Night's Captive (15 page)

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The sound of Dawson clapping shocked her into freezing in place. She looked at him to see his sinister smile as he met her gaze.

Everything suddenly went back to normal speed.

Both the witch and his apprentice cried out as they hit the ground, tangled in a rope of burning magic. For a moment it was chaos and then the apprentice called back his magic and the two of them stumbled to their feet. Clearly stunned, they looked at Loni who now stood just feet from them.

“How did she—?” Carter started to say but the sorcerer’s expression caused him to clamp his mouth shut.

“Very good, Miss Stanfield.” Dawson smiled again, but it was thin, and the scar along his cheek seemed whiter. He was pretending to be amused and pleased.

But how had he seen her when no one else could? Did he have the same ability that she did? Her strange and newfound talent was being enhanced by the drug, of that she was certain.

“Time manipulation and telekinesis,” the sorcerer said. “Excellent. What else do you have? I would enjoy seeing whatever you can do.” He gestured toward Carter and Richmond. “I am sure they would, too.”

A sinking feeling overcame her. She’d just tipped her hand—now Dawson knew what she could do. But did he realize that she felt no loyalty toward him? That she had no desire to please him? She had to keep that from him as long as possible.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing else I can do.”

The sorcerer moved toward her, almost like he was gliding. When he reached her, he raised his hand and she flinched when he touched her face.

“I can see the appeal males have in you.” He studied her as if trying to figure it out. “There is something about you that draws any male who comes near you, isn’t there.” The last was a statement, not a question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She thought about her failed relationships and would have laughed if not for the situation she was in.

“I seriously doubt that to be true.” He stroked his fingers over her cheek and down her neck to her throat and to the top of her cleavage.

She shuddered, wanting to slap his hand. Better yet, to punch him. She’d never had the desire to hurt someone like she did at that very moment, like she wanted to hurt Dawson.

He moved his hand away and she gave an inward sigh of relief. But her relief did not last more than a moment.

A man entered the room—it was the creepy man named Harper. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but it’s urgent.”

The sorcerer beckoned him closer and the man whispered in his ear. Dawson drew back and dismissed Harper. “Excellent,” Dawson said to himself.

He turned to Loni. “I have something to attend to and I want to ensure that you are not a problem before I have a chance to fully train you.”

She felt herself grow cold.

He raised his hands and the coldness she’d felt crept over her like ice. Every part of her body froze and she couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even blink.

He had frozen her somehow. Turned her into a statue. He touched her face again. It felt like her skin was cool marble and his hand was ice. “I have things to attend to and I don’t have the time to spend with you at this moment.”

She was so still that she wasn’t even able to flinch, but a sick sensation settled in her midriff. She was surprised that her organs hadn’t turned to stone and that she could breathe and feel.

“Use this time for a little contemplation.” Dawson settled his hand on her breast and her stomach sickened as he caressed it. “I will be back and we can start where we left off.”

Chapter 18

Loni’s scream made it all the more imperative that they get to her. Not knowing what was happening to her had Alec’s gut tightening and his blood boiling. He felt a sense of urgency, like nothing he’d ever felt before.

“Petra, you remain in this position,” he instructed the witch and she nodded. “Rider,” Alec continued, speaking into his earpiece, “I need you to meet me behind the tallest mesquite tree on the north side.”

“Be right there.”

Alec shifted into a bobcat and slipped through the night to the tree. He took human form again and felt the soft flutter of wings stirring the air a moment before Rider appeared beside him.

“Thanks, brother,” Alec said as he touched Rider’s arm.

Alec felt the shift in his powers immediately. He released Rider and straightened as wings unfolded and stretched out from his back.

“It’s too damned bad that we don’t have a map of Dawson’s place,” Alec said. “We’ll have to do the best we can. We’ll go to the rooftop and find our way in.”

“The only way in that I saw were two chimneys,” Rider said. “But maybe you’ll see something I didn’t.”

It wasn’t the first time Alec had taken form as a winged marauder, and it was one of his favorite paranorm abilities to mimic. They were a rare paranorm that were rarely on the side of good—Rider was one of the exceptions.

Alec spread his wings and vanished from sight as he took to the sky. Only Rider could see him now, and as a marauder, Alec could now see Rider.

Flying was exhilarating normally, but this time he was too concerned about Loni to feel that same thrill. He soared up and over the house, getting a good look at the perimeter and examining the rooftop.

The house had two chimneys but no other way into the home from the rooftop. The second floor windows were all closed, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get in.

Since they were unable to be seen, they checked the windows, Alec taking the second story and Rider checking out the first floor. As Alec hovered and peered into the windows, he saw nothing of interest. He did notice that the windows were wired with an alarm system and he told Rider over the earpiece so that the marauder wouldn’t try to open one.

When they finished looking into the house, both Alec and Rider lightly touched down in a crouch near each other on the rooftop.

“We need to go to Erick.” Alec glanced at the chimney. “I have an idea.”

Rider nodded and they went to Erick who was still in position. Alec touched Erick and took on his shifter abilities and then Alec transformed into a bat.

“Aw, man.” Rider shook his head and grimaced. “You know I hate bats.”

In response, Alec flapped his wings around Rider’s head then took off for the house again with Rider following.

Alec flew up and over the house and then down into the stone chimney while Rider crouched on the rooftop. The chimney was wide enough to accommodate Alec’s bat wings and he was able to ease down the stones until he came to the cold fireplace. He landed on a fresh log that had been placed on the grate.

