"It will have to end some way," Danube said. "I suggest we charge it head-on."
"How so?"
"I will seek out Martin, question him. Perhaps I will be able to learn how he is causing this—if he is the culprit."
"He has to be." Gab was shaking now. "I want to fight. I want to make them leave my daughter alone."
"We will fight, once I know what steps need to be taken."
She drew in a long breath, filling her lungs and then expelling air in an attempt to calm herself. She wouldn't tolerate this. It was senseless torture.
"I'll get the address of Martin's office," she said.
Danube waited at the table until she returned with the slip of paper from the yellow note pad Katrina had provided.
He folded it and put it into his pocket. "I will be back soon," he said.
~*~
Heaven sat up in bed, sipping the juice Katrina had poured. She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes almost made her look like an old woman. Gabrielle had to reach deep inside herself to manage a smile.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Like I had a bad dream."
She had been sleeping since they had brought her to Katrina's. There had been no trace of fever during the night, and while she had tossed about some, she had not awakened, being too depleted to rouse.
“We had a rough time of it," Gab said. "It's going to be all right now."
"Why don't they go away and leave us alone?" Heaven asked.
"I don't know, baby."
Just days ago it had seemed things were finally getting on track. Now everything was in a shambles. Her home was gone, and there was no end in sight. Not unless Danube could find some way to make Martin go away.
Somehow she couldn't picture it being that simple. Not if he'd gone to this much trouble. She couldn't understand that kind of obsession, couldn't understand how someone could want to punish her so badly he would want to hurt Heaven.
Martin was wealthy, attractive, and no doubt able to find other women. There was no reason for him to want to hold her except a desire to manipulate and control everything around him. When you met people, they were on their best behavior, smiles and best manners. You couldn’t tell what lurked beneath the surface
She had run into Martin at a dinner party thrown by one of the firm's clients. He had been wearing a charcoal gray suit and had seemed debonair.
In contrast to Dave, he had seemed striking. Dave's opposite, not an unsure youngster, he had seemed to have his own corner chiseled in the world. That had appealed. In starting over, she didn't want to repeat what had occurred with Dave.
She had read that some people follow the same patterns, becoming involved in the same types of bad relationships over and over. She had been trying to strike out in a different direction but had still managed to find someone who was bad for her. What an uncanny knack she had.
Not only was it causing pain for her daughter, but it had cost Jake his life, his only crime–caring for her, wanting to help. Leaving her daughter's bedside when the child fell asleep, Gab went into the bathroom. Her own eyes had even darker circles, and her hair was in tangles. Was she somehow cursed, destined to bring pain to those around her?
No, she wouldn't let herself think that way. She turned on the faucet, running warm water to splash on her face. That was what Martin wanted. To tear her down, to make her feel this way. She would not give in.
He had done bad things, and they had caused pain. She could not accept the responsibility for someone else's evil. Besides, she had other things to think about. Calling the landlord, explaining it all, as well as she could. The fire department was speculating about lightning. She wouldn't argue with their findings. It wasn't an act of God, but it was something beyond human control.
~*~
Althea settled into a tub of hot water. Her muscles ached now that adrenaline had ebbed from them. She had been so tense during the previous night that she had pains from head to toe, and she was reminded once again that her youth was passing.
Gently, she let her head sink beneath the water, warm suds soaking her hair and easing the throbbing in her skull. She was not completely comfortable, being alone, but she tried not to think about potential harm while she sought to relax. She hoped the forces of darkness were temporarily appeased.
Yet she knew that probably was not the case. She was living in a nightmare world, one in which people found new ways to hurt each other—or recycled old ways. This was all out of the dark ages. Someone with her training was not supposed to believe devils caused madness, yet what else could explain what she had witnessed?
All of the theories, all of the techniques she had so carefully studied were futile now. A little girl's sanity, her mother's, and Althea's own all were under attack by forces from a realm outside her understanding. The mysterious, mystical man who had wandered into this world seemed their only hope.
Danube did not represent reason, yet he was the only one who appeared able to make sense of the assaults. She had promised herself she would fight for Gabrielle and Heaven, but her training—her answers—were not enough.
It was frustrating to realize that, frustrating to think the fears and superstitions she had fought so hard
over the years were the alternative. She wondered if this might not still prove to be some sort of delusion. But that thought did not tarry in her Consciousness. She knew what they had experienced was real, all of it.
After soaking a while longer, she pulled herself from the tub, using a thick towel as a wrap. Then, taking a second towel from the cabinet beneath the sink, she tied it around her head. Her bed looked inviting, but she had to get back to Heaven and Gabrielle. And she did not want to be alone.
Not a good idea after Jake Tanner and the reverend. Lately people died when they were alone. Having survived last night's episode, she should feel invincible, but she did not.
Pulling open the louvered closet door, she selected a soft pants suit and carried it over to the bed. If she let her hair dry en route, she would look presentable if a little unkempt. That was the least of her worries. She wouldn't bother with makeup. This was a no-frills day. She had to get back to Gabrielle.
She was about to disentangle the towel, knotted between her breasts, when the arm slid around her neck. Before she could capture a breath to cry out, a hand, wrapped in gauze and reeking of the sickly sweet smell of dried blood, closed across her mouth.
