The Witch's Stone

by Dawn Brown

  He’d gulped the hot liquid back quickly, hoping that finishing sooner would send her on her way. No such luck. She’d continued on, and as she spoke, his fingers had started to tingle and a strange floating sensation moved through him. He started to say he didn’t feel well, but the expression on her face had the words drying on his tongue.

  “What did you give me?” His voice sounded slow and thick.

  Her eyes were wide and bright with delight. “Ketamine.”

  “Fucking Special K?” Anger throbbed inside him. He’d worked so hard to stay sober, yet he slid into the high like easing into a hot bath on a cold day.

  Caid pushed back from the table. The room started to spin. Vaguely, he heard the cup shatter on the stone floor. The sound mingled with Sarah’s laughter.

  “Dinnae fight it, you’ll only make things worse.”

  He took a staggering step toward her, but pitched forward instead. The floor rushed up to meet him and he collapsed, unable to move.

  Sarah stood over him, that coy smirk back on her face. “I know who Willie’s partner is,” she told him with a giggle. He barely heard her as he slipped deeper into the drug induced hole. “Me.”

  Unable to move, he felt as though he were watching everything that happened to him from outside his body. Sarah dragged him to the sink. She opened the cupboard, fastened the cuff around one wrist, looped it around the drainpipe then clapped the other end around his other wrist.

  “Hope you like the cuffs. Willie loved them.” Then she had left him alone in the kitchen and he had slid deeper into the hole.

  Now, laying on the floor cuffed to a drainpipe, hot fury burned through his veins. That bitch had drugged him, given him enough to send him into a K hole for Christ’s sake. While Caid had never been a fan of the disassociative sensations that came with hallucinogenic type drugs, there were few illegal substances he hadn’t experimented with in his youth. He’d known exactly what was happening to him. And how dangerous it could be. She bloody well could have killed him--but then he wouldn’t be her first victim.

  Hell, she might kill him yet, for all he knew.

  He gave another wrench to his chained arms, but nothing happened. Every bloody thing in this house was rotting away, but the damn drain was as strong as ever. Just his luck.

  A thud sounded from the floor above. He froze. She must still be in the house. But why? Why drug him and cuff him to a drain for that matter?

  Because she’s clearly out of her bloody mind.

  As he strained to listen for further movement, a familiar crackling came to him almost at the same time the woodsy smoke tickled his nostrils.

  Fire.

  His insides clenched. He turned but couldn’t see the fireplace from where he lay, only the shadow of flames flickering against the far wall. Why would Sarah have lit a fire in the hearth? To burn evidence? Again, he fought the cold metal braceleting his wrists. The cuffs rubbed and cut into his skin.

  “Hullo? Caid are you there?”

  The sound of Bristol’s voice turned his insides soft. Thank Christ.

  “In the kitchen,” Caid called out. “Hurry, I need your help.”

  “Good God, what’s happened?” Bristol stood in the doorway, his mouth gaping.

  “That bloody skag drugged me,” Caid spat out. “Get me out of this, would you?”

  “Aye.” Bristol moved until he hovered over Caid. “What has she chained you to? The drain?”

  Caid assumed the question to be rhetorical since it seemed perfectly obvious to him that Sarah had cuffed him to the drainpipe. “Hurry. That crazy bitch is somewhere upstairs.”

  The words had barely left his mouth when a shrill feral scream pierced the quiet, turning Caid’s blood cold. He couldn’t see anything around Bristol’s large frame, but the man’s body went stiff, his eyes rounding in surprise. Bristol’s brows knit together and when he opened his mouth, crimson froth bubbled out. The Inspector rolled to his side and collapsed on the floor next to Caid, his breath coming in quick gurgling pants.

  Sarah stood over him with a wide, satisfied grin. She dropped the huge bloodied knife, the metal hitting the floor with a clang. The sound made Caid flinch, and her smile widened. Half stunned, half horrified, Caid stared up at her as she leaned in and murmured just above a whisper, “The crazy bitch is right here.”

  “You stabbed him,” he said, as much to convince himself.

  “Aye.” Sarah’s smile turned rueful.

