“Come and help me, will you?” he asked irritably.
“Me?” Ashford stopped short. “You know I haven’t got—”
“Oh, enough of that rubbish,” Kostya snapped. “It’s time you accept it. It had to go somewhere, and she certainly didn’t send it my way.” When Ashford stood there dumbly, Kostya rolled his eyes and slapped the page he was looking over. “I was there, you damnable ass. I was the last one to look into her eyes.” His voice cracked and Ashford put his face in his hands and shuddered.
“What are you talking about?” Serena asked shrilly. “Whose eyes?”
Tilly took her hand and pulled her to sit next to her on the bed. She thought she might know who Kostya was speaking about. Her lips went dry and she could barely force out the name.
“Do you mean Camilla?”
Serena gasped at the sound of Kostya’s first wife’s name. They never spoke of her, barely acknowledged she’d existed except for the yearly visits to Kostya and her daughter’s grave site. Dear little Lucy had been victim to Kostya’s terrible curse, cut down at only eight years old in a freak riding accident. It was the beginning of the end for their marriage and the start of Camilla’s descent into madness.
Tilly looked at Ashford, his face still behind his hands. She could see them tremble and all the color had washed from his ears and neck, turning him a sickly, greenish hue. Camilla, his beloved twin sister, had tried to kill him in the end. He’d been unable to defend himself against her out of love and loyalty, and Kostya had stepped in and done the deed himself. It was a day they had all crammed into the furthest recesses of their minds.
Ashford sank to the floor beside Kostya. “She wouldn’t have. I’d have known. I would know.”
“What are you talking about?” Serena shrieked. The terror in her voice raised goosebumps on Tilly’s arms, her own fear almost blotting out her anxiety over Ariana. It was as if the madwoman’s ghost was in the room with them.
“He thinks Camilla transferred her power to Ashford when she … died,” Tilly said after an uncomfortable silence. She could see Kostya was reliving the nightmare over again, raising the gun, shooting his deranged wife to save them all.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I do believe that,” he said finally. “You must as well, Julian.”
“I certainly don’t,” Ashford argued. “I can’t do anything, as well you and Matilda both know.”
“That’s not true,” Tilly said, fresh anger surging. “You made that maniac Solomon Wodge disappear in a burst of light. Just plain disappear off the face of the earth. And I’ve seen you do other things as well when you tried hard enough. You did all those spells to come and find me when I got lost.”
Ashford shook his head. “That was… I don’t know what that was.”
“It was magic, you clothead,” Kostya said. “For whatever reason, Camilla bestowed her powers onto you. If ever there was a time to stop being stubborn and accept it, it’s now. To find your daughter. If you think you need to hold Tilly’s hand to be able to do it, then I’m sure she’ll be happy to oblige.”
To underscore Kostya’s point, Tilly scrambled to the floor and thrust her hand into Ashford’s.
“You have to try,” she said ferociously. “If you can’t reopen the portal, you need to make a new one. We have to get to the future.”
“Or you’ll have to do those spells you did when you went after Tilly all those years ago,” Kostya said, his face twisted in distaste. Those spells had nearly killed Ashford.
Tilly recalled how sick he’d been, barely able to breathe, bleeding internally. His condition had stumped every doctor who had looked him over and it was a miracle he’d survived. Could she risk Ashford for her daughter? She stoked her anger in order to douse the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. The three of them stared balefully at the book.
“I-I’ll send a messenger after Owen,” Serena said, hurrying for the door, very clearly wanting to be away from whatever was about to commence. “Several messengers since we don’t know which way he’s traveled.”
“That’s a good idea, dearest,” Kostya said. “The wee scoundrel may know what Ariana’s done and be able to undo it.”
Tilly couldn’t stand it. Every minute that passed might be the moment Ariana was murdered. Everything they’d done to prevent it had been for naught.
“We have to do something. Now.” Her voice broke as she gripped Ashford’s hand. He gripped back and reached for the book.
Chapter 3
Owen sat at a rough wooden table that was neatly covered with a brightly patterned tablecloth. A kindly woman about Sorin’s age placed a dented tin plate piled high with roasted meat in front of him.
“This is Agathe,” Sorin said. “A good friend who helps this old bachelor out from time to time.”
“Are we related?” Owen asked, not wanting to tear into the food without at least trying to act civilized first. But he was still so very hungry.
Sorin frowned and furrowed his brow. “Are we, Aggie? Maybe our great-great-great something or others were. This is a very tight-knit village. Even if not by blood, we consider each other family.”
“That’s true,” Agathe said, motioning for him to dig in. “We rarely get uninvited visitors.”
Sorin coughed and he and Agathe glanced toward the one window in the small but tidy cottage. The delicious meat turned sour in his mouth when he saw Maria once again pass by the pane. She had skipped along behind him and Sorin as they rode through the village to this house, which seemed to belong to Agathe. She refused to let Maria in. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that Maria didn’t seem upset about the snub, and only began pacing languidly back and forth in the front garden.
Owen pushed down his confusion. He wasn’t yet ready to admit to fear. “When did she arrive?” he asked. “How did she arrive?”
