Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (18 page)

“Don’t call 911, please, Beth, I need you to trust me.” Kahtar warned as he twisted Berwick’s neck brutally.

The wide blue eyes stared at him as she slid a finger over the screen, bringing it to life anyway. Keeping his voice calm and conversational, while he fought to kill a man in front of her, he said, “Beth? That call will go to county before any real help can come. I can never explain what happened here. Please, do not make that call.”

With one of his own massive arms wrapped around the Scot, his other hand hung limply at his side, blood dripping down his beautiful snowy white clothes. Beth’s eyes were wide as she took in his clothes, the swords hanging at his sides. They flashed to the heap that was Doric in the shadows at the far end of the long room. Then her eyes lighted on Berwick’s face. Even in the dim light it was a dark shade of purple and she shuddered.

“Oh please, don’t hurt him. You’re killing him.”

“Yes.” Kahthar’s comment was calm, unemotional.

Beth’s reaction was without doubt, very emotional. Lurching across the floor she nabbed the odd wooden gun and pointed it towards both Kahtar and Berwick. Loosening his hold, Kahtar moved, Beth’s finger trembled against the hairpin trigger. In tandem the two warriors tried to move out of her line of fire, briefly united. Senselessly the gun followed them, certain to cut right through Berwick and at least halfway through Kahtar if she fired.

“He has no gun now. Don’t you dare kill him! Police don’t kill when there is a choice!”

“Stop it, Beth. There is no choice! He killed two of my men today!” Struggling too late to reclaim his hold on Berwick. The smaller man brought a short heavy leg up, stomping on the bullet wound in Kahtar’s foot. The giant warrior chief found himself instantly on one knee, right in front of Beth. The shaking gun with the hair trigger, pointed right at his chest. Berwick rounded the counter and crashed through shelves and barrels, racing towards the far side of the house and up stairs.

Kahtar would have followed immediately—except Beth’s hand fell limp into her lap, a finger still on the trigger. The barrel now pointed right into her own thigh. The thought of the damage that could be wrought to that leg made Kahtar risk reaching with his intact hand to move the barrel, and he lifted Beth’s finger off the trigger. The weapon slid harmlessly to rest between her legs.

Kahtar reached over her head, to a display of brightly colored silk scarves, and grabbed a handful. Moving to the edge of the counter on his knees, he used the scarves to gather bits of the bloody mess that had once been part of his hand. Scooping gore from the polished floorboards he tried not to get bits of wood splinters with it. Then sitting on his heels he pressed the mess against the back of his left hand and tied the scarves tightly around it all. Blood oozed through immediately, but he turned his attention to Beth who, despite her shaking hands, had managed to snag her cell phone and was again trying to dial 9-1-1. With his good, but bloody hand, Kahtar nabbed it and tossed the phone. It bounced across the floorboards.

Beth’s look was far more angry than fearful, and he stated calmly, “I told you not to call.”

“You’re hurt, and Berwick will get away.”

“Berwick didn’t leave. He’s on the second floor. He needs you too much to leave.”

The expression on her face was one of confusion and disbelief.

Using his good hand Kahtar grabbed one of her trembling hands and hauled her to her feet. He focused on covering Beth with his own inverted scan. It hurt. His head pounded, but at least she had disappeared momentarily from Berwick’s mental radar. Leaning, he picked up the gun with the dangerous hair trigger.

“I can’t let him leave here alive. He’s too dangerous.”

“Oh no, oh no, you’re mob, aren’t you?”

Unable to help it, a laugh escaped, just one short bark. Beth glared; her blue eyes confused and angry.

“I’m not a mobster.”

“You’re something like that. An assassin? I see what you did to Doric….” Her voice broke, her eyes darted to the shadows at the far end of the room where Doric’s feet were visible beside a barrel.

“I belong to a cult. A clan.”

“You sound like Berwick. You’re freaking me out.”

“Because you know I’m telling you the truth?”

Beth crossed her arms tightly over her flat chest, tucking her hands under her arms, the knowing eyes fearful. Kahtar sighed.

“I need you to do something for me, and I want your word that you won’t leave this house or call anyone, especially not 911.”

“I’m afraid to trust you.”

Appreciating the candid reply, he gave her one of his own.

“You have good instincts, Beth, but you’re going to need to trust me starting right now. I give you my word I won’t lie to you again. Not ever.”

Knowing eyes darted back and forth, studying his expression.

Tugging one of her hands loose, he knew he was taking away her life almost as coldly as Berwick wanted to. He pressed her palm flat against his chest, for the first time ever allowing his heart to respond to hers. Relief flooded through him. This was an action he hadn’t even allowed himself to imagine. Beth’s heart moved against his and a warm awareness of her slid right through his body. He closed his eyes and bit back a groan. It felt better than he could have ever imagined. No heart had ever touched his entire being. The pain from his injuries vanished. There was only Beth’s heart and his, the heat of a warm glow moving through his entire body. Covenant Keeper to Covenant Keeper.

Spring rain, fresh air, sanctuary. I could love her.

Beth leaned towards him and put her head against her hand resting right on his chest. She whispered, “It’s not the house. It was never the house. It’s this. It’s you. I thought this feeling was the house.”

