by Erin Hayes
Byron sighed. “You don’t know him.”
After what seemed to be an eternity of bone-chilling wind and darkness, Byron paused once the path opened to a road.
“We are almost there,” he said, pointing up ahead to black gates that emerged from the forest of silver and white. His brown hair lifted with the wind, and he pulled the black hood of his leather jacket over his head.
Allyn’s eyes widened as she looked at the black castle at the top of the hill. The height of the towers that stood behind the gates was astounding, with seemingly no end as if they reached directly into space, yet she knew that it was only the fog that hid the tops.
“What is this place?” she asked, her heart racing as she stared at the stained glass windows that stretched from the floor to ceiling on the front side of the castle.
There was something about this place that she didn’t like. If it wasn’t for the debilitating cold, she’d have turned around and returned to Byron’s broken down car almost a mile away.
As she paused along the path, a raging wind pushed her backward. Her red hair whipped around her face, blinding her, as she fell onto her bottom.
She cried out as the wind continued to push her down the slippery, icy road.
She flailed, trying to catch onto something, only to find sharp shards of ice and a loud roar. Her heart raced as she realized that she was defenseless against the Winter Winds.
The ice had cut through her gloves, leaving her in pain and with bloody palms. In the distance, she heard Byron calling her name, but as she relaxed her body, the wind picked her up and shot her body into the dark depths of the woods.
Is this it? Is this how I’m going to die?
Allyn’s mouth parted as the cold air encircled her and slammed her body into something hard, knocking her out.
Chapter Eleven
ALLYN WAS FORCED to her knees before the cross, her back raw from being whipped for what felt like an eternity, her small face streaked with tears.
Allyn was twelve years old.
Sister Catherine yanked her by a handful of hair. “Look at Him. If you repent, He will strip the demons from you.”
Lips trembling, Allyn nodded. “I pray to Him every night. I repent. What else am I supposed to do?”
Sister Catherine knelt beside her and took Allyn’s face into her hands, pressing her cheeks.
A chill ran along Allyn’s exposed flesh as she looked into the Sister’s eyes. Why was she crying? She wasn’t the one that had been beaten for a power that she couldn’t control.
To her surprise, Sister Catherine pulled her into a tight embrace. She whispered to her, while the other nuns looked on, their faces free of every emotion except hate for the little witch they’d been forced to look after.
“You better learn how to control this power, Allyn, or they will kill you.”
Those words resonated through her, striking fear into her heart. She bit her bottom lip, her brows knitting together as hot tears gushed from her eyes. She nodded.
“I will try.”
Instead of replying, Sister Catherine came to her feet and looked to the others. “A night of repenting should banish the evil within her.”
The other nuns nodded, except Sister Margaret—the cruelest of them all.
“What did you say to her?” Sister Margaret asked, her blue eyes fixed on Sister Catherine.
“I told her to repent for her sins, and beg the Lord for forgiveness.”
Sister Margaret didn’t seem convinced. “A night in the sanctuary is not enough. Those that are detestable to the Lord should be removed from those that are clean.” She shot a look at the youngest nun, Sister Anne. “Take her to the well outside.”
Allyn screamed when they took her from the sanctuary. “No! Not the well! Please!” Red bands of power shot from her fingertips, wrapping around the beams that supported the ceiling. Like sashes of blood, the power wavered and flew all around her without any control or prejudice for who it struck with its fiery assault.
A gasp came from the nuns, and they all bowed in prayer.
Sister Margaret stormed over and slapped Allyn so hard that she was nearly knocked out.
“Tomorrow,” Sister Margaret said, heaving. “We call the priest.”
ALLYN WOKE UP in a pool of sweat that made her clothes cling to her body. The nightmares were back, and she couldn’t shake the dread that filled her entire body. Those memories had been tucked deep into the darkest crevices of her mind, yet they sometimes came back, ready to ruin any hopes for happiness.
She never told her father about her treatment. She kept that secret to spare him any more pain than he already had. Still, those nights in the darkness of the well would forever haunt her. She had yet to see or experience anything more terrifying.
She sat up, greeted by an eerie darkness that made her skin crawl. The silence that surrounded her was unnerving, and it was cold. Her breath puffed from her lips in a fog before her face.
This was the second time she’d woken up in a stranger’s bed, and fear settled in much quicker when she realized that she had no clue where she was.
She pulled thick covers from beneath her chin and sat up. A screeching sound came from outside, and her eyes shot to the large oval window that looked out to the wintry outdoors.
It’s just the wind, Allyn told herself as she looked around the room decorated with expensive furniture that looked as if it belonged to another time. Vintage, elaborate, and beautiful. She realized that the bed she was in had a black canopy with sheer white drapes that cascaded around the top of the bed frame.
The large bedroom was the size of the apartment she’d shared with Byron. From the moonlight that shone onto her from between the open crimson drapes, it appeared to have a vanity and a sitting room with two chairs facing a small library.
Allyn pulled her shirt from her chest to let air circulate and cool her. Her throat was dry, and her head pounded.
Where am I? She looked down at the white shirt she wore instead of the sweater and jeans she remembered wearing.
