by Jill Morrow
She swept the triumph from her face; he need not know that she had gained the upper hand. But when she turned her full attention to him, she saw that he’d forgotten she even stood there. His eyes were riveted to another.
A girl stood several yards away, an awkward third point to the triangle they’d suddenly become. A breeze rustled her long, dark hair. Her almond-shaped green eyes darted from earth to sky. She swept a hand across her face as if trying to rouse herself from a dream. The hand dropped to her side. Every ounce of color drained from her cheeks.
“Can it be?” Hugh’s words, low and sinuous, hung on the air between them. “Have we truly come this far?”
Isobel’s heart thudded against her chest. She’d never before heard that caressing note in his voice.
“This is what I’ve wanted,” he said softly, unmindful of her dismay. “Perhaps it is nearly time.” He stepped toward the girl. She crouched, ready to spring away at a moment’s notice.
Was this girl the reason for his distraction? Isobel sucked in a sharp breath, then jerked up her chin. A pretty girl, perhaps. A wanton one, clearly, with her long exposed legs and full red lips. She was younger than Isobel in years, and she did not possess the soft, pliant curves that men so desired. Isobel thrust her breasts forward and allowed her cloak to part, a reminder to Hugh of the pleasures she could offer. He did not notice. His eyes glittered. She did not know when they had returned to that dark emptiness she so abhorred.
“Do you see her, Isobel?” he asked.
Her lip curled in disgust.
Hugh noted the sneer. His brow lowered as he straightened to his full height. He strode toward her, each step a muffled warning.
“No, Isobel.” His hand shot out as if to strike her. He yanked it back just before his skin could touch hers. His physical restraint apparently reminded him to harness his tongue as well. “You don’t understand. This creature is the next step in our path together.”
Confusion mixed with anger as Isobel observed the girl. She stood frozen before them, her lips moving silently, words indecipherable. She no longer appeared as solid as she had only moments ago. Her outline remained firmly etched, but Isobel could peer straight through her to traces of blue sky and green tufts of grass. Impossible, but the girl was fading away!
Hugh noticed as well.
“No!” He stretched an entreating hand toward the ghostly figure. “Isobel! She must not leave us. Not yet!”
Isobel’s hand itched to slap him. As if she had any sway over this temptress. Why, if she could, she’d vanquish the trollop from the face of the earth.
But Hugh obviously expected otherwise.
“Bring her to me, Isobel. Do it now, before it is too late!”
Fury rose like bile in her throat. Was he daft? If he wanted the poppet’s favors, he could very well entice her on his own. She herself would never bring another to his side.
“Do you defy me?” He loomed large before her. His hot breath misted her face. “Isobel, I am your master. You must obey me.”
No master he until wedding vows were exchanged. She folded her arms across her chest and pointed her nose in the air.
“Ah.” Hugh staggered backward. “Jealousy.”
Her steady gaze swung toward him. The word hung heavy on the air between them, a lofted rock just waiting to fall. Her stare sharpened, piercing an imaginary hole through his forehead. She dared him to speak of the girl again. She would pummel him into the earth.
“Jealousy,” Hugh repeated, rolling the word across his tongue. He looked bewildered, as if the idea had ambushed him. “A mere human vice, yet powerful enough to destroy my greatest plans.”
Isobel gasped. He had never before spoken of plans. Why mention them if they did not include her?
Hugh’s eyes flickered rapidly across her face. He seemed to read her thoughts.
“Our plans,” he said, each word sharp and clear.
Her fingers fluttered to her throat.
He stepped forward, just close enough that she could see the puff of his breath on the chilled air. “She is but an envoy, Isobel. You must understand that our plans cannot be successful without her.”
Oh, a curse upon her body! It seemed to have overcome her reason despite her deepest intentions to remain calm and detached. An excited flush flooded her cheeks. Her mouth turned upward in a hopeful half smile.
“Yes, Isobel, be glad.” He spoke quickly now, his stare divided between her and the other girl. Isobel hazarded a quick glance at her rival. She only hoped that the girl had heard Hugh clearly: he held no tenderness for anyone other than herself.
