Belmary House 6

by Cassidy Cayman

  “They’re all right as rain. Are you going to keep me trapped in this room? Can’t I even have a cup of tea before I go back?”

  He latched onto that. “So you’re going back? No arguments?”

  She shrugged, breaking his heart. She was exactly like Tilly. “I only wanted to visit my family,” she said, biting her lower lip. “I only wanted some answers. If you’re so worried about Mum having the vapors over me, I know how to make it so I’ve only been gone ten minutes or so.” She crossed her arms and raised a very Ashford-like brow.

  Exactly like Tilly but a hundred times brattier. He’d thought she was on the way to being spoiled the last time he saw her when she was only eight or nine years old. He knew he was backed into a corner, though, having no way to get her back on his own. He knew she knew it as well. Might as well have a nice catch up. If she was telling the truth, he supposed there was no harm in her staying.

  “Come along,” he sighed. “I’ll take you home. I have a wife and a daughter just a few years younger than you.”

  She flung her arms around him again. “Oh, thank you. I was so— just, thank you Cousin Dex.”

  He patted her thin back. “It really is lovely to see you again. And all grown up. You’re as pretty as your mum. Mind, my place isn’t what you’re used to.” He waved his hand around as they made their way through the venerable halls of Belmary House. “But you’re most certainly welcome with us. And I’ll show you proof your mother is going mad with worry.”

  She sniffed disdainfully but followed him. He only prayed there wouldn’t be any screaming when Dahlia learned she’d be sharing a room with someone who could out-brat her for days.

  Chapter 6

  Owen waited in the small, windowless room. He’d been sitting so long on the unpadded bench that his legs were falling asleep. Standing to pace a bit, he heard an upraised voice from the next chamber, but he’d been hearing rumblings and shouts for the last hour and they no longer interested him. He’d be able to make his case when they called for him and not until then.

  He poked his head out the door to find Maria in the same spot they’d left her, standing motionless under a tree. The sun filtered through the leaves and dappled her skin and hair with golden light. He would have found that utterly charming not so long ago. When she had said she would marry him he felt a giddy, excited sort of fear for their future together. Now he was just plain afraid.

  As soon as he laid eyes on her she turned and looked straight at him, but didn’t rush over to see if there were any answers yet, or wave, or even smile. He was too far away from her to know if she blinked but he’d been around her enough the last few days to know she probably hadn’t. It was impossible to get much out of her other than inane commentary on whatever she happened to be looking at.

  She didn’t seem to care at all that the elders of the community were right now deciding if she should be banished from the village or not. She didn’t care if she was wet or dry, didn’t seem to feel hunger, cold, or fatigue. When he wasn’t with her, he could convince himself he was imagining things. When he was, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t with Maria.

  “Owen, you can come in now,” Sorin called from the inner chamber.

  Owen jumped, feeling somehow guilty for not sitting patiently up until the end. He waved at Maria, received nothing in return, and slammed the door shut.

  The inner chamber was much larger than the waiting area. It was a sparsely ornamented room, much like everything else Owen had seen in the village. No one seemed to be lacking good food or comfortable shelter, but no one went in for showy decorations.

  There were several tall, hand-carved chairs on a dais at one end. Sorin sat in one and the others were occupied by three old men, Agathe, and a stout woman with jet black hair. The three walls facing this array of stern elders were lined with benches, one of which had a girl about his age who dandled a cranky baby on her knee and several other villagers. None of them looked open to his arguments. Still, he had to give them.

  “Er, thank you for hearing me out,” he said. “As you can see from Miss Winters being here for nearly a fortnight now, even before I arrived, that she’s no threat to anyone. She hasn’t done anyone any harm. She’s only ill. I’m positive once I figure out—”

  “She’s not ill,” Agathe interrupted. “Nor is she Maria Winters anymore. And whatever that thing is that’s walking around in her form hasn’t done any harm yet. Who’s to say how it will react if one of us sets it off.”

