The Man In The Mask: Fabulous Beast/Night of the Magician by Jayne Ann Krentz, Stephanie James

• Read an Excerpt

Read an Excerpt

If you're the u.s. cavalry, you're a little late." The badly battered man with the silver eyes and the ebony cane managed a rather grisly parody of a smile before sliding slowly down the brick wall of the alley. He sank to his knees on the dirty cobblestones, bracing his shoulder against the bricks behind him. "But better late than never, I suppose."
The silver gaze was abruptly hidden by dark lashes as the man closed his eyes in pain. Although the extent of his injuries was obvious, he never relaxed the savage grip he had on the handle of the ebony cane.
Tabitha Graham, who had rounded the corner of the old alley only seconds before, stood staring in horrified shock at the sight of the beaten and bloody man. Her eyes widened in astounded recognition, and then she dropped the huge armload of packages she had been carrying.
"Oh, my God!" she breathed, heedless of the small fortune in souvenirs and trinkets she was abandoning in chaos at the entrance to the alley. She rushed forward, crouching at once beside the dark-haired man.
"What happened?" Desperately she tried to remember her first aid.
There was a fair amount of blood on the man's khaki shirt and slacks as well as on his face, but he didn't seem to be bleeding profusely from any one deep wound. Tabitha held her breath, struggling to control her own shock and anxiety so that she could deal with the physical shock and pain the man must have been experiencing. No severe bleeding. And he was breathing, albeit painfully.
Taking a resolute grip on herself, Tabitha mentally ran through the list of vital signs to be checked first. It had been so long since she'd taken that first-aid class! Her hands moved on hiskneeling figure, brushing gently over the broad shoulders and down to his waist, seeking the extent of the damage. When she lightly touched his rib cage, he gasped.
"Would you believe I walked into a brick wall?" he managed in an attempt at macabre humor. He didn't open his eyes. It seemed to be taking all his strength just to remain on his knees, leaning against the side of the alley.
"I might believe several people pushed you into that brick wall," Tabitha muttered as she finished the superficial inspection. "Here, lie down. You're not losing a great deal of blood and except for possibly a cracked rib, I don't think anything's broken. Are you feeling faint?"
"Hell, no. Women faint. Men pass out." He slumped a little farther down against the wall.
"Well, do you feel as if you're going to pass out?" Tabitha demanded, reaching out to steady him.
"Yes."
"Please. Lie down." She tried to ease him onto his side. "I think we should get your feet elevated. Don't want you going into shock. As soon as you're more comfortable I'll go for help."
"No!" The silver eyes flew open and she read the sudden command in them. "The ship sails in about half an hour, doesn't it?"
"Yes, but I don't think…"
"Listen. I'd rather be treated by the doctor on board the ship than risk getting stranded on this backwater island. Lord knows what kind of medical care is available here," he said urgently.
Tabitha chewed on her lip. "I'm not sure you should be moved."
"I'm damn well not going to spend the night in this alley!" He closed his eyes again and groaned as he changed position slightly. "Please. You're from the ship, too, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I thought I'd seen you on board," he muttered.
"Look, if you'll just help me get back to the wharf, I'd really appreciate it."
Tabitha frowned, realizing how important the matter was to him. He really didn't want to find himself stranded on the small Caribbean island where the cruise ship had docked for the afternoon. She couldn't blame him, she decided. If their positions had been reversed, she knew she'd rather trust herself to the medical care available on board the huge passenger ship than to the unknown facilities available locally.
"All right," she said reassuringly. "I'll find a way to get you back. Just stay still while I go flag down one of those crazy taxis."
He didn't answer; he didn't appear capable of answering. With a last anxious look at his hunched figure, Tabitha leaped to her feet and raced back toward the mouth of the alley. She nearly tripped over the sack containing the woven basket and the carved wooden dragon that had been among her last purchases.
Out on the narrow street she hailed the first small car which came into view. There was no need to worry about whether or not it was a taxi. One of the first things she had discovered when she'd gotten off the ship earlier in the day was that when a cruise ship was in town, every available car somehow metamorphosed into a taxi. The driver of this one screeched to a halt in front of her and grinned broadly.
"Taxi, lady?"
"Yes, but I need some help. There's another passenger. He's in the alley and he's been hurt. Will you give me a hand getting him into the car? We'll pay double the fare, naturally," she added quickly.
"Sure, lady." The man grinned even more cheerfully and jumped out of the somewhat banged-up automobile. "St. Regis very friendly island. Glad to help."
Without waiting, Tabitha turned and hurried back into the alley. The dark-haired man had sunk a little lower onto the cobblestones and his eyes were closed again. She could see the cold moisture on his brow and her sense of urgency increased. It was hot here on the island, but this man looked as if he were having chills. She noticed that his large hand was still clamped fiercely around the handle of the cane.
The cab driver whistled as he saw his other passenger. "Very bad. You need doctor, yes?"
"He wants the one on board the ship," Tabitha said hastily as the man with the cane tried to shake his head. It was obvious that the pain made the small movement sheer torture. "Here, give me a hand," she added and went forward to gently but firmly begin the difficult process of getting the battered man to his feet.
The car driver shrugged and obligingly stepped forward to help. Tabitha winced as she saw the whitening brackets on either side of the victim's hard mouth. The lines whitened even further as she and the taxi driver got him to his feet. But her fellow passenger said nothing as the three of them began the walk to the waiting car. Tabitha knew it was because it took his full willpower simply to make the journey.