“As if there could be another besides you.” His tone was perhaps colder than she might have liked, but his words were the very ones she wanted to hear.
She turned in triumph to face the girl, who looked a little more solid than before. Isobel assumed that her own anger had distorted her earlier vision, causing her to see blurriness where none had actually existed.
The girl struggled to speak. This time, Isobel heard her words.
“Who are you people?” she asked in a high, faint voice. “Where are we? Why can I see you?”
Isobel took comfort in the fact that the words made no sense. Surely Hugh could never be enamored of one so addled. She had little time to savor this, however. Hugh’s voice, tight and insistent, demanded her attention.
“Touch her, Isobel,” he commanded. “Touch her now.”
She could not fathom how this poor girl might further her dreams of keeping Hugh forever. On the other hand, she rarely understood anything about this man who so entranced her. But he was her teacher. She would willingly remain his pupil for as long as his lessons promised to blossom into romance.
She stared at the figure quaking before them. The girl stared back, green eyes round with fear.
“Touch her!” Hugh hissed.
Isobel moved slowly toward the girl, extending her arm as she glided across the green grass. Her fingers, long and milk white, reached for the other girl’s hand.
“No,” the girl whispered, although neither of them seemed to know why.
“You must befriend each other,” Hugh said. “Isobel, this is Julia Carmichael.”
Julia hugged her arms against her chest. Isobel brushed her fingers lightly against the girl’s arm, then forcibly grasped her wrist.
“Yes!” Hugh’s voice echoed through her head as the green of the meadow whirled round and round.
She was Isobel, and she was not Isobel. She knew Hugh, and she did not know Hugh. She remembered the rushes strewn across her father’s manor-house floor, yet she also recalled a big white house in a city she had never before seen. She was the only child of Geoffrey de Clairmont, but she thought that she might have a sister named Claire, a little sister with a whirlwind of curls and eyes as clear and green as her own.
Ideas bubbled to her mouth as a river of warmth raced up her arm and through her limbs. Words were rough and hard to form. She did not even understand the ones that struggled through her lips.
“Mom! Dad!” Isobel cried.
“Hold her!” Hugh shouted. “Do not let her slip away!”
As if she would ever let Julia slip away! This girl was her voice, her one chance to possess the gift of speech. Isobel tightened her grasp, but it made little difference.
She opened her mouth to beg the girl to stay. It was too late. The voice she’d just used had already left her. Only her own thoughts swirled through her mind, the same thoughts she had possessed all her life.
Julia was leaving them.
Isobel stared at the girl in disbelief, then started as she realized that Julia no longer stood alone. A woman floated beside her, a rather small woman with long dark hair and brown eyes.
Hugh’s voice might have come from the bottom of the deepest well.
“My dearest, dearest Katerina,” he said, and Isobel felt her own blood freeze within her veins. “You cannot alter your daughter’s destiny.”
The woman narrowed h
er eyes and raised her chin. Then she plucked Isobel’s hand from Julia’s wrist. The two faded away, leaving Isobel to stare openmouthed at the spot they had just occupied.
What bewitchment was this? She swung about to question Hugh, but he, too, had vanished, leaving her quite alone.
Claws landed on her shoulder, digging into her skin as they rolled her back and forth.
“Wake up, wake up!” a voice cackled in her ear. “Wake up, dullard, or you will miss Lauds!”
Isobel’s eyes flew open. Dame Margaret stood above her, a watery blue glare fixed upon her face.
“Out of bed,” she said, and Isobel saw at once that it was not piety that fueled the mistress of novices, but rather the strong belief that another should not stay abed while she herself trudged through the cold, damp night to the chapel.
Isobel swung her legs over the side of the bed. The ploy worked. Satisfied that her charge was awake, Dame Margaret moved away. Isobel waited until her ramrod-straight back passed from view before dropping her head into her hands.
