The Witch of Stonecliff

by Dawn Brown

  * * *

  Eleri dragged the scrub brush across the fading lettering. The stringent cleanser’s acrid fumes wafted to her nose and churned her stomach. Her shoulders ached with the repetitive motion and her knees cramped from kneeling on the damp ground.

  She leaned back to look at her work. The brilliant red lettering had faded to dull grayish pink, but the words were still visible.

  Witch.

  Murderer.

  If she found the bastard who did this, she might just live up to the epitaphs, after all. The last one, at least. With a gloved hand, she opened the tin and poured more cleanser on the stain before returning to the monotonous task.

  As uncomfortable as her job was, at least she was out of the house, her mind busy. Though, her thoughts did have a habit of wandering, and usually down the same track. Her gaze, almost involuntarily, darted to the trees in the direction of the lodge.

  She still hadn’t seen Kyle today, and she wished she’d catch sight of his car on the road behind her or the man himself walking through the woods on the opposite side of wall where she worked. Anything to let her know he was alive and well so her knotted insides would finally loosen. Though, the sensation would be short-lived. Every time the man was out of sight, all she could think was that it would be the last time she saw him.

  Eleri had even gone to her father that morning; a last desperate attempt to override Warlow. She hated visiting her father, hated the stink of illness in the stale air, hated the way he looked at her like she was some foreign object he couldn’t quite understand. Like she was all the things people said. For all the good it had done her, anyway. Her father had merely stared at her with dark eyes, a scowl etched into his skeletal face. He was little more than taut skin over bone these days, the outline of his limbs beneath his bed covers barely discernible from the wrinkles. When she’d finished speaking, silence had stretched between them in the dimly lit room except for the steady hiss of the oxygen tank. Finally he had said, “Hugh has given you my decision. Stop wasting my time.”

  A rumble from a car engine cut through the quiet and pulled her from her thoughts. She dropped the scrub brush, stood and turned as a white van passed. Her stomach sank like a brick.

  “Shit,” she whispered. She didn’t have it in her to deal with that man.

  Her pulse fluttered in her throat. She bent her head and started for the Land Rover parked between the posts at the end of the drive, peeling off her rubber gloves as she hurried.

  Tires crunched gravel as the van swung over the soft shoulder and onto the grass between her and her car. She jerked to a stop, her feet nearly slipping out from under her.

  Heart slamming against her chest, she backed away from the van. Could she make the drive for the lodge by doubling back on the path through the woods? Unlikely—she couldn’t outrun his truck.

  The driver’s door opened and Stephen Paskin’s enormous frame unfolded from behind the wheel. The man’s small eyes narrowed, his mouth twisted into a ferocious caricature of a smile beneath his flat, crooked nose. His square head set on a short neck gave him a hunched appearance as his long strides ate up the space between them.

  “Advertising, Eleri?”Paskin asked, nodding at the faded lettering on the wall.

  She couldn’t reply. Fear had cut the receptors connecting her brain to her mouth. She was alone with Stephen bloody Paskin.

  Now that he was out of the van, she might be able to outrun him. But it would take him seconds to climb back behind the wheel and catch up to her. Maybe he’d even run her over. No one in the village would fault him. Not when they believed she’d killed his son.

  “Is this your handiwork, Paskin?” She jerked her head at the graffiti, pleased at the strength in her voice. She would at least behave as though the man didn’t have her quivering like a whipped dog.

  “Anyone could have done that. Everyone in the village knows what you do.” He clenched and opened his fists at his sides. She remembered those massive hands clamped around her arms, dragging her closer.

  Her legs turned soft, and she had to lock her knees to keep from crumpling into the grass. Surely he wouldn’t actually do anything to her next to a road where someone could drive past.

  As if to mock her, the road remained empty and silent.

  “Get back in your truck and le-leave.” Heat crept into her face. She’d almost managed to sound ferocious until that hiccup at the end.

