The Ferryman (The Guardians Series 1 Book 2)

by Wendy Saunders

  ‘Remind myself?’

  ‘Things break Miss Mason, it’s the way of the world. But you cannot let fear of what may happen hold you back. That’s not the way life works. Take a risk every now and then, it’s good for you.’

  She accepted the box from the little old lady and stared at it. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Probably best not to say anything then,’ she smiled as she held her arm out to her niece. ‘Now as much as I have enjoyed your company ladies I’m afraid I must retire as I am a little tired.’

  ‘Of course,’ Olivia replied as they both stood, ‘thank you so much for taking the time to speak with us.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she nodded.

  ‘Thank you,’ Veronica spoke quietly, ‘for the teacup. I’ll take good care of it.’

  ‘I know you will dear.’

  Olivia and Veronica watched quietly as the old woman walked slowly and painfully from the room, leaning heavily on her niece. The maid suddenly materialised by their side and ushered them out of the room, and before they knew it they had their coats on and were once again standing outside in the brisk air.

  ‘Are you alright Veronica?’ Olivia asked in concern.

  Veronica stood frozen in thought, staring down at the box in her hands.

  ‘Veronica?’

  Veronica looked up suddenly as if Olivia’s voice had only just registered.

  ‘What is it?

  Veronica took a deep breath and pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘It’s still quite early are you in a rush to get back to Mercy?’

  Olivia shook her head.

  ‘No, why what have you got in mind?’

  ‘I think I want to take a risk,’ she looked up at Olivia, ‘I want to cut my hair.’

  ‘Cut your hair?’ she repeated slowly.

  ‘I don’t want to be a clone of my mother anymore, I want something different’ she answered. ‘Maybe some new clothes too.’

  ‘Well,’ Olivia’s face broke into a smile, ‘you’ve come to the right girl. Get in the car Veronica, by the time I’ve finished with you your credit card might be wheezing a bit but you’ll feel like a completely new woman.’

  Veronica laughed nervously and climbed back into her car.

  Chapter 11

  Beau twitched and made squeaky little yipping noises as he slept on the rug in front of the inviting fire in Olivia’s bedroom. Olivia smiled at him in amusement before she turned her attention back to her toenails which were now a murderous red and decorated with little sparkles. She lay back against the cushions on her bed and relaxed, wriggling her toes in pleasure. While Veronica had been having a complete overhaul in the intimate little salon they’d found in Salem she’d treated herself to a pedicure. She couldn’t ever remember spending any real time in a salon before but there was something gloriously decadent and deliciously feminine about relaxing and having someone pamper her. She’d needed it; she hadn’t realised how tense she’d been over the past several months. Just taking a few hours out with a friend to do something as simple as shopping and visiting a beauty salon had made a huge difference. Sighing in contentment she slid further down the bed and picked up Charlotte’s small leather bound journal and began to read.

  Theo wandered out of the bathroom absently rubbing his wet hair with a towel, the tiny rivulets of water clinging to his bare chest glistening in the firelight and his sweatpants riding low exposing the v shape of his hips. He absently tossed the towel into the hamper and raked his fingers through his hair, pulling out the worst of the tangles. His gaze locked on Olivia who was now lying sprawled on her stomach wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts, swinging her legs absently back and forth as she lost herself in the book in her hands.

  Olivia felt the bed dip next to her and looked up. Smiling at Theo she rolled over onto her back giving him space to stretch out next to her, his head propped absently on one hand as she turned her attention back to the book.

  ‘Is that Charlotte’s journal?’ he asked although his gaze had snagged on her brightly coloured toenails; he loved it when she painted them different colours.

  ‘Yes it is,’ she chewed her lip thoughtfully.

  Theo pulled his gaze from her fascinating toes and trailed his eyes appreciatively along her long golden legs. Unable to resist he traced her skin lightly with his fingers marvelling at the softness of her skin. He loved the smoothness too, completely hairless, unlike the women from his time. He wanted to press his face into her skin and breathe her in, she always smelled so good. Sliding down the bed he trailed his lips across her skin following his fingers along the length of her legs. When he reached her thighs, unable to help himself, he nipped her skin playfully before soothing it with his tongue.