“About two weeks ago, in a fine carriage with an even finer pair of horses. She stood at the gates until one of the boys working in the fields noticed her and let her in. She might have been out there for days for all we know. She never made a peep.”
“But I never told her where I was going. She didn’t know I left London at all.”
Agathe made a hissing sound. “Someone told her.”
All right, he was ready to admit fear. “Wh-what’s wrong with her?” Owen whispered. Because something was definitely wrong with Maria.
Agathe shuddered and went and pulled the curtains shut. They were a wispy fabric and he could still see Maria’s outline as she trampled back and forth outside.
“She’s ruining my flower beds,” Agathe said. “She won’t speak much to any of us except to say she was waiting for you.”
He looked to Sorin for an answer and Sorin shook his head. “I can’t say for sure, not having known her before—”
Owen jumped guiltily. “Before what?” he yelped.
His cousin narrowed his eyes at him. “How about you tell us that.”
They stared at him. It felt accusatory, but that might have been his guilty conscience. “I did a spell to make people in London think I was rich and owned a lot of land,” he admitted.
After all the long days of walking, he’d had plenty of time to think about that, plenty of time to feel ashamed. He thought it might have worn off a bit, but he felt as bad as ever about it.
“That’s not what that is,” Agathe said, her patience wearing thin.
Sorin held up his hand and she shook her head and turned away from them, away from the window. “There wasn’t anything else?” Sorin asked. “You needn’t worry that you’ll be in trouble, but we need to know exactly what you did.”
“Don’t coddle the boy,” Agathe said, turning to Owen with a sour look. “You might very well be in trouble.”
Owen pushed his plate away, hardly able to stand the smell anymore. “She found out. Everyone found out it was all lies, but she was the only one I cared about. I wanted to apologize or explain. I didn’t mean to use magic, in fact I tried not to! But
it came out, trying to make her forget so we could start over.”
“Ah, were you in love with her?” Sorin asked. “Damn your father for never teaching you. If you’re having hexes fly out of you without even trying, that’s dangerously powerful. He should have sent you to us long ago if he wasn’t up to teaching you himself. What happened to Maria?”
Agathe huffed from her corner. “Sorin, what does it matter how it came about? It’s here and I want it gone. Everyone does.”
“Calm down, Aggie. She hasn’t really caused any trouble, has she? We need to get to the bottom of things. Owen, what happened to Maria when you accidentally did your spell?”
Owen heard the words his cousin uttered but he couldn’t register them. All he could focus on was what Agathe had said. It’s here.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice shockingly high. He cleared his throat. “What do you mean when you want it gone? Why do you call Maria that as if she—”
By the look on Sorin’s face and the way Agathe held herself, he knew he’d done something very, very wrong. He stood and rushed to the door, determined to speak to Maria himself, but Agathe grabbed him by the arm.
“That’s not your Maria anymore,” she said. “It’s something else now and we need to get rid of it.”
Owen pushed his way past her and ran outside, stopping short in front of Maria.
They were wrong. They had to be wrong. He looked at the trampled flower bed and tried to block out the memories of the dark emptiness he’d seen in her eyes when Ariana managed to revive her. He’d been scared then, but had managed to convince himself he was seeing things.
Gathering the nerve to look up, he stood face to face with Maria, looking back at him unblinking and somewhat expectantly. What should he say to her? He wished he could think she was as pretty as ever. But she was dirty and almost down to skin and bones. It was bad enough not to let her in their homes, but wouldn’t they feed her? If his relatives were that cruel, he may as well leave today.
“How did you know I would come here?” he asked.
It hurt to speak to her so bluntly, recalling all their silly flirtations, the way their words to each other used to come out like songs.
She shrugged and turned away, wandering toward the back of the house. Frustrated, he followed her until they finally came to a creek. The house was tiny in the distance and he felt a frisson of fear at being alone with her.
Nonsense. They’re wrong.
“Maria, please talk to me. Did you speak to my parents to know I was coming here? God, what about your parents? You didn’t run away, did you?”
She smiled the wolfish smile and sat down. Just sat straight down on the ground without bothering to see what was beneath her. He shoved away some damp leaves and twigs and sat beside her.
“Fish,” she said and pointed to the creek.
A moment later a fish broke free from the gentle current, twisted in midair and splashed back down.
“That’s a neat trick,” he said. “But what about—”
“I followed you here,” she said, still staring at the creek. “Fish.”
To his horror, she got up and crashed into the water, wading toward the center. The creek wasn’t more than ten feet across but it must have been deceptively deep because she was up to her neck after only a few steps. He jumped up to go after her when she ducked under the water, but just as quickly as she disappeared, her head broke the surface again, an even more alarming grin on her face than the wolf smile. As she got to the bank, she raised her hand over her head victoriously, clutching a thrashing fish in it. That once delicate, pale hand he had longed to hold.
“God, Maria. You scared me.”
He felt tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. Confusion, terror, and regret all warred in his chest. Most of all, regret. What had he done to lovely, sweet Maria?
“My supper,” she said primly, then bashed the fish on the nearest rock. “It will be delicious.” She blinked at him a few times and then nodded. “Oh yes, I followed you here. At least until I passed you. You were extremely slow.”
