Midnight Exposure (35 page)

A moan woke John. Fresh pain blasted through his body, and it wasn’t just from the recent beating. His arms were tied behind his back and securely fastened to something behind him.

In a panic he took stock. Sky over his head, ice under his ass. There was cold air at his back, but heat from a bonfire five yards away kept him from completely freezing his nuts off. He kept his eyes off the fire so his pupils wouldn’t constrict. His vision focused on the ring of wooden posts.

The tremors that rushed upward from the soles of his feet had nothing to do with the winter night.

He knew exactly where he was. The same clearing where it had all started. Where Zack had died.

Panic ripped through him with a freight train roar.

His weight strained against the ropes that bound him to the post. Rough fibers bit into his wrists. Inside his chest, his heart beat against his ribs like a frantic parakeet, trying to break free of its bone cage. But he was trapped.

An icy crackle had John jerking his head around. The old man circled the clearing, chanting. John couldn’t make out the words, but they flowed over him like a hypnotic drum. The old guy was pouring something from a jug just inside the circle. Dark liquid glugged into the snow. It was a replay of that night with Zack.

Hard cold fact: he was going to die tonight.

John’s vision went red around the edges. The rushing in his ears drowned out the intonations. His head lolled to his shoulders.

But instincts were a bitch. And survival was the most relentless nag of them all. Even after all he’d been through, he didn’t want to let go. Neither did he want to face whatever horrors his captor had planned for tonight.

John lifted his head an inch. The frozen air caressed his bare skin. Another moan brought his head around to the other side. Two more forms were slumped in front of upright poles. His heart did a double take. Two more poor souls were going down with him.

And there wasn’t jack shit John could do about it.

He swiveled around at a scraping sound. His captor was arranging a limp body, a young man, on the flat-topped center stone strewn with pillar candles.

“Tonight we seek an ancient power.” The old man moved to stand in front of John. His voice was deep and accented as it carried across the clearing. He shoved a few dusty crumbs into John’s mouth. John tried to spit them out. The old man backhanded him across the face. Pain slammed through his cheek as the old man continued. “The power that rules all of the universe. The power that has united us all from when we received our first meal of blood in the womb.”

There was a rustling of nylon in the frigid night. The old man began to chant as he circled John.

“In blood we find peace. In blood we find nourishment.”

The old man moved behind John. A thin cord encircled his neck. His numbed skin pumped a gallon of sweat to its surface.

“In blood we find power.” The cord around John’s neck tightened. “In blood we are united.”

John’s neck was jerked back, his wind cut off. In his peripheral vision, silver flashed in the firelight.

Jayne gripped the door handle as the Yukon lurched to a stop in front of a dark rectangle. Neither she nor Reed spoke as they
slipped from the vehicle and drew their weapons. Reed’s subcompact Glock felt secure, well balanced in her grip. She followed his instructions, providing cover while he opened the door.

His heart might have been lost to her, but she’d help him save his son.

The single room was empty, but the chain attached to the woodstove was an obvious clue. Someone had been held prisoner here.

Jayne’s stomach flip-flopped with pity and fear as memories flooded her. Someone else had suffered as she had, probably more. Her eyes found dark splotches on the rough wooden floor. Blood? Definitely more.

Reed motioned toward the door. On the porch, he stood and listened. Chanting floated on the wind. They both followed the sound to a game trail behind the cabin.

They crept down the dark path. Jayne tried to be as quiet as possible, but she was more accustomed to concrete than to forest. As they drew closer, the crackling of a large fire covered the sounds of their approach.

Two SUVs were parked in a small cleared area next to a stand of thick evergreens. One had a plow attached to the front.

Reed moved around the evergreens, using one hand to hold her behind him. Jayne tiptoed across the icy ground, testing each step and trying to avoid the crunchy spots.

Reed stopped short, reached a hand up, and pushed the branch of a Scotch pine aside. They both sucked in a breath at the scene before them, illuminated by a huge bonfire in the center of the clearing.

