Dancing on the Wind (51 page)

The stone shifted with a clink, and all hell broke loose.

Heavy bells began clanging, reverberating through the passage with ear-numbing power. Kit froze, her head whipping around to see what had happened.

Lucien heard a grating sound and looked up. A heavy iron portcullis was starting to fall from a slot masked by the dark stones—and Kit was standing directly below. He shouted her name and hurled himself forward, knocking her beyond the pointed stakes of the plummeting gate. She pitched to the floor, and he came tumbling after her.

With a boom that echoed through the passage, knocking chips of chalk from the ceiling, the portcullis crashed into the stone floor. Something grazed his right ankle, and he looked back to see that he had not jumped quite far enough to clear the path of the gate.

By sheer luck his leg lay between two of the viciously pointed stakes. A few inches to either side and his ankle would have been impaled, pinning him to the floor. As it was, his foot was caught in the narrow space between the floor and the bottom bar of the portcullis.

The bells were still tolling, and in the cavern a furious voice bellowed, "Intruders have entered. Find them!"

Bloody hell! Lucien wrenched his foot free, then scrambled up. If the portcullis couldn't be raised, Michael and Jason would be trapped between it and the angry Disciples.

Michael had already seen the danger. He heaved at the iron gate, then shook his head. "We'll never move this thing. Luce, you and Kit keep going." Calmly he unslung his carbine and cocked the hammer. "Travers and I can handle that lot."

Kit had risen and was staring at the other men, her face stricken. Lucien grabbed her arm. "We can't do anything. Don't worry, they're armed. Our job is to find Kira."

Kit gulped and nodded, then turned to continue along the corridor. "She's very close now."

The passage turned left. Fifty yards later, it split into four narrower tunnels that wound out of sight like Medusa's locks. Kit stopped and stared at the new obstacle.

Lucien asked, "Do you have any idea which of these passages we should take?"

Before she could answer, an exchange of gunshots and a shout of pain sounded behind them. Kit caught his arm, her face agonized. "Oh, God, that sounded like Jason. We must go back to help them."

"I'm not sure it was him." He frowned. "And I'll be damned if I'll take you into a tunnel where bullets are flying."

"Then go alone," she urged. "I'll stay here. Even if you can't get past the portcullis, you can shoot through it."

More shots, and another scream. Lucien winced. "Very well, I'll go look. Stay here—don't even
think
of moving unless someone attacks you from one of these small tunnels. If that happens, come for me."

As soon as she nodded, he raced down the tunnel, then rounded the corner, keeping low. The skirmish had generated eye-stinging clouds of acrid smoke, but once he blinked his eyes clear, he saw that Michael and Jason were unhurt. Both were crouched by the wall, weapons ready, while more distant figures were retreating. A black-turbaned guard lay unmoving on the floor, and a trail of blood showed that at least one fleeing man had been wounded.

Deciding that his friends had the situation well in hand, he pivoted and returned to Kit. As soon as he swung around the corner, he uttered a curse so blistering it should have brought down more fragments of chalk.

She was gone.

When Lucien left, Kit leaned against the wall, glad for a chance to catch her breath. But when she relaxed, she became horribly aware of the clamoring bells. The clanging stabbed through her, triggering a panic more real than the outside world.

Oh, God, the bells must mean that he's coming for me! He said it would be tonight. I must be ready.

Kit pressed her hands to her temples, knowing that she was in Kira's mind, Kira's fear. Panting, she struggled to escape her twin's terror, for she could not afford to lose herself now.

She thought of Lucien, and managed to separate herself from her sister. When she was clearer, she sent out a mental call.
Where are you? We're very near. Show me how to find you, love
!

But she couldn't break through. Her twin's anguish was as blazing and impenetrable as a house on fire, and it threatened to drag Kit in again. Once more she struggled to maintain her clarity, but before she could free herself, fear struck again. This time it came from another source. In some impossible way, she could feel the abductor moving toward her sister.

Reason collapsed. Blindly, beyond thought, Kit shoved away from the wall and darted into the farthest left tunnel. In her head was a hazy mental map that showed her sister as a still white light and the abductor an oozing mass of darkness approaching from the left.

Her tunnel ended in a larger, brighter passage. She entered and swung left, then came face-to-face with Lord Mace. Tall and scarlet clad, with barbaric chains crossing his chest and supporting weapons at his side, he was a fearsome sight. He stopped dead when he saw her, astonishment on his narrow face.

Her chest heaving from her running, she said furiously, "I won't let you touch her again, you monster."

His eyes lit up. "Well, bless my wicked soul, it's the other one, Cassie the Second. Truly heaven is smiling on me." He began stalking toward her. "It appears that I shall be able to experience my fantasy after all."

Only then did Kit's mind throw off the dazed instinct that had brought her here. Good God, she had been insane to leave Lucien behind. Now she must confront a vicious madman without a weapon. She hadn't a prayer of defeating him.