  “I don’t think that’s so,” the young woman with the baby piped up over the sounds of the child’s whining. “I have no sense of there being a demon in her at all.”

  Owen gasped. Demon? Since when was that a consideration? The others nodded in agreement that it wasn’t and he supposed he was relieved.

  “Did I say it was a demon?” Agathe rebutted. “At least with a demon we’d know how to deal with it.”

  Owen’s relief dissolved. Something worse than a demon?

  “That’s true enough,” one of the old men said in a wheezing voice. “And since none of us can identify it, we have to err on the side of caution.” He nodded toward the griping baby. “We have to think of the children.”

  “You’re being cruel to someone who needs help,” the young mother said.

  “There’s no help to be had for whatever that is,” Agathe said. She turned to Owen. “I’m sorry, but it has to go.”

  “We haven’t decided that yet,” Sorin said.

  Wasn’t his cousin supposed to be in charge of this village? Couldn’t he tell them that Maria was welcome? Owen studied Sorin and realized he was on the side of the people who wanted her gone.

  “It’s something I did,” Owen said. “A spell. I’m not sure exactly what happened but if you’ll help me, I can figure out a way to reverse it.”

  “Or send that thing back where it came from?” another old man asked gently. “Believe me, several of us have already tried before you arrived. Agathe’s right. Your Maria is gone. Son, none of us can figure out what it is or how to be rid of it. If the most powerful witches in this community are at a loss, well… it’s a lost cause, I’m afraid.”

  “She’s not gone,” he shouted, alarming himself as well as the tribunal. “I know she’s not,” he said more quietly.

  “Regardless of whether or not Maria Winters is still alive is a moot point,” the first old man said. “I’m very sorry for her if she is. But we can’t allow whatever has taken over her to remain in our village. We’ve worked too hard these past twenty years to risk our peace, safety, and freedom from another evil tyrant we can’t control.”

  “Evil tyrant?” Sorin interjected. “Come now. That escalated rather fast, didn’t it?”

  Sorin’s plea was overruled by a chorus of “Hear, hear,” from everyone but the young mother.

  “The majority of us don’t want it here,” one of the villagers said. “We voted last night at the tavern.”

  “That’s right,” another said.

  “I want it on record that I don’t stand with the rest of the villagers. I’m against this,” the young mother said. “I don’t think we should give up on her.”

  “You weren’t around when we were oppressed,” a swarthy farmer said. “The whole of witches everywhere were oppressed. We can never allow that to happen again. If something is beyond our power or understanding, we have to destroy it.”

  “What?” Owen ran to the dais and grabbed Sorin’s arm. “You can’t let them—”

  Sorin patted Owen’s hand. “No one is destroying anything. That’s not who we are. No amount of freedom is worth losing our humanity. That’s no freedom at all. We’re only convening here today to decide if Maria Winters shall remain in our village.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Hush, Agathe,” an old man said. “It’s time to decide.”

  The people on the big chairs leaned forward and mumbled amongst themselves for a few minutes. Owen tried to hear as he paced but they m
ust have cast a silencing spell over themselves. The village delegates also muttered to each other and he could hear them just fine. He was glad it wasn’t up to them.

  “We’re sorry, Owen,” Sorin said, looking truly saddened. “We’ve come to the decision that she can’t stay within our walls.”

  The villagers all slumped with relief and the young mother shook her head in disgust. Sorin led him out and they made their way to tell Maria the news. She looked from one to the other of them.

  “We’re sorry, Maria,” Sorin said. “But it was a majority vote. If it were up to me you’d be welcome, but that’s not how we do things anymore. Everyone gets a say.”

  “Except Maria,” Owen said bitterly.

  “She could have spoken for herself. She chose not to.” Sorin turned to Maria, who stood there silently.

  “This isn’t right,” Owen said, his heart breaking for the hundredth time at the blank look on her face. The face that was once so animated and dear to him. He stamped his foot in frustration. “It’s not right,” he repeated. She turned to him slowly.