She tensed when someone turned the knob of the bedroom door. She looked around for a place to hide, panic setting in as she realized that there wasn’t a closet, only a tall ornate wardrobe and that she didn’t have the time to run to it and hide.
The door opened, and Allyn pulled the covers up when a slim older woman peeked in on her. Her white hair was pulled up in a tight bun at her nape, and she wore a black dress that went to her feet.
“You’re awake,” the woman said as she stepped into the room and turned on the lights.
Allyn winced at the sudden brightness. “I am. Who are you?” She licked her lips, uncertain if she should be afraid or grateful.
She folded her hands before her as she stood at the edge of the bed. “I am Calinda,” the woman said, as Allyn noticed that her eyes were a bit too bright to be natural.
She wanted a closer look, to see why Calinda’s eyes seemed to be white. Her hand covered her mouth as Calinda moved closer to her, her body floating above the ground, translucence to her body that sent chills up Allyn’s spine.
Her face paled and she froze. “You’re a ghost.” Heart thumping in her chest, she wasn’t sure what to make of the supernatural being before her.
Calinda smiled. “I am. We all are. The staff and guards, that is.”
“What is this place? How did I get here?”
“Calm down,” Calinda said, her emotionless eyes peering at her in the darkness. “You are safe.”
“Where is Byron? Please tell me or I will scream.”
“Scream? But, what would that do?”
The ghost before her didn’t seem moved by Allyn’s show of fear or her threats.
“The master will explain everything to you, miss. It’s best that you just keep calm and wait until all things are explained. No need to fret, dear.”
Allyn shivered, suddenly more afraid of the dark than she’d ever been. She’d heard voices since she was a child, but to s
ee a ghost…
Had she gone mad?
Master? Why wouldn’t Calinda tell her where Byron was? Was he okay?
Taking a chance, Allyn ran around the bed and made a mad dash for the door.
Calinda appeared before her, her tight smile fixed to her face like a painting. “Why don’t you let me draw you a bath, miss? You’ve had quite the tumble in the storm out there. Master had to carry you up here in the dead of night, and I’ve been tending to you to make sure you didn’t become ill. I must say, you are a strong one.” Her eyes flickered down to Allyn’s hands. “And you heal remarkably fast.”
Hiding her hands, Allyn licked her lips. “Who carried me here?” Allyn’s heart thumped in her chest as she tried to think of an escape, one that could outrun the ghostly figure before her. Instead, she stepped backward, suddenly doubting her courage as Calinda stared at her as if she could read her thoughts.
“I already said, miss. My master carried you.”
“Take me to him,” Allyn said, swallowing. She tried to look past Calinda at the dark hallway that seemed to go for miles behind her. “I’d like to thank him.”
Calinda waved her back into the bedroom. “Not tonight. I’m sure he will want to meet you in the morning.”
Allyn chewed her bottom lip, the skin cracked and bleeding onto the tip of her tongue. “Can I at least see Byron? Is he okay?” Maybe he had been hurt as well.
Calinda paused her advance on Allyn, her white eyes meeting hers. “Well, no. He’s already left.”
“What do you mean he’s already left? Why would he leave me here?”
Calinda frowned. The lines in her white flesh deepened. “He didn’t tell you?”
Warnings filled Allyn’s stomach. Dread followed. What was this bizarre dream and when would she wake up in her bed with Byron by her side?
“Tell me what?” Allyn risked asking, wringing her hands in worry.
“That’s odd,” Calinda said, shaking her head. “I thought you knew…Byron sold you to pay off his debts.”
Allyn slumped onto the bed, her face paling. “Sold me?”
“Yes. He claimed the Witch’s Bounty.”
Tears clouded Allyn’s vision. How could he? Was anything he said about her father true?
But this…being sold. She’d never forgive Byron for doing the exact thing he promised to protect her from.
“So,” she began between sobs. “I’m prisoner here?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Allyn shook her head. She didn’t care to wipe the tears that trailed down her cheeks as her heart broke within her chest. “Who did he sell me to?”
Calinda’s eyes brightened. “To my master. Prince Lennox Baran.”
Chapter Twelve
PRINCE LENNOX STOOD at the window of his private quarters, looking at the storm that ravaged his land, cloaking it in a thick sheet of snow and ice. It was early dawn, and he was ready to meet the woman he’d saved.
The woman that now belonged to him. Lennox rubbed his hands together. He hadn’t been this excited in years.
“What should I tell the press about the mid-season ball?” Edan, his assistant asked, holding his tablet’s stylus above the screen, ready to record everything Lennox said.
He didn’t mind. Such thoroughness was why he hired him. Edan was young, eager to please, smart, and did whatever Lennox said without question. The fact that he also worked for Conall caused problems at times, but it also worked in his favor. This way, he could keep tabs on what Conall was up to.
Edan was alive—a human. That alone was enough for Lennox to keep him around, especially since it was a difficult task to convince a human to work in a castle that was haunted by servants that had been dead for centuries.
It was part of the curse after all, and he was their caretaker as much as they were his.
“Tell them that I am not hosting this year. I’ll be leaving for Faustinia.”
