Sought...Book 3 in the Brides of the Kindred series (3 page)

Kat moaned softly and her hand jerked in
Lock’s. He squeezed her fingers carefully, watching her face for
any sign.

Then, slowly, the handle began to change.
Wires spouted from it—three long silver wires that seemed to be
made of brilliant light. They lengthened and thickened like snakes
growing out of the tip of the black handle until they reached to
the ground.

Lock watched in amazement as the three
tongues of light blazed and sparked like live things at the end of
the whip.
Like hungry animals waiting to be fed,
he couldn’t
help thinking.

“A little more, child. Just a little more,”
coaxed Mother L’rin. Suddenly the whip’s three tongues shivered and
bright silver spikes grew from their ends.

Deep’s face remained impassive as he stared
at the lethal device in the old woman’s hand. “And that’s a
physical manifestation of her pain?”

Mother L’rin nodded. “This is the agony
she’s been enduring ever since you and your twin used her as a
focus. Tell me, Deep, does the sight fill you with dread?”

“Dread? No.” His mouth twisted.

Lock spoke for both of them. “What my
brother feels—what we both feel—is shame. To think what she went
through because of what we did. So much pain…”

“Which is about to be transferred to me,”
Deep reminded him dryly. “Come on.” He jerked his head at Doby and
began taking off his green uniform shirt. “I assume you’re the
lucky one who gets to beat me. I doubt Mother L’rin has much time
to practice her whipping technique.”

“You’re correct in that, warrior. Hands that
offer healing must never deal in pain.” The old woman nodded at
Doby. “Take him to the Stone Throat. Beat him until the whip is
nothing more than a handle once more.”

“Wait!” Lock put out a hand, fear for his
twin squeezing his throat. “How many strokes will that take?”

“As many as it takes,” Mother L’rin said
calmly.

“That’s no answer!” Lock was beginning to be
angry. “I know that Deep hasn’t been very respectful, Mother L’rin,
but to beat him with that…that
thing
is—
”

“Fine,” Deep finished for him. “Leave off,
Brother. It’s all right. Think what Kat went through.” He nodded at
the whip and its spitting, hissing tongues of fiery silver light.
“Look at her pain.”

“It wasn’t your decision alone to let her
act as a focus,” Lock protested. “I agreed to it as well as you. I
should take half the whipping at least.”

“Pain cannot be divided between souls, it
can only be transferred,” Mother L’rin said. “And if the whip isn’t
used soon, the agony it holds will revert to its original
owner.”

“In other words, let’s get on with it,” Deep
growled. “Don’t worry about me, Brother,” he said when Lock opened
his mouth to protest. “And don’t feel bad—you can tend me
afterwards. It’s better this way—you’re a much better nurse than I
am.”

“That’s true,” Lock acknowledged ruefully.
“But though you take all the pain, the blame is half mine.”

“You can pay me back later.” Deep nodded at
Kat. “Take care of her,” he said roughly.

“I will,” Lock promised.

“Go.” Mother L’rin handed the hissing,
spitting whip to her huge servant. “The Stone Throat. And mind you
do the job right. I’ll know if you don’t—I’ll hear it in his
screams.”

“Yes, Mother.” Despite his immense size, the
eunuch’s voice was as soft and high as a girl’s. “All shall be done
according to your will.”

“See that it is.” She waved one wrinkled
hand dismissively. “And now, let me see what I can do to keep this
sweet child in the land of the living.” She stroked Kat’s silky red
hair and didn’t spare another glance at her servant or Deep.

But Lock found he couldn’t look away as the
massive eunuch led his brother through the tall green and pink
grass. Deep’s head was held high and he walked casually with no
outward sign of fear. And indeed, Lock
felt
no fear coming
from him.

Deep was willing, almost eager to take the
pain that was about to be inflicted. Because he felt that he
deserved it. Every lick of the whip, every drop of blood, every
ounce of pain. All earned. All deserved.

He blames himself,
Lock thought as
his twin’s broad, bare back disappeared in the taller grass at the
edge of the Healing Garden.
And not just for Kat. Oh Brother, it
wasn’t your fault—when will you ever believe that?

