Leigh looked at her for a moment, then said, “Let’s sit down. Sarah, do you think you can sense where Tucker is being kept?”
“If he was awake, I know I could. But he’s still asleep. Dreaming.”
Leigh waited until they were all sitting down before suggesting, “Try anyway. Try to concentrate on his physical sensations rather than his emotions. You may be able to shut out his dreams that way.”
Sarah was hesitant, wary of his nightmares, but she closed her eyes and tentatively reached out toward Tucker. Instantly, gooseflesh rose sharply along her arms and she shivered in a wave of coldness. It was very cold here, and very damp; there was water dripping somewhere. And another sound, very faint. Breathing. Someone’s breathing.
She was lying on her side on something not quite as hard as the floor, and it was dark when she opened her eyes. It should have been too dark to see, but she thought she could anyway, though more with another sense than with her eyes. She got up cautiously, vaguely aware of leaving something behind her and hating that, but intensely aware that she had to see what she could of this place.
She moved soundlessly several feet and then stopped, abruptly. Someone was right beside her. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him. She almost touched him.
Shadows.
Gooseflesh spread all over her now, and she found herself flinching to the side, drawing into herself. He hadn’t touched her, didn’t know she was there, and she had to make sure not to betray her presence. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was convinced that if he knew she was there, he would instantly kill Tucker.
Cautiously, moving with exquisite slowness, she eased past the shadow in the dark. There was a doorway she went through, and it puzzled her a bit because she was almost sure the door had been closed. And locked.
She had the overpowering sense of space around her, above her, cavernous and empty. No, she realized. Not empty.
Shadows.
They were all around, though not close. Watching, she realized. Waiting. Waiting for her to come. Whispering among themselves…
Sarah moved slowly through the darkness, listening intently and trying to get a sense of her surroundings—and avoid those lurking shadows. There were other doorways, and stone or concrete walls and old, old timbers. The air was musty and damp, the dripping of water somewhere an incessant sound.
She was so cold.
With fingers that were slowly going numb, she reached out to touch the walls around her. After several minutes, she touched a ledge or narrow table and upon it found rows of pillar candles connected with the wispy, sticky threads of cobwebs.
She jerked her hand back, wiping it fastidiously against her thigh, and for a moment had to stand perfectly still and breathe evenly. It was all right. Nothing here could hurt her. Because she wasn’t really here, was she? She was…well, she was somewhere else. So nothing in this place could hurt her.
But it could scare the hell out of her.
She forced herself to go on, searching the darkness with every sense except sight. The cavernous sensation had diminished as she had grown accustomed to the dark, and she was aware now of a roof of some kind not many feet above her head. In one small room, she found stacks of old furniture, the wood splintered and smelling of rot. In another, she found the tattered remains of some kind of cloth in moldy piles against the cold earthen walls. In still another, she found shelves and cabinets containing dusty, rusted objects she tentatively identified by touch.
She kept going, and after she passed through what she thought was the back of a closet, she found herself in a low-ceilinged corridor that felt like a tunnel. It was leading her away from the rooms and the place where she had gotten up from the floor, and though the air around her lightened and she was aware of climbing as though out of a pit, it disturbed her to get so far away from what she had left behind.
It was important, though, so she kept going. Until, finally, she pushed her way through heavy brush and found herself standing only a few yards from a rocky shore. The ocean, she realized, watching waves lapping against the rocks. She turned to look back at the tunnel’s entrance, finding that it was cut into almost solid rock with a cliff rearing steeply above it.
She lifted her gaze beyond the tunnel, beyond the cliff. And in the twilight, etched sharply against the sky, she could see a cross.
Behind her, something tugged sharply.
“I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then bring her out of it, dammit.”
“She has to find her own way back. If we disturb her now, she could lose the connection.”
“Look at her. Her skin’s like ice, she’s barely got a pulse—and she’s been like this for nearly an hour. What the hell is going on?”
“I told you. She’s out of body.”
“Christ. I thought she was just going to reach out to Mackenzie, not go visit him.”
“She did reach out. And since he was unconscious, it seems this was the only way she could find out where he is. By going there.”
“There must be a better way.”
“I don’t think so. My God, Brodie—she is the one!”
“She’s going to be the dead one if we don’t get her back soon. Sarah? Sarah!”
“Brodie—”
“Sarah!”
“What?” She opened her eyes, abruptly and completely awake and aware, and found three pairs of eyes staring at her. Their expressions varied from Cait’s half-fearful fascination to Leigh’s excited interest. Brodie just looked relieved.
“Jesus. Don’t do that again.”
Sarah shifted a bit in her chair and found herself a little stiff, but curiously refreshed and no more tired than she’d been before. Either this was getting easier, or she had borrowed some of Tucker’s strength. Or else this new thing required much less energy. But her hands were very, very cold. She rubbed them together. “How long was I gone?”
“You realize you were gone?” Leigh asked.
“Sure,” Sarah replied, absently stretching her arms out before her to ease the stiffness. “How long?”
Brodie glanced at his watch. “Since you closed your eyes, an hour and five minutes. You became a zombie about ten minutes into the procedure.”
She smiled at him. “A zombie?”
“Soulless,” he explained frankly. “A body with a beating heart. Creepy as hell.”
Rather to her surprise, Sarah found that his honest aversion didn’t make her feel like a freak. Or maybe she was just getting so accustomed to this that acceptance had built its own armor. “Sorry I creeped you out.”
“Oh, don’t mention it. I find this sort of thing happening with alarming frequency these days. You’d think I’d get used to it.”
Leigh cut in impatiently. “Sarah, were you there? With Tucker?”
She nodded. “It was dark; that’s why it took me so long. I had to feel my way around until I found the way out.”
Bewildered, Cait said, “I thought the way out was back through Tucker. Leigh said that’s how you got there, and—”
Sarah didn’t blame her for being confused. “I got there through Tucker, and I came back through him, but I was looking for a physical way out. One we could use when we actually—I mean physically—go there.”
There was a part of Sarah that couldn’t believe she was discussing this so calmly and matter-of-factly. Yet to another part of her, it seemed perfectly normal and nothing to get upset or excited about.