Free The Power of Love by Elizabeth Chandler Page A

her weight, swinging her whole body from side to side. She swung hard. He lost his grip, and Ivy spun away.
    Then he grabbed her again. He was pushing her now, toward a wall or a corner, she thought. She couldn’t see a thing inside the dark bag and had lost track of where she was. Even if she could get free of him, she didn’t know which way to run.
    The sack was so rough that each time he pulled it the threads burned against her face. She wanted to lift her hands and claw her way through so she could see her attacker’s face.
    He made no sound. She felt him shift his grip, holding her now with just one arm. Then she felt it, something pressed against her head, something hard and round—like the barrel of a gun.
    She began to kick and kick, and shriek.
    Then she heard a pounding sound from somewhere else in the house. Someone was pounding and calling, “Ivy! Ivy!”
    She tried to answer.
    She was hurtled forward and could not stop herself from falling. She slammed against something as hard as rock and slid down it. Metal things tumbled and clattered around her. Then everything went black.
    *    *    *
    “Ivy! Ivy!” Tristan called.
    “Ivy! Ivy!” Will shouted, pounding on the front door. Then he raced around the outside of the house, looking for some other way in.
    He saw Gregory’s car parked in the back. He stopped—Tristan stopped—at the broken window and the door that opened into Andrew’s office.
    “Ivy, what the—Who did this?” Gregory was saying, bending over her, gently pulling off the sack. “Are you okay? Easy now. You’re safe now.”
    Fireplace tools were scattered on the floor. Ivy rubbed her head and stared up at Gregory. Then they both turned to look at Will, who was framed by the open door. Tristan had just slipped out of Will, but he saw the fear and mistrust in Ivy’s face and the angry flush on Gregory’s.
    “What are you doing here?” Gregory demanded.
    Will was speechless, and even if Tristan had stayed inside him, he couldn’t have given an answer that would have satisfied Gregory or Ivy.
    “I don’t know,” Will said. “I just thought—I just knew I had to be here. I felt something was wrong and that I had to come.”
    With the angry color draining out of Gregory’s face, his skin looked paler than normal. He looked almost as shaken as Ivy.
    “Are you all right, Ivy?” Will asked.
    She nodded and turned away, resting her head against Gregory’s chest.
    “Is there anything I can do?” Will asked.
    “No.”
    “I’d better call the police,” he said.
    “You’d better,” Gregory said, his voice cold and unfriendly.
    When Will placed the call, he spoke calmly, but Tristan knew that his partner was as shaken and bewildered as he. Tristan knew little more than Will about how he had first sensed that Ivy was in danger.
    She needs you. The message had come to Tristan, though whether he’d heard it or simply understood it, he couldn’t say. But knowing that something was about to happen, and remembering that Lacey had said he could not rescue her himself, that he had to combine his powers with someone else’s, he had rushed right to Will, urging him to go to Ivy, to help her.
    It had been a struggle, especially at the beginning. Tristan had to learn to channel his energy, and gradually Will gave himself over to his direction. Tristan wondered if Will realized he had driven up the hill at eighty miles per hour, despite the upgrade and turns. Did Will remember racing around from the front to the back of the house faster than was humanly possible?
    But still not fast enough to catch Ivy’s attacker, thought Tristan. Until he knew who the attacker was, there was no way of guessing when he’d strike next, or how Will and he could protect Ivy.
    Will and he. He and Will. There was no denying now that Will cared for Ivy—and that Tristan needed him to.
    Tristan watched as Gregory picked up Ivy and carried her to the sofa. Ella crouched under Andrew’s desk, her eyes