But he knew the answer to that.

Never.

Lauren Jakes walked quickly along the broad
sidewalk that led around the edge of Saint Armand’s Square. Later
on, around lunchtime, the entire expanse of white concrete would be
filled with the idle rich—tourists mostly, who had come to see
Sarasota, one of the richest small cities in the US. The beaches
with their sugar fine sand and tropical blue waters were lovely any
time of the year and if the rich got bored with baking their oiled
bodies, they could always come here.

The Square was actually many interconnecting
squares, all lined with specialty shops and expensive, chic little
eateries. Marble statues of Greek gods and goddesses stood like
sentries on the well trimmed verge, as pale as ghosts in the dim
early morning light. Lauren’s shop, The Sweet Spot, was located
between the Florida Olive Oil Company which specialized in flavored
oils and aged balsamic vinegars and A Little is a Lot, a clothing
store that sold only overpriced and undersized bathing suits.

Both shops were dark and quiet as Lauren
fumbled for her keys. Neither one would really pick up until the
lunch crowd arrived, hours from now. But while her neighbors could
afford to sleep in, Lauren couldn’t. The Sweet Spot was a specialty
cupcake store and she had to get the day’s inventory started or she
would have nothing to sell. “Everything from scratch, everything
fresh, every day,” was her motto.

“Should’ve decided to sell overpriced thongs
and banana hammocks to rich old men and their trophy wives instead
of baked goods,” she muttered to herself as she finally found the
right key. “Then I could still be home in bed.”

But getting up early was a small price to
pay to do what she loved, she reminded herself. She’d always
enjoyed baking—her vanilla bean and passion fruit surprise cupcakes
had won a national bake-off by the time she was twelve. Her mom had
encouraged her to go to college and Lauren had, as a business
major. Somehow, though, she wound up baking muffins and brownies
for study sessions with her friends more than she actually ended up
studying. Her grades weren’t great but her cupcakes were.

At last her mother had bowed to the
inevitable. She’d helped Lauren finance the shop and given her a
place to live in one of the condos she owned, just blocks from the
Square. Lauren had only been open a few months but so far The Sweet
Spot seemed to be a moderate success. Of course, she’d have to be
much more than moderately successful in order to pay back the loan.
But her mom didn’t seem worried.
“Take your time, my
darling,”
she always said.
“Enjoy your life. I just want you
to be happy.”

Thinking of her mom always gave Lauren a
warm feeling inside. Family was very important to Abigail
Jakes—maybe because she’d become estranged from her own family back
when she’d become pregnant with Lauren. She didn’t talk about it
much but Lauren had gotten the idea that her loved ones had hurt
her deeply—which made her mom that much more sensitive toward her
own daughter. They’d always had a wonderful relationship—even back
when Lauren was a teenager. And now as an adult, they were more
friends than mother and daughter.

“Although I still want my mom when things
don’t go right,” Lauren muttered, making sure the door was locked
behind her. She wished she had her mom with her right now—she would
put her to work. Her assistant, Jennie, had quit the day before
which meant she had to man the whole shop herself until Lorenzo
came in.

Thinking of Lorenzo with his sleek blond
hair and tan good looks made her sigh. He was much better at
looking good behind the counter than he was at baking. In a moment
of weakness, Lauren had let him kiss her and now he thought he
owned the place. She’d been putting off his advances ever since and
had been planning to replace him before Jennie quit. Now it looked
like she was stuck with him for awhile. Still, he
was
good
at selling cupcakes. Especially to rich, older women who liked a
little eye candy to go with their culinary confections.

Lauren went through the shop, flipping on
lights on her way to the bathroom. To hell with the electricity
bill—it was creepy being in a dark building all alone. And besides,
for the past few days she’d had the feeling that someone was
watching her. She knew it was crazy and completely impossible but
she kept finding herself looking over her shoulder. Feeling like a
pair of invisible eyes was watching her every move.

