The Haunting of Brier Rose (31 page)

"No, Roselyn is a Bastyr through and through. I can tell
just by looking at her."

The last strand free! Taylor caught the rope between his fingers,
so it wouldn't drape to the ground and betray him. Then he forced himself to
remain calm and think about his actions. Physically, he was no match for Seth.
If he approached him again, Seth would probably kill him. He had to think, had
to use his head, for time was running out. In his heart he knew what he
needed—the emerald. But how could he get his hands on it? And where was
it?

As if in answer, a thought struck him. Bea had an emerald on her
finger. He could look at it with his special vision and find out what type of
aura it emitted. Then, using the color as a guide, he could look at Seth to see
if a similar aura existed somewhere on his body or in his clothing. If he could
find the emerald and somehow get his hands on it, he might have a chance to
save Rose after all.

Taylor shifted his vision and glanced at Bea's hand. The emerald
glowed with a shimmering tan color outlined with green.

"If you take Rose, you will be tainting the Bastyr
line," Bea warned. "I know she's Will's child. Deborah had herself
tested."

"It is of no matter, even so. Roselyn is the last female of
the line. She is Deborah's daughter, and she must carry on the tradition."
Seth let his black robe fall to the ground and heaved in a great breath of air.
His bare chest rose in the twilight, accentuating his narrow shoulders and thin
arms and legs. He seemed unconcerned with his nakedness.

Taylor stared at him, loathing the thought that this man intended
to take Rose as his bride. Taylor wanted to break his neck. Instead, he
searched Seth for the telltale aura of tan and green, starting at his shoulders
and traveling down his lean body. No sign of the aura glowed in the darkness.

Seth held out both arms. "Prudence, bring the robe."

One of the hooded figures lifted the scarf from the sundial and
carried it to Seth, offering it up like a sacred object.

"This scarf shall bind you to me, Roselyn," Seth said,
as the hooded figure draped it over his shoulders. "When I wrap you in it,
you become one with me, never to be separated through all eternity."

"That's not true,
Rose
," Bea
taunted. "Deborah broke away from him."

"Deborah did not weave the scarf as instructed. She was a
headstrong fool!" Seth wrapped himself in the magical scarf, and the
silver pigment glinted with every move he made.

Frantic to find the emerald, Taylor inspected the ground and
Seth's discarded clothing. For a moment he saw nothing, and then he caught a
faint tan shade glowing in Seth's cast-off robe. The emerald was
there,
probably in a pocket he hadn't had enough time to search.

"Deborah was too strong for you, Seth Bastyr," Bea
continued, seemingly heedless of Seth's darkening expression. "Rose will
break away, too!"

"Silence!" Seth whirled to face her, lowering his head
as if he were a bull preparing to charge. But he didn't move. He stood his
ground and balled his hands into fists. Taylor saw a black shaft shoot out of
Seth's aura and whir straight for Bea's head. The spear pierced Bea's yellow
aura, which out of fear had contracted into the barest shell of color. To
Taylor's horror, he saw a black mark appear against the yellow, like an ink
stain. Bea gasped, her knees buckled, and she slumped in her bindings,
unconscious or dead.

Choking back a cry of rage, Taylor burst into action, flinging
away the rope. He lunged from the tree and dashed across the flagstones to Seth's
robe, hoping to grab the emerald in time.

Taylor knelt down to recover the discarded robe just as Seth
kicked him in the side and sent him sprawling across the flagstones. Taylor was
so intent on finding the emerald that he ignored the agony in his side. As Seth
strode toward him, Taylor plunged his hand into the pocket of the robe and
pulled out a velvet bag. His fingers could feel a slick, heavy object inside
the bag. Without seeing it, Taylor knew he had found the emerald.

But before he could get the gem out of the pouch, he looked up to
see Seth looming above him, his eyes wild with anger.

"Give me that emerald!" Seth demanded. "Or I will
crush the very life from you."

"Like hell," Taylor retorted, struggling to his feet.
Before he stood all the way up, Seth kicked him again, this time in his injured
calf. A fire of agony shot up his leg, and Taylor felt white-hot pain pour over
him. He nearly blacked out. Nauseated, he fell backward, and his hand struck
the stone, which knocked the pouch out of his grip. The bag slid across the
ground, out of reach. He lay on the ground, panting,
his
shin throbbing. He could feel the leg of his jeans wet with blood.