  Caid glanced back at Bristol’s closed eyes, the bright frothy blood dribbling from his nose. A pang seared his chest. He was good a man, and sure as hell didn’t deserved to die like this. “Why?”

  “I would think it’s obvious. I’m. A. Murderer.” She over-enunciated the last three words as though he were thick.

  “Ye’re out of yer bloody mind.”

  “That’s where ye’re wrong. I’ve complete control over my faculties.” She snorted. “Crazy bitch, indeed.”

  “You cannae let him die. You’ll no’ get away with killing a cop.”

  “I dinnae see why not. When they pull his charred remains out of here with yers, everyone will simply think it’s the curse.” Sarah laughed and Caid couldn’t stop the shiver slithering up his spine. “If you cooperate with me, I’ll kill you before I set the house ablaze. After all, a house as old as this would catch and burn in no time. Something as simple as log rolling from the fireplace could leave Glendon House as little more than a smoldering ruin by morning. And with you so close to the point of orgin, you’ll burn to death long before the smoke kills you.”

  Memories of the flames and heat and smoke at the inn brought an icy sweat to his skin. He had to get out of this. “You tried to kill Joan.”

  “Aye, so I did. She wouldnae pay me to lift her curse.”

  “What a load of shite.” He ground his teeth and quietly pulled the cuff. The metal rubbed and chafed the layers of skin. Warm blood trickled from his wrists. “You pulled this scam on Agnes and Joan? Who else?”

  “Culcraig’s a village that thrives on superstition, and Anne’s final curse has hovered over the people here for the last century. Any time something goes wrong, it’s Anne’s curse coming back on them.”

  “So you brought the curse to life for the village.” If he kept her talking, maybe he could stall her long enough to figure out away out of this mess.

  “I’m ambitious, but even I have limits. I set my sights on the descendants of the men who hanged Anne. Not only were they most susceptible to the curse, but they were all old.”

  “What did their age have to do with anything?”

  “Nobody listens to the aged. When they complain, people think they’re simply senile or cantankerous.” She shrugged. “They’re an easy mark.”

  Her casual explanation infuriated him. What a despicable creature she was. “So they paid you to lift these curses.”

  “Once they saw that refusing to pay led to repercussions. We started with scare tactics.”

  “We?”

  “Willie and I.”

  “You killed yer partner?”

  “Aye. He had no sense of doing what was needed. Scare tactics were one thing, but threatening a geezer with a dead rabbit will only get you so far. Now, killing one of them will get you what you need. And he stopped complaining once the money started coming in.”

  “Then why kill him?”

  “First, the damn fool gives you the poker I killed Agnes with, then the nonsense with the earring. Bloody hell, after all I did and he was going to confess everything to you and that over-educated twit just to protect his own arse.”

  “He left the poker here twice?” Caid asked stupidly, still struggling to wrap his head around what she was saying.

  She came forward until she stood overtop of him, one foot planted on either side of his hips. “I brought it back the second time. What did I care if everyone knew Agnes had been murdered? The knowledge could only serve to help me get you and Hillary away from Culcraig, and no one had any reason
to suspect I had anything to do with her death, except Joan and I’d already decided what to do about her.”

  “But Joan lived. Once she’s well, she’ll tell everyone about yer scheme.”

  “If she survives. There are so many ways a person can die in hospital.” With a feral smile, she lowered herself until she straddled his lap. “But enough about Willie and Joan, let’s talk about you.”

  Instinctively, he lunged to push her away, but the cuffs held him place. “Get the fuck off me.”

  She laughed, shrill and familiar, rocking her pelvis back and forth. The friction stirred his flaccid penis. His face heated, a slow bubble of panic swelling within him.

  He jerked his body up and to the side fast, dumping her to floor next him. She landed with a hard thud, the sound filling him with furious satisfaction. When she looked at him, her eyes glowed with suppressed rage.

  She didn’t say a word, but drew back one pointed toed boot and hoofed him hard in his bad leg. Pain shot up his side, momentarily distracting him from the numbing agony at his wrists. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a string of curses.

  “Tell me about the ledger.”