Six-foot wooden posts ringed the perimeter. Opposite the fire, three shorter posts formed a triangle around a body on a stone altar. And tied to those three posts were three people. Jayne
squinted. The closest figure looked like Scott. From his slumped position, he didn’t appear to be conscious. At least she prayed he was only unconscious. The second figure, maybe Brandon, stirred and let out a soft moan.

The third was about to die.

“No shot. They’re too close to him,” Reed breathed in her ear.

A parka-clad figure stood behind the last captive. Red-and-gold flames flickered on a young, thin face and struggling body. The man looped something around the kid’s neck. Murmurs floated across the brittle air. Silver gleamed in the light of the blazing fire.

A knife!

“That’s Aaron.” Reed’s voice was barely a whisper.

Fear gripped Jayne’s insides and twisted. Aaron was going to strangle that boy and cut his throat. Her gaze darted to the stone slab. On it, next to yet another body, rested a wooden club.

It was the triple sacrifice, the bog body’s fate.

Jayne reached out for Reed. Her hand moved through empty air. She’d been so transfixed by the scene, she hadn’t noticed him slip away. Jayne lifted the pistol and took aim. Still no shot.

The boy’s head jerked backward.

“No!” The shout leapt from Jayne’s throat. Her feet started running toward the doomed boy before she could think.

A shadow burst from the trees and tackled the man with the knife. Reed! The kid slipped to the ground. Still attached to the post by the wrists, his body twisted awkwardly. Behind the boy, the two silhouettes grappled. Jayne’s vision tunneled down to the struggling men. Other than their grunts and movements, all sound was muted. In a surreal haze, she flew past Scott and Brandon.

Aaron lunged, weapon extended. Reed evaded. The knife slashed horizontally, level with Reed’s midsection. Jayne’s heart catapulted into her throat as Reed stumbled, then steadied himself with a palm on a wooden post. He swayed, reaching for the gun on his hip. The crazy man advanced.

Jayne’s arms extended. Her gun leveled itself. “Freeze.”

Aaron stopped. He turned toward Jayne, knife at the ready.

“Brigid, you came.” Cold blue eyes flashed. Forthright. Soulless. Insane. “We are honored. Perhaps you were not meant to die here tonight, but to bear witness to the ritual, to petition the gods for our salvation.”

How could she have thought she wouldn’t recognize the maniacal gleam in those eyes? The tip of her finger touched the trigger. The blue eyes shifted to look over Jayne’s shoulder. Aaron smiled.

Agony slammed through Jayne’s skull. Her world inverted as her bones went soft. The gun dropped to the ground next to her head. In her blurry peripheral vision, she watched the kidnapper’s gaze move beyond her. She swiveled her head.

Nathan stood behind her, a wooden club clenched in his hand.

“Save Evan. May my sacrifice save you both.” Aaron’s voice faltered, and Jayne turned back to him. His hand jerked. Silver flashed as he yanked the blade across his own throat. Blood bubbled down his robe and onto the snow in a dark, wet rush. His body tipped forward and crumpled.

“Jayne!” Reed’s voice cut through the shock. He was stumbling toward her, way too unsteady on his feet.

Jayne rolled onto her back and heaved her shoulders up. Her stomach tumbled. She gulped night air as she scanned the clearing. Nathan had disappeared. So had the body on the stone. “Where’s Nathan?”

“I don’t know.” Reed lurched toward her, his eyes sweeping the perimeter. “Let’s get these kids to the truck before he decides to come back and kill us all.”

With a still-spinning head, Jayne scooted to the first boy. His open eyes surprised her. Reed stooped and slashed the rope that bound the kid’s wrists. His hands flew to his neck, yanking a thin leather cord away. Thank God. Reed had jumped the old man before the garrote had done its job.

“Can you walk? We have a car at the cabin.” Jayne nodded in the direction of the trail.

