Beauty and the Horseman's Head

by Holly Kelly

  “We are probably not going to get out of this alive,” she said, and Victor’s eyes widened.

  “I already know,” she said. “But I know something else. Saving Lavinia is the right thing to do. And Providence supports those who try to do the right thing. I have seen it time and again.”

  Victor shook his head. “You are an amazing woman.”

  “No, I am not. But I do try my best. So, what is our plan?”

  “I am going to attempt to draw the men out,” he said. “Once it’s safe, you free Lavinia and take her to your cabin. I will meet up with you there. Don’t let anyone see you. You don’t want these men to come after you when this is all over.”

  “It would not be the first time,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. Alright, where are they holding Lavinia?”

  He pointed through a thicket. “On the other side of those trees.”

  Hope nodded, and Victor turned to leave.

  “Wait,” she whispered harshly. “What are you going to do?”

  He smiled mischievously. “I may have been caught off guard when they put me in the stocks, but I came prepared.” And then he was off running into the trees.

  Hope turned and made her way around the thicket. She stifled a gasp when she saw Lavinia. She sat stone-faced on the ground, stripped bare—broken, bruised, blood oozing from red stripes crisscrossing her skin. Her hands sat limp in her lap, tied at the wrists. A dozen men circled her.

  “You are not so powerful now, are you?” A man with black hair and trimmed beard taunted and then spit at her, wetting her cheek with saliva. Lavinia did not respond, did not even blink.

  Another man approached from behind with a whip in his hands. “You think you can bring evil to this town without retribution?” He raised the whip and struck her across her back, creating yet another stripe across her skin. “Believe me, you will feel the wrath of God before you are thrust down to the fiery pits of hell.”

  Hope shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. Please, Victor. Hurry!

  Again, Lavinia did not react. Didn’t cry out. Didn’t move at all. Her face held a look of complete indifference.

  A thunderous explosion shook the ground, and shouts erupted. Smoke filled the air, billowing from the south. Men yelled and stood, not knowing what do. Hope waited for them to leave, but they did not.

  Minutes later there was another explosion, this time coming farther to the west.

  “We are under attack,” someone shouted, and then chaos ensued. The last lone man in the clearing was Pastor Goodman. He looked more angry than fearful.

  Striding over to a large tree trunk, he grabbed an axe and turned to his wife, fury in his eyes. He stalked toward her. “You brought this upon yourself, wife. You lied to me. You deceived me.” His voice rose until he was shouting in anger. “You made a fool of me! There will be no retribution great enough for what you’ve done. Even killing our son wasn’t enough. Torturing you will likely not gain me any more satisfaction than that did.” He leaned down and roared, “Look at me!” His spittle hit her face as he bellowed, yet Lavinia continued to sit, unmoving.

  Another explosion came from the north, but Pastor Goodman did not take his eyes off his wife. Instead, he raised the axe, preparing to bring it down on her head. “I am done with you.”

  Hope did not think beforehand what she was doing. She only knew she simply had to stop what was about to happen. So, she ran between Lavinia and her husband and raised her hands as the axe came down.

  Chapter 23

  Conall awoke feeling as if he’d been pummeled in the neck with the club of a mountain troll. He attempted to swallow, but had difficulty accomplishing the feat. What happened last night? He couldn’t seem to recall. Conall raised his hand to his neck and pressed down on the tender flesh and felt something odd—thread.

  His eyes flew open.

  He looked down to see his body stretched out below his neck. Raising his other hand, he inspected it as if seeing it for the first time. It was a bit battered and bloody, but it was his.

  “By the forest gods, she did it,” he rasped through his swollen windpipe.

  He searched the room, surprised when he did not see Hope. Where had she gone to? His eyes fell on a note. He picked it up and read. Mr. Henry is going for help? For what?

  He needed to find Hope. But first, he’d better clean up.

  He could not help but smile when he stripped the bloody clothes off and washed his body in the river. Frigid water never felt so good. When he was clean, he strode back into the cabin and opened the chest that held the clothes Hope had sewn for him. Surprisingly, they fit. Hope had a good eye.

  Now where in the human world was that woman?

  A booming explosion caught him off guard and set his heart pounding. Something serious was afoot, and he knew Hope well enough to guess she’d be in the thick of things.

  Rushing out the door, he looked to the skies and saw billowing smoke. And then there was a flash of light, accompanied by another booming explosion. Using his power, he cast a glamour over himself to blend in with the humans and then transported near the commotion. He took a step back when a woman ran headlong into him. Reaching out to steady her, he mumbled, “Excuse me.”

  They young woman looked up and gasped, “Oh, dear sir, you don’t want to be traveling that direction. There’s a witch spreading dark magic and killing innocent people.”

  “I need to find my wife.” He spoke the lie easily. “Do you happen to know where she is?”

  “Who is your wife?”

  “Hope Jones, the school teacher. I am her husband, Conall.”

  “Oh, I thought she was a widow. Um, I haven’t seen her.” She did not stay, but raced off away from the commotion. Conall rushed into it.

  Fire raged around him, burning the town hall, an adjacent home, and the jail.

  “Mrs. Young,” a familiar voice shouted. “This way.” Victor? If anyone knew what was going on, this man did.

  Conall raced over to the voice and found a man nearly as tall as himself herding townspeople away from the flames. “Victor?”

  Victor turned to him. “Do I know you?”

  “I am Hope’s husband.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Victor said.