"Meddler," Seth growled. "I would have spared you,
had you not interfered."

Taylor glowered at him, knowing it would be useless to try to get
back up. He could see the velvet pouch out of the corner of his eye. He had held
the emerald in his hand. How could he have managed to lose it so quickly?

"But now I grow impatient with your attempts at
heroics."

Taylor saw Seth's hands tightening into fists and guessed he was
about to become a victim of Seth's auric spear, just as Bea had been. He
shifted his vision, waiting until the very last minute, until the spear emerged
above Seth's head. Then Taylor rolled to the side, barely avoiding being
struck. He heard a deep tone behind him on the flagstones as the spear hit the
ground. Ignoring the fire in his shin, he scrambled to his feet as Seth swung
around to try again. Unfortunately, Taylor had managed to roll even farther
from the emerald and realized that he would have to run around the sundial in
order to gain possession of the gem.

He lunged toward a figure in black, running into him with his
shoulder lowered for a tackle. The figure toppled to the ground. Behind him,
Taylor caught a glimpse of Seth moving to get a clearer path for his auric ray.
Taylor ducked behind the granite sundial as the ebony spear shot toward him.
The lilies at his feet shriveled, and the grass beyond bore a streak of brown,
as if burned by the shaft of energy. A cold wave of dread washed over Taylor as
he realized that he would have been killed by now, had he not been blessed with
his auric vision. In that moment he knew that his special vision was not the
curse he had considered it to be but a gift given to him by the lady in his
dream. He had been sent back to earth to save Rose Quennel, to break the chain
of ritual brides. He was her champion, the champion of the Bastyr women. Though
crippled and weak, he was their only hope.

Perhaps Seth had never encountered a man who could see auras.
Perhaps Taylor had the power to overcome the Bastyrs, after all. Taylor jumped
to his feet, only to see Rose raise her head.

"Stay down!" he yelled.

But Rose didn't listen to him. She sat back on her heels,
straining against the leather thong lashed around her wrists and tied to the
gnomon of the sundial.

"Edgar!" she called. "Get the emerald!"

Just as Taylor saw the raven glide down from the fir tree, he was
attacked from behind by a hooded figure. Then all hell broke loose. Seth shot
another bolt of energy at him, while the remaining hooded figures transformed
into Rottweilers. One of them jumped for Taylor's throat. With his last burst
of energy, Taylor bent forward, flipped the robed figure over his shoulder and
threw him onto the attacking dog. Then Taylor leapt onto the sundial, stuffing
his hand in his pocket for his knife. The Rottweilers ran around the base of
the sundial, snarling and snapping, jumping up with their huge paws on the edge
of the slab. He was sure that any moment one of the dogs would make it onto the
sundial.

"Taylor!" Rose cried. "Catch!"

Taylor looked up just in time to see Edgar fly overhead and
release the velvet pouch. He caught the sack in his hand and dropped to his
knees, keeping an eye on Seth, who balled his fists for another attack. With
trembling hands Taylor shook out the emerald, which fell with a thud into his
palm. The emerald was his! But how could he use it against the Bastyrs? He had
no knowledge of the power of the gem.

He glanced at Seth and saw another auric shaft hurling through
the darkness toward him. In the split second it took to see the shaft, Taylor
knew his efforts were in vain. There was no time to roll away, no time to tell
Rose to duck. In a purely instinctive reaction, he sprang
forward,
hand in the air as if to ward off the spear and keep it from hitting Rose. The
bolt hit the emerald with such an impact that his hand whipped back and he
nearly lost his grip on the stone. But he held on, though the emerald vibrated
and burned with heat. Never once did he take his attention off Seth standing
below him. To Taylor's amazement, he saw Seth turn to smoke and head straight
for the emerald, as if being sucked toward the gem.

Rose watched Taylor holding out the emerald, as if signaling Seth
to halt. She couldn't imagine what he thought he was doing. Surely he had lost
his mind. She couldn't blame him. She had suffered a weird sort of mental
apathy herself since being tied to the sundial. Yet during the time that Seth
had been occupied with containing Taylor, the fog of her trance had gradually
lifted. All she could conclude was that Taylor, in a last-ditch attempt, was
offering
himself
as the ultimate sacrifice, hoping to
save her.

