Dealers of Light by Lara Nance Page A

this morning—a homicide on the east end. They found a body in a dumpster, and he checked before the coroner got there. The poor man was completely empty of Light.”
    The news paralyzed Cara with horror. “A fresh body?”
    Amber nodded. “Less than twelve hours old, he thinks.”
    “Trauma?”
    “No thing that should cause death—just signs of superficial torture like small, shallow, knife cuts.”
    “ Crap .”
    “What are we go ing to do?” Amber fingered the jade cross she always wore at her throat.
    “Too many unexplained events are popping up related to Light-dealing. I should talk to Alistair. He’s the only one who might be able to unravel this mystery.” Cara gathered her pocketbook from the couch then hugged Amber.
    “Maybe you should stay here. ” Amber crossed her arms over her chest. “What if Rolf Van Harding is out there waiting? He could be the killer. I can call Tor.”
    “He’s not out there . I’ll be fine.”
    “Honey, please be careful .”
    “You , too,” Cara said over her shoulder and headed out the door, sending the bell into a frenzy of clangs. Anxiety churned in her stomach, despite her reassurances to Amber. Another death, and now the appearance of this mystery Dealer—too much of a bizarre coincidence not to be connected. She might have just come face to face with a depraved killer. She shivered and hopped into her car, locking all the doors.

 
     
    Chapter Six
     
    Rolf stood at the corner of Duke and Freemason Streets. The chill of Taker evil nipped at his skin. He shuddered in a combination of revulsion and anticipation, then slowly turned his head to glance down the street. So much energy. There must be twelve, at least. Over every other sensation, a deeper, more sinister awareness hovered. Desmond. His old enemy.
    Careful to suppress the signature of his energy, Rolf moved along the street, his awareness at the highest level. He dared not risk being captured by this group. Everything about the situation puzzled him. His hunt for Takers usually involved two or three at most—rogue Dealers who turned to Taking and succumbed to the allure of evil. This was something different. Organized and purposeful.
    He strolled along, keeping to the shadow of trees lining both sides of the street. Occasionally people passed him, but none glanced in his direction. He stopped across from a three-story brick townhouse. A rush of cold , putrid Taker essence assured him this was their residence. Tidal waves of disgust slammed into him and he clenched his hands into fists. Desmond’s pungent essence, though lingering, indicated he wasn’t currently present. A tall, lanky man stepped out the front door, and Rolf turned into the driveway of the opposite townhouse, disappearing behind a hedge.
    Huddled in the mass of leafy branches, Rolf waited while the man descended the steps to the street. A half dozen other men followed , piling into a van parked at the curb.
    An unaccustomed sliver of fear sliced into him. So many! More than he’d ever faced. But he had to take them on. Takers had to be destroyed no matter what.
    He glanced at the windows facing the street. Nothing moved in their dark depths and he sensed no other presence. The chill on his skin faded. He scurried across the road to the side of the house. He circled the structure, stopping at the first window to peer in, but no one stirred inside. Luckily, the tall hedges on the sides of the house hid him from view if any neighbors happened to be looking out their windows.
    He vaulted over the backyard fence and edged up to the sliding glass doors on the patio. Nothing. He tugged on the door handle and it slid open. What luck. He slipped inside and listened, but no sound of inhabitants reached him.
    The living room housed a traditional Queen Anne sofa, loveseat and wingchairs in deep blue. Thick , off-white carpet softened his steps when he crossed the floor to the walnut wood staircase opposite the front door, then ran up the