Lucky Stars

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Lucky Stars Page 50

by Kristen Ashley


  She didn’t miss the pain that radiated throughout her skull when something crashed into it.

  However, this lasted nary a moment before all went black and Belle Abbot collapsed to the thick carpet covering the stone floor of one of the many halls in Chy An Als Point.

  * * * * *

  Jack

  The feeling seized him, so fierce, he was paralysed for a split second.

  Then he moved and spoke, the piercing pain in his gut intensified to such an extreme, it was nearly debilitating.

  But he didn’t hesitate.

  “Jensen,” he barked, “come with me. I’ll get you a torch. Then you find Angus. Mum, Lila, Rachel, you stay here.”

  He was striding to the door as her heard his mother start, “Jack, what on –?”

  And Lila’s, “Is something –?”

  As well as Rachel’s, “Where’s Belle?”

  He stopped at the door and saw Jensen close. The man didn’t ask a single question. He was a man. He was also a father. He felt Jack’s mood and he wasn’t wasting time.

  “None of you leave this room,” Jack ordered.

  “Jack, darling, what –?” Joy began.

  “Do not… leave… this room,” he clipped, jerked his chin up to Jensen and prowled out.

  He was stalking down the hall, Jensen on heels when Jensen asked, “Dude, you gonna fill me in?”

  Jack didn’t tell him that he knew. That he simply, for no reason that was sane, knew that Belle was in danger.

  Instead, he shared, “The lights are out. The phones are out. Both Belle and my mobiles have disappeared. The dogs have disappeared. Angus has not joined us. Cassandra and Yasmin have not yet arrived. And Belle went to the bathroom too fucking long ago. None of this is a coincidence. Something’s wrong.”

  “The storm –” Jensen started.

  “The storm does not explain two missing mobiles, Angus’s unusual delay in taking the opportunity to drink whisky and my dogs disappearing.”

  “Cassandra’s protection –”

  “Is magical,” Jack finished for him. “If the threat to Belle is real, human, in this fucking realm, it doesn’t…”

  He turned into the kitchen, trailed off and stopped dead.

  This was because he found the kitchen dark and deserted. No Elaine. No staff.

  This was also because his mind’s eye brought up a picture of Belle.

  Always but always she wore Cassandra’s protection amulet around her neck. Even to bed.

  Tonight, she was wearing his diamonds around her neck.

  No amulet.

  “Fuck!” he hissed then strode to the drawer with the torches.

  “Jack,” Jensen whispered, his concern heavy in his tone.

  He handed Jensen a torch and tagged one for himself.

  Then he issued orders, “Find Angus. As you try to find him, find your mobile or any mobile. Get it to Lila. She calls 999. She calls Cassandra. She calls and checks on Yasmin if Yasmin is not with Cassandra. Then she calls Lachlan and Lorna and she tells them to get to The Point as soon as they can. In that order. You don’t wait for her to make these calls. You keep searching for Angus and my fucking dogs.”

  “Right,” Jensen whispered, didn’t hesitate and Jack saw the torchlight bobbing as the older man raced from the kitchen.

  Taking a deep breath even as he moved swiftly, Jack turned on his own torch and strode to the door he’d exited months ago with Belle the night they met when he was guiding her out to show her the stables.

  He moved into the dense fog and pouring rain as lightning lit the night, bouncing against the looming fog, making it eerie, threatening. And he moved through it as the flash disappeared and the thunder rolled.

  But he wasn’t headed to the stables.

  He was headed in a sprint to Belle’s cliff.

  The site of Brenna Addison’s murder.

  * * * * *

  Mickey

  “We have to land, mate. This storm, this fog –” his pilot friend said into Mickey’s earphones.

  “We’re over Devon,” Mickey cut him off.

  “We won’t make it to Cornwall in this weather,” his friend retorted as the plane bounced alarmingly in the storm.

  “Try,” Mickey bit out.

  “Mick –”

  “Try,” Mickey growled.

