Circle of Fire Page 3

“I need to see his room, Jayne.”

  “Okay …” Jayne hesitated, then stepped away from the door. “But hurry. Steve will be back at any moment.”

  He’d be furious to find her in the house—and would take his anger out on Jayne. Not physically, but emotionally. From what Maddie had observed, that was, in some ways, tougher to handle.

  How had the two of them managed to marry men so like their father?

  She clomped up the stairs, stripping off her coat as she approached Evan’s room. The house was unusually warm—odd, given Steve’s conviction that it was better to put on a sweater than turn up the heat. If Evan was like her—if he could light fires with just a thought—then this heat could very well be a residue of his fear. But if that was the case, then he’d been knocked unconscious before his talent could fully rise to protect him—although she’d always considered it a curse rather than a talent.

  But how had his abductors gotten into—and even out of—the house?

  Nothing had changed in her nephew’s room from the last time she’d seen it, three weeks before. Posters of rock bands and scantily clad women still vied for space on the walls. His clothes were strewn all over the floor, and the football she’d given him for his last birthday still held pride of place on his overcrowded bookshelves.

  And yet there was one difference—the smell. Maddie frowned as she tried to place it. It was burnt ash, mud, and a soft hint of citrus, all rolled into one. An odd and unpleasant scent that made her stomach roil.

  She blinked back the sudden sting of tears. She had to find Evan. He was all that stood between her and utter loneliness.

  Biting her lip, she walked across the room to the windows. White dust covered much of the frame, highlighting the fingerprints. But as Jon had warned, there was no sign at all that the windows had been forced.

  She turned away. The odd smell grew stronger, until it became a cloud that encased her in sweetness and decay and darkness. She groped blindly for the nearby dresser. Oh God, she thought, it’s happening again.

  Her fingers brushed against something cool and metallic—the gold chain Evan had bought with the cash he’d received for his birthday. Maybe, just maybe, she could use it to try to control the direction of the dream. As the room spun around her, she squeezed the chain into her palm and hung on tight.

  For several heartbeats, darkness encased her mind. Then pinpoints of light danced through the gloom—slivers that gradually lifted the darkness. Around her, she saw the rough wooden walls of a small cabin. Two small forms lay huddled on the dusty floor, wrapped in blankets that hid their faces from sight. One of them was Evan; she could just see the gleam of his red-gold hair.

  The vision swirled slightly, and the shadows moved. A slender figure walked across the room, features hidden by a large coat and hood. It bent and lovingly touched the person lying beside Evan. A chill ran through Maddie. It was a woman’s hand, and yet it had the claws of a panther.

  “By the light of the new moon,” the woman said, her sultry tones oddly tremulous, “your youth will become my youth.”

  A hand touched Maddie’s shoulder. With a small squeak of fright, she spun around. Jayne stared at her, glassy eyes widening in surprise.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said softly.

  Maddie licked her lips. “Sorry. Just a bit jumpy.” She hesitated, noting the slightly pinched look around her sister’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  “Steve just called. He’s on his way home, and he wants to talk to you.”

  Maddie swore under her breath. Trust her sister to mention she was here. “I can’t, Jayne. He’ll want to know how I knew Evan was in danger, and he won’t believe me when I tell him.”

  Jayne nodded, though Maddie could see the uncertainty in her sister’s eyes. Despite her earlier statements, Jayne still wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe her or not.

  “Okay, then. It usually takes him five minutes or so to get here from the station. If you hurry, you might be able to avoid him.”

  Maddie squeezed her sister’s hands tightly. “I’ll find Evan, Jayne. I’ll bring him back.” Somehow.

  Jayne gave her a wan smile. Maddie stepped back, then stopped, her gaze caught by the brief flash of gold on the dresser. Evan’s chain. She must have dropped it when Jayne touched her shoulder. Had holding it helped the vision’s direction? Maddie suspected it had, if only because it was the first time she’d ever actually seen something she’d wanted to see. Usually, the dreams took their own course. If she took the chain with her, she might be able to use it to find Evan.