“Stop being stupid,” she muttered to herself
as she tucked her long, silky black hair into a hairnet and checked
her reflection. The girl in the mirror had smooth mocha skin and
large eyes the color of fine whiskey. A tip-tilted nose made her
cute rather than exotic, despite the eyes, but her full lips pushed
cute to beautiful when she smiled—or so Lorenzo said when he was
feeling poetic.

God, what was wrong with her? Why did she
always fall for jerks and players? Just once Lauren wished she
could meet someone genuine. Someone who was exactly what they
seemed to be. But with her work schedule now and trying to keep the
shop open seven days a week, she wasn’t going to have time to meet
anyone but customers.

“Not that I have time for a love life even
if I
did
meet someone,” Lauren muttered to herself. “As
if—”

The words died on her lips. For a moment she
could have sworn she saw a pair of eyes behind her in the mirror.
Red
eyes.

She whirled around, her heart pounding, to
see…nothing.

“Of course it’s nothing. There’s no one here
but me.” The sound of her own voice made her jump and Lauren put a
hand to her chest to still her beating heart. It was time to stop
being silly and get down to business. Today she had a brand new
recipe she wanted to try out—a strawberry hazelnut with cream
cheese frosting. She’d tried a small batch in the kitchen in her
condo and they had come out nicely but—

Suddenly there was a popping, humming sound
like electricity and the air around her seemed to be full of
lightning. Every hair on her head stood on end and her nerves
twanged like plucked strings.
Danger—you’re in danger!
an
inner voice shouted. The voice of instinct—the same primitive voice
that must have warned the cavemen when a fire or flood was on the
way.

Lauren wanted to run—
tried
to run—but
everything happened too quickly. The crackling electrical charge
seemed to close around her, like a vast hand, and suddenly she felt
herself dissolving. Looking in the mirror she could almost see it
happening in slow motion—her body had been broken into a million
tiny particles that were all vibrating against each other in deadly
harmony. Her clothes, however, remained unaffected. In fact, they
fell away from her, landing in a heap on the floor.

No! No, what’s happening?

There was no answer but suddenly she saw the
eyes in the mirror again. Red eyes—blood red and laughing at her
pain, her fear. She could almost
feel
the evil in that
crimson gaze—the intent to cause harm—the desire to wound and
mutilate and kill.

Before she could think anything else, the
tiny white tiled bathroom of The Sweet Spot disappeared and she
felt herself flying through the air in pieces. It was the most
bizarre sensation she had ever felt in her life—as though someone
had put her entire body through a cheese grater and shot the
results into the air at supersonic speed.

I’m dying. This is dying, right?

Again, no answer. But suddenly she felt
herself reforming—all the tiny particles finding their places and
sticking together again.
Oh, thank God!
She felt her arms
and legs frantically, making sure she was all in once piece. She
was naked but she was whole and at least nothing seemed to be
missing.

“Here ssshe isss at last. Sssee, my ssson,
ssshe bears the mark. The mark the prophesy ssspoke of.”

A long, skeletal finger suddenly appeared in
front of her and pointed between her breasts. Lauren looked down to
her small, pale birthmark reflexively—it was shaped like a star and
stood out against her creamy brown skin. She’d always had it and
never even thought about it anymore, though it looked strange when
she wore a bikini.

A feeling of dread filled her as she looked
up, up, up the long arm clothed in billowing cobwebs and into the
burning red eyes she’d seen in the mirror.

“Yesss,” hissed a voice Lauren knew she’d
been hearing in her dreams for the past few weeks. “Yesss, ssshe
isss the one. At last I have her.
Ssshe isss mine.”

Kat was flying again but this time she
wasn’t looking down at herself. Instead she was hovering inside a
narrow stone tunnel. There was a faint light at one end that
illuminated the pinkish brown stones and she could hear footsteps
coming, echoing down the long enclosed corridor.
Who’s coming?
Will they see me?

Looking down, she realized she couldn’t see
herself. She was silent and invisible again, just as she had been
before.
Maybe I really am dead and this is my funeral. But why
would they bury me in a cave?
For some reason the thought held
no fear, only fascination. Then the echoing footsteps grew louder.
Kat pushed her morbid musings aside when she saw who was coming
down the tunnel.