Secrets of the Sapphires

by T. Sue VerSteeg

  A dark haired hunk of a man clad in a regal black cloak appeared on horseback from the trees in front of them. He slowed his mount and sat by the side of the path holding a wounded shoulder with his good arm. His shadowed blue stare narrowed when his gaze fell upon her as they sprinted by. Nia couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d peered into those soulful eyes before. They haunted her until their horse sidestepped to a stop in front of the familiar little church.

  Hairy slid from the saddle, flipping her over his shoulder as though he were hauling sacks of potatoes. His nasty fingers slid up her leg, threatening to slip under her panties. Nia locked her thighs over his digits, causing him to yelp in pain.

  After entering the church, he exclaimed, “Bounty be thy only saving grace, shrew,” as he tossed her onto the hard pew.

  Scrambling to right herself, she glared daggers at him. “Being bound and without weapon is all that saves you, beast.”

  Hairy flung himself on top of her, shoving the hem of her dress to her waist. Fighting him as well as she could with hands and feet tied, she threw an elbow into his jaw and kneed him in the thigh. His laughter rang in Nia’s ears as he clawed at her breasts and shoved a hand between her thighs. He thrust a knee into her abdomen pinning her to the hard wooden surface. Her lungs froze in her chest from the pain, unable to draw breath. She watched in disgusted horror as he untied the drawstring to his pants, dropping them to pool on Nia’s belly. There was no mistake what he planned to do to her.

  “Cease! The woman be not thine to take,” a familiar voice bellowed.

  Nia inhaled a deep breath as the man’s knee dragged down her pelvis while he scurried to cover himself. The parson may have saved her from Hairy, but the look of all consuming hatred on his face told Nia she might have just flipped from Hell right into the devil’s lap. She tugged her dress down and struggled into a sitting position again, her gaze never leaving his.

  He looked at Hairy and screamed, “Be gone!”

  After Hairy vacated the church in record time, the good parson walked toward Nia. Each slow, hard footfall echoed off the high ceiling. He pulled the bandage off his head, exposing the red, grated flesh where his ear had once been.

  Nia swallowed back her panic, allowing sarcasm to surface. She pulled her hands up, framed her mouth in a make shift megaphone, and yelled, “How does your ear feel?” With each perfectly enunciated, over stated, elevated word, the man’s face reddened, puckering deeper into a scowl.

  As he came to a stop in front of her, the glower morphed into a wicked smile, complete with long, ivory fangs jutting from the corners of his lips. His face contorted, twitched, and roiled in pain as hair tumbled from each follicle on his head in long, dark ringlets to his shoulders. Bending backward, he opened his mouth in a guttural growl as his body lengthened. His chest became chiseled and taut.

  When he bent forward to look at her again, recognition slammed into Nia’s mind and heart. Her jaw dropped as she uttered, “You…”

  His fingers touching her face, merely tucking stray hairs behind her ear, felt like branding irons to her skin. She jerked away, fighting the tears as the painful memories of her parent’s deaths crowded her mind. His face had been imbedded on her brain for life as one of the vampires who had stood over her father’s dead body. Steel gray eyes, dark red lips, brilliant white fangs—all exactly the same—stood before her now.

  Anger and hatred fortified her spine as she rose to stand before him. He towered over her, but she stood proud even with her hands and feet tied. “Why did my parents have to die?”

  “Your father made the mistake of keeping something from us. He knew it was of great importance, yet he fell under the spell of its beauty and thought to hide it from us around your mother’s long, sensuous neck.” Tall-dark-and-creepy reached toward Nia’s neckline. She quickly swatted his hand away with both of her own and fell back onto the pew. “Had he merely given us what we came for, your parents might very well be alive today.”

  Nia snorted in disgust. “You would have killed them for sport, regardless of their cooperation. Your kind knows nothing of mercy or fairness.”

  His head cocked to the side as he walked toward her again. “Now, that is untrue. My kind is extremely just and always fair. We don’t kill unless we feed or wish to bring someone into the clan. If it makes you feel any better at all, I was the only one to go without sustenance that night. Your tender little heart was on my menu.” He dragged a talon like fingernail down her chest, drawing a small stream of blood to the surface.