  Not giving herself time to doubt, she brushed the chain into her hand, then followed her sister down the stairs.

  The old truck rattled to life at the second turn of the key, which was something of a miracle. She reversed out of the driveway, then turned north. It was time to go find herself a real, live ghost.

  MADDIE PUT HER FOOT ON THE BRAKES, THEN WINCED AT the squeal of metal grating against metal. Though the brake pads had needed replacing for some time now, it was a task she’d hoped to put off until she’d sold the next lot of roses.

  But the icy conditions that had made some sections of Highway 20 pretty hairy had quickly rearranged her priorities. If she made it down this road in one piece, she was going to both get the brakes fixed and get new tires as soon as possible.

  At least the bright lights of Taurin Bay were finally visible below. Though now that she was nearly there, she wasn’t entirely sure what she should do next. For a start, she had to find the Sherbrook Inn, but she also had to find Jon—and quickly. A heavy snowfall was predicted within the next twenty-four hours.

  She remembered his face the last time she’d seen him—so pale and tired. If she didn’t find him soon, it might be too late. At least Evan had the heavy layer of blankets to protect him from the cold.

  A graceful bridge of latticed metal arched across the mouth of a wide river and swept her into Taurin Bay, where a familiar yellow sign caught her attention. She pulled into the drive-through, collecting a hamburger and directions to the Sherbrook Inn.

  The inn was a large, square-fronted Victorian painted in pale pinks and grays. She stopped the truck and leaned against the steering wheel, studying the house.

  Maybe staying here wasn’t such a wise move. Jon had stayed here and had ended up down a well, so obviously someone had suspected he was here to find the missing teenagers and had tried to stop him. Would they suspect her as well?

  The thought made her snort. Jon had called her ordinary and, outwardly at least, he was right. Why would anyone suspect she was anything more than a tourist? Besides, she had to stay somewhere, and most of the motels along the way had been full—not surprising, with the early onset of the ski season.

  She dragged her bag off the backseat and headed for the inn. The small foyer was empty when she entered, but a bell chimed softly in the distance. She shut the door and studied the room. The walls were covered in pale gold and silver wallpaper, and the window next to the front door was draped with rich burgundy curtains. An open fire blazed brightly in the sitting room to her left, lending a golden gleam to the empty velvet and mahogany chairs that formed a semicircle around it.

  The inn looked expensive. A weeklong stay would put a serious dent in her savings, but that was a small price to pay if she found Evan—and Jon—in one piece.

  “Hello.”

  Maddie jerked her gaze to the front desk. A man stood in the doorway just behind it, his smile warm and friendly.

  “Hank Stewart. I’m the night manager here,” he continued, stepping forward. “How can I help you?”

  She eyed him warily. Though his voice held nothing beyond politeness, something about him made her uneasy. “Do you have a room available for a couple of days?”

  He opened the book on the desk, then nodded. “We have one room—the Captain’s Quarters—available at the moment.”

  It was his eyes, she decided when he looked up. Something disturbing lurked in their
mud-colored depths.

  She swallowed and pulled her gaze away. “How much is it?”

  “It’s our best room. One fifteen a night.”

  She winced but signed the register. Picking up her bag, she followed him along the hall and up the stairs. The Captain’s Quarters turned out to be a suite comprised of a living room, a bedroom, and a large bathroom—all ornately furnished.

  “Feel free to call if you need anything,” he said, smiling as he gave her the key.

  His fingers brushed hers, hot and yet clammy. She shuddered and pulled her hand away.

  “If you want to go out tonight, just let me know,” he continued. “I usually lock the door after eleven unless any of our guests are still out.”

  She hesitated and glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven now. Who knew how long it would take her to find Jon’s well? “I do have plans to go out for a while.”