Had it been but a dream? She didn’t think so. It had felt real—far more real than the stark emptiness of the priory dormitory, even.
Who, then, was Julia?
Hugh knew.
She must find a way to ask him.
18
ONCE UPSTAIRS, K AT HAD REQUIRED NO SPIRITUAL REVELATION to propel her to her daughter’s side. Julia lay face up on the bed, eyes opened wide, mouth moving as though words longed to escape.
“Julia!” Kat rushed across the room, but Julia did not acknowledge her.
Kat leapt into bed and curled herself around her daughter’s rigid body. One hand cupped Julia’s shiny head; the other wrapped itself around her waist to pull her close. Kat shut her eyes as she struggled to tame her own wild breathing.
“She’s a child of light,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “And this demon is darker than anything I can face alone. Please, God, tell me what to do!”
A crushing blast of wind pinned her against the bed. The room whirled. For one crazy moment, she expected to see Margaret Hamilton fiercely peddling a bicycle in a cyclone outside the bedroom window. But when she finally raised the courage to open her eyes, there was neither a bedroom nor a window. Instead, she stood beside Julia in the midst of a fragrant meadow, staring into the oval face of an unfamiliar girl with platinum hair.
Worst of all, beyond the girl stood Asteroth.
Kat’s stomach clenched as she met his gaze. She had never before seen him this clearly, not even during their fiery encounter so many years ago. Then she’d caught only jagged glimpses of him as he’d fought to materialize into physical form. She remembered that he required a human host to thrust himself into the world. He’d obviously found one here; the man before her was decidedly solid.
She wondered where “here” was. No building identified the landscape. The blond girl wore something resembling a nightgown and smelled as though she could use a bath. Asteroth’s impeccable clothing appeared medieval. Kat forced herself to study him. He stood strong and tall, his face nearly beatific despite the smirk gracing those chiseled features. The eyes, as always, gave him away. Their empty blackness matched the suctionlike chasm she felt spreading beneath his feet. He was like a black hole, ready to suck in any energy he could find.
“Observe me well, Katerina.” His mouth never moved, but she heard the words as clearly as if they’d been spoken directly into her ear. “Observe me and tremble.”
She needed no invitation to do that. He’d nearly killed her last time.
“No saintly Aunt Francesca stands beside you.” His unspoken sentence ricocheted through her brain. “No dim-witted husband can yank you away from me now. What a pity you cannot find your colleagues, for you are nothing without them.”
He was probably correct. Her faith was like an underused muscle: present, but too weak to be of much service. She was every bit as tired and inexperienced as she’d been that hot summer day fifteen years ago when Francesca had somehow summoned angels of light to their side. Her heart sank as a wrenching fatigue encased her.
She couldn’t do this. Why had she ever thought she could?
A slow smile spread across Asteroth’s stolen face. This time, he spoke out loud.
“My dearest, dearest Katerina. You cannot alter your daughter’s destiny.”
Her chin jolted upward. He’d gone too far.
Maternal desperation transcended time, space, and dimension. With strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Kat leaned forward and ripped the blond girl’s fingers from Julia’s wrist. Her eyes hardened to steel as she caught the girl’s startled expression. The blond was but a pawn, malleable and weak in Asteroth’s expert hands. Let her do as she pleased. Her own daughter’s soul was not for sale.
Another blast of wind forced her eyes closed. When she reopened them, she and Julia once again rested upon Julia’s bed, clinging to each other as if only the tiniest lifeboat rested between them and a raging, tumultuous sea. Stephen stood above them, breathing hard after his dash up the stairs. Kat followed his stare to Julia’s wrist, where the outline of fingers reddened the skin like an angry tattoo.
“I saw him.” Kat’s words, unbelievably calm, struck Stephen as anticlimactic.
He didn’t need to ask whom. One look at his wife’s flushed face and blazing eyes confirmed what he already knew. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He’s in physical form, though. Julia was with him.”
Stunned, he sank down onto the bed and groped for her hand. “Are you all right?”