  The pilot growled back but it was merely an angry, worried sound, not an intelligible word and he flew on thinking if they got out of this alive, Mickey Dempsey was going to owe him big.

  Huge.

  * * * * *

  Lorna

  Lorna, driving too fast on the rain-slicked roads through the fog so thick she could barely see past the headlamps on her car, took her life in her hands (further) when she snatched up the ringing mobile sitting on the seat beside her.

  She didn’t look at the display. She just took the call and put it to her ear.

  “Talk to me,” she ordered.

  “You close?” Lach asked in her ear.

  “The good news is, no one but me is stupid enough to be on the roads tonight, even the police so I’ve got a straight shot. The bad news is, I’ve called Cass three times since I connected with her and got no answer. I’ve called The Point, no answer. Belle, Jack, Lila –”

  “Me too,” he interrupted her. “And I’ve called Uncle Angus six times. Nothing.”

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Lach,” she warned, her voice low.

  “Me either, love,” he whispered. “Can you think of anyone close we can send there?”

  “Nope,” she answered.

  “Fuck,” he muttered then, louder, he ordered, “Drive but be safe. I’ll see you there.”

  “See you there.”

  She disconnected, tossed the phone on the seat beside her, concentrated as best she could and drove.

  Fast.

  * * * * *

  Jack

  She wasn’t there.

  Belle wasn’t on her cliff.

  Brenna’s cliff.

  Breathing heavily, soaked to the skin, terrified out of his mind, he looked up at the dim shadow of The Point looming over him in the fog.

  Lightning rent the air followed by thunder and he saw them.

  He saw them.

  Two children in the window at the landing on the stairwell in the eastern turret. Two children who looked to be shouting and banging their fists against an invisible barrier.

  Myrtle and Lewis.

  Jack Bennett blinked.

  And when his eyes opened, he was no longer Jack.

  He was Joshua.

  And his children were up there.

  So without hesitation, his long legs moved, racing toward The Point.

  Racing to his children.

  * * * * *

  Caleb

  Caleb Caldwell’s body swayed violently and he blinked.

  Then he felt it.

  Rain pummelling his skin.

  Earth beneath his feet.

  He looked down.

  Earth beneath his feet, solid, real, right there.

  He was not in Bennett’s brother.

  He was real.

  He was himself.

  He was back.

  His head shot up and his eyes focused on the drifting fog, seeing James Bennett racing through it toward The Point.

  Caleb smiled.

  Then he raced after him.

  * * * * *

  Angus

  “Dude, you okay? Dude? Angus? Angus?”

  Jensen was shaking him. Angus, head foggy and killing him, blinked, feeling thick moisture on his face as he pushed up.

  “God, man, God! I can’t find any fucking phones and, dude, you totally need an ambulance.”

  Angus heard his voice, saw his shadow but it penetrated that the room he was in and beyond was dark.

  Then he remembered.

  “The other,” he whispered.

  Jensen ignored his whisper and ranted on. “Something’s whacked, man. Whacked. I found those g
irls, the woman, you know, the servants. They were asleep, dude. Asleep. All piled on top of each other in a corner in a room off the kitchen. Nothin’ I could do would wake ‘em, Angus. They… were… out.”

  “The other,” Angus repeated on a whisper.

  “What?” Jensen asked.

  He tried to focus on the man’s shadow. “The other.”

  “You’re fucked up, dude. You got a head wound. Sit tight, I’m gonna –”

  His hand darting out, with fierce strength he latched onto Jensen Abbot’s forearm.

  “There is another,” he declared, his voice getting stronger. “A partner. A woman. A witch. Belle’s in danger.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. My baby girl has disappeared. The dogs –”

  Swiftly, ignoring the lightening in his head that caused him to sway slightly, Angus got to his feet.

  “Let’s go,” he stated, moving toward the shadowed door.

  “Dude, you need to –”

  Angus whirled to him, his kilt twirling. “Jensen, let’s go.”

  Then he turned back and ran to and through the door, not waiting to see if Jensen followed.