“Did you? No wonder you wouldn’t leave it.” He wanted to hold her there, to believe she had come for him. “It’s not just me. There are many of us here, people like you and me. Right now we need your help as much as you need ours.”

Beth lifted her head up, but for several seconds she kept her hand pressed against his chest, finally moving it almost reluctantly. It hurt him when she moved it, and Kahtar wondered if it hurt her too.

“I need you to go upstairs now, into the attic. Be quiet and lay flat on the floor, under the west window. If anyone comes up without identifying themselves—shoot them.”

In the darkness he positioned Berwick’s gun properly in her hand.

“There are only three shots left, so don’t miss.”

Instead of listening, Beth moved closer. The touch of her heart pressed against his stronger, trusting, curious, welcoming the response he gave her. The top of her head bumped into his chin and he could smell the citrus scent of her shampoo. The urge to kiss her forehead was strong, as though she were one of his clan. She was as good as, now that he’d taken away her choices. Bending forward, he allowed his lips to brush her hair when he spoke.

“Hurry.”

“Chief Costas, I can’t shoot someone.”

“My name is Kahtar Constantine…if Berwick takes you, Beth, every day you live you will wish you had.”

“I can’t see anything in the dark.” Her words shook. She believed him.

Kahtar turned her towards a staircase and pushed gently. “You can feel your way in the dark. Go as fast as you can, but move quietly. Berwick is in that room with all the candles, on the second floor. Don’t let him hear you pass.” Beth didn’t ask him how he knew that. By the time she made it up a flight of steps, Kahtar could sense the Scot already assembling weapons from tools he’d found.

Once they engaged, Kahtar wouldn’t be able to hold his scan over Beth, but with luck the heavy oaken beam beneath the attic window would hide her presence from Berwick’s weak scan.

UNFAMILIAR WITH THE back staircase, Beth ran fingertips over the wall to orient herself, and she tried to move quietly up the stairs. Her heart thundered with fear passing the second floor, knowing Berwick hid there, and she rushed upwards unable to imagine shooting a human being, even him. Kahtar’s words echoed in her mind,
“If Berwick takes you, Beth, every day you live you will wish you had.”
Goosebumps rose on her flesh though it was a humid, muggy night and Kahtar’s cryptic words about clans and cults suddenly bothered her much more than when she stood in his capable presence. He’d been telling the truth.

Beth reached the third floor, her bedroom was just down the hall and in her purse was the other new cell phone she’d bought. It would only take a minute to grab it. Pausing in the dark hall she listened intently. Years of listening to music far too loud had left a persistent hum in her ears. She couldn’t be sure if it was distant shadows of old songs in her ears or the movement of Berwick. Her fingers gripped the gun but she knew it was useless in her hands. She didn’t have what it took to pull the trigger, but that cell phone could link her to the saner world outside.

That new phone tucked inside her purse, hanging on a chair in her bedroom, seemed a talisman against clans, and cults, and creepy stalkers. It could be a lifeline to policemen who didn’t change their names in the night, and never wore swords. She raced down the twisting hallway into her bedroom and dug it out. She almost turned it on before thinking better of it. It would make noise, cast a glow. Beth ducked low, hurrying past a window where the night peered in.

Trying to listen for movement, she skittered down the hall towards the attic steps. She knew Berwick had found her a split second before he thundered out of the shadows and knocked the cell phone to the floor. He grabbed her and hoisted her up like a child, tossing six feet of grown woman over his shoulder. In panic she did shoot the gun. All three bullets dislodged blindly into the dark hall. Then she heard a grunt and sensed the faint touch of Kahtar’s heart before he fell. She’d shot Kahtar.

Berwick thundered down the black hallway like a bull, and Beth screamed at the top of her lungs, smacking him in the head with the empty gun and kicking him, focusing on using the sharp heels of her shoes. He hit her, hard. She’d never known until then that seeing stars could be a literal thing. Beth went limp, and Berwick raced into her bedroom. In seconds she knew he was planning to go out the window onto the fire escape.

She waited until he had one short leg out the window before she did something her mother had once told her could stop any man. Reaching into his trousers she bravely fished down nether regions, grabbed a handful and twisted, hoping she’d gripped the right part. Simultaneously she bit his nose, hard, ignoring the horror of flesh and blood in her mouth. Berwick dropped hard, his crotch ramming against the window sill and Beth felt bones in her hand break. Then he dropped her, and she fell onto the hardwood floor, her head slamming against it so hard she saw stars again. Scrambling to her feet she tore the iron curtain rod down and hit him as hard as she could, whacking and kicking until he toppled outside the window onto the fire escape. She slammed the window down and locked it, knowing that the glass wouldn’t stop him for long. She raced back into the hallway.

“Come here!” Kahtar’s voice a groan. She obediently headed for it in the darkness, almost passing him, but he grabbed her foot and yanked her straight to the floor. She didn’t realize she was crying and gagging until he put a huge hand over her mouth.

“Silence!” he demanded, and she fought vomit rising. It was no use. She had what might be a part of Berwick’s nose in her mouth and the vomit came. Kahtar let her go and she retched onto the floor.