  Shrugging away from him, she scooted across the pew and watched his eyes haze over to a glowing red as he licked the crimson blood from his claw. His entire body shuddered as he gasped for breath, snarling and grunting with each forced inhalation.

  As his eyes slowly turned back to cold gray, his breaths came easier, though a slight twitch still tugged at his upper lip. “Sadly, I cannot feed upon you as I must retain my cover.” A slight pout settled on his face.

  After she righted herself in her seat, she sat up straight, making a tisk-tisk sound. “That’s really too bad. I mean, people have told me I’m pretty tasty. You would give up a feeding you feel belongs to you just to live here? Must be something pretty big.”

  “Huge!” The single word violently shook the small church, propelling all of its doors open. The cross behind him on the altar swayed back and forth as though to topple and quell the evil. A simple thrust of his hand in its general direction ceased the movement. Everything fell eerily quiet, a smile returning to his lips. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t die.” Morphing easily back to the short, portly parson with one ear, he continued, “You have injured and threatened the life of a man of God. For that, you will pay with your life, my dear.”

  ****

  Hairy and his friend dragged Nia along the dirt trail toward the castle, her legs free, hands still bound. Phineas led the way hidden in a horse drawn carriage. Both of her walking partners had their swords drawn, precariously pointed in her direction. Nia had been a bit of a pest more than once along the journey. Hairy walked with a stooped limp after she’d kicked him in the groin once her legs were freed; his friend was missing a tooth from an elbow strike during a failed escape attempt. She’d yet to figure out why he’d made such a big deal about it, as the man was already missing more than a few.

  With the castle coming into view before them, they passed a huge oak tree with a twisted trunk and massive limbs jutting from the edge of the tree line. Normally, a mighty oak would not garner her attention. They had passed many on their journey, but this one had a sturdy rope swung over one of the lower branches, complete with a noose at one end. A small platform had been built below it with a stepstool placed under the dangling rope. Nia placed her bound hands to her throat. Hairy tugged on the rope attached, pulling them away.

  “Be feelin’ your doom, eh?” Hairy and his friend burst out in laughter as they picked up the pace, yanking her along the last bit of the trail.

  The bitter wind picked up, stripping the hood from her head. Tendrils of her strawberry blonde hair wafted before her face, sparkling in the sun. The castle now stood before them in all of its glory. No vines grew within the stones and all walls stood strong and proud. The turrets at each corner of the wall held regal flags with the families’ crests in royal blue and deep red, the brisk wind keeping them unfurled and stretched tight.

  As they crossed the drawbridge and entered the portcullis, she looked up at the humongous, jagged teeth of the raised gate. The sun glinted off of the metal, which accentuated the sharp tips, reminding her of Phineas’ teeth. Nia had the sinking sensation she’d just crossed over the pallet of a beast, heading straight for its belly. She was pulled into the courtyard where a massive group of people obviously waited for her. Cheers erupted, quickly changing to people screaming “string up the she-devil” mingled with boo’s and various other mantras. She whipped her head back and forth, desperately scanning the sullen, dirty faces of the crowd, hoping to find a
compassionate expression within the chanting mass. All were scrunched in rage, disgust, not a caring soul to be found.

  A defeatist spirit covered her like a cold, wet fog as she succumbed to the fate before her. Never had she been that alone or outnumbered. Hairy led her to a small stage in the center of the massive, open space and shoved her up onto the course wooden surface. Bringing herself to her feet, she smoothed the black satin skirt back over her legs as she stood and pulled the cloak around her the best she could with bound hands. Nia shivered against the cold as well as the crowd of people spewing hatred at her.

  To add insult to injury, Phineas climbed upon the stage to resounding cheers. He raised his hands to them; a hush fell upon most. To squelch the others, he simply said, “Peace, my children.”

  Nia turned all of her anger and angst on the man next to her. “Show them who you really are!” she bellowed, shoving him backward.

  Phineas turned toward her, his face full of compassion, but his eyes twinkling with laughter. “’Tis I, Parson Phineas Travis and no other.”

