The Dark Gate (13 page)

The elevator door swooshed open and Brenda led them into an empty hallway. “His is the second room on the right. I've looked into his condition. Carrying him out in your arms is unlikely to do any additional damage. Give me a couple of minutes to call his mother away.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks, Brenda. I owe you big time for this one.”

The woman smiled sadly. “I think we're even. But all that matters is saving that child. Do what you can, Jack. And I'll do the same.”

As Brenda walked the short distance to David's room and disappeared inside, Jack slipped his hand around Larsen's arm and pulled her into the shadows beside him, wrapping his head in blessed silence.

Beneath his fingers, her muscles ached with the tension of a new recruit on his first stakeout. “Relax, Larsen. Your heart's pounding so loud it's going to give us away.”

She looked at him, startled, then scowled. “It is not.” But she leaned into his touch and it was all he could do not to pull her into his embrace.

Moments later, Brenda reappeared followed by an Asian-American woman of medium height and the look of someone whose world was crumbling around her. Mei.

His heart went out to his friend. She would hate him for what he was about to do.

When they disappeared around the corner, Jack squeezed Larsen's hand. “Come on.”

They eased into the room and found David in the bed, but not alone, as he'd expected. In the chair behind the door, his sister, Sabrina, slept. As they walked into the room, she opened her eyes and blinked at him.

Hell. He froze, hoping she wasn't really awake. But she stretched and smiled up at him sleepily with that mouth full of braces.

“Hi, Jack.”

Now what was he going to do?

He went to her, squatted in front of her chair and took her hand.

“Sabrina, honey, I need you to keep a secret. I know someone who may be able to help David, but I can't tell your parents.”

“Why not?”

“It's complicated.”

She stretched long, coltlike legs and straightened. “Jack, what's going on? My dad's acting like you're the bad guy or something.”

“I know. But I'm not. You've got to trust me on this.” He squeezed her hands. “Sabrina, I've got to take your brother without your mom knowing. She's going to be mad at me, but it's the only way to save him.”

She looked at him with dark trusting eyes. “Okay.”

He stood and squeezed her shoulder. “That's my girl.” Then he turned and went to the bed where David lay, not asleep, but unconscious and dying. His heart nearly ripped in two as he gathered the boy into his arms.

He would not let him die.

As he crossed to Larsen, who was waiting for him just inside the door, he met Sabrina's tired gaze.

“Go back to sleep, honey.” Then he slipped into the hallway, Larsen by his side, and into the elevator without incident. Larsen sagged against the elevator wall across from him as the doors swooshed shut, her gaze tense but relieved. They'd done it. The first step—springing David—had been a piece of cake. But when the elevator reached ground level, they stepped out to find Sabrina flying out of the stairwell and running toward them.

“I'm going with you,” she announced.

Jack groaned. “No, sweetheart. You're not. It's way too dangerous.”

But the teen's dark eyes flashed with stubbornness. “I
am
going with you. Or I'll start yelling until my mom comes.”

As well as every security guard or cop in the building.

“Sabrina…”

Her chin jutted, her eyes starting to glisten dangerously. “I'm going with you, Jack.”

Larsen touched his arm. “We've got to get out of here.”

Damn stubborn females. “All right,” he snapped.

He loaded them into the car, Larsen in the back holding David, and Sabrina in the front with him, then took off. He circled D.C. long enough to be certain they weren't being followed, then headed into the Virginia suburbs once more.

He pulled out his cell and called Mei.

“Jack! My kids are gone.”

“I have them. I'm the one who took them.”

Silence.

“I won't hurt them, Mei. You know I won't. I know someone who may be able to save David.”

“Then you should have taken me with you!” Her voice was filled with fury…and tears.

Jack sighed. “I couldn't. Henry can't find us, Mei. He's not himself. I think you know that.”

“Jack, so help me…” Her voice clogged with tears.

He listened to the woman he loved like a sister crying, and it broke his heart. “I won't hurt them. I didn't even mean to take Sabrina. She insisted on coming along.”