  ‘Stop distracting me,’ she chuckled.

  ‘I can’t help it,’ he propped his chin on her legs and looked up at her.

  ‘Listen to this,’ she turned back to the journal and began to read.

  December 16th, 1919.

  ‘I conjured fire today. It was really rather frustrating. I finally managed a weak flame but it spluttered out as quickly as it had appeared. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to master the elements, not like Beth, it comes so easily to her. Fire is her greatest skill. I cannot even master the simplest of spells. I am beginning to think I may not have my family’s magical gift at all.

  I wish Mother was here. It has been a year since we lost her, perhaps if Beth or I had our grandmother’s gift for healing we may have saved her. Father says it was just what was meant to be and we shouldn’t question it. Despite our magic, we cannot interfere with the natural order of things. We have no control over life and death but I miss her so terribly.

  It feels like I have a hole inside me that nothing will ever be able to fill. I love my father and I love Beth but I feel as if a part of me is missing. I’m not like the others, I have no talent for the magic which runs so strongly in our family. I feel as if I don’t belong, like I’m waiting for something or someone. Maybe when I am older I will fall in love with a kind man and have a family of my own and perhaps then it will soothe the ache in my heart.

  Tomorrow Beth is going to help me try to conjure wind, although honestly I don’t know why she bothers. She has been able to master the elements since we were five years old. I am fourteen now, surely if I haven’t mastered it by now I never will.’

  ‘She sounds so sad,’ Olivia looked down at Theo who was toying absently with the hem of the shirt she was wearing.

  ‘Who is Beth?’

  ‘Her sister Elizabeth I would imagine.’

  ‘So her sister was a master of fire like you.’

  ‘So it would seem, but then again I’m directly descended from Elizabeth, she was my Great Grandmother and quite often strong magical gifts are inherited. I would imagine if I ever have a daughter of my own she may inherit my gift for fire too.’

  Theo watched her thoughtfully as her gaze dropped back to the journal and she once again began to leaf through the pages. Her words echoed in his mind and he found himself picturing her holding a tiny dark haired child, with her whiskey coloured eyes and his dark curls. He could imagine her now, with her belly swollen with his child and he found the thought arousing. He wanted that more than anything; he wanted her and the beautiful children they would make together.

  Deep down he knew if they had any chance of a future together he had to tell her the truth about his wife. Fiona was right he had to tell her everything. He would just have to trust her and hope that somehow she would understand and forgive him.

  ‘Listen to this,’ her voice jolted him out of his thoughts, ‘her journal entries jump from 1919 to 1923. That would have made her just turned eighteen years old. It seems she didn’t keep any records during her teen years.’

  He listened as she began to read aloud once again.

  May 29th, 1923.

  ‘I saw him again, through the window, the boatman. It was late, the moon had risen and
was glittering upon the water as if it reflected a thousand stars. I was looking from my window and there he was in a small wooden boat lit by a lantern. He looked up and our eyes locked for the barest moment before I hid behind the drapes, my heart thundering in my chest…’

  ‘She could see him?’ Theo interrupted in surprise, ‘do you think she knew he wasn’t human?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured as she moved to the next entry.

  June 2nd, 1923.

  ‘I spoke with him; I can scarcely believe I had it in me to be so daring. I waited until papa and Beth slept and I crept from the house down to the lake. He was sitting on the dock with his boat moored. He looked up at me and smiled as if he had been waiting for me and when he spoke his voice was so familiar, like a voice in a dream I cannot recall and yet it felt like I had been waiting too. His name is Charon and I know he is not of my world; I can feel it but I don’t care. All I know is that when I am near him the empty place inside of me doesn’t exist.’

  July 23rd, 1923.

