Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared
down on her, sheathing her, surrounding her, telling her . . .
Come on, come on, Virgil thought with an impatient glance at the eastern horizon. Get the damned channel open.
This was the hardest part of the whole process for him. Waiting, waiting, waiting to find out if it was going to happen tonight, if he was finally going to be free of the Druid curse that had ruined everything he touched since he first found the treasure. He never should have believed his great-uncle, never should have gone to Wales, never should have dug up the damned gold. Nothing but grief. Not one damn thing.
“. . . sense a presence,” she said in a low voice that wasn’t like her normal one. “Come closer, spirit. We wish no evil, ask nothing forbidden. We simply seek to . . .”
Pushing back a yawn with his fist, Tim tuned out Cherelle’s patter. He never could figure out why she hated doing her act at this pile of rocks so much. Day or night, rock piles or classy condos, the gig was always the same. She put on her ghost outfit, muttered a lot, told the dumbs what they wanted to hear, and then went home with enough money to pay the rent and buy some beer. Big deal. He would do it himself, but he couldn’t stop snickering long enough. Talking to Merlin or Melchizedek or Marilyn Monroe—what bullshit.
He clenched his teeth around another yawn. Man, this getting up in the middle of the night wasn’t for him. That was one of the reasons he had never made it as a full-time burglar. Too much like work. At least the channeling scam was easier than prowling apartments, and it didn’t bring the cops down on your ass.
Nobody had passed any laws against helping dumbs be as dumb as they could be.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and wished Cherelle had told him to bring a jacket. There wasn’t much wind, but it was enough to make him shiver from time to time. Glumly he eyed the wooden box, blinked, and blinked again. Then he wondered when the crazy old fart had turned on his little flashlight and stuck it in the closed box. And why. Hell of a way to waste batteries, and batteries cost damn near as much as cigarettes.
“. . . feel you, but I can’t hear you,” Cherelle whispered. “I sense how powerful you are. Please help me.”
Tim swallowed a snort of laughter. As soon as they got off this shitty piece of rock, he would give her something to feel and something to hear, too. He had a heavy load to get rid of.
“. . . don’t know what Virgil wants,” she said clearly. “Do you?”
The old man tensed and leaned forward. Merlin knew just what he wanted.
“Ah, of course,” she murmured. “He has something of yours.” The words stopped. Her teeth snapped together. She jerked once, twice, and then shivered from her head to her heels.
“Too dark,” she said urgently. “Can’t hear you. You’re taking the light! Please, please help us!”
Virgil waited so tightly that he was afraid his bones would snap. She must be getting close. Never before had she sounded so . . .
Scared.
“Can’t—hear—you,” she said jerkily. “Please help me. Please. We mean no harm and want nothing forbidden. Help me clear the channel, Merlin. Help—me.”
Virgil didn’t wait to hear any more. This session was going the same way as the others, right into the toilet. With a few quick movements he took worn leather work gloves out of his back pocket and yanked them on. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
But it had.
She would get a clear channel now, tonight. He would make sure of it.
Eyes closed, Cherelle fought down the scream that kept wanting to climb up the clenched darkness of her throat. Each time she came here, it was worse. Now she felt like she was two people, one of them watching in amusement and the other one a terrified child wanting to run to Mommy. But there was no Mommy. There never had been. There was only darkness and fear and the kind of trapped-animal rage that made her want to—
A piece of metal so cold that it burned smacked down across her palm. Light and dark exploded into something that was both and neither. It was everything.
And then it was nothing.
She was nothing.
Chapter 9
Sedona
Very early morning
C herelle was still screaming when Tim backhanded her hard enough to send her staggering out of the shadow of the three leaning stones. She stumbled and went to her knees. Shaking, bent over, she bit back the bile that was clawing up her throat along with all the screams she had
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