He cursed to himself—the screen was closed. There were gaps around the metal accordion screen, but the gaps were not large enough for him to squeeze through in any form. The fireplace was large and roomy for a bat but would be cramped for a particularly large male in human form. Unless a monkey was one of Erick’s animal forms, Alec was going to have to do it the hard way.

Unfortunately, he had to do it the hard way.

He shifted from bat to man, into a crouched position, and had to try to move the grate without making a sound. That proved to be exceptionally difficult and he bumped his head against stone and winced. He continued cursing inwardly as he readjusted his position so that he was at the screen. As he attempted to open it, the screen made a loud scraping sound and his heart pounded.

He paused to listen but heard nothing. After he took a deep breath, he managed to open the screen with minimal noise and found himself in a spacious living room with white carpeting. Damn. He was covered in soot and would make tracks with his boots, so he’d have to pick something smaller, something that wouldn’t be unusual in a house in the desert—like a mouse.

That was the form he disliked. Considering his size in human form, as a mouse he felt cramped and maybe even a little vulnerable. This despite all of the interesting things he could do as a mouse. It also took more concentration to shift into something so small. He closed his eyes and focused and felt himself shrink. It made his head ache and for some reason his teeth ached, too.

When he opened his eyes again, everything loomed large around him. He scampered out of the fireplace and onto the hearth then the carpeting. He looked over his shoulder as he ran for cover beneath a couch and saw that he’d left a little trail of black footprints.

He stayed in mouse form and ran, heading in the direction of the front of the house, searching for the door. He had to run under a table and hide by one of its legs as he watched feet go by and heard voices.

“Are you certain?” he heard the sorcerer say.

“Absolutely,” came a voice Alec wasn’t familiar with.

“Perfect.”

What did Dawson think was perfect? Alec wondered. And what had the bastard done with Loni?

All he could do was pray that she was all right and find her. But first he had to find a way to get his teammates into the house. With determination, he headed toward the front door.

* * * * *

Loni stood alone, a statue in the huge room that the sorcerer had left her in. She had to figure out how to get free.

She had apparently used telekinesis when she stopped Richmond’s spellfire and then again when she’d taken the magic rope and wrapped it around the two witches.

If she could move something again with her mind, what could she move that would help her? She would have frowned if her mouth weren’t as frozen as the rest of her.

Her eyes wouldn’t move so she could only see what was within her line of sight. A table, the chair with all of the straps, the stool Dawson had sat on to administer the drug along with the glass bottle and the syringe. She could see nothing that would help her.

If telekinesis wasn’t an option, what about telepathy? He’d said that it was a possibility that she could have that ability.

She wished she could close her eyes to concentrate better but she had to do it with her eyes frozen wide open. She focused on listening with her mind, hoping to find someone she could communicate with. Someone who could actually help her. The sorcerer had said she would be frozen until he lifted the spell or someone touched her.

Problem was that she had no idea how it worked and how to do it. She tried listening for thoughts and nothing came to her. She tried to concentrate on one person at a time.

Her thoughts strayed from her objective for a moment when Alec came to mind and her heart hurt. Was he all right? Was he even alive?

Despite everything she’d fallen for him and she’d fallen for him hard. Maybe it went all the way back to reading about him. Maybe it was the first time he’d saved her life in that alleyway. Maybe it was the times they sat and talked and she had learned more about him. Or maybe it was even the first time—the only time—they’d made love.

She forced herself to concentrate on the problem at hand. According to Dawson she could develop telepathy and clairvoyance in addition to telekinesis. What if she could use the telepathic powers to contact someone and the telekinetic powers to draw him or her close to her? It was worth a try. She had the feeling that she needed someone who could be susceptible to suggestion.

Who would be most susceptible? Dawson’s staff of servants? He had to have a staff that included a housekeeper, gardener, and whoever else he might employ.

The butler.
Timmons. She remembered the sympathy she had seen in his eyes when she’d first been brought to the sorcerer’s place. From the way the butler had looked at her, she’d known that he thought it was wrong that she’d been taken to Dawson against her will. Maybe if she focused on Timmons she could control him into coming to her and touching her.

She pictured the thin man’s pale, lined face. She tried to remember everything about him from his posture to his traditional butler’s garb, to the way he walked. When she had a firm image of him she searched for him with her mind.

Everything remained blank and dark and almost hopeless as she struggled to find him. She concentrated harder. Her head ached at her temples and her eyes and it became more difficult to concentrate.

Thoughts from others started bouncing around in her mind, and she felt a surge of triumph. She could do this. She didn’t know from whom the thoughts came from but they were distracting so she shoved them away. She didn’t know if any one of the owners of those thoughts would help her.

Something told her that the butler would at least come to her. It was a strong and sure feeling and somehow she had no doubts. She kept searching for the butler, having to continuously shove aside the thoughts of others. The thoughts she heard were frenetic—jumbled and chaotic—and she assumed they must be from the humans who had been given the drug. It made her wonder why her own thoughts were so clear.

For a moment she thought she touched Dawson’s mind and she retreated at once. She didn’t want him to have any idea of what she might be capable of, if she indeed had any power with her mind.

The more she searched for the butler, the more frustrated she became. Her body felt rigid in its prison, and the more she searched, the tenser she was.

She found herself becoming more and more mentally exhausted as she tried to locate the butler. Even if she did find him, she didn’t know if it would do any good. It was certainly worth a try, though.