“Later, Stephen.” She squeezed his fingers, and he felt his heart regain its normal rhythm.
Together they studied their daughter, whose eyelids fluttered as though she struggled against a heavy tide of sleep. Stephen wrapped an arm around her shoulders and eased her to a sitting position.
Kat caught his gaze. “There’s no time to handle this gently,” she said.
He nodded, then gave Julia a small shake. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
Julia’s head lolled back as she fought to focus her eyes.
Kat cupped her daughter’s chin in her hand, staring into her face as if she could awaken her by sheer force of will. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. It’s time to talk.”
Julia blinked as her eyes met her mother’s. A high-pitched shriek caught in her throat. She flung her arms around Kat’s neck. “It was you! You’re the one who came for me!” Tears started down her cheeks.
Kat hugged her, then carefully disengaged the clinging arms from around her neck. “It’s okay, Julie. You’re safe for now. But this isn’t a secret anymore. It’s not a game. Do you understand?”
Julia gulped for air. “Mom, it was never this bad! I swear!”
“But it will probably get worse,” Stephen said. “You’ve got to let us help.”
There was no time for well-crafted adolescent apathy. Julia was far too upset to twist her emotions into anything resembling coolness. Stephen easily read the thoughts that flashed across her face. First came the confusion of a child who simply could not comprehend the situation engulfing her. Fear followed as Julia tried desperately to link the past hour’s events to something even remotely routine. Finally, Stephen saw realization in his daughter’s eyes and knew that she would never again enjoy the peace of innocence.
“Oh, Julie,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry.”
Julia gulped. “Mom, this is what you meant that night in Aunt Frannie’s room, isn’t it. Remember? You told me that you and Dad had once fought against evil.”
“Does it finally feel evil to you?” Kat usually masked her emotions well, but this time her relief was nearly tangible.
“I don’t know.” Julia hung her head. “Part of it feels exciting. The other part…I don’t know, Mom. It felt like I had no control over anything that happened to me.”
Stephen and Kat exchanged a glance.
“What did happen to you?” Stephen asked.
“I don’t kn
ow,” Julia said again.
“You’ve got to know.” Kat’s voice was sharp. “You’ve got to tell us everything.”
Stephen watched his daughter study the carpet as if the pattern held all the secrets of the world. Was she weighing the odds, trying to decipher the benefits of letting her parents share the most compelling secret she’d ever kept? The silence seemed to stretch interminably, but the clock on the desk indicated that only a minute or two had passed. Kat remained still, expression unreadable to a casual observer. Stephen, however, was far more than a casual observer. He recognized the rigid set of her shoulders, the tightness around her mouth. She would accept nothing less than total compliance.
Julia spoke so quietly that her parents had to lean in close to hear her.
“Those people—that man and the girl you saw, Mom—have been…visiting me…for weeks and weeks. First they were part of my dreams, the kind of dreams you don’t want to wake up from. Then they started showing up even when I was awake.”
“Showing up?” Stephen prodded.
She nodded. “I’d close my eyes, and there they were. I told myself that it was exciting, that I could open my eyes and get rid of them whenever I wanted to. Then it got to the point where I didn’t only see them, I felt them. And this time…” She looked away.
“Don’t stop now,” Kat said. “You’re on a roll.”
Julia’s brow furrowed as if she couldn’t quite believe her own words. “This time it felt as if I actually became the girl. I knew things that only she could know. I wanted desperately to get out of her head, but I couldn’t. Then you came, Mom, and I felt myself yanked back into my own body.”
Stephen heard Kat’s sharp intake of breath. They’d gone a lot closer to the edge than they’d thought. Julia had almost slipped from their fingers, lost in a space they’d yet to even identify.
He felt a tug on his sleeve. Julia stared up at him with wet eyes.
“Dad. Am I crazy?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Unfortunately,” Kat said, “we understand all too well that this sort of thing can happen.” Her brisk, businesslike tone left little room for tears. Julia straightened and dabbed her eyes with the edge of her sweatshirt.
