Raintree: Sanctuary Read online

  Praise for New York Times bestselling author

  BEVERLY BARTON

  “Page-turning suspense and an evolving romance make for a satisfying read.”

  —Booklist on Dangerous Deception

  “Smart, sexy and scary as hell. Beverly Barton just keeps getting better and better.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Lisa Jackson on The Fifth Victim

  “With its sultry Southern setting and well-drawn characters, this richly textured tale ranks among the best the genre has to offer.”

  —Publishers Weekly on What She Doesn’t Know

  Dear Reader,

  My friends Beverly and Linda and I have worked on the concept for these books for about four years. We’ve spent hours and hours discussing them, playing with ideas and laughing our heads off. Not that these books are funny, but after a while we’d get sort of punch-drunk and go off on tangents. One such tangent was limericks (There was a young man from Paducah…), which of course had nothing to do with the Raintree books.

  We loved working out the mythology behind the Raintree, extraordinary people trying to live in the ordinary world without being found out. We loved the characters. They are all very human, and at the same time they are…more than human. I hope you enjoy them, too.

  Linda Howard

  BEVERLY BARTON

  RAINTREE: SANTUARY

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  To my dear friend Leslie Wainger, an extraordinary, insightful editor who appreciates unique ideas, encourages individual creativity and inspires her writers to learn, grow and spread their wings.

  To my Raintree cocreators, Linda Winstead Jones and Linda Howard, two of the most talented writers I know and friends not only of the heart but also of the soul.

  PROLOGUE

  Sunday, 9:00 a.m.

  On this extraordinary June day, only a week away from the summer solstice, Cael Ansara watched and waited as the conclave gathered in their private meeting chambers here at Beauport. He and he alone knew just how momentous this day would be for the Ansara and the future of their people. Two hundred years ago, his clan had lost The Battle with their sworn enemy and been all but annihilated. The few who survived had found solace here on the island of Terrebonne and, generation by generation, had grown in strength and numbers. Like the proverbial Phoenix, the Ansara had risen from the ashes, stronger and more powerful than ever.

  One by one, the members of the high council came together this Sunday morning as they did once a month, speaking quietly among themselves, comparing notes on the family’s various widespread enterprises as they waited for the Dranir to arrive. Judah Ansara, the all-powerful ruler who was respected and feared in equal measure, had inherited his title from his father. From their father.

  What would the noble council say, what would they think, how would they react, when they learned that the Dranir of the Ansara was dead? As soon as word came in that Judah had been killed, Cael knew he would have to act fast in order to take control and secure what was rightfully his. Naturally, he would pretend to be as shocked as everyone else, and would make a great show of mourning his younger half brother’s brutal murder.

  I will even swear vengeance on Judah’s behalf, promising to hunt down and kill the person responsible for his death.

  Cael smiled, the corners of his mouth curving ever so slightly. Even if several members of the clan suspected him of being behind Judah’s murder, no one would ever be able to prove that he had sent a skilled warrior to eliminate the only obstacle in his path to ultimate power. Nor would they be able to prove that he had been the one to bestow a spell of ultimate strength and cunning on that warrior so that he would be equal, if not superior, to his opponent. All would soon learn that Judah the Invincible had been defeated.

  At long last, after a lifetime of being the bastard son, of waiting and plotting and planning, he would soon take his place as the Dranir. Was he not the elder son of Dranir Hadar? Was he not as powerful as his younger brother, Judah, perhaps even more so? Was he not better suited to lead the great Ansara clan? Was it not his destiny to destroy their enemy, to wipe every single Raintree from the face of the earth?

  Judah claimed that the time was not right for an attack, for all-out war, that the Ansara clan was not ready. At the last council meeting, Cael had confronted his brother.

  “We are a mighty people, our powers strong. Why do we wait? Are you afraid to face the Raintree, my brother?” Cael had asked. “If so, step aside and I will lead our people to victory.”

  At the very moment he had confronted his brother, Cael had already made his plans and had been preparing assignments for the Ansara who looked to him for guidance. He had endowed each young warrior with protective spells. First, the most fearsome of his followers—Stein—would kill Judah. Then Greynell would strike a deadly blow to the very heart of the Raintree, in their home place, the land that had been the family’s sanctuary for generations. After that, Tabby would eliminate the Raintree seer, Echo, to prevent her from “seeing” what devastating tragedies awaited her clan.

  Unfortunately, only one member of the council had agreed with Cael. One of twelve. Alexandria, the most beautiful and powerful female member of the royal family and third in line for the throne, was his first cousin. She had once been Judah’s faithful supporter, but when Cael promised her a place at his side if he were to become the Dranir, she had secretly switched allegiances. What did it matter that he had no intention of sharing his power with anyone, not even Alexandria? Once he ruled the Ansara, no one would dare defy him.

  “It is unlike Judah to be late,” Alexandria said to the others now.

  “I am sure there is a good reason.” Claude Ansara, another cousin, had been Judah’s closest confidant since they were boys. Claude was second in line to the throne, right after Cael himself, his now deceased father a younger brother to Cael and Judah’s father.

