Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

It took effort to collect all the spikes lying among the dirt and leaves. The soldier turned his head several times toward the flaming azalea and looked directly at Diego. Diego never moved. He barely breathed, releasing air one slow breath at a time. He wasn’t particularly worried. Rubin had this man in his sights, but more, he could kill him before the soldier could react. He was prepared. Diego was also confident in his ability to camouflage himself. Eventually, the sentry was satisfied with his job of cleaning up his mistake, and he glanced at his watch and hurried off.

It’s clear, Rubin reported. Head inside. I’ll be right behind you.

Diego didn’t like that Rubin was guarding him. That never sat well with him. It wasn’t just the fact that Rubin was his only living relative and he was determined not to lose him. Rubin was extraordinary in that he was a gifted healer, but being a psychic surgeon was beyond measure. Rubin might not like having a talent that defined him, but Diego knew he was needed in the world, particularly in the world of GhostWalkers. Rubin didn’t want to hear it, but it was true. All of the GhostWalkers knew they needed him, and they took extra precautions with him. Rubin detested that.

Rubin was suddenly crouching beside Luther’s door, sliding it open just enough to gain entrance. Diego slithered out from under the azalea shrub, careful not to disturb the clusters of flowers. He looked with disdain at the job the soldier had made of cleaning up the ground. He’d brushed it with it fingers and strewn a few leaves over the area. It didn’t look in the least bit natural. Luther would have known immediately that someone had been snooping around.

Rubin shook his head. Get a move on, Diego. The other sentry will be here in a few minutes. We have to find Luther’s entrance to the underground system. It’s not like he has many places for us to hide in his shack.

Rubin waited for Diego to go in first, covering his brother all the way. He knew it annoyed Diego, but that was too bad. He was already upset at possibly losing Luther—at Jonquille being in the hands of the squirrel men. He wasn’t going to take chances with his brother. He was well aware Diego thought to protect him. He was damn sick of everyone thinking he needed that protection. He was the last one to need protection. It was just that no one saw into him.

Rubin hadn’t been inside Luther’s home since Lotty had passed away. When they met with the old man, he always talked to them outside, and they respected that distancing. He didn’t know what he expected from Gunthrie, but the almost obsessively neat interior was a surprise. Even a shock. The fact that Luther had burned the marriage bed and had told Rubin he slept on a mat on the floor had conjured up images in Rubin’s mind that were very far from the truth. The home remained much like it had looked when Lotty was alive. The only thing missing was the bed.

There was no mess at all. The woodstove Lotty had loved so much to cook on, even when she had a much more modern stove, looked well cared for. Everything was in its place. The blankets she’d knitted or quilted were lovingly displayed on walls or folded at the end of the mat where Luther slept. The entire interior was a shrine to Lotty.

Rubin’s chest hurt at the thought of losing the old man. “We’ve got to find his door, Diego.” He glanced at his watch. “We’re running out of time.”

The cabin was small, essentially everything in one room. They each took a side and carefully inspected the floor to see if they could find where Luther had installed a trap door. Rubin moved his mat several times, thinking it had to be there, but how would his mat be moved back in the exact spot again? There were no signs of an entrance to an underground cavern.

“We’re going to have to get out of here,” Rubin warned. “Luther, you cunning old coot. Where would you put the entrance?” It had to be in his shack. He would want to be able to disappear fast. If not his mat, what else could hide a trapdoor?

There was the woodstove. The one chair. The little modern stove and sink. His gaze went back to the sink. Like his sink in the cabin, it had been modernized long after the cabin was built. They used the dark beneath it for storage. He crouched down and examined the interior. A wooden crate holding a few potatoes sat beneath the sink. He lifted it, and as he did, he felt his fingers catch under the crate. He lifted it higher. There was definitely a manmade mechanism attached to the crate, although it looked like it belonged there.