A small, choked laugh sounded on the other end. “That one has a mind of her own.” She sniffled. “What's happening, Jack? What's the matter with Henry? He's okay unless I ask about you, then he gets this awful look on his face and it's as if someone else is talking through his mouth.”

“That about sums it up. Mei…I can't explain. I'm not entirely sure I understand what's going on myself, but his mind is being controlled. The entire M.P.D. It's not their fault, but they could be dangerous. Don't talk to Henry about me. And don't tell him I have the kids.
Please.
”

He waited, knowing she was trying to deal with what he'd said.

“Mei, I don't know if I can save David. But the doctors can't and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't try. Trust me.”

“I do. I always have.”

“I may not be able to keep in touch. I can't take a chance on Henry tracking us down.”

“I'm scared, Jack.”

“Me, too, Mei. Me, too.”

“Can I speak with my girl?”

“Sure.” He handed his phone to Sabrina.

“Yeah?” Sabrina paused. “Mom…” She let out a put-upon sigh as only a teenager can. “I will. Love you, too.”

He was doing the right thing. He was doing the only thing. But fear for the three precious lives in the car with him turned his knuckles white as he headed out of the city and toward the mountains of Virginia.

T
he unconscious child lay across the backseat, his head heavy in Larsen's lap as they headed west on I-66 into Virginia. Larsen felt for the pulse at the base of the boy's warm neck. Steady, but weak.

It wasn't fair. He was just an innocent victim, a cute kid who didn't deserve this.

She remembered his apologetic grin the first time she saw him—after he'd accidentally hit her with the football. He was a likable kid. A kid Jack adored. And he was dying because of her. Because the albino—the
Esri
—saw her in that vision and sent his minions after her. It was all too much to take in.

In the front seat, Sabrina chattered away, seemingly oblivious to her brother's plight.

“So, anyway, Emily's phone bill comes and she has almost three thousand text messages. In one month! Her dad got so mad, he took the phone away. But he forgot to turn it off.” Sabrina giggled. “Emily's friends kept texting and before the battery died there were almost two hundred new texts!”

Larsen bit back her annoyance at the girl's callousness, then sighed. She was just a child—a child who believed Jack would take care of everything. Larsen wished she could do the same.

“And her dad had to pay the bill because it wasn't even her phone anymore.”

“I guess that taught her dad a lesson,” Jack said.

“Yeah. It taught him to turn off the phone.”

Jack chuckled and glanced at the girl, fondness warm in his eyes. She was distracting Jack from his fear for the boy, and for that Larsen was grateful.

But when he turned back to the road, Sabrina continued to gaze at him—not with the innocent adoration of a kid, but with the lovesick look of a fourteen-year-old girl.

Sabrina turned her head suddenly, catching Larsen's stare. Her eyes turned hard, her expression telling Larsen, in no uncertain terms, to
stay away. He's mine.
Then she turned back in her seat and looked out her side window.

Oh, boy. Poor Jack. He thought of the girl as a daughter. Larsen was certain he didn't have a clue Sabrina harbored very undaughterly feelings for him. She felt sorry for both of them.

Finally, Sabrina stopped talking and soon her head was leaning against the window as if she were asleep. Larsen tipped her own head against the headrest, listening to the low hum of traffic.

The next thing she knew, the car was slowing down. She blinked and looked out the front as they took the exit ramp off the interstate. They shouldn't be getting off for more than an hour.

“What's the matter?” she asked Jack.

“We're almost there.”

She rubbed her eyes. “I must have fallen asleep.”

Jack met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “How is he?”

Larsen felt for David's pulse against his warm throat. “The same.”

Jack turned onto a two-lane road. A car passed, illuminating the hard, worried lines of his face.

“What if I screwed up, Larsen?” His words were low and raw.

He'd probably been tormenting himself with doubts for the entire ride. “What if I've signed his death certificate by taking him out of there?”