Before her eyes another hand appeared, this one clasping a long golden dagger with a wavy blade. The blade glistened in the glow of the overhead light, its tip visibly sharp, honed to a point perfect for piercing flesh.
"Let's be very quiet." The hiss came from behind her, hot breath touching the back of her neck, making the hairs stand up in spite of their dampness.
With a twist, she felt herself being spun, and then, just for an instant, she was facing the blond-haired man with the pointed features. Then she flew backward, bouncing onto the bed.
In the next instance, he was on top of her, his weight pressing down before she could think about struggling, and she closed her eyes, reliving the terror she had known as a child. Her flesh burned, as if aflame with fear of violation. She was about to be subjected to a different torture.
She felt the smooth skin on his face as his lips pressed g against her ear. "Be calm." She found herself looking into cold eyes. A scowl was carved into his features, but she detected no sign of lust in his expression. She realized she was also feeling no indication of his manhood even though his loins were pressed close to hers.
She managed to swallow despite the dryness of her mouth. He was either going to do something more hideous than violate her or he had some other purpose.
Summoning calm she had learned from years of practice, she forced herself to analyze the circumstances. He was not pawing her.
"What do you want?" she asked, containing the quiver in her voice.
He laughed softly. The bandaged hand was placed before her eyes, and, he unfurled the gauze to show her the jagged stump where his finger should have been. She almost gagged as the smell of it hit her. Raw flesh shining slightly. It had not been stitched after the amputation, but it was sealed. It appeared to have been cauterized, badly, with an open flame.
"You're partly responsible for this," he said.
"How did I do that?" Althea asked. Could he be the victim of some former patient somehow blaming her? He was obviously disturbed. She would have to deal with him on those terms.
"You were with the woman and her girl. You helped them drive the demon back at me."
Her heart contracted. He was the one, the one who had conjured the demons, the sorcerer. With new fear, she looked into his cold, emotionless eyes. He might want something she couldn't offer.
Danube rode the silent elevator to the sixth floor, where Martin rented a suite. As the doors hissed open, he stepped off into the carpeted lobby and found a slender woman in her mid thirties at a receptionist's desk.
"Can I help you?"
He asked for Martin.
"Do you have an appointment?" "No."
"Your name?"
"Danube. It's in regard to Gabrielle Davis and her daughter, Heaven. You might call it a matter of life and death."
The receptionist's eyes widened, and she spoke softly into the mouthpiece, trying to keep her words from Danube's ears.
After a moment she nodded. "He'll see you briefly."
Danube walked past her desk before she could speak further.
"I'll show you back," she offered.
"I can find it."
Martin waited behind his desk, coat buttoned in place, tie perfect, hair neat. He looked ready to meet the "60 Minutes" cameras.
He was a man used to taking the offensive.
"Heaven Davis almost died last night," Danube said.
"I haven't seen Gab in months, let alone her kid, and I don't believe I know who you are."
"For now you can consider me her protector. I can sense magic." He raised his hands, setting his fingers in a careful arrangement, aiming them toward Martin. "You have been in the presence of magic."
Martin began to shift about, although his eyebrows continued to dip down, forming a valley just over the bridge of his nose.
"You have been near magic without calling upon it yourself."
He stood. “Are you crazy?"
Danube just moved closer, keeping his hand raised as his eyes scanned the air. He was searching for vibrations, exaggerating the technique to make Martin squirm.
Only after several moments did Danube let his eyes wander back to Martin's face. "You have been in contact with someone who uses magic," he said. "You know what's been happening to the child."
"I don't know anything, and you can't prove what you say," Martin said. “Get the hell out of my office."
Danube made no move. He was now more interested in studying the businessman's eyes and demeanor. Martin's flare-up confirmed the suspicion he'd had contact with a magician.
Danube offered a frozen stare. "You must call this off."
The businessman's face and neck had gone scarlet. He loosened his collar and glared at Danube. "I told you, I don't know what you're talking about."
"The fire could have destroyed you. You will regret what's happening. I can promise that. I have known many who turned to the darkness to fulfill their desires. The results are always horrendous."
"I'll call security."
Danube threw up his hand. "Unnecessary."
He walked slowly backward, eyes on Martin, fingertips still pointed toward him. The businessman continued to squirm as Danube found the knob behind him and eased the door open before stepping into the hall.
~*~
When the red-haired man disappeared, Martin slumped back in his chair, relieved. He had been like some mad Gypsy, but he had been right about one thing. Dabbling in magic was horrendous. Simon was strange, and now another strange man had shown up. He had sensed something unsettling about Danube, even odder than Simon, and that was a hard thing to be.
This had gone beyond what he'd expected. He'd wanted to lash out at Gabrielle in some way, make her suffer because he had suffered. He had everything, so much to offer, and she had walked out, giving him the excuse about his being too possessive.
And nothing would change her mind, not all the money nor all the power. He could snap his fingers and some other young girl would fall into line, but Gab wouldn't pay any attention to him, wouldn't think about looking back or giving him another chance.
He had suffered for a while. It had been hard to concentrate on his work because he believed he loved her. He had tried going out with other women, had dated a couple of really young girls his friend Harper had fixed him up with, then an older woman, one closer to his own age, all of them poor substitutes for what he had felt for Gabrielle.