"No!" she cried, just as Taylor froze, his hand outstretched.

Suddenly she heard the discordant sound, so loud that it shook
the ground beneath the granite on which she crouched. Rose winced, squinting
from the onslaught of noise. Beside her Taylor was literally glowing. She could
see a red cloud wafting up his arm and surrounding the hand that held the
emerald. A red cloud enveloped his head and shoulders, and soon it encompassed
his entire body. He looked as if he were glowing with heat, as if at any moment
he would burst into flame.

The hand that held the emerald shook as the cloud turned from red
to black. The sound of the organ whirled into a cacophony of tones, as if
hundreds of music boxes and circus calliopes were being played at the same
time. Tears welled up in her eyes at the force of the sound, and she squeezed
her lids together, unable to cover her ears with her bound hands. For what
seemed like hours the sound whirred around her in painful, throbbing waves.
Then, suddenly, the noise broke off.

Gasping, Rose looked up at Taylor. His upraised hand was glowing
a pale red. For an instant he stood as if turned to stone, and then he crumpled
to a heap beside her. She couldn't see his face, only the back of his tousled
black head. His left hand hung over the edge of the sundial. What if the Rottweilers
saw it? They would pull him off the slab and tear him to pieces.

Wildly, Rose glanced around, amazed to find herself alone. The
dogs had vanished. Seth was nowhere in sight. All that remained of him were his
discarded robe and the puddle of the silk scarf a few feet away. An oppressive
quiet hung over the garden as she stared into the darkness, but she was too
afraid after all she had been through to trust the silence.

"Taylor?" she called. He didn't respond. He lay
still—too still.

"Bea!" she cried. She could just make out Bea's slumped
figure hanging from the tree on the edge of the flagstones.

Edgar flapped to her side and landed ignominiously on Taylor's
motionless shoulder.

"Edgar!" Rose exclaimed. "Oh, Edgar, you wonderful
bird!"

He cocked his head and stared at something on the granite slab.
Rose followed his glance. A red pocketknife shone in the moonlight. She
strained to reach it with the tips of her fingers and slid it toward her. After
a few moments of struggling to open it, she sliced through her bindings and
pulled free. She dropped the knife and immediately leaned over to check
Taylor's condition.

His eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly parted. She
glanced down at his hand, where his fingers were wrapped around emerald. The
edges of his fingers still glowed red, as if he held a bright light in his
fist. She touched his neck, searching for his pulse. His skin was unnaturally
cold, just as Donald Jacoby's had been when she had found him in the herb
garden. Frantically, she moved two fingers down his neck, trying to pick up the
beat of his heart. Finally she found a pulse, a dangerously weak thrum.

"Oh, Taylor!" she cried softly. He was barely alive.
She had to get him to a doctor immediately, before Seth returned to finish the
job. Rose looked up. The garden had been plunged into darkness. She was
virtually alone, and she was terrified. If she were to help Taylor, she must
brave the darkness on her own—something she hadn't done since she was
five years old. The thought of running through the night seized her with
terror. But she had to do it. Every second counted. She had to face her fears
to save Taylor.

Rose grabbed the knife, jumped off the sundial and ran to Bea to
determine her condition. Bea was alive, but unconscious. Swiftly Rose cut her
down and laid her on the grass at the foot of the tree. Then she retrieved the
scarf, wrapped it around her naked body and fled to the house. There she pulled
on some clothes and grabbed her purse, running down the stairs as the clock
chimed midnight. Unnerved by the sonorous bongs, she stuffed the scarf in the
side compartment of her bag while she flew out the back door, anxious to put
the sound behind her. Through the dark she dashed to the carriage house, then
drove the Jacoby’s sedan across the yard to the sundial, ignoring the flowerbeds
she ruined and the shrubbery she demolished. Any minute she expected Seth to
show up, laughing and mocking her.

But Rose pressed on. She had to get away as soon as possible and
obtain medical attention for Taylor and Bea. She could feel perspiration
beading on her forehead as she ran to Taylor.