Her heart clenched with sympathy. Even after all they'd been through it was this—the danger to his partner's son—that threatened to break him.

“You're doing the right thing, Jack. You're doing the only thing.”

She reached over the seat and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Would you believe me if I said everything's going to be all right?”

“No.” But he reached up and squeezed her hand. “God knows how this could turn out okay.” A hint of a sad smile whispered through his voice. “But keep saying the words anyway.”

As he gripped her hand like a lifeline, tenderness filled her chest for this strong, determined man. And she realized she was going to have to take some serious measures to protect her heart.

 

Jack turned off the road onto a long twisty drive that led up a treed hill. He'd never been so afraid in his life. What if Myrtle couldn't help David? What if she wasn't even here? His stomach churned until he tasted bile in his throat.

How was he going to live with himself if David died in his arms instead of his mother's? How was he going to live with himself if David died at all?

With a burst of fury, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. If it was the last thing he did, he would kill the bastard responsible.

At the top of the hill, the car lights illuminated a modest, two-story Colonial home with a narrow porch, white siding and black shutters. A home he'd been to once before, long ago.

“This is it?” Larsen asked behind him.

Though she'd leaned back as they climbed the hill, the remembered weight of her hand on his shoulder lingered, calming the torment that raged inside him, quieting the storm in his head. What would he do without her?

“This is it.” He turned off the ignition. “I suppose I should call her so I don't scare her half to death.” The porch light went on and he winced. “Guess I should have done that before I drove up the drive.”

“At least she's home.”

“Yeah.”
Thank God.
But what were the chances she'd actually be able to help David? How could he have thought she'd be able to save a boy the doctors had given up on?

Larsen's hand patted his shoulder. “We're here. Let's do this.”

Jack pulled himself together and got out of the car as the front door opened and his aunt stepped out onto the porch, her gray hair in rollers, a red silk bathrobe tied at her slender waist.

“Aunt Myrtle? It's Jack.”

The woman's curious face lit up with a huge smile. “Jack! How nice of you to visit.”

It was three-thirty in the morning. The irony struck him funny, coaxing a much-needed smile from his mouth. He went to her and embraced her, feeling a surge of affection for his father's sister, a woman he barely knew. She was of medium height, and had to be over seventy, but she was strong and erect and hugged him hard.

He pulled back and shook his head at her. “You shouldn't have come outside. I could have been anyone.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, I don't worry about those things. No one makes it all the way up
my
hill unless it's important.” She smiled broadly at him. “And I was right, now, wasn't I?”

Myrtle's sharp gaze moved behind him. “Hello, dear,” she said as Larsen joined them. “Why, Jack, you didn't get married without inviting me, did you?”

Larsen's eyes widened.

A hard, startling longing to say
yes
rocked him.

“No, Aunt Myrtle. Larsen's just a…friend.”

“How nice. Any friend of Jack's is family, I always say.”

Larsen gave him a bemused look and Jack grinned. He hadn't seen her for decades.

“So, what brings you out here in the middle of the night, nephew?”

The brief respite from his worry for David evaporated as if it had never been. “I need your help.”

She turned and waved at him to follow. “Then come in, come in.”

“I've got to get the kids.”

“You have kids?” she exclaimed.

“They're not mine.” As Jack walked back to the car, Myrtle followed. “One of them is very sick.”

Myrtle's eyes widened. “You think I can heal him.”

Jack shook Sabrina awake, then reached in and lifted David into his arms.

“I don't know,” he admitted, straightening, fear tightening his chest. “What I do know is the doctors have given up on him. You're his only chance.”

“What do they say is the problem?”

“His organs are hardening. They're not sure why.”

Myrtle touched David's forehead, then met Jack's gaze with shrewd sympathy. “This boy means much to you.”

“Yes. He does.”

“I can't make any promises. I haven't done any healing in years. It brings the wrong sort around, if you know what I mean.”

He didn't, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she help David.

She turned and motioned him to follow. “Bring him inside and I'll see what I can do.”