Together she and the driver got the dark-haired man into the cab, and Tabitha slid into the back seat beside him. Her arm went around the man's shoulders in an instinctive effort to both comfort and steady him. She felt him stifle another groan of pain and then realized he was leaning heavily against her. His bruised face was turned into her shoulder and the brown lashes drooped against the high line of his cheek.
"Good medicine," the cab driver announced, reaching under his seat and withdrawing a small bottle of rum. He handed it back to Tabitha. "Give him some of this, lady. It help."
Doubtfully Tabitha took the bottle. "Do you really think he should have any alcohol?"
The silver eyes of the victim opened briefly, focusing on the rum bottle. "Definitely," he muttered huskily. He tried to raise a hand toward the bottle, but Tabitha moved it firmly out of reach and uncapped it. Then she painstakingly wiped the neck. "All right, but just a small sip," she cautioned, holding the bottle to his lips. It was an unsteady process because of the manner in which the driver was whizzing the small car through the one main street of town toward the wharf. The vendors lining the street didn't even glance up from their wares as the car whipped past. They were accustomed to the local style of driving. The cruise ship would be leaving in less than half an hour and no one wanted to miss a last-minute sale. The street was rapidly emptying of tourists.
The dark-haired man swallowed the sip of rum Tabitha allowed and tried for another. Tabitha pulled the bottle back from his mouth. "I really don't think you should have any more," she explained anxiously.
He raised his silver eyes to meet her uncertain sherry brown gaze. "Please?" he whispered. "I hurt, lady. I hurt so much."
Knowing she could offer nothing else in the way of immediate relief, Tabitha relented. Her victim swallowed greedily from the bottle and then, without any warning, he collapsed completely. One moment he was drinking rum, the next he was sprawled across her lap, his dark head resting on her thigh.
"Oh, my God," Tabitha whispered. "Hurry, driver. Hurry!" She stared down at the man in her lap. The blood from the small cuts on his face was staining her white cotton pants. Her fingers fluttered soothingly along his wrist, seeking a pulse. The beat seemed reasonably strong, she discovered in relief. Her eyes wandered over his inert body once more.
She had seen the man more than once during the three days the cruise ship had been at sea, but always from a distance. She had no idea who he was. The ebony cane which he still grasped even in his semiconscious state had always been in evidence when she had seen him on deck or in the dining room. It was a necessity, not an affectation, because the man walked with a decided limp.
He was heavy, lying across her legs, Tabitha thought fleetingly. Solid and hard and heavy but without an ounce of fat. Rather like a large, sleekly muscled animal. The dark, coffee brown hair was thick and cut conservatively in an apparent effort to tame a slight wave. The dark pelt was tousled now, a result of the violent activity the man had recently undergone, but the casual disarray of it did not make him look any younger. From a distance Tabitha had idly decided that he was probably almost forty and she saw nothing in him now to change that opinion.
In fact, Tabitha realized, up close the lines etched into his face indicated that he might even have passed his fortieth birthday. There was a fixed, implacable look about the aggressive nose and forceful jaw. The broadly carved features were neither sensitive nor aquiline. She could not read either intrinsic compassion or cruelty in the profile; simply a hard, unyielding strength. What had happened to his left leg to leave him with such a marked limp? she wondered. Perhaps an automobile accident.
What on earth had occurred in that miserable little alley? Had he been attacked by a group of young toughs who had been lying in wait for an unsuspecting tourist? With his limp and the evidence of the cane, this particular man might have seemed an especially easy target.
Curiously Tabitha reached into his pocket and found a worn leather wallet. Flipping it open, she discovered a Texas driver's license issued to one Devlin Colter. Whoever had assaulted him hadn't gotten the wallet, fortunately.
Devlin Colter. At least now he had a name. As the taxi came to a sliding halt in front of the docks, Tabitha hastily slid the wallet back into the pocket of Colter's khaki slacks. He stirred as she did so, reacting apparently to the cessation of motion rather than to the fact that she had been going through his pockets. Tabitha suddenly felt a little guilty.
"We're at the ship," she murmured soothingly. Her fingers gently stroked his arm. "I'll ask them to bring out a stretcher."
"Please don't," he muttered thickly. "This is going to be embarrassing enough as it is. Just help me out of the cab, will you?"
"Of course, but I really think…"
Devlin Colter didn't appear to be paying much attention to what she thought. His whole concentration was on getting to a sitting position. She heard him swear feelingly as he managed the feat. Then the cab driver was jumping out to assist his double-fare passengers.
Two of the cruise ship's crew lounging near the gangway saw Tabitha and her fellow passenger and hurried forward to assist.
"Have the doc paged, Emerson," one of the men said briskly as he took the weight of Devlin Colter. "And notify the captain. Looks like one of our passengers met up with an accident on shore." His eyes narrowed as he turned to glance at Tabitha. "Car accident?"
"No, at least I don't think so. I found him like this in an alley near the main market area. I think he's been beaten up by some punks."
"Yeah, that's what it looks like. We've never had any trouble on St. Regis before," the crewman said unhappily as he and another man guided the stumbling Colter toward the gangway. "Here, you take his cane. It's in the way."
"No," Colter growled through clenched teeth as he fought for consciousness. "I'll keep it.