Shawna screamed as a hand suddenly descended upon her shoulder. She turned in time to see a knife rising high in the glow of the lamp. She shrieked again, struggling to wrench free from her attacker.
She twisted and writhed. She was able to fight her attacker, she realized, because he was bleeding. Blood dripped from the hand that threatened her with the knife. Her attacker had already battled with David, she thought.
Thank God, for though the knife fell, it passed just inches from her shoulder, striking the stone wall.
She shrieked in terror as the knife rose once again, and she continued to fight the iron-hard fingers winding around her arm.
She couldn’t see the face of her attacker. He wore a cowled cloak, and she didn’t dare attempt to dislodge that cowl, lest she allow the knife to fall to her neck.
Once again, the knife plunged toward her.
Bearing down…straight for her heart.
It didn’t fall. The hand holding the knife was wrenched cleanly away from her. Just when she thought that death had found her at last in the crypts, David came catapulting against her would-be killer, pulling his knife arm aside, taking him off-balance and bringing him down to the floor. Yet as Shawna gasped for breath, the figure he had been chasing from the tomb returned, tearing back down the corridor. She shrieked out a warning.
But the figure had chosen on flight rather than fight—racing past them along the corridor, it swept up the lantern, swiftly dousing the flame.
The corridor was plunged into sudden blackness.
Then shots began to ricochet in the darkness once again, and Shawna sank low to the ground, desperately seeking the entrance to one of the vaults.
She heard footsteps moving wildly down the corridor, yet she kept her silence, trying not to let out her cries of fear and terror as she crawled along the floor, seeking David.
A match flared. She gasped despite herself.
“It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
David!
“Oh god, I thought you’d been shot!” she cried hysterically, slipping her arms around him.
“And I was afraid you were about to be sliced to ribbons.”
“You saved my life again.”
“Aye, that means you owe me doubly. But we can’t discuss that now. Find the lantern.”
“But—”
“Our lantern.” He struck another match for her, and she found her way back to the vault, swept up the lantern, and lit the lantern just as her fingers began to burn. She discovered then that David had one of the cowled figures on the floor. As she returned with the light, he pulled the cowl up off the man’s face.
David looked from the man to Shawna.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.” Shawna had never seen him before in her life.
The man, obviously badly injured and in pain, somehow managed a mirthless smile anyway. “Nay, a great lady the likes of you wouldn’t know me, Shawna MacGinnis. But you’ll come to know those of my kind very well!” he taunted. But then he began to cough. Blood spilled from his lips.
Shawna shivered violently. “Where is Sabrina Connor?”
“Ye’re anxious to join her, eh, m’lady? Perhaps it will happen soon enough.”
David gripped the man by the collar of his cloak. “Is she alive?” he demanded, shaking the man. “Is she alive?”
“Mercy!” the man cried. “She lives!” He inhaled on a rattling breath. “Mercy...”
David eased his hold on the man. “You’re dying,” David said flatly. “Tell us where Sabrina is, and perhaps God will look more kindly upon your hell-bent soul.”