The Santa Society (22 page)

I close my eyes. There must some glimmer of rationality left in me, enough to realize he spoke of Reason as if he’s just seen him. He said he carried a dog in. How could he get between here and there so fast, unless I am near the ranch—near the Sloon.

The tunnels.
Reason told me about tunnels. The elevator in the Sloon—it must descend to the tunnels, where Brice has hidden me. But my thoughts begin to unravel as I drift in the twilight of sleep, only half-listening to Brice’s boot heels move toward the door and the steel bolt locking it closed.

I awake to the sound of grunting. When I open my eyes, I see Rick inching himself across the floor like a worm. He’s the last person the world I want to be locked in this room with. I close my eyes, and lay still so he won’t know I’m awake.

I count the drips of water. I reach 232 when I hear the bolt slide again.

Brice enters pushing a wheelbarrow in front of him. I wonder which of us will be in it first—me or Rick—and whether we will be alive or dead. Brice seems hurried as he grabs me by ankles and yanks me across the floor. He wraps the scarf around my face, but this time, he lowers it to cover my mouth. It presses tight in the corners of my mouth as he cinches it tight.

Brice stops and tilts his head to the side as though he hears something in the distance. I try to listen too, but only silence follows. He grumbles to himself, something about rats and paranoia, and ties the final knot in the scarf.

I count more water drops. 233. 234. 235. 236.

He grabs my waist from behind and lifts me, dragging me closer to the wheelbarrow.

Out of the corner of my eye, a shadow moves near the door. Brice yanks me to my feet, so that for a moment, I face it. My heart sinks when I see only the haze of yellowed light in the threshold. He bends down and shoves his shoulder into my stomach, knocking the breath out of my lungs in a loud gush. The room turns and spins upside down and spins, until he drops me into the wheelbarrow. My back and outer thigh hits the side of it. The shock of pain makes me cry out in muffled anguish.

He steps back and studies my position, deciding how to arrange me for a better fit. He must come to a decision because he bends down to grab my legs again. Reason stands behind, his face like chiseled stone. My heartbeat quickens. He fills the open doorway with his large shoulders, wearing an expression of intense focus. His gaze bores into Brice’s back. Time slows for a moment as I take in the sight of him. He doesn’t look like Father Christmas at all. He wears the face of a warrior. Except for his lack of artillery, he looks like a Navy Seal.

He lunges and slams into Brice full force. I hear the gush of breath leave his lungs as Reason makes impact. Brice’s eyes fly open in surprise as he sails past me. His body slams into the wall behind my head with a momentum that sounds equivalent to being hit by a truck.

Voices approach from the tunnels. I hear cowboys running this way, lots of them.

“I didn’t hurt her. I swear it. Please.” Brice’s voice garbles with wetness. The dull sound of a fist pounding into his flesh releases another gust of exhaled breath that steals his words.

“What did you do to her?” Reason’s voice thunders through the tiny room.

A group of men rush through the door. One of them gasps and another shouts. I recognize Dex first. He scans the room, no longer a whimpering inferior. Tonight he wears the intensity of a promise keeper, a fierce ally. “Boss’s got him over there. By the wall.” He turns to where Rick lays curled in a fetal position near the opposite wall.

“Brice did it. It was all him,” Rick insists in a shrill voice.

“Who’re you?” Dex moves toward him.

Brice pleads with Reason, “I was trying to help you.”

Another series of thuds pummels him into silence.

“Boss, I got him. It’s okay.” Dex rushes over to him, where I know Reason stands poised to continue beating Brice to a bloody pulp. “Steady now.”

For a moment I close my eyes and listen to the sound of boots scuffling and good guys barking orders. The air around me suddenly shifts and changes, and I swear I feel his presence—his face near mine. I know it before I even open my eyes. And when I do I see his stricken face, half-light, half-darkness, and marked with emotions that seem all at once frightening and yet totally sexy. His eyes search my face as he loosens the scarf and pulls it from my mouth. He examines me, running his fingers along my temples. He pulls me forward against his chest and unties my wrists. His warm lips press against my cheek as he works, his hot breath warming my ear, bringing me back to my life and my future. “I’ve got you now. I’ve got you.” Emotion weighs at his voice with a heady rasp that vibrates through me.