  ‘I watch for him every night, waiting for him. I know who he is now and why he cannot be with me all the time. He comes to me when he can. I yearn for him when we are not together and I find myself wondering if he feels the same. I can see the gateway now; it is as if my eyes have been opened. I now understand why I could not master the magic that came so easily to my sister, because it was not my path. I have the sight, I can see into the otherworld, into the spirit realms. Charon has been teaching me to use my gift so that even when we are not together I can still see him.’

  August 19th, 1923.

  ‘He came back to me tonight, he brought me a poppy. He says it comes from his homeland, brought into creation by the Goddess Aphrodite. He says she created it from the blood of her lover Adonis when he was slain by a wild boar and into it she poured all of her love and longing for him. He took my hand and at the touch of his skin I knew. I knew I’d been waiting for him all along; my soul has been waiting for him for such a long time.’

  October 21st,1923.

  ‘We made love tonight, under the stars upon the banks of the lake. I didn’t feel the cold, only him. He was every breath I took, every beat of my heart and I know now I belong to him. I will always belong to him.’

  ‘They were in love,’ Theo breathed slowly.

  ‘I guess so,’ Olivia frowned, ‘this can’t have ended well.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well I know somehow she ended up engaged to be married to Clayton Swilley, the mayor’s son. But putting that aside, Charon is an immortal, a servant of Hades the God of the underworld. I can’t imagine his boss being pleased he was involved with a human.’

  ‘What else does her journal say?’

  Olivia skimmed over the entries until she neared the end and began to read.

  July 18th, 1924.

  ‘I have not seen him in months, he is beyond my sight now. I cannot even see him in any of the spirit realms. It can only mean Hades is angry with him, if he is in the underworld it is beyond my power to reach him. I tried to forget him but I can’t. No one else knew about us, not even my sister. My father, only wanting the best for me convinced me to marry Mr Swilley. He seems a nice enough man, he certainly is handsome. We are supposed to be married tomorrow afternoon. I thought I could do it, I wanted to make my father happy but it feels like a betrayal. I belong to Charon and I cannot promise myself to another man. Even if Hades keeps us apart forever it will not change my heart. I will wait for him until the end of days if I have to and even beyond that. I am meeting Clayton this evening and I will have to tell him I cannot marry him. I can only hope that he will understand.’

  ‘That was her last entry,’ Olivia breathed heavily, ‘it was made the night she died.’

  ‘Do you think Clayton Swilley killed her?’ Theo frowned.

  ‘It’s beginning to look that way.’

  ‘What is it?’ he asked noting her puzzled expression.

  ‘I just wonder what is was about her that was so special,’ her eyes locked with Theo. ‘I don’t mean that in a detrimental way at all. She was just a normal human girl, not even with any phenomenal magic powers and yet an immortal fell in love with her and was willing to risk the wrath of a God to be with her.’

  ‘I think you underestimate the power you West women hold,’ he took the journal from her fingers and closed it, placing it carefully on her nightstand. He moved up her body and settled himself between her thighs. Reaching out he wrapped a wayward curl of her hair around his finger gently, ‘if she was anything like you he would probably have risked everything for her.’

  ‘Theo,’ she breathed slowly as he leaned in closer.

  Her heart was pounding in her chest as she traced his lower lip with the pad of her thumb down, to the tiny indentation at his chin. His eyes were so dark they almost seemed to go on forever, drawing her in. She could feel his breath against her mouth as he held her on the delicious edge of anticipation. She ran her fingers through his damp hair and clutching gently gave a slight tug as she rocked her hips, pressing him closer.

  His lips grazed against hers before the soft slow glide of his tongue traced the seam of her lips. She could feel him harden between her thighs and as he rolled his hips slowly she felt him press against her. She gave an involuntary gasp and then his mouth closed over hers. It was like drowning in pure pleasure, a mix of heat and warmth and contentment. His tongue met hers with slow lazy strokes that she felt all the way down to her core and without realising it her eyes drifted closed, shutting out everything but the man who had become as necessary to her as the air she breathed.