  He clamped a hand on Nia’s shoulder. She shrugged away from him, spinning toward the crowd. “He isn’t a man of God. What has he done to make you trust him?” This only served to stir the crowd into their booing and hissing again.

  Once the lynch mob settled back down, a pre-teen boy near the stage stated, “’Tis the man, one and the same, who Christened me as a babe and strengthened my faith all of my days.”

  The whole scenario fell into place for Nia. Somewhere in the depths of the forest surrounding the castle undoubtedly lay the rotting corpse of their beloved parson with a gaping hole in his chest. The animal standing next to her merely took the adored man’s shape as a means to further his evil dealings in this time period. Her eyes squinted in disgust as she scanned Phineas from head to toe. The glimmer in his eye hinted that her actions only seemed to please him more. He reached out toward her. She leaned back, swatting his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me, you sick bastard.”

  Shaking his head, he gave the crowd a somber grimace then turned to her. “My child, repent of your sin. ’Tis all I ask.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Nia contemplated spitting in his face but decided to play the game his way. She fell to her knees and bowed toward him, grabbing his ankle screaming, “Please forgive me! I know not of what I did. I was possessed by demons.” She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes, hoping her doe eyes and pained expression weren’t lost on the crowd. For the first time since she’d been dragged onto the stage, a glimmer of hope burned inside her.

  The crowd fell silent as the man before Nia stammered for words, his face frozen in disbelief except for a tick tugging at the corner of his upper lip. She half expected to hear him yell out, “Thank you. Thank you very much,” and swivel his hips.

  Another unfamiliar man’s voice rang out in the courtyard. “Kneeled before you, good parson, is the very demon, flesh and blood.”

  Nia whirled around to put a face to the words. There stood the wounded man from the path.

  His familiar sky-blue gaze cynically scanned her before he continued, “This woman, fine people, caused my injury as well in her demonic fury.” He flipped back his cloak to reveal a bandaged shoulder.

  As she closed her eyes, Nia willed the world around her to disappear. The man on horseback had to have been the wolf that attacked her while she was following Garrett’s blood trail. The moon had been full. Undoubtedly the shifter had been on the prowl for his kill. He hadn’t factored in Nia’s yet to be invented pistol.

  The crowd stirred into a hanging frenzy again. The confident smile returned to Phineas’ lips. All faces, puckered in scowls, turned toward the evil woman standing next to their beloved parson.

  With a raised arm from Phineas, the crowd fell to a hush. “The word of another places judgment upon this woman. What say you?” He extended a hand toward the injured man.

  The man adjusted himself in the saddle with all eyes turned toward him. His gaze locked with Nia’s. For a split second she saw a flicker of compassion. It was quickly replaced with a cold, harsh glare. “String up the wench!”

  As Phineas dragged her from the platform through the parted, cheering crowd, Nia screamed, “These are not the people you think they are! I’m only guilty of protecting myself!” Panic riddled her body. She was possessed by the base instincts to free herself. Nia flung around, blindly kicking and digging her fingernails into any arm, hand or body part she could reach. It took Hairy, Phineas, and their friend to get her onto the step stool under the tree and keep her still enough to place the coarse rope around her neck and tighten the noose. Eyes wide, she stared around at the smaller, rowdier crowd that had followed. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She stood proud, knowing that any struggle would disrupt her perch. She also knew it was only a matter of time before they disrupted it for her. A single tear slid down her cheek as she stepped off the stool of her own free will.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Garrett stretched in front of the fire, reveling in how much better he felt. The stabbing pain in his side had subsided to a dull ache. He was able to get off the floor and into a chair by himself. The servant woman, who’d obviously heard his movements, entered with a huge turkey leg and a tankard of drink. After he took the plate and she sat the stein on the table next to him, she bowed, turning to leave.

  “Have you seen my friend?” Garrett asked before she was able to walk through the door.

  “She be tending the horse, sir,” the old woman stated then stood, staring at her shoes.