My shoulders sear with pain as I shift them into normal position. He leans me back in the crook of his arm and kisses me in the space between my eyes, whispering soft soothing sounds as he unties my legs with his free hand. Seconds later, he scoops me up into his arms like I am weightless. My head rests against his neck. His scent envelops me, covering me with his beautiful smell and the safety of his heartbeat pulsing against my forehead.
I have more time.

Chapter 24

HE CARRIES ME. Whispered words tickle my hair and flow with the delicate touch of a feather down over my throbbing temple.
I’m sorry, Er. I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry.

Sounds come to me: the sound of walking, opening doors, and echoing slams. Everything becomes weightless for a moment, lifted and rising upward. A great bird carries us upward, held tight to its breast. Maybe we’ll spiral up into the sky and float out into oblivion together. But it abruptly shifts down and hovers before finally settling in place. I’m almost disappointed to realize it’s only a lucid dream—an elevator. It would’ve been nice to fly free with Reason.

Fresh air moves over me, at least fresher than the damp staleness of the tunnels. I squint against the blinding brightness of civilized lighting. He senses this and pulls me tighter against him, shielding my face with his.

“Not much longer.” His voice anchors me.

Fragments of conversation surround me.

Bring Hannah. Get another blanket.

But what about Brice?

I’ll deal with him later.

My cheek sinks into a soft cloud. His warm hand brushes my hair back from my forehead.
I won’t let anyone hurt you again, Erin, ever—I swear it.

But the luxuriousness of life, of Reason, of knowing I have tomorrow pulls me into the seductive embrace of sleep.

I’m startled awake by the unseen arms clamping down around me like iron and the clink of a dog tag, approaching fast in the darkness. I try to pull away and bolt upright in bed. I blink my eyes, as the fiber of sleep stretches and falls away. Hannah sits in a chair beside me. Her head has fallen forward in the profile of sleep. She holds her glasses in her lap, clutched in a lax fist.

The aching in my head reminds me the dream really happened. But also that it’s over.

I’m in a room very much like the one I saw the day Dex drowned his sorrow in his twenty year old whiskey. Only, this one has a small writing desk instead of a card table.

“How’re you feeling?”

I lift my gaze to Hannah. She's already put her glasses on. The lenses make her eyes seem so much larger.

“Sore,” I answer.

“How’s your head. Looks like you took a nasty hit.”

I had a few, I mentally correct, but my answer is only, “It aches.”

“I cleaned you up. I hope you don't mind. I examined you at the same time. Medical training is the specialty I pursued...in the Society.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t notice before, but I do feel clean. My coat has been removed, and I’m wearing different clothes. I raise my arm to inspect them and find I’m wearing flannel pajamas. The soft cream fabric has satin ribbing at the cuff. I examine the collar. It’s my favorite pair...except I threw them out last year because they’d become too scraggly. This pair has all the buttons in place and no tear in the sleeve.

“Reason.” Hannah answers my unspoken question, and smiles at me with her motherly face.

“Right.” I lower my head back to the pillow. Despite the soreness in my arms and the dull ache in my head, I’m not so bad. “How long did I sleep?”

“It’s Thursday...afternoon.”

I left my house Monday afternoon. “I’ve been asleep three days?”

“No, dear, just since last night, when Reason found you. I think you’d been medicated before that—there's some bruising on your thighs.”

It makes sense I guess, and definitely explains the sleepiness. Brice kept me dosed with injections while I slept.

She goes on. “I gave you some intravenous fluids earlier, but you complained about the IV, kept tugging at it. So I took it out, but you’ll need to make sure you drink a lot on your own.” She motions toward a pitcher of water on the small night table beside me.

I nod, not feeling at all thirsty.

“Erin, I’m very sorry for what happened. Reason’s just beside himself. He feels responsible. Brice will be dealt with.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the county jail.”

“I mean, where’s Reason.”

“Oh,” she chuckles. “He went to check on Klaus.”