  He nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Is there a map of the area I can use?”

  “Over on the mantel,” he said, and walked away.

  She firmly closed and locked the door behind him, then leaned her forehead against it for a moment. Her whole body was trembling, and she suddenly felt sick. Over what? A man with strange brown eyes who’d offered her no threat in anything he’d said or done? I’m no good at this sort of thing. I should have stayed home.

  She took a deep breath, then walked over to the mantel. Spreading the map out on the coffee table, she knelt to study it.

  Jon had given her a fairly good description of the area where he’d fallen into the well. All she had to do was remember it—not an easy thing when she’d been so petrified by his appearance that first time.

  She traced the lines of roads with her fingers until she found one that sounded familiar. She followed it along until it went through a state forest. That was it. That was the area.

  After rolling up the map, she picked up the room key and headed downstairs and out to her truck. The night air was cold, and the wind carried the hint of snow. Maddie glanced up. The stars had disappeared behind a wall of clouds. She hoped the snow held off—not just for Jon’s sake, but Evan’s as well. The teenagers might have blankets to keep them warm, but there’d been no sign of a fire in the old cabin. If bad weather moved in, they might freeze to death before anyone found them.

  She just had to hope Jon’s directions—or her memories of them—were accurate. The last thing she wanted was to drive around for hours. Every second was vital if she was to find Evan alive—of that much she was certain.

  But if someone had shot Jon, there was no telling how accurate his directions were, though he’d seemed pretty lucid whenever he’d appeared. Not that she was a good judge of character—she’d married Brian, after all. And for all she knew, Jon could be totally crazy.

  But in the end, it didn’t really matter. He could have horns and sprout wings, and she wouldn’t give a damn. Not if he helped her to find Evan.

  She’d caused her family far too much grief over the years. Maybe now she had a chance to redeem herself.

  She started the truck, then glanced at the street map one more time before driving off. Twenty minutes later, she was back in the mountains. The road’s incline grew steeper and pines began to crowd the edges. It didn’t seem to be the area in which to find a well—yet, oddly enough, it did seem the type of area Jon would enjoy. Strange how she had gleaned so much from the few hours they’d spent together.

  She drove through the gates that designated the beginning of the state forest. The road became a dirt track several yards in. She slowed. If she’d read the map right, there was a small turnoff half a mile ahead. It would take her right past the shared fence line of the old farm Jon had mentioned.

  The turn came up faster than she’d expected. She swung the steering wheel hard. Saplings slapped against the windows, and something hard scraped along the body of the truck. Heart pounding rapidly, she straightened the wheels and slowed down even further. The headlights picked out the fine strands of wire running parallel to the road.

  She stopped and got out. An owl hooted in the distance—a haunting sound in the silence. The chill breeze spun around her, stirring the pine branches above her head and whipping thick strands of hair away from her ponytail. She caught the flyaway ends, tucking them under the collar of her jacket, then studied the fields before her. Somehow, the place felt right. She couldn’t explain how or why, but she knew that Jon was here somewhere. Either that, or she was finally going mad.

  She grimaced. That was still a very real possibility. After all, here she was in the middle of nowhere, trusting the words of a man who might yet prove to be a ghost.

  She grabbed the flashlight and locked the truck. The fence was a mix of plain and barbed wire. After climbing through carefully, she studied the dark field. Where was the most logical place for a well? She swung the light from left to right but couldn’t see any possibilities. Yet in the distance she could see the dark outline of several buildings. The old farmhouse, maybe? It was as good a place as any to look.

  It took five minutes of tramping through the overgrown field to reach the outbuildings. To the right of what looked to have been a barn was an odd-shaped mound of stone. Her heart leaped and she ran toward it. Please, please, let this be it …

  She slid to a stop and leaned over the uneven wall. The knobby edges of the stone dug into her stomach as she directed the flashlight into the well. Deep down in the darkness, gold flickered.

