Touched by Darkness (10 page)

chemistry that sizzled between Sentinel and

conductor.

She took a step back, angled her chin to meet his

gaze. "He's not ready for this. And neither am I. I'm

asking you to hold off for awhile. And I want to be

present whenever you're with him."

He stared at her a long moment, his features hard.

Finally he nodded. "All right. We'll work on Alex

controlling his powers and shielding himself. For

now."

Kara blew out a sigh of relief. She'd won this battle,

but knew she faced an entire war. A war against

beings who had been a part of Earth, off and on, for

thousands of years.

But go to war she would, if it would keep Alex

from the abyss.

#

"Who is that man?" Luz demanded the minute Kara

came inside and closed the door, bolting it for good

measure—although as Damien had already

demonstrated, locks were no defense against a

Sentinel—or a Belian. "I have never seen him

around before.
¿Quién es él?"

Kara held up a hand to stop Luz's tirade as she

waited to be sure Damien was gone. When she

heard the sound of a car starting and driving away,

she slumped against the door, feeling as if she'd just

run a marathon.

"Who is that man?" Luz asked again. "And why

was he talking to Alex?"

Kara mentally scrambled for an explanation that

would sound plausible. "Damien Morgan is a writer

for a magazine. He— He was an associate of Alex's

father."

Luz sniffed. "He's very arrogant. I didn't like the

way he just barged in here, and then refused to

leave."

"I don't want him here, or anywhere near Alex,

unless I'm around" Kara said firmly. "If he shows

up again when I'm not home, don't let him in, and

call me immediately."

Luz nodded her agreement. "There's something

about him," she mused. "Not quite evil, but

dangerous... and powerful.
Muy machisto."

"He's interested in Alex, partly because of his

association with Richard," Kara said, hoping to

distract Luz from her musings. As a
curandera,
a

folk healer, Luz moved in a culture that often dealt

in superstitions and believed in evil spirits. She was

highly intuitive, and Kara didn't want her sensing

anything unusual about Damien. "He might be

spending some time with us," she added.

"He could be a threat to you personally," Luz said,

"You need to stay away from him."

"I'm not worried about that," Kara said, although

that was only a half truth. She turned toward the

kitchen and the enticing smells of food cooking,

but she didn't think she could eat anything.

"Where's Alex?"

"I sent him to his room to watch TV" Luz leaned

the baseball bat in the corner beside the front door.

"I did not want him to hear you arguing with that

man. He is very sensitive."

"I'm glad you thought to do that." For the

hundredth time, Kara wondered how much Luz had

discerned about Alex.

It was probably unwise to have an intuitive

curandera
taking care of him after school, but Luz

loved children, and she was great with Alex. Kara

preferred that arrangement over daycare, because

Alex was so sensitive to the emotions of the other

children. And it was heavenly to come home to a

clean house and a cooked meal on weekdays.

She sighed, questioning the wisdom of many of her

decisions over the years. But there would two

things she could
never
regret: the love she and

Richard had shared, and having Alex.

"Your dinner is ready," Luz announced, getting her

red leather coat and matching purse off the wall

rack. "My sister has my truck, but I called her five

minutes ago, so she should be here." She looked at

her watch. "I have a... an appointment."

Kara suddenly realized that her working late and

then the altercation with Damien had kept Luz past

her usual departure time. "I'm sorry I delayed you.

Would your appointment happen to be a hot date

with a certain rancher by the name of Matt

Brown?"

Luz smiled her Mona Lisa smile. "Perhaps."

Luz and Matt had been dating off and on for a

number of years. They'd met when she was

seventeen and had gone to work as a housekeeper

at his family's luxurious home. Kara suspected that

Luz had stronger feelings for Matt than he had for

her.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and Luz

opened it. Her sister Serafina stood there. Although

younger than Luz, she was taller and larger boned,

with less refined features that made her look older.

But she had the same vivid coloring and beautiful

skin. She was a waitress at a Hispanic bar on the

outskirts of town, and had a reputation for going

out with a lot of men.

Kara didn't know her very well, but had always

liked her. She was quiet and polite, and talked to

Alex whenever she saw him. She and Luz came

from a large family, and they both seemed to adore

children.

"Hello, Serafina," Kara said. "How are you?"

"Hola.
I am well."

"She is working too many hours." Luz slipped on

her coat, pulling her long, shimmering hair free.

The coat's red hue enhanced her stunning dark hair

and eyes.
"Hasta mañana."
She turned toward the

hallway, raised her voice. "Alex, I am leaving.

Adiós, hijo. "

"Bye Luz," came a faint, little-boy voice.

"You watch out for that man," Luz told Kara, then

with a swirl of her coat, she was gone, trailing a

scent of cinnamon and something rich and

provocative. Serafina nodded good-bye and

followed.

Luz must have a
really
hot date with Matt, Kara

thought, closing the door behind her. For a

moment, she rested her head against the wood,

feeling drained and exhausted. But an entire

evening stretched ahead of her, filled with the

mundane and comforting rituals that made up the

fabric of their lives—dinner, homework, talking

about their day. And she had to tell Alex that

Damien would be coming tomorrow night. With a

sigh, she straightened and turned, calling out,

"Alex, it's time for dinner. Wash your hands and

come on."