  He took another step closer. “I’m not going anywhere, love. You put my boy in that bog.”

  Something squeezed in her chest at the possibility that Griffin had spent the past six years rotting away in The Devil’s Eye, less than a mile from where she lived.

  No, he was in France—just like he said. He was painting and living in the country, and maybe from time to time his thoughts flitted to her, thinking about what could have been if she’d been braver.

  “How badly would I have to hurt you to make you admit to killing my son?” Despite his almost conversational tone, Paskin’s pale blue eyes shone with malice.

  Fear spiked in Eleri’s chest, stealing her breath. “Griffin left because he hated you.”

  “If I broke a few fingers, maybe? An arm? Or would I have to make you bleed?”

  He won’t do anything. Not here. Not where someone could see him.

  What did he care if someone passing saw? No one in the village would come to her defence. Paskin owned the local pub. People loved him—and hated her. They’d think she was getting what she deserved.

  Paskin lunged for her and she bolted. His thick fingers tangled in her hair jerking her back. Sharp needles stung her scalp.

  She reached back and clawed at his hands, all the while trying to yank free from his grasp. He ground out a curse, grip loosening, and she stumbled away, strands of hair ripping from her scalp.

  “You little bitch,” he growled.

  Eleri scrambled back, hand pressed to her stinging scalp. She had to get away. Before things turned out like last time, only without Griff to help her—

  Her back slammed into something warm and solid. An arm wrapped around her waist like a vice, holding her tight. White fear swept through her. Her legs turned to mush.

  God help her, Paskin wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Four

  Fear surged through Eleri like a wave. She shoved at the arm banded around her waist, tried to twist free. His grip squeezed tighter. Rough stubble scraped her cheek. Warm breath whispered against the skin beneath her ear.

  “It’s me, Eleri.” Kyle’s gravel voice penetrated the terror encapsulating her brain. She froze, heartbeat thundering inside her chest.

  What was he doing here? Helping her, or Paskin? She held her breath, body tense, ready to resume fighting her way free.

  “This is nothing to do with you, lad,” Paskin growled, light eyes never leaving her face. “Best see to your own business and leave us to finish ours.”

  The arm at her waist loosened and Eleri curled her fingers into Kyle’s coat sleeve. Under normal circumstances, she would have swallowed glass before admitting she needed help, especially from a man she wished would go back to wherever he came from. But right then, she was ready to sink to her knees and beg Kyle not to leave her alone.

  Instead of letting her go, he eased her behind him, putting himself between her and Paskin.

  “Your business is finished,” Kyle ground out.

  Stunned, Eleri stared at his broad back. When was the last time someone defended her?

  The gesture hadn’t been lost on Paskin, either.

  “You’re protecting her? Too bloody rich,” Paskin sneered. “She’s a murderer. She killed my boy.”

  “Get in your car and get the hell out of here,” Kyle told him.

  Paskin’s face darkened. “You listen to me—”

  “No, you listen,” Eleri cut in, slipping out from behind Kyle so she stood shoulder to shoulder with him. As surreal as having this strange man coming to her defence was, she had to stand her ground. “Lea
ve and don’t come back, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Paskin ignored her, glare fixed on Kyle. “You remember this moment when the time comes.”

  Eleri’s cheeks burned. Impotent fury circled inside her belly and left her nauseous. “Get out of here, Paskin!”

  He didn’t spare her a glance, his attention solely on Kyle, but he retreated, walking backward toward the van. “She’ll kill you, too.”

  Kyle’s expression remained stoic. He might have heard the stories about her, but now he’d come face-to-face with the reality. Surely he’d leave the lodge.

  A pang too close to disappointment for her liking pierced her chest. Ridiculous. She wanted him gone before something happened—especially now.

  Paskin pulled his truck onto the road and sped away, tires squealing. Eleri watched until his taillights disappeared around the bend in the road and the sound of his motor faded. Quiet descended like a soft blanket. Only the wind in the trees and birds twittering from branch to branch remained.