  Garrett cocked his head to the side, watching her for a few moments while he devoured the meat and polished off the glass of weak mead. Finally it dawned on him that the woman was waiting for him to dismiss her. “I’m sorry; please go back to whatever you were doing.”

  She nodded her greasy, gray head, bowing toward him before taking her leave. Garrett heaved a contented sigh as he sat the empty plate on the table. With his belly full, he was just about to lie back down. A nagging doubt tugged at his thoughts, so he decided a walk would do him some good. After he pulled his stained shirt and holey suit jacket on, he headed out into the brilliant sunlight. The sound of a horse in distress tugged him toward the barn. He looked around the area, but Nia was nowhere to be found. The horse they’d used to draw the wagon continued to pull at her binding and whinny, raring onto her back haunches as far as the rope would allow. A short, unkempt man in tattered clothing came around the corner, attempting to settle the horse as Garrett made his way there.

  “Excuse me,” Garrett addressed the stable hand, “have you seen a redheaded woman around here today?”

  The man narrowed his eyes for a moment and then opened them wide as he obviously computed Garrett’s strange words. “The lady be seized by disciples of the church nigh on an hour hence.”

  Panic coursed through Garrett’s body, prodding him off in a dead run back to the manor house. Holding his side, he slid sideways on the rushes of the manor floor as he tried to stop next to the servant woman. “I need some things from you. Can I get two blankets, some kindling, and food packed immediately and brought to me in the barn?”

  The woman eagerly nodded her reply as she turned to leave.

  Garrett caught her arm. “I also need you to tell anyone who comes looking for us that we pillaged and ransacked your place. They won’t take kindly to your hospitable nature toward us.” He stared into her constricted, confused eyes. “Tell anyone looking for us a falsehood. They mean us harm and would also hurt anyone who may have helped us in any way.”

  Nodding, her gaze cleared, she ran off down the hall toward the kitchen. Garrett grabbed the gun Nia had left for him and rushed to the barn to ready the horse for his journey. Even through relentless pain the night before, he fought to remain conscious, pay attention to every turn in the road. Using every ounce of strength his abused body held, he pulled a saddle from a fence near his mount and strapped it on as the servant woman appeared, her arms loa
ded with supplies.

  Her face broke into a large grin as she handed Garrett blankets, a royal blue cloak, two saddlebags stuffed full, even a sword, complete with scabbard and belt. “Since ye be accused of plunder, t’would serve you well to be laden with treasure, would it not?”

  Garrett was overwhelmed at her generosity as he accepted all she offered. After strapping the sword to his side and donning the cloak, he thanked her.

  The woman touched his arm and in a soft voice said, “Godspeed, friend.”

  Placing his hand on top of hers, Garret replied, “Thank you again,” before mounting the horse, and prodding her into a full run. He winced every time he hit the saddle. The wound in his side burned. With each bounce he ground his teeth, persevering on his trek to find Nia. His chest burned and stomach clenched with a sense of urgency as he pushed to keep the horse at top speed. She seemed to know the path with no guidance on Garrett’s part. She did, however, take major convincing to stop at the church. Garrett yanked back on the reins; she flew back on her hind legs, pawing at the air. When she finally came back onto all fours, Garrett slid from the saddle, tied her to a limb, and ran to the doors of the little church, flinging them open to an empty sanctuary.

  “Hello, asshole? Brooks?” His voice echoed on the high ceilings as his heart sank in his chest. He looked down each row of pews and inside the room at the back, but no one could be found. His mind whirled with the possibilities of where Nia could have been taken; places Garrett was unfamiliar with. He hadn’t a clue where to begin. The mare’s high-pitched whinny brought him back out into the daylight. He stared at the horse and watched her rear back as far as the tied reins would allow and then plant her hooves, pawing the ground. She snorted and pranced, tugging against her binds. After he untied her, he barely had time to mount again before she took off along the trail. With no other solution, Garrett allowed her free reign, holding on for the ride. Before long the castle rose in the distance, the sounds of cheering people filling the air. Garrett turned the horse into the forest in case he wasn’t welcome to the celebration. The horse wound through the trees, dodging low branches and hurdling over a creek as they made their way toward the tree line.