Klaus.
“Is Klaus okay? Is he here too?”

“Yes to both questions. He walked his feet bloody to get here, but he made it. You’ve got a good dog in that one.”

“I know he’s not mine. He’s Reason’s.”

She shifts in her chair and looks down at her hands. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think it’s more accurate to say he’s chosen two masters to serve. He led Reason to you.”

“I don’t remember seeing him in the tunnels.”

“I didn’t mean physically.”

“Oh.” When will I remember not to assume the usual boundaries of limitation?

“How did you know about Klaus, Erin?” It’s a pointed question, one I’m not sure I want to answer yet.

“I discovered a letter to my mother. It’s from the Society. Brother--” I struggle to remember the name. “Alfonze DeMu—”

“DeMurio.”

“Yes. He promised her he’d do whatever it took to keep me from selling the house if I tried to do it too soon. The rest, I figured out on my own.”

Her hand flutters to mouth. She wipes at the corner of it with a bent finger. “And I’ve just confirmed your theories?”

“I didn’t really need more confirmation. When I called the number I got from the sewer department, I recognized your voice.”

“I was afraid of that. They weren’t supposed to give out that number. There was another one—toll free—they should’ve given you.” She pauses, and sighs. “Well, I suppose things don’t look very good to you do they?”

“No, not very. I’m not sure what to believe anymore, about anything.”

A shadow of sadness passes over her face. “You need to believe what your heart tells you. That’s where you find truth. Even if you doubt your heart, have faith in the Gift. It doesn’t deceive.”

“But Reason did.”

“Dear, I think you’ll find that isn’t true—if you really think back. You may’ve concluded some things, but Reason wouldn’t lie. It's against his nature. That’s why he possesses the Gift. Believe in that much, at least.”

I think back to the day I met him, when I asked him why he walked away, leaving Klaus behind. “He told me Klaus wasn’t his dog.”

Hannah laughs, amused. “Did he now—the little stinker.”

“Yes, he did,” I say, irritated.

“Reason does not believe his animals belong to him, he believes
he
belongs to
them
. They choose to serve him. To him, there’s a big difference. He’s been that way since I can remember. He’ll argue that till he’s blue in the face. And I must say, that has a lot to do with why he’s so successful in training them.”

Her explanation annoys me. As though I should see through the innuendos of his deception and feel relieved. I don’t. “And I guess he also feels it’s okay to let someone fall in love with him while he’s just obeying orders is fine, too, since it’s their
choice
.”

Her smile fades. “Reason deserves some faith from you, especially after how much of it he’s placed in you.”

I narrow my eyes at her, hating the chastisement in her voice. More than that, I hate the possibility that she’s right.

“I saw the letter. He had a mission, and he filled it. He kept me from selling the house. He ruined my life for a week and made it the best one I’ve ever had all at the same time. What kind of person does that?”

“A person like Reason.” Her face warms again. “Would it help you to know he wasn’t sure what his mission was—or even if one existed?”

I peer at her suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

“I think it’s best if I let him speak for himself. But I’ll tell you one last thing. Brother DeMurio passed away last January, right after your mother died. He had a heart attack. Brother Cassius was appointed to fill his position within the Council.”

I consider her words, unsure if they mean anything to me yet or not. Time, always did make me indecisive.

She rises slowly from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go round up dinner for these boys. They’re a hungry lot—always liked my cooking better than Dex’s.”

My back faces the door when I hear Reason enter. “Hannah said you’re awake. Can I come in?”

“Yes,” I say, but I don’t turn over.

I hear him close the door and move toward the chair. A few seconds later, the seat creaks under his weight.

“I’ll understand if you don't want to see me anymore.”

This isn’t really what I wanted to hear. In fact, I don’t really know what I wanted to hear. Maybe a little explanation and groveling would’ve been better. “Why? Because of the fact I got kidnapped or that you deceived me about your intentions from the day I met you? Or that you sent a plague of misfortune into my life just so I couldn't sell my house? What if I actually wanted to sell it? Did you ever consider that?”

I hear only silence behind me. When he still doesn’t speak, I roll over to face him.