FADE TO BLACK, Book One: The Weir Chronicles

Chapter Eight

The hoot of an owl greeted Ian when he stopped behind a thick trunk and drew upon his senses. To his dismay, he picked up on Rayne trudging across the forest floor. Snapping twigs and scuffling feet filled the gaps between her occasional, unmistakable grunts and moans.

Stubborn, he decided, definitely stubborn.

His mood grew somber. Nearly out of time to reach the building, he scolded himself for leading her on this game in the first place.

Where are you?

Ian paused at the twins’ channeling. He connected his thoughts with theirs and waited where he stood.

At approaching steps, he asked Tara, “Where’s Mara?”

“Here,” Mara said behind him. “Are you nuts? You knew she was hiding near the front gate.”

“Why didn’t you go out the back?” Tara said.

“It seemed like a fun distraction.”

“Put your hormones in your pocket and get to the ware-house.” Mara waved her gun in his face.

“Keep your hormones in your holster,” he countered.

“Ian, you can’t be late for your meeting,” Tara said.

He hesitated at her tone. “What’s going on?” He looked between them. “Why are you out here?”

“We went for a walk.”

“Do I look like a schmuck?” he said. The girls stared at him for a second then stifled giggles. “What,” he said, clinging to his anger in spite of their amusement. “I heard Patrick say that one the other day.”

“Are you using it right?” Mara holstered her gun.

He looked down and kicked at the ground.

“We’ll take care of the reporter,” Tara said. “Ian, you can’t be late.”

“Send her on her way, but be civil about it.” Ian looked at Mara when he said it. “Be cautious, I’m not convinced we’re alone out here.”

Their eyes widened. “Why?”

“A falling tree almost hit the Jeep.”

“Yeah, we saw that, so?” Mara said.

“It wasn’t by nature’s hand.” Ian took off on foot through the trees, not willing to shyft and risk being spotted in the dark. When he reached the structure, he scanned the surrounding area before entering.

The door closed and locked with a loud clank. It would open again only to his touch.

The familiar drip, drip, drip of the leaking pipes down the hall in the boiler room floated in and out of the enveloping darkness. He relaxed, as if welcomed by a trusted friend’s voice.

Ian’s footsteps echoed in the barren corridor on his way to the room. A shiver overtook him near the end of the hall. Whether it was due to the extreme cold or the upcoming encounter beyond the doors, he couldn’t tell. The girls’ odd behavior and the Primary’s impatient summons contributed to his brewing disquiet.

Resolved to get it over with, he waved. The heavy doors opened.

The electromagnetic field rippled through his body as he peered into the pitch black and made his way along the wall. The last thing he needed was to be transported, unintentionally, to wherever the Primary resided.

The Primary always came to him.

The intensity of the sensation was a reminder of when the Syndrion brought him and the girls across the Atlantic by private yacht as children. The journey had taken them through the heart of the Bermuda Triangle. The power of the area frightened him, but they kept him there for a few days learning to harness and appreciate the earth-based phenomenon.

He had lost his fear of the energy long ago.

Absolute silence filled the vortex chamber. Ian leaned back against the wall and pressed his palms against the surface. Attuned to the various energies of the earth, his nerve endings tingled from the magnetic pull encircling the room. It energized him in a way the outdoor, uncontained field at the property’s eastern border never could. He closed his eyes, leaned his full weight against the wall, and absorbed the earth’s power into his core.

The unknown kept him alert, but fear was Ian’s constant battle. It came from lack of control, the inability to change the inevitable. He had spent his life fighting for control. Would this be the day it was permanently ripped from him? He remained focused on the molecular dance surrounding him. The atmospheric pressure shift behind his eyes wasn’t a good omen. A storm was on its way.