  “Jon?” She waited anxiously for an answer, but nothing came. Maybe he was unconscious. “Jon!”

  This time something stirred. She leaned over the edge a little more, desperate to catch any noise.

  “Jon!” her voice echoed. After a moment, she heard a soft groan. He was down there all right, but he had to be awake if she was going to help him. She couldn’t get him out of the well on her own. “Answer me, damn it!”

  “Madeline?” His soft question was harsh with disbelief.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly. Crying wouldn’t help anyone. It certainly wouldn’t help him. “I’m here. I’ve got some rope in the truck. I’ll go get it, but you have to stay awake, okay?”

  He grunted or groaned in reply—she wasn’t sure which. She ran back across the field, the flashlight weaving uneasy patterns through the darkness ahead. She hesitated when she reached the fence. Was there a gate somewhere, or would she have to cut the wire? The light reflected oddly on something to her right—someone had looped the wire loosely around a pole. Once undone, the gap would be wide enough to drive the truck through.

  She quickly undid the wire. The last strand snapped away from her grasp, tearing at her fingertips and palm. She swore and shook the blood away as she ran back to the truck.

  Maybe it sensed her urgency, because the engine roared to life the second she turned the key. She reversed out of the clearing and drove down the road until she saw the gap in the fence. Changing gears, she headed into the field, the truck bumping and lurching over the rough ground.

  She stopped near the well. Leaving the headlights on and the engine idling, she scrambled out and ran to it.

  “Jon?” she called, leaning over the edge again. Stone shifted underneath her, and several rocks fell down into the darkness. Water splashed.

  “Here!” he called, his voice stronger than before. “Stop throwing things at me.”

  She smiled, and yet his comment made her uneasy. What sort of man made jokes in a situation like this? A man who was used to being in dangerous situations. And just how wise was it to get involved with this man? While she had no doubt she’d need his help, she knew nothing about him. Not even whether she could trust him.

  “Still with me, Madeline?”

  There was a hint of tension in his voice, as if he’d sensed her sudden doubts. She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes. If I throw a rope down, will you be able to tie it around you?”

  “Yes.”

  Her palm w
as still bleeding, she noticed, as she ran back to the truck and hauled the rope out of the box in the back. She wiped it hastily on her jeans, then wasted several minutes trying to secure one end of the rope to the front of the truck before running back to the well.

  “I’m lowering the rope.” She fed the hemp into the well, but her gaze was drawn to the dark outline of the old homestead. Had something moved—or was it just a trick of the light?

  “Got it,” Jon said.

  The sudden sound of his voice made her start. “Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll reverse the truck to haul you up.” She watched the rope dance around and wished he’d hurry. The feeling that someone was watching them was growing—or was it simply a bad case of nerves?

  “Ready.”

  She climbed into the truck and shifted into reverse, grinding the gears in her haste. The bleeding from her palm had slowed, but it still made managing the stick shift tricky. Wincing, she slowly backed the truck up. The need to hurry, to get out of this area as fast as she could, was growing. She bit her lip, trying to ignore it. It didn’t matter what was out there watching them; she had to get Jon out of this well. And if she backed up too quickly, she just might kill him.

  When the top part of his body was visible, she pulled on the hand brake and climbed out.

  “Not a trip I’d recommend,” he gasped, looking up at her as she approached.

  He was a mess. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his face was white with pain. His whole body was trembling, even though he was doing little more than simply hanging on to the edge of the well. She grabbed his right leg, helping him over. He fell, more than rolled, to the ground.

  He was, incredibly, wearing the same short-sleeved black shirt and dark jeans she had first seen him in, but which now looked considerably the worse for wear. How had he survived in this weather?

  “We have to get out of here.” She knelt beside him and undid the rope. He was so cold, his fingers were almost blue. She undid her jacket and placed it around his shoulders.

  He gave her a wan smile of thanks. “You have to … to do something first.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the well.