But she could slow him down. The longer he was delayed, the better the chance that Lucien would find either her or Kira.

Knowing Mace would not expect her to attack, she hurled herself at him. Her sudden assault knocked him from his feet. She fell sprawling on top. Before she could extricate herself, he grabbed her shoulders and rolled over, trying to pin her beneath him. "What a quick creature you are," he said with queer, bone-chilling calm. "Every bit the equal of your twin."

She spat in his face.

A wild skirmish followed, with her kicking, punching, scratching, and kneeing. She hurt him and found savage pleasure that it was not the sort of pain he enjoyed. But her best efforts could do no more than delay the inevitable. When he slammed a fist into her solar plexus, she was stunned to the point where she could not resist when he tied her wrists behind her back with a handkerchief.

Jerking her to her feet, he said conversationally, "I had even prepared private quarters for you in anticipation of your abduction. Unfortunately, the men I hired were unequal to the task. I should have participated myself, as I did with your sister. But never mind, you are here now."

Half concealed in the folds of his robe were a scabbard on one side and a holstered pistol on the other. Though she guessed that the weapons were worn for ceremonial purposes, they were lethally real. He pulled the pistol from the holster and touched the cold barrel to the nape of her neck. "Come along, Cassie the Second. After you have changed into the costume I had prepared for you, it will be time for the ceremony. There you will see your sister again. I hope she will appreciate your gallantry in throwing your
life away to find her. Most touching. I wonder if my brother, Roderick, would sacrifice himself for my sake. Somehow I doubt it, though he has always been happy to pimp for me."

Teeth gritted, Kit snapped, "You should give up and get out while you can, Mace. My companions will not be so easily captured as I was, and if I am injured, they will want justice."

He stopped and unlocked a door on the left side of the passage. "If they aren't dead yet, they will be soon. They are outnumbered and outgunned, and they know nothing of the traps I have scattered throughout my little subterranean kingdom."

He took a candle from one of the sconces, then with the pistol waved her into the room. When he lit a lamp, she saw it was furnished as a bedroom. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a collection of black garments. Kit recognized it as the decadent kind of outfit she had seen in her dreams of Kira.

He drew a curved, wickedly gleaming knife from the scabbard that hung opposite the pistol and sliced through her bonds. "Put these on," he ordered.

"No," she said flatly.

He brandished the knife so that the blade flashed ominously. "I would quite enjoy cutting off your clothing and dressing you by force."

The thought of him touching her intimately made her want to gag. Drawing on her acting skills, she said calmly, "That would be time-consuming. Won't your fellow perverts tire of waiting?"

He frowned. "You're right, I shouldn't neglect my guests. Still, I must insist on the costume. You have to look exactly like your sister when you go to the altar."

When he took a step toward her, she had to fight the instinct to bolt. Resigning herself, she said, "I'll put the outfit on voluntarily if you'll wait outside."

"A reasonable compromise. I can wrestle with you as much as I want later. Just make sure that you lace the costume tightly." He ran his tongue over his lips. "The effect is most enticing."

After he left the room and closed the door, Kit collapsed on a chair, shaking. As always when she was deeply distressed, she reached out for help. But this time she did not go to Kira, who was near the breaking point herself, but to Lucien. The thought of his strength and steadfastness brought her a measure of calm.

She got to her feet and surveyed the room in hopes of finding a potential weapon, but there was nothing. Nor could the door be bolted or barricaded from the inside. Lips tight, she began dressing as slowly as she could.

When Lucien found that Kit was missing, he reserved his choicest curses for himself. He should have known better than to leave her when she was in danger of sliding into that trancelike, sister-focused state.

She had to have entered one of the four passages, but which one? Mentally crossing his fingers, he went into the second from the left. It wound sinuously through the chalk, with gruesome, catacomb-style niches filled with animal bones.

Where the
hell
was Kit?

He rounded a bend and collided with someone coming the other way. Not Kit, unfortunately, but a burly guard with a pistol who must be on his way to investigate the gunshots. The impact knocked them both off-balance. By the time the guard recovered enough to raise his weapon, it was too late. Lucien kicked the gun from the other man's hand, then smashed him in the jaw with a hard right and an even harder left.

The guard dropped to the floor, unconscious. After confiscating the pistol and ammunition, Lucien tied the fellow up with his own shabby cravat. Then he stood and examined his surroundings. He was in a small chamber with another passage coming from the left. A table, two chairs, and a lamp were set in the center of the room, with cards splayed across the table, interrupted in the
middle of a hand of solitaire.

Not a sign of Kit, but there was a heavy, iron-bound door on the opposite wall. He searched the guard and found a large brass key. It snicked neatly into the lock. As he turned the key, he prayed that Kira was inside. If she was, they could head for safety as soon as they located Kit again. She couldn't be far away.