He's A Magic Man (The Children of Merlin) (29 page)

Michael followed. Behind him, Rhiannon’s henchmen crowed over the prospect of dividing out shares in a treasure.

When they got to the beach, St. Claire ran up and reached for the sword. “Is that it?”

Rhiannon turned away before he could touch it. “We’ll float this out to the boat. Go get me all the life jackets.” The oilcloth fell open.

“Get one of the others.”
St. Claire too was mesmerized by the sword
.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Dowser searched the horizon for the yacht. There it was, all sails slack, too far away to see anyone.
He could only hope Drew was safe along with whoever was on board with her.

As St. Claire finally splashed into the waves, Rhiannon sat down on the log of a palm tree that had washed up during some storm. “You really did it. You found the Talisman Sword.” She laughed. “Morgan will be so pleased. And you’ll get your Alice back.”

“Yeah.” Michael shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

“You don’t sound happy about that.” Rhiannon frowned.

“I am happy. If Alice is really the Alice I remember.”

“Well, she’s died, hasn’t she?” Rhiannon sneered. “That’s bound to change anyone’s attitude a little.”

“Yeah.” He’d bet it changed more than just attitude.

“Well, you two can have a grand reunion and Morgan will reward you beyond your wildest dreams when you find the other Talismans for her.”

“Yeah.”

Rhiannon sent him a speculating look. “Something’s been bothering me. How did Silly Little Coed find us? She is out there on the sailboat, isn’t she? The only way she could have caught us is if she
didn’t
follow us to each island to refuel. Which meant she knew where we were going and came straight here.”

Smart girl. Unfortunately. He shrugged. “How would I know?”

Rhiannon looked down at the sword, then out to
The Purgatory
where St. Claire was gathering life jackets, and finally beyond
to the tiny sail of Drew’s yacht. She took a deep breath. “So, you were real sick when we left her. That should have tipped me off.” She snapped her gaze to his face. “You don’t care about Alice, because you’ve found a new mate. One with the gene, who got her magic.” She stood, frowning. “You’re planning to give her the sword. Damn it, what’s her last name?”

What was she saying about Drew getting magic? And they weren’t “mates.” He tried to look blank and she began to pace furiously. “It’s Tremaine, isn’t it? Jason said the oldest daughter’s name was Drew, I think.” She slapped her forehead and made a strangled sound. “Why didn’t I remember that before? Shit.” Then she screamed. “Fuck!” She rounded on him. “What’s her power? Is she a Finder, too?”

Michael didn’t answer. He wasn’t telling this harpy jack about Drew.

“She didn’t follow us. She found the sword, once she’d seen the drawings.” Rhiannon was busy thinking again now. She slid a look to him. “Well, we don’t need two Finders, now do we? We can just dispense with dear little Drew.”

Stupid, stupid.
He’d played it wrong. “Wait! You said you’d let them go if I came willingly. And I will. I’ll find these Talisman things for you, or whatever else you want.”

“Deal’s off, Dowser. Morgan has been looking for Tremaines, and she doesn’t want them alive.” Behind her, St. Claire splashed into the water, pushing his flotilla of life jackets. “You’ll do what she wants anyway, or you won’t like what she does to Alice.”

Michael thought frantically. The only way Drew was going to live through this was if Rhiannon thought she could be used. He’d deal with the comment about Alice later.
One emergency at a time.
“What if she’s got a really good power? Better than just being a Finder?”

Rhiannon looked triumphant that he’d confirmed her suspicions. “Yeah, right. You’d say anything. She’s the One for you.” She said the word “one” with a capital letter. “Hey, you’re a lucky guy. You’ve had two. That just doesn’t happen.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “What if she sees the future?” he asked. “Would Morgan like it if you let that get away?”

Rhiannon’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. She was having visions the night before you showed up.” He took a stab in the dark. “Something about a room with a glass roof and blue light.” Jackpot. Rhiannon’s eyes widened. He pressed his advantage. “She probably saw me finding the location of the sword in the future and that’s how they got here.”

“That would explain it.” Rhiannon’s voice was tiny.

The five guys came out of the jungle crowing with laughter, hauling two bulging gunnysacks, just as St. Claire made it to shore with his makeshift raft. Rhiannon placed the sword on the raft and motioned St. Claire toward the boat. Then she untied a rope from one of the sacks. “Can a couple of you fellas come over here and tie up Dowser?” she asked sweetly. “He’s proven unreliable and I want to keep my options open.”

Damn.
The old panic surged like bile into his throat. Michael sure as hell wasn’t going to let these thugs tie him up. He crouched. Danny started smirking.

“Sure thing,” one of them said.

Michael would make damned certain it wasn’t a sure thing.

“Morgan might want both a Finder and a Seer or maybe only one,” Rhiannon continued, as St. Claire pushed the raft with the sword out toward
The Purgatory.
The waves lifted and lowered it. The thugs began to circle Michael. “I don’t know which. Or maybe she can get whatever power Alice had too. How about it Dowser, want to make it a threesome with Alice?”

Michael felt the old fury welling up inside him, the kind of fury he hadn’t felt since the days after Alice died. This bitch was joking about things that were more important to him than life itself, even if he couldn’t sort it all out right now.

One thug came in after him.

Michael felt the fury turn icy and calm. It was still there, but it had turned into a laser, focused, intense. He easily kicked the guy’s feet out from under him and tossed him aside.

“Come on,” he growled.
Five of them.
The guy he’d just tossed scrambled up.

Two pulled knives out of holders on their belts. Another guy picked up the rope.

“You think you can take all of us?” Danny asked. “We
whupped
your ass, boy.”