  Rumblings rose from the others, some concerned by Judah’s tardiness, others speculating that undoubtedly there had been an emergency of some sort of which they were not aware. The Dranir had never been late for a council meeting.

  Why has there been no telephone call? Cael wondered. Why hasn’t the news of Judah’s death been made known? Stein had been given orders to disappear immediately after killing Judah, and not to resurface until Cael was irrefutably in charge of the Ansara and could give him permission to return to fight the Raintree. Soon. On the day of the summer solstice.

  Once the Raintree had been destroyed, the Ansara would rule the world. And he would rule the Ansara.

  Suddenly the chamber doors burst open as if a mighty wind had ripped them from their golden hinges. A dark, snarling creature, his icy gray eyes surveying the room, stormed into their midst. Clad in black boots, black pants, a bloodstained white shirt and ripped black vest, Judah Ansara arrived, growling like the ferocious beast he was. The wall of windows facing the ocean rattled from the force of his rage.

  Cael felt the blood drain from his face, and his heart stopped for one terrifying moment when he realized that Judah had survived the assassination attempt. He had been able to defeat a warrior fighting under a spell created by Cael’s incredibly powerful magic, which meant that Judah’s powers were undoubted
ly far greater than Cael had realized. But that wasn’t of key importance right now. Even the fact that Stein was dead was unimportant in the wake of a far greater concern. What Cael needed to know was whether Stein had lived long enough to betray him?

  “Lord Judah.” Alexandria rushed to his side but stopped short of touching him. “What has happened? You look as if you’ve been in a battle.”

  Whirling to face her, Judah narrowed his gaze and glared at her through sharp, shadowed slits. “Someone within my own clan wishes me dead.” His voice reverberated with the throaty intensity of a man barely controlling his anger. “The warrior Stein came into my bedchambers at dawn and attempted to murder me in my sleep. The woman who shared my bed was his accomplice and had thought to drug me last night. But they were both fools to think I would not sense danger and act accordingly, despite the strong magical spell that had been placed on Stein. I switched drinks with the lady, so she was the one sleeping soundly, while I was dressed and ready for battle when Stein slipped in through the secret passage to my quarters that only you, the council, even know exists.”

  Cael realized that he must speak, must react with outrage, lest suspicion fall immediately upon him. “Are you implying that someone on the council…?”

  “I imply nothing.” Judah speared Cael with his deadly glare. “But rest assured, brother, that I will discover the identity of the person who sent Stein to do his dirty work, and when the time is right, I will have my revenge.” As Judah rubbed his bloody shoulder, a fresh red stain appeared on his shirt.

  “My God, you’re still bleeding.” Claude went to Judah, his gaze thoroughly scanning Judah’s big body for signs of other injuries.

  “A few knife wounds. Nothing more,” Judah said. “Stein was a remarkable opponent. Whoever chose him, chose well. Only a handful of Ansara warriors have battle skills that equal mine. Stein came close.”

  “No one has your level of abilities,” Councilman Bartholomew said, as he and the other council members surrounded Judah. “You are superior in every way.”

  “If your battle with Stein was at dawn, why are you still bloody and disheveled?” Alexandria asked. “Couldn’t you have bathed and changed clothes before the meeting?”

  Judah laughed, the sound deep, coarse and mirthless. “Once my men disposed of Stein’s body and the body of his accomplice, the whore Drusilla, I intended to bathe and make myself presentable, but a telephone call from the United States—from North Carolina—interrupted my plans. What I learned from the conversation required immediate action. I spoke directly with Varian, the head of the Ansara team assigned to monitor the Raintree sanctuary.”

  The council members murmured loudly, and then elderly Councilwoman Sidra spoke for the others. “Tell us, my lord, was the call concerning the Raintree?”

  Judah nodded; then again cast his gaze directly on Cael. “Your protégé, Greynell, is in North Carolina.”

  “I swear to you—”

  “Do not swear a lie!”

  Cael trembled with fear, all the while hating himself for cowering in the wake of his brother’s fury. Squaring his shoulders and looking Judah directly in the eyes, Cael faced the Dranir’s wrath. He reminded himself that he was an equal, that he was the elder son and deserved to rule the Ansara, that the failure of his most recent plot to dethrone his brother did not mean that he was not destined to rule. Regardless of what Judah said or did, he could not stop the inevitable. Not now. It was too late.

  “Did you know that Greynell had gone to North Carolina?” Judah demanded.

  “I knew,” Cael admitted. “But I didn’t send him. He acted on his own.”

  Judah growled. “And you know what his mission is, don’t you?”

  Cael wished that he could destroy his brother here and now and be done with it. But he dared not act. When Judah died, his blood should not be on Cael’s hands.

  “Yes, my lord, I know that some of the young warriors grow restless. They don’t want to wait to wage war on the Raintree. A few have taken it upon themselves to act now instead of waiting until you tell them the time is right.”

  Judah swore vehemently. The windows shivered and cracked. Fireballs rained down from the ceiling. The marble floor beneath their feet shook, and the walls trembled.