“You didn’t think to offer me a ride?” he asked, trying feebly to joke.
“You were full of pride. You didn’t accept help from anyone else so I had no reason to expect you to accept help from me.”
“So you did talk to my parents,” he said, relaxing a little.
“No.”
“But then—”
“I could tell by looking at you when you came to my window.”
He was so stunned he scooted away from her. Goosebumps covered his entire body. He stared at her sitting there so calmly, as if she weren’t dripping wet and didn’t have a dead fish she’d killed with her bare hands laying beside her.
She had seen him looking up at her window the night he left London. He had been awfully angry and full of pride that night. And she’d been able to sense it. He pulled his arms close to his body to ward off the chill of the coming night. Was it fear that made him so cold? Why wasn’t she shivering, soaking wet as she was with icy creek water? He pulled together all his courage.
“Maria?” he asked. Once again she showed her teeth in a semblance of a smile. Her eyes were both dull and glittering at the same time. No, not glittering. Something flashed deep within them. “Please answer me,” he begged.
She stroked the scales of her supper and turned away, gazing at the creek. She didn’t answer and he had a bad feeling it was because Agathe was right. She was no longer Maria. He heard footsteps coming toward them, crackling through the leaves and twigs. She didn’t so much as flinch or turn around. She simply didn’t care. He saw it was Sorin thundering toward them and he knew he only had a second or two left to ask again.
“If you’re not Maria, wh-who are you?”
She slid her eyes over him and he swore he could feel it. Like a feathery trail everywhere she looked. “I’m the one who brought her back.”
His heart pounded in his chest so that he could barely breathe. But could he dare to hope? “Is she still in there, then?” he asked, reaching for her arm but unable to touch her. Not unwilling. His hand stopped just short of her sodden sleeve and would go no further. “Tell me. Hurry. Please.”
Her lips curled back and the flicker behind her eyes went dark. Sorin stopped just behind them, panting. He looked anxiously at Owen, who stood up and turned away to hide his confusion and fear. If he let on he was afraid of the Maria thing, who knew what they would do to her. And she hadn’t answered him either way. Which meant Maria might still be there, waiting to be found. Rescued.
If it was possible, he would do it. And then she might love him again.
Chapter 4
Ariana leaned back in the plush armchair and dully inspected the ruby on her hand. The red stone was deep and dark if she moved her hand away from the sunlight glinting through the window. If she flashed her hand toward the sun, the flawless stone shone a bright, cheery pink.
It was the third such bauble Nick had given her. First the bracelet, which had rubies set around a deer engraved on the wide gold band. She’d thought it was sweet of him to remember that she loved forest creatures. Next came the necklace, its ruby cut in the shape of a heart. The note attached had said she already owned his heart and the necklace was a symbol of it. Embarrassingly sentimental but cute. Now this ring. It was gorgeous. The most stunning of the three gifts with its massive stone and intricate scrollwork. But there wasn’t anything personal attached to it. And she was getting sick of rubies. Red wasn’t even her favorite color.
Still, it was sweet of him to buy them for her. Well, pick them out and have them delivered to her, despite the fact it was her money he was using to get them. She tried not to feel a bit irked about paying for jewelry she didn’t actually like all that much. He could have been spending it left and right on himself instead of her.
“Which he also is,” she muttered.
A glance at the ornate ivory and enamel clock on the marble fireplace mantel showed it was barely past
noon. Much too early for wine. She could visit the hospital she had just donated a huge sum to. They’d be more than happy to see her and give her another tour to show off how much good they’d been able to do with the donation. She could also pop into the orphanage and play with the little children. It hurt her heart that they didn’t have families, but it was only a matter of time with her handcrafted spell she’d cast over the place. It was always a thrill for her when she was there spending time with the orphans and a young couple would come in, eager to give a home to one of them, all thanks to her spell.
She didn’t want to make the long ride into the heart of London, though. And the quick transport spell didn’t work at all on her, no matter who cast it. She simply didn’t budge. She could go to another century in the blink of an eye, but not down the road. Which meant she was stuck here in her splendid mansion. She did truly love this house. Normally, wandering the halls and seeing all the improvements being made put her in a good mood, but today she was too restless to get excited by whatever new wallpapers had arrived from Paris.
The work was nearly complete and everything was the absolute finest available. All the witches she’d gathered around her from different times and places were delighted by her creation. They often wondered amongst themselves why they’d never thought about joining together before.
One reason was money, of course. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, most of the witches who congregated there were dirt poor. They didn’t seem to think it was ethical to use their powers for material gain. However, if they found her methods for keeping them in such opulence unsavory, they never made a peep about it around her.
The other reason was that they just weren’t used to being able to practice in the open. The Povest clan used to have a hold over the magical community for ages, punishing anyone who made too much of a stir with their powers. But her mother and father and uncle had vanquished the evil matriarch who’d kept them all down and now they were free to do as they pleased. Stuck in their ways and overly paranoid about being discovered by non-magical folk, they continued to skulk around despite the fact they’d been free for a generation.
Belmary House Book Six Page 2