His bedroom door opened a crack. "Ah, Mom,

Home Improvement
is on."

He loved television, perhaps too much, but then he

didn't have many friends outside those on his

soccer team. In addition to science fiction, he really

liked shows about families—those with a father, a

mother, and kids (especially the ones where there

were siblings). Kara felt the familiar regret that

Alex had never had a normal family life.

Her mother and stepfather lived in northern

Alabama, a fifteen-hour drive from Zorro, and he

only saw them two or three times a year. Her only

sibling, her brother Dan, lived in Oregon with his

family; they were lucky to see him once a year.

Kara had never met any of Richard's family, didn't

even know how to contact them. So she and Alex

were pretty much on their own.

"It's already late, and I need to talk to you," she

answered. "So cut it off and get out here."

"All right," he said, managing to sound grievously

put upon.

He shuffled into the kitchen a few moments later as

she was putting their food on the table and pouring

his milk.

"Mom, why was that man here again?"

She turned to answer, but could only stare at her

son. Had he ever been a child? He was always so

intent, so serious, seemed so far beyond his years.

Standing there, watching her solemnly, he looked

just like Richard.
God, so much like Richard.

She went to him, dropped to her knees and hugged

him against her tightly.

"Mom!" he protested, his voice muffled against her

chest.

She loved him so much. He was her heart, her soul,

her world, and all she had left of Richard.

"Mom! You're hugging me too hard!"

"Sorry." She loosened her hold a little. "Have I told

you today that I love you?"

Most six-year-old boys would have been

embarrassed, but Alex seemed to sense her angst. "I

love you, too, Mom."

"You'd better." Reluctantly, she released him. "Let's

eat."

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. "Luz made an

apple pie for dessert."

Kara forced herself to smile. "Yum. I guess we'll

have to have some ice cream with that."

"All right!" Alex crowed and headed for the table.

For the moment, Kara thought, they were back in

an ordinary, comforting routine. But the sense of

normalcy and safety was now a facade. While she

was determined to hang on to the life she and Alex

had as long as possible, and to keep him safe, she

knew they were teetering precariously. . Near the

touch of darkness.

At six o'clock the next evening, Damien pulled into

the gravel driveway, behind Kara's truck. He sat

there a few moments, staring at the white frame

house, elevated on the frame-clad pier-and-beam

foundation so common in this part of Texas. Wide

cement steps leading up the wraparound porch

were painted country blue, as were the shutters.

Neatly trimmed shrubs lined the front. Like Kara's

office, the house was well kept and homey. He

climbed out of the car and shut the door.

The dog appeared at the chain-link gate at the end

of the driveway and went into his frenzied barking

routine. Damien didn't bother with silencing him.

He would see that the animal remained outside

during the session with Alex.

He went up the walkway. Purple and yellow

pansies lined both sides of the last third and skirted

gaily around the steps to the porch. The plant beds

were weed-free and covered with shredded bark.

Sudden memories of his childhood home surged

into his mind. His father had been an avid handy

man, puttering around their duplex in central New

York, keeping both home and yard immaculate.

As a young boy, Damien had loved hanging out

with his dad, watching him work on some weekend

project. Dad often let him help, showing him how

to dig flower beds and fertilize plants, how to

hammer nails, and even letting him paint things.

Although reserved with everyone else, Damien had

talked to his father about everything. His father had

known and accepted what he was, and he didn't

have to hide his abilities when he was with his dad.

It had been an uncomplicated, blissful time in his

life, free of the worries of the world.

But those idyllic times had ended abruptly with the

destructive violence inherent to Sentinel existence.

Taken aback at this emotional slippage, Damien

shook off his thoughts, forcing them behind a self-

imposed barrier. He couldn't think about the past,

couldn't afford to indulge in memories or emotional

sentiments. He would not entertain thoughts that

might distract him in any way from his life's

mission. Nor would he ever allow emotional

attachments. They led to mistakes, errors in

judgment—and ultimately, tragedy and pain.

As Damien reached the top of the steps, the

attractive Hispanic housekeeper came out the front

door. She was wearing a red leather coat and

carrying a purse, so he assumed she was leaving.

Her gaze narrowed when she saw him, and she

leaned back inside. "Kara,
that man
is here. Do you

want me to call the
policía?
"

She obviously didn't like Kara's answer; she

frowned and whirled from the door, leaving it open.

Glaring at Damien, she stalked past him. "Good

evening to you, too," he murmured, but got only a

spate of rapid Spanish that didn't sound friendly.

He pondered her strange reaction as he entered the

house. Most women didn't have that response to

him. Usually he was the one who had to maintain

his distance. Not only that, but he sensed a different

sort of energy from the young woman, one that was

unfamiliar and intriguing. He didn't think it was

shielded Belian energy, but decided it might be well

to keep a close eye on her.

Kara met him in the living room. She was wearing