  Caid’s stomach dropped like a stone and his mouth went dry. Hillary had the book. “I dinnae know anything about a ledger.”

  She dropped down on him again, shoving his sweater up and running her hands over his chest. Revulsion curdled his insides. She lowered her head, circled his nipple with her tongue, then caught it between her teeth and bit hard. Pain, sharp and burning, stung his chest. He gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt.

  When she lifted her head, a tiny bubble of blood oozed where she’d broken the skin. “Where’s the most current ledger? I’ve been through the whole box and I cannae find anything from this past year.”

  “Then there isnae one.”

  “I know there is. The daft cow told me she read one with her name in it. Where is it?”

  “I dinnae know,” he ground out. The pain in his leg had dissipated to a steady throb, but his nipple still stung. “If it’s no’ there, I dinnae know where it is.”

  “Did you know, Caid, it’s a myth that a man cannae be raped by a woman. All they need is the right stimulation.” She shifted, tugged open his fly and shoved her hand inside his pants. Her fingers like cold, squiggling worms, she grasped his flesh.

  Sweat dotted his skin. Slick panic surged inside him. He fought uselessly against the cuffs, his forearms wet with his own blood. His helplessness left him wild with frustration. Grunting, he thrust his body up and bucked her off again. She landed half on the floor with one leg over his lap. She stood, her face contorting into an ugly mask of fury.

  Good. Maybe she’d kill him now. He’d rather die than play her sick games.

  She pulled her foot back and kicked his bad leg once more. His eyes nearly bulged from his head, and he couldn’t hold back the agony-filled moan that slipped from his lips. Had she managed to break it again?

  “Where’s the ledger?” she screamed.

  “I dinnae know,” he gritted out.

  Frowning, Sarah stared at his face for a long moment before her eyes lit with sudden understanding. “She’s already been here, hasnae she? Crafty little snake. That’s how Bristol arrived in the nick of time--or tried to.”

  “I dinnae know what you’re talking about. I havenae seen Hillary since this afternoon.”

  She straddled him again, shoved her hand inside his boxers. She grasped his penis and began to stroke him. “Dinnae lie to me.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the thick abhorrence churning in his stomach, fighting to keep his traitorous body from responding. “You stay the fuck away from her,” he said with as much menace as his hoarse voice would allow.

  “Oh Caid, is it true love?” she mocked.

  His cock started to stiffen, and Sarah chuckled low in her throat. His face burned with humiliation and he looked up at the ceiling, disgusted with himself and his own lack of control. Shite, this couldn’t really be happening.

  “I’ve got you now,” she murmured, her hot breath fanning his face. Bile rose in the back of his throat.

  “Get off of him. I have the book.”

  Caid’s eyes popped open and he lifted his head at the sound of Hillary’s quiet admission.

  “Get out of here,” he rasped. “Go to Warren, now. Run.”

  Hillary shook her head.

  “Do you love him?” Sarah asked, her voice dripped with the same mocking she’d used when she’d asked him. Her hand still tried to tug his flesh to life.

  “Yes,” Hillary said without hesitation.

  Caid’s head fell back and he closed his eyes. His worst fear realized. This is what loving him cost. “Hillary, please, get the hell out of here.”

  She ignored him. “I’ll tell you where the book is if you let him go.”

  With her heart in her throat, Hillary watched the play of emotions flicker across Sarah’s face. Two things fed the crazy woman before her. Ego and power. While she’d listened to Sarah brag, her heart sick at the site of Bristol bleeding and struggling for air next to Caid, Hillary had formulated a plan. She only hoped she could stall and distract Sarah long enough for it to work.

  Hillary kept her gaze fixed on Sarah and took a tentative step forward, being careful to avoid looking or even thinking about Bristol and the widening pool of blood. As if sensing her thoughts, Sarah chuckled and stood.

  “Poor Hillary. How many months of therapy will it take to overcome tonight’s little trauma? Does Bristol’s blood and gurgling remind you of Randall? A little like reliving the experience all over again, isnnae it?”

