explain. You must find your own way. Important. Love you—” Emmie’s lids squeezed tight then fluttered. Her mouth opened, a sigh escaped, and her lips remained parted but still. Her head fell back and her body slumped in the chair. The wrinkles creasing Emmie’s forehead smoothed.“Emmie,” Cara whispered, tears spilled over to run down her cheeks.

Heat gathered at the tips of Cara’s
fingers and she gasped. Rich warmth flooded through her fingertips and into her chest to course through her entire body, invading her limbs. Unlike receiving the Light, no tingling surge of energy accompanied this, just the heavy heat that faded in a passing wave as it settled, resonating in her core. She drew her hand back, staring at Emmie’s dear face. The hint of a smile on her lips was Cara’s only solace.

Emmie was gone. Silent sobs bent Cara double. She hugged her chest, rocking back and forth on her haunches as the loss swept through her. A tidal wave of grief.

A muffled moan escaped her lips and she sucked in a
breath that steadied her. She used the arm of Emmie’s chair to push to her feet, knees aching from kneeling so long. Two steps brought her to the counter, and she gripped the edge until her knuckles protested. She reached for the tissue box, but tears ruined her vision, and she knocked it to the floor.

“Damn it.” She pressed her palms against her eyes, fighting to regain her composure in the haze of grief. When her vision cleared, she
grabbed the tissue box and yanked out a handful to blow her nose. A ragged sigh stuck in her throat. She went to the sink and splashed cold water over her face. The streams of icy liquid shocked her back to the moment. She remained there, resting her elbows on the counter until her breathing returned to normal.

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.

T
hree 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.

M
aybe 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 le
aned 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.