  “It’s not?” she asked in that oddly calm voice that gave him chills. “Do you feel you’ve been wronged, Owen?”

  He stuttered, not sure where this was heading. Maria’s eyes locked onto Sorin and he dropped to his knees, clutching at his throat. Seeing Sorin’s face turning blue, he suddenly knew it wasn’t heading anywhere good. Agathe ran toward them shrieking for help. She cast her hands at Maria as if tossing off a hex but then she too fell to her knees, garbling and drooling.

  “Stop it, Maria,” Owen begged, hurrying to his cousin’s side. “No, no, I don’t feel wronged. God, what are you doing to them?”

  Sorin clawed at his throat and gasped, his face turning a more normal color. He scrabbled away on all fours and shook his head. “Please. You must leave now,” he said, looking desperately afraid.

  Maria stared at Sorin for a long moment. “I stay with Owen.”

  Agathe coughed and spat, also freed from whatever horror Maria had cast on her. “Then Owen goes as well,” she said, shoving him toward Maria.

  Owen stumbled over a rock and landed hard on his hands and knees. He hissed as he sat back on his heels and brushed at the scrapes on his hands. How had everything gone so wrong? He looked up at Maria, whose face was slowly turning red, her eyes locked on his raw palms. Terror struck him when he heard a strangled noise and a thump behind him. Scrambling to his feet he saw Agathe in a heap, blood pouring from her gaping mouth. Sorin shouted for help and one of the villagers from the meeting raced over.

  “What’s happening?” she cried, patting at Agathe’s cheeks. “Oh, God, I don’t think she’s breathing.”

  Owen whipped back around to Maria, her face now a dark eggplant color. She was holding her breath and staring daggers at Agathe’s limp form. What was she doing to her? Were the villagers right and whatever was in Maria was evil? All the evidence was before him but he couldn’t make himself believe it. She was only confused. Trying to protect him.

  “Stop it, Maria,” he shouted, rushing to her and shaking her by the shoulders. “Let her go. I’m not hurt.”

  Maria shook with the effort of not breathing and little red marks bloomed along her neck and arms. Owen realized Sorin and a few other villagers were aiming hexes at her, but other than the quickly fading burn marks, she didn’t seem disturbed by them.

  “She’s killing her,” the villager screamed, leaning over Agathe.

  Owen noticed a blur from the corner of his eye. He turned just enough to see a movement he was very familiar with. Another villager, not someone who had been at the meeting, skidded to a halt and drew a bow from behind his back. Another second later and an arrow was nocked and pointing at Maria’s heart. Owen jumped in front of her, flinging out his hands in supplication at the villager.

  “No, don’t,” he yelled.

  Something quivered through him, straight to his fingertips. He stared in utter disbelief as the villager went ramrod stiff before falling to the ground. Not again. He couldn’t have done something else without meaning to. He tore his eyes from the man who’d just barely missed falling on his own arrow. Praying he was still alive, he turned to Maria, shaking with terror. At what she was doing. At what he’d done.

  “I’ll go with you,” he told her, giving her one last hard shake. “Just stop what you’re doing.”

  She instantly let out her breath and turned and fled for the forest in a burst of speed that amazed him. He’d never catch up. Agathe groaned from behind him and he sagged with relief. Maria hadn’t killed her. He shuddered as the thought reverberated around in his mind.

  He was relieved Maria hadn’t killed someone. How could it have ever come to such a thing, his beautiful Maria coming close to ending someone’s life? He hurried to the villager he’d inadvertently done something to and was shocked to find the others staring at him with undisguised horror. He also saw flashes of hatred and swallowed back bile. Who among them was kin to him? He’d never know them now.

  “Get away from him,” someone begged. It was all a blur now, they were all faceless enemies to him. “Haven’t you done enough, bringing evil to our village?”

  “He’s evil as well,” another anguished voice cried out. A rock bounced off the side of his head but he barely felt it. The next one was bigger and thrown with much more gusto. He gasped as it hit his shoulder, sending him staggering backwards.