  As if hypnotized, Hillary’s gaze slid sideways. Her stomach turned at the sight of the thick red liquid seeping into Caid’s clothes. A gray fringe crept out from the corners of her mind. and her vision blurred. A high pitched buzz filled her ears.

  Don’t let me pass out.

  “Hillary.” Caid’s voice was rough. She turned to him. “Please, get out of here.” At the fear and pain in his face, the helplessness of his situation, something snapped inside her, the sound nearly audible. She didn’t see Randall in the large, bleeding man on the floor, she saw him in the crazy woman before her.

  A cold rage bubbled inside Hillary. Everything in front of her slid into focus, clear and startlingly vivid. The din in her ears vanished, and a steely control settled over her.

  “Don’t you want to know where the book is?” Hillary asked.

  For the first time Sarah’s smile faltered. “I’ll find it, once I’m done with the two of you.”

  Sarah reached down and grabbed the knife from the floor. The kitchen light gleamed off the shiny blade.

  Now it was Hillary’s turn to smile. “I’ve been here longer than you realize. I called Warren from the study.”

  “Then I’d better hurry.”

  “Yes, you’d better if you want to beat him to the ledger. I didn’t tell him to come here. I knew he wouldn’t make it in time, so I sent him to the evidence instead. No matter what happens to us, they’ll know it was you.”

  With a low, furious growl, Sarah charged forward, raising the knife high over her head. Caid kicked both legs out, his feet tangling with Sarah’s. She fell forward and the knife spun across the stone floor like a deadly compass needle searching for north.

  Hillary lunged for the knife, but Sarah crashed into her side, sending them both tumbling to the floor. The impact jarred her body, thrust the breath from her lungs. She gasped and choked, struggling to drag air in while she crawled out from under Sarah toward the knife.

  Strong hands gripped her leg, pulling her back. She kicked down, catching Sarah square in the face and bloodying her nose. With a yelp, Sarah released her.

  “Bitch!” But the word sounded muffled, garbled.

  Hillary risked a glance back. Sarah cupped her nose with both hands. Blood seeped from between her fingers. Black hate shone in her dark eyes.

  “The knife,” Caid yelled, snap
ping her from her distraction.

  Hillary scrambled to her feet, but Sarah slammed into her again, knocking her to the floor. As Sarah struggled to crawl on top of her, using her weight to hold Hillary down, Hillary swung her elbow out and back, catching Sarah in the chest. The other woman let out a breathy grunt and slid sideways, her fingers tangled in Hillary’s hair as if grasping a lifeline. Shards of hot pain stabbed her scalp while Sarah wrenched Hillary’s head back, then smacked it on the hard floor.

  Tiny white stars flashed before her. The edges of her vision darkened and closed into a tight circle. Caid’s shouts sounded muffled and far away.

  There were other voices, hands on her.

  Then there was nothing at all.

  Chapter Thirty

  Arguing. Hillary’s first coherent thought as she rose through the murky depths from oblivion to wakefulness. Her head and body ached, and despite the desire to open her heavy eyes, she couldn’t seem to manage.

  “Visiting hours are over, Mr. Douglas. You have to leave now.”

  Nurse Ratched, is that you?

  “I’m no’ going anywhere,” Caid said, his voice terse.

  “Then I’ll have security throw you out. You’ll no’ be admitted to this hospital as a patient or a visitor again.”

  Someone lifted her hand. Caid. His grip was warm and strong.

  “I’ll be close,” he promised. His whispered breath tickled the skin beneath her ear. “I know I made a mess of everything, but I promise, I’ll see it sorted. I love you.”

  She wanted to tell him he hadn’t messed anything up, to soothe and reassure him, but sleep’s dark tentacles wrapped around her, pulling her back down into nothingness.

  The sound of metal scraping metal and sudden brightness jerked Hillary awake. She opened her eyes in time to see a tiny, pinched-faced nurse pulling back plastic vertical blinds and exposing pale gray sky through the window.

  For a moment, Hillary’s mind spun. Where she was? The hospital obviously, but why? Then memory flooded her aching head. She sat up straight, panic gripping her with tight icy fingers. Pain exploded in her forehead like a starburst.