  She released the breath she’d been holding, locked her shaking knees so she wouldn’t sink to the ground. She wanted to collapse into the cool, wet grass, wrap her arms around her middle and curl into a ball.

  But she couldn’t. Not here. Not with an audience.

  Instead, she slipped her hands into the rear pockets of her trousers so Kyle wouldn’t notice how badly they shook then met his furious scowl.

  “What?” she asked, taking a step back. She wished her voice wasn’t so hoarse.

  “Why in the hell didn’t you call for help?”

  “I didn’t know you were there.” But thank God he had been. What would Paskin have done had he got his hands on her? Revulsion welled inside her.

  “Are you all right?” Kyle’s expression softened and he reached for the side of her head. The white-hot sting had receded to a faint throb, but she jerked back before his fingertips could make contact. He frowned and his arm fell back to his side.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, gingerly touching the side of her head, and forced a smile. “No bald spot.”

  His mouth quirked slightly. “No, your hair is intact. You should report him.”

  She snorted before she could stop herself. “Who would believe me over him?”

  “I saw him.”

  She shrugged. “He’d get a warning, nothing more. Even if someone believed Paskin threatened me—”

  “He did a bit more than threaten you,” Kyle snapped.

  “No one would side against the man. He thinks I murdered his son, and so does everyone else.”

  She turned and gathered the cleanser and scrub brush. “I should get back. This doesn’t seem to be working, anyway.”

  And the sooner she was away from Kyle Peirs’s scrutinizing gaze, the better. Her body trembled, limbs soft and rubbery. She was on the verge of shattering and she really didn’t want anyone to see.

  “Did you?”

  Kyle’s question stopped her midstride. “Did I what?”

  “Did you kill his son?”

  A thin jolt stabbed her belly. No one had ever asked her outright, not about Griffin or any of the others. Everyone assumed she had, even the police. They’d asked her a thousand questions over and over—when did you see him last, what did he say to you, what was your relationship—but no one had ever asked her if she’d taken a life.

  She tilted her head and forced a hard smile. “Having doubts, Mr. Peirs?”

  “Did you?”

  She jerked a shoulder and turned away, infusing her voice with a light indifference she didn’t feel. “Not that I recall.”

  She tossed the supplies into the back of the Land Rover.

  A faint touch grazed her elbow. She jumped back and whirled around in one fluid motion.

  “Eleri?” Kyle’s gaze shifted from her shaking hands to her face. “You don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine.” She dug her keys out from her purse and hurried around to the driver’s door.

  Exhaustion weighed down her limbs. The back of her nose tingled. She was crumbling, eroding like a rock cliff at the edge of the sea pounded by the waves over and over again. She had to get out of there.

  She yanked open the car door, but hesitated before climbing in. He’d helped her. Defended her—and in front of Stephen Paskin of all people. No doubt the whole of Cragera Bay would know about what had happened—at least Paskin’s version—within the hour. If Kyle didn’t have a target on him when he took the lodge, he would now.

  “I wish you’d leave.”

  “I can’t,” he told her, his tone grave. “I wish you’d contact the police.”

  She snorted. “The less interaction I have with them just now, the better. Thank you, though, for intervening.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for doing what’s right.” Impatience edged his soft words.

  With a nod, she climbed behind the wheel, pulled the door closed and started back to the house.

  * * *

  Kyle watched the Land Rover disappear down the drive. Dull fury still thudded behind his eyes. His hands itched to grab Paskin around the throat and pound the bastard’s face in.

  The man had been massive compared to Eleri. Her expression, wild and terrified, had fueled the rage humming under Kyle’s skin. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to fly at Paskin.

  He thought of Barber’s claims that Eleri was one of them, but she hardly looked the part of a hardened killer capable of slitting a man’s throat. No, she looked exhausted…hunted.

  An odd sense of connection gripped him. After all, he’d seen a similar expression marring his own features.