“Yeah. But I was drunk. Sober, I can wipe the beach with your sorry
asses
.” They were waving their knives. The other guy from O’Toole’s, a Latin type with multiple pierced things on his face, moved his knife back and forth across his body, under a defensive forearm. He actually knew what he was doing. Michael looked at the one who was just aimlessly swinging the knife, but he kicked out at the pierced guy. Take out the big dog first. When pierced guy was surprised and stepped back, Michael punched inside his guard and gave him an uppercut with his full hip behind it. He felt the crunch of bone. Broken jaws hurt like hell. Bet he was down. Four.

Before the guy could even fall, Michael had spun and was on to the man to his first victim’s right. He was almost behind him. Bend the head down.
One hard chop to the neck just under the skull.
Bring your knee up. Fell like a sack of rocks. Three.

Somebody jumped on his back. He flipped the body over his shoulder, onto a rock sticking up through the sand about two feet.
There’s
a guy
who might not walk again.
Two.

Michael stood and spun to face the others, almost on top of pierced guy, who might have a broken jaw but lunged up from the sand and stuck his knife in Michael’s thigh, dragging it down as he pulled it back out. Oops.
Back to three.
Michael staggered back, blinking to get his vision to steady. Pierced guy was still struggling to get up. Michael kicked him in the head and grabbed the knife.

Michael felt a sting on this upper arm. Shit, Danny had a gun. He dove for the downed palm and flattened behind it amid sand divots from the bullets. There were several guns out now.

“Get him,” Rhiannon yelled.

Michael surveyed his situation.
Thirty feet to the jungle.
No cover. A bullet could still take him out even in the trees.

“How do we do that?” Danny shouted. “That guy has training.”

“Yeah. Military,” the other standing thug groused. “You never told us that.”

Michael glanced down. Five-inch gash. Bleeding pretty good though it hadn’t caught an artery or he’d be spurting like the
Trevi
Fountain. Why didn’t he let them tie him up? What good was he to Drew now? And all hope of resurrecting Alice was shot to hell.
C
an’t think about that
,
he thought, pushing down the emotions boiling up from his belly. He needed his wits about him.

“You’re supposed to be pros,” Rhiannon yelled. “There were five of you for fuck’s sake.”

He focused on the trees. Had to stay alive. And things weren’t going to improve, bleeding like he was. He pushed himself up to a limping run and zigzagged to the trees, bullets chasing him
. Big palm. Go for that.
Closer.
Almost there.

Damn!
He caught one in the right hip. He dove for the shelter of the palm tree.

“Can’t you do anything?” Rhiannon screamed.

“I think I clipped him.”

Michael pushed off again and staggered into the rain forest. His mind flipped through possibilities. He had the knife. Vines made good weapons.
Rocks in the stream.
He stumbled on. Must be leaving a trail of blood a mile wide. He stopped, chest heaving. Scanning the canopy, he picked out a candlewood tree that towered above him, its first branches high overhead. But a smaller neighbor had fallen against it, the branches cradled in the crotch of a big limb, maybe as big around as his thigh. Both were covered with moss and entangled with vines. Good.

Crashing and cursing sounded behind him. No time to bind up his leg. He’d just have to trust that these creeps wouldn’t think of examining the trees for blood. He put the knife hilt in his mouth and dragged himself up the slanting
tree,
hand over hand, one leg hanging.
Get a move on,
he commanded himself, but it was slow going. Could this tree support his weight?

He’d hardly finished thinking that when the branches of the smaller fallen tree cracked. He threw himself toward the crotch of the big limb, grunting as he landed on his chest and scrabbled for purchase. The smaller tree fell with a crash into the ferns and brush below. It was swallowed as though by a green wave.

“What was that?” one of the thugs shouted.

“This way.”

Michael pulled himself onto the big branch and managed to get his leg over it just as the vines and ferns below began to rustle. He stilled his breathing and clamped a hand over his thigh, holding tight to the bole of the tree with the other arm.

“He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

“See any blood?”

Long pause. “There!”

Shit.

“That means he’s heading this way.”

Thrashing branches below him moved off toward the streambed and the boulder where they’d found the sword. Michael took a breath. Danny and friend were shitty trackers. But they’d be back this way when they didn’t find him. Gingerly he pulled his torn shorts apart and looked at the gash in his thigh. Not good. And wounds festered quickly in this part of the world.

He reached for some vines and cut himself a couple of lengths, stripped them of leaves. Then he used the knife to cut off his shorts. Peering at his hip, he realized he was lucky. The bullet wound was a through and through.
Entrance in back at the side of his butt, exit just under his hipbone in the front.
Bone wasn’t broken or he wouldn’t have been able to walk. He dragged his shorts out from under him and folded them into a pad.
He slapped it over the gash and wrapped the vine like
a
cord around his thigh over the makeshift bandage
.

A little light-headed, but he was okay, at least for a while. Wished he had a Delta first aid kit. That coagulant powder would come in handy about now. He also wished he could see the beach from here. Not only because he wanted to know what Rhiannon was up to,
but
because he’d like to know Drew’s yacht was safe. The bitch-witch wouldn’t endanger a Seer, would she? What megalomaniacal group wouldn’t want to know the future?

She’ll be okay. They need her power,
he repeated like a mantra to himself. If Rhiannon or any of her goons touched a hair on Drew’s head, he’d make them sorry.

But there were a couple of little obstacles to that right now. With three of Rhiannon’s men down and two off chasing him, that left only weathergirl and St. Claire between him and getting
The Purgatory
back. It was the only way off this island at the moment. He slithered down the tree, afraid to jump off and jar his injured leg. Well, slithered wasn’t quite right. He was
buck naked
and that tree had moss all over it, and a couple of bromeliads he had to negotiate. Better than jumping though.