He followed her into the dark house, David in his arms, Sabrina and Larsen close behind. Myrtle turned on one of the lamps, revealing a living room that didn't appear to have changed from the last time he was here. The house even smelled the same, like musty age and lemon oil. In the corner a grandfather clock chimed the quarter hour like a sentinel reminding him he was out of time.

Myrtle led them up the stairs to the same room where he'd lain as a boy—a frilly room with white ruffles, flowers on the walls and the same musty smell.

“Put him on the bed, Jack. I'll get my things.”

Jack laid the boy in the middle of the white bedspread. Sabrina sat, crossed-legged at David's feet. Larsen moved to look out the window, standing alone with the demons that haunted her.

Myrtle returned with a lace-trimmed basket filled with an assortment of things. She set the basket on the bed and Jack peered into it with dismay. Rocks, a bottle of oil and candles. Nothing that looked the least bit useful in saving a dying child. The slim light of hope that had ridden with him into the mountains sputtered and dimmed.

His mother always said Myrtle was crazy. Jack was suddenly all too afraid she was right. Heaven knew, madness ran in the family. If that's all she was—just a crazy old woman—David was doomed and Jack would burn in hell for stealing the dying boy from his mother. Pain lanced his chest. He berated himself for his stupidity as doubts tried to suffocate him.

“Take his shirt off, Jack.” Myrtle waved one bright red fingernail toward the child.

“Will this hurt him?” Sabrina asked.

Myrtle smiled at the girl. “No, it won't hurt. Jack can tell you. He's been through the ritual before.”

Sabrina turned and eyed him curiously.

He took a deep breath, fighting for control. He'd brought David here to be healed. There was nothing more to lose by letting Myrtle try. In the morning, he'd take him back to his mom. There should still be time.

Before he died.

A vise clamped around his heart, but he cleared his throat and forced his voice to sound normal before answering Sabrina.

“I don't remember much about it,” he told her truthfully. “Other than the oil smelling bad.”

Myrtle unstoppered the oil and the pungent smell of decaying animal filled the room.

Sabrina pinched her nose closed. “Euw.”

“Bad?”
Larsen said behind him, the word more choke than sound. “That's like calling the Arctic a bit cool.”

“Hush, children,” Myrtle said softly. She poured a small puddle of oil on David's bare chest and laid two rocks on top of the glistening liquid.

Then she handed the stack of candles and a pack of matches to Jack. “Replace the other candles in the room with these please, nephew, then light them. Larsen, please turn out the lights, then no more talking.”

Jack struck a match, the sharp scent barely cutting through the oil's stench, then lit the first candle and each of the others from it.

Soon the silent bedroom flickered with candlelight. Jack stood back from the bed and motioned Sabrina to join him to give Myrtle room. The girl crawled off the bed and came to him, wrapping an arm around his waist as he pulled her against his side.

His aunt sat on the bed, her bloodred robe a startling contrast to the white bedspread. As she placed one hand on the rocks and the other on David's forehead, she began to hum, then sing a soft wordless melody under her breath. At times Jack thought he heard words, but he couldn't be sure.

The air turned thick with hope and promise, and he found himself holding his breath, praying with everything inside him.
Please let this work. Please spare this boy.

But David remained motionless and Jack cursed himself for his stupidity in believing, even for a moment, that his aunt had some kind of special gift.

Larsen stepped beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her and pulled her hard against his other side. Both the noise in his head and the turmoil in his heart found a moment's peace within the whirlpool of despair that was sucking him down.

Sabrina pressed her head against his other arm. Poor kid. He'd made promises he couldn't keep and given her hope where there was none. Idiot.

A pair of gasps sounded in stereo from either side of him, and he blinked at the sight in front of him, his flesh rippling with chills. David's warm brown skin had turned luminous, as if a light were rising to the surface of a dark, still pond. Larsen straightened in his hold. Sabrina pressed herself harder against him. Myrtle hadn't moved. Her eyes were closed as she sang softly.