“Waauur.”
Despite her amazement, she didn’t have much doubt that this was the cat she had left behind in Richmond. He was just too distinctive looking, those eyes too blue and collar too individual for her to be mistaken. What she couldn’t begin to imagine was what he was doing here. And how he’d traveled so far.
Another brief gust of air made the candles waver again. Pendragon hissed softly, then leaped from the table and vanished into the shadows near the stairs. Before Sarah could do more than stare after him, a voice spoke mockingly no more than three feet away from her.
“Don’t like the dark, I see.”
She turned quickly and for an instant thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, because all she saw was a huge, hideous shadow looming toward her. But when she blinked, it was only a man.
A very average man. Average height and weight, average brown hair, and average blue eyes. Wearing a very average business suit.
Somehow, that made it worse.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Not Duran.”
That surprised him. “No. I’m Varden.”
“So this was your game.” She wasn’t really thinking about what she was saying, just talking to stall for time.
“It was.”
“Bucking for a promotion?”
He smiled thinly. “If so, you’ll help me get it, Sarah.”
“Pass. Where’s Tucker?”
“Safe. I just sent one of my men to…watch him. We’ll let him go, of course, as soon as you leave with me.”
She smiled. “Sure you will.”
Varden shrugged carelessly. “He’s of no interest to us.”
“But I am. Want to tell me why?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I know it’s because I’m psychic. I don’t know how you mean to use that.”
“Come with me and find out.”
Sarah stared at him almost curiously. “It’d be a feather in your cap if I did, wouldn’t it? Why is a willing psychic better for you?”
His mouth tightened. “We’re wasting time. It’s over, Sarah. It’s time to go.”
Even though she had been expecting it, Sarah jumped just as he did when, high above their heads in the rotting building, the old church bells began a jangling, discordant song, accompanied by the sharp reports of gunfire.
“Your backup, I presume,” Varden drawled, his face calm even as his hand dived inside his jacket and produced a businesslike black automatic. “We were expecting them, Sarah.”
“You’re a very good shot,” Leigh said, looking admiringly toward the church and its swaying bells.
Murphy swore and aimed a shot at one of the broken windows, where a head had momentarily appeared. “I’d rather hit some of them instead of the damned bells. Just one, at least. Come on, Leigh—”
“No bodies, Murphy. We can’t afford them.”
“We can’t afford to leave our own here, either,” Murphy snapped. “Dammit, Leigh, will you get down? One lucky shot and—”
Leigh obeyed, ducking for a moment behind the pile of old lumber they were using for cover. When there was a lull in the gunfire coming from the church, she got off a few shots of her own. She hardly knew one end of a gun from the other, but the illusion of an army was needed, so periodically she aimed her pistol at the largest expanse of wood she could find on the church and fired.
“You’re a menace,” Murphy noted as what was left of a stained-glass window shattered under one of Leigh’s bullets.
Leigh winced. “Now, if that isn’t bad luck, I don’t know what is.”
“We make our own luck,” Murphy told her flatly.
“Um. Maybe so, but I think I’ll circle around and check on Nick. There’s less glass on his side. And I’ve got to take care of step two.”
“I wish you’d let me handle that,” Murphy said.
“You’re a much better shot than I am. You and Nick are needed for this.”
“Will you, for Christ’s sake, be careful?”
“You bet.”
“We were expecting them, Sarah.”
“Were you? Damn.”
His eyes narrowed at her mild tone. “What have you done?”
“Read my mind.” She knew that taunting him was a bad idea, but she couldn’t help herself. She had been getting angry for a long time, and Cait’s senseless death the night before had turned anger into rage.
He cocked the pistol and leveled it at her. “We’re going upstairs, Sarah. Now.”
The bells jangled above them, along with gunshots and, now, a crackling, whispery sound.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“Varden! Get out of there!” The voice came echoing down the stairs, urgent and more than a little panicked. “They’re burning the place!”
Sarah had counted on a moment of surprise, and she got one as Varden’s gaze lifted instinctively toward the burning church above them. She moved instantly, leaping away from him and the light and toward the protection of a jumble of wooden crates.