“What?” Edan swallowed, his caramel brown skin losing a bit of color. “But, I don’t think that is wise. They aren’t to keen on you at the moment.”
Lennox raised a silver-white brow. “Did I ask what you thought?”
Edan shook his head. “No, your highness. My apologies,” he said, bowing his head. “I just urge you to be careful in enemy territory.”
“Duly noted. While they may be your enemy, they aren’t mine.” Lennox looked down at the tailor that altered his pants. “Almost done?” he asked, Lin, a small older man, dressed in all black with silver hair that was pulled into a ponytail.
“Yes, Prince Lennox,” he said, keeping his eyes down.
“One last thing. Is there anything you want to say to the press about the witch that was brought here last night?”
Lennox shrugged. “Let me think about it.”
“Of course, sir,” he said. “I will go tell the party planners that the plans have changed.”
“Very well,” Lennox replied. There was no way he was going to try to throw a ball right after Conall. No, he was going to do something better. Something forbidden. And now, he had an exotic date to show off.
“I’m done as well, sir,” Lin said, standing from his spot at Lennox’s feet. “I will make your new suit by Sunday.”
“Have it ready by Saturday,” he said and took off his black dress shoes to put on another more comfortable pair.
“Of course, sir.”
Once Edan and Lin were gone, Lennox’s mind went back to the woman that now slept in one of his best rooms.
Lennox wasn’t sure what he wanted or expected of the beautiful, frail thing he’d rescued, or why he’d rescued her at all. The whole point was to kill her, yet she still lived.
When Byron demanded an audience with him nearly a week ago, Lennox had a mind to send the man straight to the debtors’ prison. However, the young man had shouted out his business in the Kingdom Court in the center of Elastria where his palace now stood as a school for children and teens of all ages.
“Witch! I have found a witch,” Byron had shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in attendance.
Smug, Byron knew the gravity of his claim, and had gained what he wanted, just a few moments to speak to the prince—the hunter of the family.
It took only a few moments for Lennox to learn what kind of man Byron was—a disgraceful one that would rather gamble and drink his girlfriend’s savings away and then turn her in once the money was gone.
He lowered his eyes to the window sill where his hand rested. The red glow of his family ring confirmed that there was indeed a witch within the area.
Lennox rubbed his freshly shaven chin. There was one thing he wanted more than anything.
To be free from his prison.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t let her perish in the storm. A tiny sliver of him hoped that she could end the curse.
He turned away from the window, walking across his wooden floor to the door. Such wishful thinking could be toxic. The odds of this girl being the one his clan had been waiting for were slim.
He put on his shirt, covering the tattoos that covered his entire back and arms—the ink that hid his scars—and looked at himself in the full-length mirror.
Glancing down at the handwritten note Conall had left him about taking care of the castle, Lennox grinned, picked it up and tore it in half. If Conall thought that he could control him, he was sadly mistaken. People seemed to think Lennox was worth saving, despite his evil deeds.
He almost felt sorry for the girl he’d saved. A look in the broken mirror showed otherwise, his wicked grin reflected back.
Who was he kidding?
Prince Lennox knew why he kept her alive—he just wanted to see the little witch suffer.
ALLYN FOLDED HER hands in prayer. It was a habit, though she’d never gotten anything out of it.
She pursed her lips, the rage she’d been keeping at bay on the brink of escaping. She sat in the bathroom with the door locked. Not for her safety. But, for theirs.
Ghosts or not. S
he’d seen real evil. She knew that whatever had cursed them was nothing compared to what festered within her soul.
Did Prince Lennox know who she was? Was this all a sick game? And then she thought of Conall. Where was he in all of this? Could he speak up for her and save her from whatever Lennox had in mind?
The entire kingdom knew Lennox to be cruel, a womanizing, rich boy that did whatever he wanted without consequence. Always looking for a fight, his face was splattered on the papers every winter, breaking rules, throwing lavish parties, and defying the king in every way. No one could tame Lennox.
What chance did Allyn have?
“Allyn. Please open the door,” Calinda said from the other side.
“No.” Allyn sat between the porcelain toilet and the claw foot tub, her face buried in her hands.
Calinda showed that waiting behind closed doors was nearly a courtesy and that she could easily glide through them.
Allyn jumped, startled by Calinda’s sudden presence. She rubbed her eyes with her hands and came to her feet.
“You cannot hide in here forever.”
“What is it?” Allyn asked, bitterly. “Is it time for my execution?”
Calinda opened the door and held an arm out toward the bedroom.
“No one has told me about any executions,” Calinda said.
Allyn held out her arms. “So, why am I here?”
Calinda tilted her head. “I can’t say that I am certain, but I have my suspicions.”
“And, those are?”
“I think I’ll keep them to myself until I am certain,” Calinda said. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up and dressed. Prince Lennox wants to properly meet you.”
Allyn stepped aside as a younger female ghost came inside and started running her a bath. She didn’t look at her, going about her business of pouring oils and perfumes into the tub.
“Not too much, Maisie,” Calinda said. “Prince Lennox is sensitive to perfumes.”
Maisie nodded and turned off the water to let it out. “Sorry, mom. We don’t get many girls around here,” she said, finally sneaking a glance at Allyn.
