Angela woke to the sounds of people talking. The steady rise and fall of voices were somewhat soothing yet annoying at the same time. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, rolled over, and tried to get back to sleep, but an uncomfortable tingle filled the air. There was no way she was going to sleep through this.
Throwing the blanket back, Angela got up from the bed and found her shoes. She stormed out of the room, searching for the source of the noise. It was fuck-all late and no one should be up at this time of the night. Especially out in the barely used barn. She turned and followed the chanting back to the steps that led to the main floor. What the hell was going on down there?
Angela was only halfway down the steps when she started having second thoughts. The scene that met her eyes made her stop. She squatted on the steps and stared out into the dimly lit room trying to understand it.
Power tingled up Angela’s spine as she watched four figures in dark robes sway to the rhythm of some strange language. Between them was a large wooden table. Angela’s heart started to race when the figures moved, and she saw the man tied to the table. The back of her mouth went dry as she crouched on the stairs, afraid to move. There was something very wrong going on here.
The activity on the floor reached a fervent pitch, and one of the cloaked figures raised a wicked blade over the captured man’s chest.
Angela pressed her hand over her mouth to hold in the scream working its way up her throat. She jumped as the blade rammed down into the bound man’s chest. Tears streamed from her eyes as she watched the four figures committing murder, but she didn’t dare move from her hiding spot.
Anger and fear fought for her will as she sat, paralyzed, and watched as the cloaked figure left the blade stuck in the injured man’s chest. How could father let something like this happen? A hint of curiosity cut through the numbness when a brilliant light formed at the hilt of the dagger. What were they doing? She craned her neck trying to get a better look. The ball of light intensified before condensing into a solid object. She didn’t have a very good view of the item, but it looked like those spiky crystals broken out of rocks. Only this looked much sharper.
“Finally.”
Chills ran down Angela’s back as she recognized the voice. She sat back against the step and tried not to believe her ears. It was hard since she’d heard that voice so many times before. No way he would have anything to do with this.
“Get the box.”
Angela grasped the railing of the stairs as one of the figures moved. The hand over her mouth muffled the noise as she got a clean shot of her friend’s face. Eugene. How could he be involved with this? Her heart broke as she watched her friend reach out and grasp the crystal with a gloved hand. He pulled on it gently, but it didn’t move.
The man on the table screamed as Eugene put more force behind his tug and ripped the crystal away from the knife’s pommel.
The sound tore at Angela’s heart. Her blood ran cold as she watched in horror. How could anyone survive that? She had been sure the man was dead when they drove the knife into his chest. He hadn’t even made a sound. But now, he moaned heavily and pulled against the cords holding him down.
The people standing around the table didn’t seem to notice their victim’s plight. One of the robed figures held out a familiar wooden box.
Eugene placed the crystal inside. He closed the lid and gently took the box from the second man. He pushed on the hidden switch, sliding the complicated locking mechanism into place before focusing on his cohorts. “You two come with me.” He looked at the last of his helpers. “You, clean this up.”
“Yes, sir,” the three figures said together.
Eugene and his two chosen helpers turned and made their way out through a door leading into the main section of the barn.
Feeling started to come back to Angela’s legs as she watched the last man move around the table. Anger melted the fear freezing her to the seat. She didn’t stand a chance against four people, but she could handle one. Maybe she could do something to save the injured man.
When the cloaked figure turned away from her hiding place, Angela crept down the stairs and picked up a scrap of wood leaning against the wall. Moving slowly, she snuck up behind the man. A good hard swing connected the board with the back of his head. He dropped to a crumpled heap on the floor. The tray in his hands clattered to the floor spilling an array of noisy items across the wooden planks.
Angela clutched her board and glanced towards the door where the others had left. She didn’t know if they had heard their friend fall, but she didn’t want to stay around to find out. Dropping the board on top of the unconscious man, she turned to the guy tied to the table. Her heart hurt as she got a better look at him.
Pain etched lines across what she could see of his face through the scruff of his beard. His fine dress shirt and slacks were rumpled, and his golden hair was dark with old sweat. Even through the pain and dirt, he was a fine looking man. She eyed the dagger stuck in his chest. Please let him be alive. He was unnervingly still. Angela ran her hand up his arm, feeling his flesh. Thankfully it was warm and felt alive. “Hey, buddy,” she whispered. She moved to his head and touched him on the cheek. “Are you alive?”
He groaned in answer.
Her heart jumped with hope. “Shh,” she soothed, reaching for the ropes. “I’m here to help.” Her fingers worked on the tight knots, but her eyes kept jumping to the dagger sticking out of his chest. She chewed on her lip praying that it wasn’t as long as it had looked before Eugene had plunged it in. It was much too close to the man’s heart for comfort.
As soon as the man’s hand was loose, he pulled it from her grip and went for the blade.
Angela grabbed his arm before he could catch the hilt. “No,” she hissed in warning.
He turned his head and looked at her with golden eyes glazed with pain.
She pulled his hand back and held it. “It’s deep,” she explained. “You’ll bleed out if you remove it.”
The man licked his lips but nodded his understanding. He squeezed her hand before letting out a shallow breath and relaxing back into place.
Once she was sure he wouldn’t go after the knife again, she released his hand and went to free his other wrist. Sparing a moment, she glanced at the door again. “We need to get out of here.”
The man nodded. “Where are we?” he croaked. His voice was deep with pain.
“You’re at Minister Charles Lewis’s estate,” Angela explained as she hurried to untie his feet.
“What town?”
“Bransville.” She shook her head in disgust while she worked on the knots. Just telling the man he was on a minister’s estate had been stupid. Her father had three estates he used when dealing with governmental issues. The poor guy probably didn’t even know who Minister Lewis was.
“I see.”
Angela glanced up the table at the man, confused by what he meant. Did this man know father? That was a possibility. He looked like the type of person that would hang around the ministry. A horrible thought hit her. Could my father have anything to do with this? She turned the new idea over in her mind. She couldn’t see her father condoning this type of action, but then again, she couldn’t picture Eugene doing it either. They had to get out of there. Pushing the bad feelings back, she helped the man swing his legs off the table and roll into a standing position.