  * * * * *

  Belle

  “Please turn that off,” Belle whispered, pressing into a corner of a room, her head foggy and killing her, blinking against the light from the torch being shined into her face, feeling thick moisture dribbling through the hair on the side of her head.

  “Yes, you’re pretty. Very pretty,” she whispered back and it was so dark, her head muddled from the blow, the torchlight blinding her, Belle couldn’t see her. She couldn’t even see what room she was in.

  “I need to –” she started.

  “I knew, of course, I saw your pictures in the paper, all of them. But he told me. Again and again and again and again how pretty you were. Prettier than me. Better than me. Your eggs were the best in the world. Your hair was so soft, such a pretty colour. Your eyes, so grey, so beautiful. Your clothes so fashionable. And you designed them. You. The Tiny Dynamo. His beautiful Belle. His beautiful, sweet, perfect Belle who could do… no… wrong.”

  “Who are you?” Belle whispered, knowing, whoever she was, she was insane.

  She shined the light in Belle’s face, Belle blinking at the light and the throbbing in her head and this went on for long moments before she finally whispered her answer.

  “I’m nobody.”

  * * * * *

  Baron, Gretl and Shadow

  Having beaten down his stall door, Shadow galloped through the stables and proceeded to hammer at the stable doors with his hooves as now both Baron and Gretl barked loud and howled louder.

  The latch no match for Shadows powerful blows, it gave way and both doors swung open.

  Without hesitation, all three animals burst into the dark, stormy night.

  * * * * *

  Jack/Joshua

  Joshua raced up the turret taking the stone steps two at a time. He rounded the curving stairwell to the landing and both of his children’s eyes came to him.

  But there was something wrong with them.

  He could see through them.

  “Jack, no!” Lewis cried, his son’s eyes on him, wide and horrified.

  But he didn’t falter as he charged to them. They floated, yes, floated away from him, across the landing, their young bodies slamming into what appeared to be an invisible barrier behind them so when he raced across the landing they were easy to catch.

  And catch them he did. Dropping to his knees, he swung his long arms out to the sides and curled them around their wee bodies.

  Bodies that solidified instantly at his touch, coming real, forming flesh, so when Joshua held his children to him, he felt their warmth against his frame and more, they felt the power of his.

  “Oh my gracious, Lewis,” Myrtle breathed.

  “You’re safe,” Joshua whispered, pulling them closer.

  “Belle,” Lewis whispered back, Joshua’s head came up and he looked to his son.

  “Lewis?” he questioned.

  “Belle,” Lewis repeated in a whisper then louder, “Belle.” Then Joshua watched his son’s eyes dart over his shoulder and he shouted, “Poppa!”

  Joshua released them, got to his feet and whirled just as Caleb Caldwell hit the landing, his arms swinging out, both his hands wrapped around a thick, heavy candlestick and he struck.

  * * * * *

  Belle

  “Sick of it,” the madwoman whispered as Belle pulled herself together and it occurred to her hazy brain she should get the heck out of there. “Sick of hearing it. Sick of feeling it. Sick of it!”

  “I –” Belle started just as she started to edge along the wall to escape but suddenly of its own accord, her body locked.

  Then she blinked.

  And when she opened her eyes, she was no longer Belle.

  She was Brenna.

  And her children and Joshua were in danger.

  So without hesitation, her mind clear, the pain in her scalp dulled, her legs moved to start racing toward the door.

  She only got two steps before she was caught, shoved back and she hit the wall.

  She stared at the shadowy woman who stood before her.

  “Let me pass,” she demanded and for her words she felt the sharp sting of a slap on her cheek and her head jerked violently to the side as the woman struck her.

  “You’ve spoken enough over the years, Belle Abbot, and you weren’t even there. Now, I get to do the talking,” the woman said to her.

  Brenna ignored this lunacy, one thing on her mind and started again toward the door but did not get very far before the woman again was upon her. She shoved, she pushed, they grappled and kicked.

  “Why are you doing this!” she cried as she struggled. “Let me pass! My husband and children need me.”