  Claude placed his meaty hand on Judah’s shoulder and spoke softly to him. The shaking council chambers settled suddenly, the fires burning throughout the room died down, and the broken glass windowpanes jangled loudly as they fell out and hit the floor.

  Judah breathed heavily. “Greynell is on a mission to penetrate the Raintree home place, their sanctuary.”

  Cael swallowed hard.

  “Who is his target?” Judah demanded.

  Did he lie and swear he did not know? Or did he confess? Cael could feel Judah probing his mind, searching for a way to penetrate the barrier he barely managed to keep in place. If he himself were not so powerful, he could never withstand his brother’s brutal psychic force.

  “Mercy Raintree.” Cael spoke the name with reverence. The woman might be a Raintree, but her abilities were legendary among the Ansara as well as her own people. She was the most powerful empath living today.

  Judah’s nostrils flared. “Mercy Raintree,” he said, his voice deadly calm and chillingly restrained, “is mine. I claimed her. She is my kill.”

  ONE

  Sunday, 9:15 a.m.

  Sidonia busied herself with breakfast preparations as she did every morning, moving slowly about the big kitchen. Like the other rooms in the old house, the kitchen had been constructed two hundred years ago, when the Raintree first settled in the hills of North Carolina. Shortly after The Battle. Dante and Ancelin Raintree had claimed nine hundred and ninety-nine acres of wilderness, establishing a home place for the Raintree clan, a safe haven where they could recuperate and rebuild after the ravaging war with the Ansara. Over the years, the house had been remodeled numerous times, but some things never changed around here, such as honor, duty and the love of family.

  The main house sat atop one of the foothills, surrounded by the forest, with spring-fed streams, ancient trees and an abundance of wildlife. Originally built of wood and rock, the house had been bricked a hundred years ago and wings added to the original structure. Two dozen cottages dotted the landscape within the boundaries of the safe haven, some occupied by relatives, many empty a good part of the time but kept ready for visiting members of the Raintree clan. Family was always welcome.

  Sidonia, a distant relative of the royal family, had come to work for them when she’d been a girl of eighteen, brought into the household of Dranir Julian when his wife, Vivienne, was carrying their first child. Young Prince Michael had been an only child for many years, and he had bonded with Sidonia so much that she became like a second mother to him. It was only natural that when he grew to manhood, married and became a father, he chose her to be the nanny for his own children. And when her Michael and his beloved Catherine had been brutally murdered seventeen years ago, it had fallen to her to look after the royal siblings—Dante, Gideon and Mercy.

  Dante now lived in Reno, Nevada, owned a gambling casino and was still single, despite knowing full well he was expected to produce an heir. As the Dranir, he oversaw the Raintree clan and handled the clan’s finances, having almost doubled the family’s vast wealth during the past ten years. His younger brother, Gideon, lived in Wilmington and worked as a police detective. Gideon, too, was single and had made it perfectly clear to one and all that he did not intend to marry and most certainly would never father a child. Mercy remained at the Sanctuary as its keeper. Like her great-aunt Gillian before her, Mercy had been born a powerful empath, and so it fell to her to be the family’s guardian, the caretaker of all things Raintree.

  The nine hundred and ninety-nine acre refuge lay on a fault line, and whenever there were any shifts in the earth, any small tremors or minor earthquakes, those forces of nature simply spread out and went around the shielded sanctuary. But the Raintree absorbed the
energy produced by the earth’s numerous little hiccups. Long ago, a triad of royal Raintrees had placed a cloak of protection about the land, and, yearly, Mercy and her brothers renewed that ancient spell on the day of the Vernal Equinox in early spring. Only someone possessing magic power equal to or greater than the Raintree royals could ever penetrate the invisible barrier that shielded the sanctuary from outsiders.

  Sidonia shivered as she recalled the frightening tales of the Ansara and the legend of The Battle that had wiped the evil warrior clan from the face of the earth. All except a handful who had escaped, never to be heard from again.

  Rolling out biscuit dough, Sidonia pretended not to see the small child tiptoeing into the room. Perhaps it was the weakness of approaching old age—after all, she was eighty-five now—but she loved this little girl with a devotion that was almost sinful. Princess Eve Raintree, a beautiful, charming, precocious imp, had stolen Sidonia’s heart the first moment she laid eyes on her. Princess Mercy had given birth at home, in her bedroom upstairs, only she and Sidonia present, as Mercy had wished. Her labor had been hard, but not difficult. Her child had come into the world a perfect specimen of feminine beauty, with her mother’s golden hair and delicate features. And with the be witching green Raintree eyes, a dominant hereditary characteristic that marked the ones who possessed such eyes as true Raintrees.

  Sidonia refused to think about that other small but significant here ditary mark the child possessed, a mark known only to her and to Mercy. That one detail set Eve apart from all others and made her special in a way that must be kept secret, even from Dante and Gideon.

  Eve crept up behind Sidonia, who held her breath, waiting to see what devilish trick the little one would conjure up this morning. Suddenly the rolling pin flew out of Sidonia’s hands and danced through the air, landing with a thud in the middle of the kitchen floor. Gasping as if she were truly startled, Sidonia whipped around and held her hand over her heart.