Blackthorne (The Brotherhood of the Gate Book 1) by Katt Grimm Page B

had encountered twice was terrifying and incomprehensible. Added to the mix was the dark presence of someone else in her thoughts. Someone deadly. Some thing deadly. Or was that someone Blackthorne himself?
    At 5:00 a.m., in the dark of the early morning, she packed a gym bag and loaded Ellie Mae into the Blazer, heading to town to take out her frustrations on the climbing wall at the gym.
    The huge dog stood at attention in the cargo area of the SUV the entire drive to town. The hair on the hound’s neck stood on end and every so often a low growl could be heard as the dog stared into the darkness.
    Rhi resolutely ignored the behavior of her pet and the feeling that giant shadows were flying over her sturdy vehicle. I’m not losing my mind. I’m not losing my mind. I’m not losing my mind. She managed to drink her entire thermos of coal black coffee before arriving at the gym, eyes red and haggard. Eat the Mountain opened at 5:30 a.m., owing to the erratic sleeping habits of the miners and casino workers. Several other early birds had braved the dark to punish themselves in a building where the motto was “Eat the Mountain One Bite at a Time.” The cavernous building was filled with weights, exercise and cardio equipment, and three concrete climbing walls, all faux painted to resemble the outdoor rocks all of the climbers preferred when the weather was warmer. Multicolored handholds studded the walls. Most climbers enjoyed a temperate climb in the gym more than the icy one they would have if they went bouldering on the cliffs of the Garden of the Gods farther down Ute Pass or the walls of Phantom Canyon just past the neighboring town of Victor, Colorado. Various routes had been marked with multicolored duct tape and monikers such as “Oh Shit” and “Satan’s Monkey Bars.” The names adorned each route, written on the first piece of duct tape marking a route by a Sharpie pen. “This goes to show…never mix beer, climbing, and Sharpie pens.” Rhi grinned at the memory of the party she’d attended at the gym a few weeks ago when the present routes had been so named. One of her favorite climbing partners was waiting at the front counter for a likely victim. He looked like a reject for the part of Spicoli in Fast Times at Ridgemont High and like that iconic character, Rhi mused amusedly, Nate didn’t have the common sense God gave a domestic turkey.
    She pointed Ellie Mae to a convenient corner and asked her friend to lie down. With a grumble, the dog obeyed, but kept one brown eye opened and focused on her mistress.
    “Hey Nate.” She called to the large surfer type man with peroxide blond dreadlocks hugging the counter. “Do you have a belay slave for the morning?” She was referring to the practice of climbers spotting each other via harnesses and ropes.
    Nate Evans shoved himself back from the counter to examine her much shorter frame as she stood before him. He was just a big lug. “I missed the opening rush, Rhi. I was in the bathroom.”
    “You seem to spend an extraordinary amount of time on the throne, Nate.”
    “Hell, if they had held high school in the toilet, I would have gotten straight A’s. I do my best thinking there. I told Burl I’d watch the counter this morning, but I think I can spot you a few climbs and keep an eye opened,” the unshaven Nate replied, reaching below the counter for his phone. “Besides, Ellie Mae will let me know if anyone comes in.”
    Rhi grinned. It was pitch black outside. Only the truly mental were up at this hour in the gym. She was proud to be one of them.
    They made their way to one of the emptier climbing walls and prepared for the climb. Rhi put her harness and climbing shoes on, and then she hooked up to the purple and green static line hanging off the wall. She was busy concentrating on the intricate knots used to hook her harness up when a large shadow fell over her. The sounds of the gym suddenly became muted to her ears. She didn’t have to raise