  “I don’t care!” Came the demented shriek in response as Brenna was viciously shoved away.

  She lost control of her limbs and reeled back but, with effort, she remained standing only to see the woman had grabbed hold of something and was coming her way swiftly, arm raised.

  She was close, there wasn’t time to escape so Brenna cowered and lifted her arms to deflect the blow.

  The woman didn’t make it because Joshua’s two Alsatians came barking and snarling into the room. Baron leaped through the air and landed on the woman, knocking her sideways. Then the dog kept at her as Gretl came darting to Brenna then retreating quickly to the door, darting back to Brenna and to the door again, whining.

  “You know where they are,” Brenna whispered.

  Gretl woofed softly.

  “Take me,” Brenna urged, Gretl took off out the door with Brenna racing after her.

  Racing to her husband and children.

  * * * * *

  Angus

  With Jensen at his heels, Angus turned the corner to the stairwell of the eastern turret and he slammed full body into Jack Bennett.

  He wheeled back two feet and stared at the shadowy figures.

  No, not just Jack.

  Jack holding Myrtle firm to his hip with one arm, his other hand engulfing in a strong grip the hand of Lewis.

  Both the children were real. Not phantoms.

  Real.

  “Now this is one in all my years I’ve never seen,” he muttered, eyeing the apparently alive and breathing children.

  “Holy fuck,” Jensen muttered behind him.

  “Caldwell’s on the stairwell,” Jack informed them and Angus shook off his surprise as Jack strode forward, through and beyond the two men. “I need to get my children to safety and find my wife.”

  “Your children?” Angus asked, following him and looking at him closely, or, more accurately, looking at his broad, soaking wet, dinner-suit-jacketed back.

  “Your wife?” Jensen asked, following Angus.

  Jack stopped and turned with the children.

  “I need a safe place for the children so I can find my wife,” he clipped.

&n
bsp; “Uh, right, lad,” Angus muttered.

  Wife, children, they were not dealing with Jack.

  They had Joshua.

  Well, at least he’d seen this before.

  Angus turned to Jensen. “Where’s Lila?”

  “Drawing room,” Jenson answered.

  Angus looked back to Jack or, he was guessing, Joshua. “Lila will keep them safe.”

  “Drawing room,” Jack murmured, turned and strode swiftly through the house to the drawing room, taking the children with him.

  He opened the doors and Angus had the chance to see the women had lit candles so there was dim light. He also had the chance to see the faces pale and hear the gasps.

  But this was all he had the chance to see.

  They all turned when they heard a dog woofing and saw Belle racing behind the dog on her high-heeled shoes, her hands in her skirt holding it up.

  “My love,” Angus heard Jack murmur.

  “My sweet!” Angus then heard Belle cry.

  Then Angus and the rest watched Belle race directly into Jack, throwing her arms around him, Myrtle and catching Lewis up in her embrace.

  Well, it seemed Belle was Brenna if the presence of living, breathing Myrtle and Lewis didn’t faze her.

  This also didn’t faze Angus but it fazed Jensen.

  “Holy fuck,” Jensen muttered.

  Still holding on, Belle arched her upper body back and caught Jack’s eyes.

  “Something’s amiss,” she declared at the same time Jack announced, “There is danger.”

  “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Rachel whispered.

  “If it’s what I’m seeing, you’re seeing what I think I’m seeing,” Lila whispered in answer.

  “I think I’m seeing the same thing too.” Joy was also whispering.

  The entire room stilled and braced as a commotion came from the hall, there were running footsteps and then a dripping wet, formally clad, shoeless Yasmin and an equally dripping wet somewhat formally but definitely eccentrically clad Cassandra skidded to the halt at the doors.

  “Caleb Caldwell had a partner and she was a witch!” Yasmin shrieked.

  “You stole my thunder, mate,” Cassandra muttered.

  But Yasmin’s eyes rounded, her torso swayed back and she cried, “Oh my God! Myrtle and Lewis are real!”

  Cassandra took in this fact and her eyes cut to Angus. “Have you ever seen this?”

 

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