  She wanted him away from the lodge, even the village. Because she feared he’d put a finger of blame on her to the police, or she feared something happening to him?

  A rhythmic buzz from his jacket pocket broke into his thoughts. His blasted mobile had been going off every few minutes the entire time he’d been with Eleri. He fished it out and his younger sister’s text glowed up at him from the screen.

  Where r u?!!!

  The most recent message of about a half dozen. A thin shaft of guilt punctured his resolve. God, what would he put his family through if something happened to him again?

  He was under no delusion that his escape two years ago had been little more than a fluke. If his plan failed, he wouldn’t make it out alive—not again. He supposed that was the reason he’d told Sophie where he was really going and why. If the worst did happen, at least one person would know where he was, what he was doing.

  I’m fine. Will ring u soon.

  U have 15 min or I’m telling.

  He snorted, Sophie’s response all too reminiscent of their childhood. They’d been the two younger ones. The two stuck with the hand-me-downs. The two bossed by the older ones. The two who never had a turn first. As they’d grown older, they’d formed short-lived alliances, an us against them determination when dealing with his older brother, Tom, and older sister, Grace. But they’d always been too quick to turn on each other for such unions to last.

  His phone hummed in his hand and he looked down at the screen.

  I want 2 hear ur voice.

  Guilt squirmed in his stomach. Sophie hadn’t wanted him to come and, God forbid, anything happen to him. His sister would never forgive herself for her part in his scheme.

  It wasn’t fair to put her in this position, forcing her to keep his secret, but there’d been no one else. He couldn’t tell his parents. Even if they wouldn’t have tried to stop him—and they would have, he was certain—he couldn’t worry them more than he had. His father must have aged ten years in the first three months after the attack, and his mother’s voice still trembled slightly when her gaze flitted to the scar across his throat.

  As for Tom, he would have physically sat on Kyle to keep him from making this trip, and Grace’s fears would have come out in a stern lecture about responsibility that would somehow inflate the guilt already pumping through his veins. Only Sophi
e would keep his secret. Maybe out of nostalgia, remembering that tumultuous camaraderie of their childhood. Or maybe, two years younger than Kyle’s thirty, she was young enough to believe she could have her brother back. Either way, he didn’t want her worrying about him more than she already was. Besides, he wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t tell on him if he didn’t ring her.

  He dialed her number as he emerged from the edge of the trees and started toward the lodge. Pinning his mobile awkwardly between his ear and shoulder, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  Sophie answered before the first ring finished. “‘Lo?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Thank God,” she breathed. “I’ve been worried.”

  Again that sharp twist in his gut. “Sorry. I was…” He’d been helping the woman who may have tried to kill him. He settled for, “I was speaking to someone.”

  “When you didn’t answer me right away… I think this is a bad idea, Kyle.”

  “I’m fine, really. You can’t panic every time I miss a text or a call. I sleep, you know? Shower. Go to the toilet.” He forced his tone to remain light, hoping he could draw a laugh from his little sister.

  “I wish you’d never told me what you were up to. You’ve put me in a terrible position. If something happens to you, they’ll blame me.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he told her with more conviction than he felt. After all, she was his fail-safe, his just in case. And worse, she knew it.

  * * *

  As soon as Eleri locked her bedroom door behind her, she peeled off her sweater and t-shirt in a single yank over her head. Her skin, cold and clammy, itched as though tiny invisible bugs scurried over her flesh. She tugged off her trousers next, hopping on one foot to the nearest lamp and turning the switch. While she peeled off the rest of her clothes, she made her way to every light in the room until the space glowed brightly. The shadows chased safely to the far corners of the room.

  In the en suite, she turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat. Once the bathroom steamed, the spray as hot as she could stand, she stepped into the big iron bathtub.

  The nearly scalding water beat at her skin like tiny hot bullets, but Eleri barely noticed. She bent and snatched the soap from the wire basket on the edge of the tub and rubbed it hard over her body, determined to scrub the crawling sensation from her skin.