Beneath the horror and pain, a glimmer of determination shone in the kid’s eyes. “I’ll get there if I have to crawl.” He choked the rough words out in a croak.

No wonder he’d survived.

Jayne glanced up. Reed had managed to rouse Brandon. The kid was on his hands and knees, nodding emphatically to whatever Reed was saying. Brandon pushed to his feet, stumbled, but stayed vertical with the help of the nearby post.

“Scott’s still out cold, but his breathing and pulse are steady.” Reed squatted and hauled Scott up and over his shoulders. He carried Scott, Jayne half-dragged Brandon, and the other kid staggered back to the Yukon on his own. Once the three boys were safely inside, Jayne jumped into the cab and locked the door.

The landscape tilted as she straightened. Pain pulsed through her skull.

“Are you OK?” Reed leaned on the passenger side of the truck. One hand went under his jacket as he held the keys out in the other. “Because I think you better drive.”

Jayne’s eyes dropped. Dark droplets stained the white ground at his feet.

As soon as the truck hit pavement, Nathan pressed the gas pedal to the floor. A glance in the backseat told him Evan slept on, medicated and oblivious to the night’s disaster.

Gods be damned.

The last image of his uncle was imprinted in his head, stored there like a YouTube clip. Uncle Aaron slicing his own throat, spilling his own blood in the sacred circle.

Grief struck him like a blade to the chest. He knew his uncle was beyond his pain and suffering now. He was starting anew in the afterlife. And that he’d gone on his own terms. As he’d wanted.

Had Nathan been a coward?

No. He’d only followed his uncle’s last wishes, made clear the evening before as they’d prepared for the ceremony.

If anything happens, above all, save Evan. I am the past. He is the future.

How like his uncle to make the ultimate sacrifice for his kin. Spill his own blood in hopes the offering of it would sway the gods to cure their family of the genetic affliction that plagued them. He’d died as he’d lived, giving everything he had to save Nathan and his son.

Nathan let up on the gas as he approached town. No going around it. Huntsville stood between him and the highway.
Between him and freedom. He needed to drive through as if nothing had happened.

As he drew even with the diner, Mandy emerged. She drew her knee-length parka tighter around her body and leaned into the wind.

Nathan didn’t think. He turned into the alley alongside the diner. She was his light. His hope. His destiny. Why had he pushed her away? He lowered the passenger window. “Mandy, get in.”

She jumped and swung around as if she’d been slapped.

Nathan checked the street in both directions. No one in sight. He jumped from the truck and approached Mandy on the sidewalk.

If he could only get her into the truck. He had plenty of tranqs left. Once they were far enough away, he’d explain everything to her. She’d understand. She loved him. Sure he’d broken her heart, but she’d forgive him eventually.

The need to take her with him pulsed through his veins with every beat of his heart. His hands reached for her arms. She pulled away, but Nathan caught her slender wrist. “I love you. Just get in the truck.”

“No.” Mandy stared at him, fear tainting her beautiful eyes. “What’s wrong with you, Nathan?”

She shouldn’t be afraid of him. He loved her.

He tugged. Mandy resisted. Nathan pulled harder, dragging her into the alley. His truck was only a few feet away. She dug her rubber-soled shoes into the asphalt and dropped her ass toward the ground. “Let me go!”

Damn it. He was going to have to pick her up, throw her in the truck, and drive through the night.

Good thing he wasn’t the least bit tired.

“Nathan, what are you doing?” Her voice, sharp with apprehension, echoed down the empty street. Someone was going to hear her. She was going to ruin everything. “I said let go of me!”

Rage at the situation and his sense of impotence boiled over. Nathan slapped her without thought. The crack of his hand across her cheek knocked her to her butt. Her eyes went from saucers to dinner plates.

“Shut up and get in the truck.”

Jed flew out of the diner. Two strong hands gripped Nathan’s lapels as the hunter got in his face. “Don’t you touch her!”

The knife jumped from Nathan’s pocket into his hand. His honed blade slid into Jed’s belly like it was Jell-O.