  His hands stroked feather light down her sides, gripping the hem of her shirt and inching it up and over her head. Beneath it she was naked and now she was pinned beneath his hard body. She moaned against his mouth as the light dusting of hair on his chest teased her sensitive breasts.

  ‘Livy,’ he breathed, unconsciously rocking into her, desperate to be inside her.

  She arched up into him as his hand found her breast and the other wrapped around the back of her neck squeezing gently as he nipped her mouth with single minded intensity.

  Her fingers ran the length of his spine causing him to shiver against her body. When she reached the waistband of his sweatpants she hooked her fingers in and peeled them slowly over his hips. Unable to take it any longer he sank slowly into her, inch by torturous inch, until she wrapped her long lean legs around his hips forcing him to plunge in. When he thought he could go no further he tensed up and sank deeper.

  ‘God,’ he gasped, closing his eyes and burying his face in her neck. He took deep ragged breaths as he felt her tighten around him, squeezing him deliciously.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as she had wrapped her legs around his hips until he was surrounded by her. He could do nothing but breathe in the scent of his woman. Slowly he began to move, rolling his hips, sinking into her deeply, saying a thousand things with his body that he simply couldn’t find the words for and she answered him in kind. In that moment consumed by each other there were no doubts, no insecurities, no lies, they existed only for each other. The tiny carriage clock on the mantle ticked away the moments and the fire began to die down, leaving the room bathed in long flickering shadows.

  She could feel the tension in her body climbing as she hooked her leg around his and rolled until she was laying over him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, brushing her hair back from her face to kiss, unable to tear his lips from hers as she rolled her hips against his. He watched through heavy lidded eyes as she sat up straddling his legs, with him still buried inside her. Her back arched and as he watched the light and shadow play across her naked skin he knew he was lost to her; she owned him mind, body and soul.

  Her pace increased and he gasped out a ragged breath as he gripped her hips, thrusting up into her body, helplessly as they both cried out in their release. Olivia slumped forwards against him and he wrapped his arms
around her, pulling her in and tucking her against his heart, knowing that there were no words for the intensity of what they had just experienced. He closed his eyes and content he fell into a deep restful sleep still inside her.

  The moon rose high above the lake in the dark crystal clear sky. The strange silvery ghostlike mist which had shrouded the lake for weeks began to dissolve and thin out. A strange eerie light appeared beneath the dark churning waters and black wraith-like shadows began to bob and weave across the waves. Several strange shapes began to undulate just beneath the surface of the water, every now and then offering a tantalising glimpse of pale human-like flesh as they headed towards the shoreline.

  Renata yawned at her desk and stretched out her aching neck and back. Her thin fragile fingers closed over her watch as she tried to make out the time through exhausted eyes. She hadn’t realised it was so late. Her driver was used to her keeping unsociable hours but she’d never stayed this late before. She was a little surprised he hadn’t called but then again over the last few weeks she’d been working late with Veronica while she trained her and in return she had given her a ride back to her little apartment. No doubt her driver had assumed Veronica had taken her home again. Sighing, she began to straighten up the paperwork on her desk. She hoped Veronica and Olivia had enjoyed themselves in Salem. She had high hopes for their friendship, it would do them both the world of good to spend some time together. They didn’t know it but they both had wounded souls and there was nothing like surrounding yourself with dear friends when you had very little family left.

  At the thought of family Renata opened her desk drawer and rummaged around until her fingers caught on the small brass frame she was looking for. She pulled the picture out and stared at it. It was very small and somewhat battered. She’d managed to hide it from the Nazis and it was all she had left of her family. She traced the picture with loving fingers as she took in the face of her mother and father. Beside them she stood with her hair tied in a pale pink ribbon; although you couldn’t see the colour on the grey photograph she could remember it as if it were yesterday. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel her mother’s fingers against her hair as she pulled the soft bristles of her brush through her thick wavy hair. It had been thick and wavy back then and a deep chestnut brown colour.