  “Enough!” Sorin commanded. Or tried to command. A hail of small stones rained around them both. Sorin hissed and dragged him away, around the corner of someone’s hut. “Go and hide for now,” Sorin said, sinking to the ground from exhaustion. “Find her and take her far from here and then sneak back to my cottage. I’ll make them see you meant no harm.”

  Before he could reply, one of the old men from the council scurried around the corner, eyes wide. “Gregor has them under control for now,” he gasped. “But they won’t be satisfied until this boy is far away.”

  “He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Sorin said, one last feeble attempt at defending him. “He needs to learn.”

  “I agree with you, but it won’t be here. Not after that display. Not after bringing that—”

  “Is- is that man all right?” Owen interrupted, feeling his throat constricting. Why had he asked? He didn’t want to know. He already knew.

  The old man shook his head, refusing to look at him. “He’s breathing, but won’t wake up.”

  “Get him to the healer,” Sorin said.

  The old man didn’t move. He was winded, clutching his sides. Owen could hear the young mother and her child sobbing hysterically in the courtyard. The only one who’d stood up for Maria.

  Sorin shook his head in dismay. “I was throwing everything I had at it and it just…”

  “Couldn’t be killed,” the elderly councilman added after a long pause. “I wonder if that means…”

  Owen couldn’t stand it anymore and turned and ran for the forest. He didn’t want to know what it meant. He had to find Maria and get her out of the village walls before they recovered their strength and wits. Before Maria got angry at them again. He couldn’t think too hard about that and let his mind go blank. He was so frazzled, it wasn’t a difficult feat.

  Thinking she might have gone to the spot where she caught her disgusting suppers, he stumbled through the forest toward the creek. When she wasn’t there, he turned in a circle and closed his eyes, trying to gain control of his senses. The sound of grunting and leaves rustling off to his left made him run in that direction. Forty or so yards away, Maria knelt in the dirt at the base of a tree, digging up the undergrowth like a truffle pig.

  A nauseating wave of revulsion swept over him, nearly knocking him to the ground. All he wanted to do was turn away and run for the village gates, flee this … this thing. What was it? What had she become?

  No, he thought. What did you turn her into?

  He knew he couldn’t leave her, not if Maria was still in there somewhere.
Not if there was the slimmest possible chance he could make all his mistakes right. But what he’d done to that man— he had to make that right as well. He had to stay and learn how to control his awful power. Ah, he had so many mistakes under his belt, he didn’t know where he should start.

  He thought all the way back to childhood and pinpointed the source of his problems. That bloody book. No wonder his and Ariana’s parents had lied to them. The horrible abilities they had were a curse, not a gift. How innocent they’d been, thinking they could make their lives— no, the world— a better place with magic.

  Maria gave one last supremely unladylike grunt and heaved a ruined silk bag out from the roots of the tree. The once delicate tassels were clumped with dirt. But inside was a veritable fortune.She turned and smiled at him as if she hadn’t nearly killed someone. With a grubby hand, she wiped some stray hairs out of her face, leaving a smudge of mud on her jaw. He felt a tear slither down his cheek and wanted more than anything to turn away from her. But he was transfixed by her glittering gaze.

  “Now there’s no need to walk. Not far, anyway. I’d wager no one here will arrange a carriage.”

  A tortured laugh escaped his tear-clogged throat. “I’d wager you’re right about that.” He sighed. “Where will you go?”

  She tucked the bag under one arm and looked somewhere past him. “I’m staying with you.” She stood and walked backwards for several steps. “I came for you.”

  “Maria, I’m sorry I made you think I needed you. You should go back to London. I can help arrange passage for you, whatever you need. You know your parents are probably sick with worry.”

  She shook her head. “They’re not.”

  “I’m sure they are.”

  “They’re not.”

  “Goodness. They most certainly are.”

  “They are most certainly not.”

  He gave up the argument, thinking she could probably continue on that way until nightfall and he wanted her to be far from the village walls by then. Shrugging, he held up his hands beseechingly.