  “Stories of my demise were greatly exaggerated. I am looking for Hope. Have you seen her?”

  Victor frowned at him and paused. “I know where she is. Follow me.”

  Conall’s heart clenched as a feeling of foreboding descended on him. As they neared a grove of trees, he heard an angry voice. Conall did not hesitate as he raced toward the voice. When he finally reached the clearing, his heart stopped at the sight—Hope with her hands raised as an axe descended down on her. Without a second thought, he reached out his hand and froze the scene in place.

  Victor scrambled up behind him and hissed out a curse. “What did you do to them?”

  “He manipulated time,” Lavinia said, sitting on the ground, naked and bloody. “His kind are masters of manipulation.”

  Conall looked at his former captor and opened his mouth to make a snide comment.

  “Don’t . . . just don’t say it,” she growled.

  Conall obeyed. There was something off about Lavinia. She looked broken. A shell of her former self, but through the cracks in that shell, he sensed a fury the likes of which he’d never seen before.

  Lifting herself off the ground, she reached toward Hope, slipped her hand in her pocket, and pulled out her amulet.

  Alarmed, Conall took a step forward.

  “Don’t worry,” Lavinia said. “I am not going to hurt her, or you, for that matter. I think that is the least I can do to repay her for her willingness to give her life for mine. I give no such promise of protection to my once dear husband.”

  Lavinia brushed her fingers over Hope’s hand, and Hope broke free from the spell. She squeaked out a cry, still expecting the blow of the axe to fall on her. Conall rushed forward a
nd scooped her up in his arms. “It’s alright, love. I am here,” he whispered in her ear.

  “But Lavinia—”

  “Lavinia is safe now.” He looked back at her. Lavinia kept her eye on her husband as she strode by him like a predator circling its prey. He stood frozen with the axe in his hands until she caressed his face. The axe fell, striking the ground. He looked around, confused.

  “What? What kind of magic is this?”

  “And now you want to know about my magic? I could have taught you. I would have opened up to you everything I know. I could have given you the world, husband. Instead, you had me stripped, beaten, lashed, and even killed the child, our child, I carried in my womb.”

  Pastor Goodman roared as he slapped his hands against his head and dropped to his knees. His hands dropped away and he gasped for breath, then raised his hands as if they could protect him from Lavinia’s power.

  “Lavinia, love,” he sobbed. “I am sorry. I made a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” she shouted. “You call what you did a simple mistake?”

  He shook his head. “I am sorry. I really am, but we can have another. We can have a dozen, if you wish. Just let me live.”

  Lavinia glared at him. Hatred burned like fire in her eyes.

  Pastor Goodwin looked around him, obviously searching for help. His eyes landed on Victor. “Please, brother-in-law. Tell your sister to spare me. Tell her to not do anything she will later regret.”

  Victor shook his head. “If I were to promise her anything, it would be that I would kill you myself.”

  “My brother has nothing to do with this,” Lavinia snarled. “But, I will make a promise to you, husband. I promise to make you suffer as I have suffered, only a thousand times over. And though I doubt you care, I will destroy every hand that was laid on me in my trials.”

  “Lavinia,” Hope said.

  Conall put his hand on her shoulders and pulled her up against him. He would be ready if the witch decided to attack her.

  “Please, don’t do this. You have a chance to make a better choice. I will help you. We all will help you move on from here and find a better life. Redemption is still possible for you.”

  Lavinia shook her head, a hint of amusement lighting her crazed eyes. “I appreciate the offer, Hope. But I am not looking for redemption; I am looking for vengeance. Conall?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “You really don’t want her seeing what I am about to do here.”

  He nodded. “It’s time to go, Hope.”

  Hope shook her head. “No, Lavinia, please.”

  Conall did not wait for Hope’s consent. In that moment, he transported the three of them to Victor’s home.

  * * * * *

  Conall held Hope to his chest and kissed her head as she cried. “I could have saved her,” she said. “If only I had more time.”

  Conall shook his head. “You cannot save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.” He looked up. Victor had his arm around his wife, his eyes filled with love as he looked down on her.

  “I am so sorry, Victor,” Hope said. “I know how you love your sister.”

  “There’s no reason for you to be sorry,” Victor said. “You did everything you could to help her.”

  “I cannot help but feeling I could have done more.”

  Victor shook his head. “Lavinia is not a child. She was raised learning right from wrong. She did not sin in ignorance. Her choices are her own to make.”

  Hope nodded against Conall’s chest.

  Victor looked up at Conall. “I have been thinking of something Lavinia said. She said your kind are master manipulators. And I saw you manipulated time. What are you?”

  “What are you talking about?” Rebekah asked.

  Conall shrugged. “After all you’ve seen, I might as well show you.” Conall dropped the glamour. They could now see everything—his ears, the black stitching around his neck, even the glow he emanated.

  Victor gaped at him in shock.

  “I am Elvin. I come from a place called Faery. My brother sent me to earth as punishment years ago. Lavinia found me and removed my head. She kept me alive and forced my headless body to do her bidding. Then she locked me—my head—in your cabin.” He looked at Hope. “Until Hope found me.”

  “You’ve been with her all this time?” Rebekah asked.

  Hope answered for him. “Yes, he has—well, at least his head has.”

  “But now that you are whole again, will you be staying with us, or will you have to go back?” Rebekah said.

  “He has to go back,” Hope said.

  “No.” Conall rubbed his new, somewhat tender skin. The stitches hurt like pinpricks. “I cannot leave. I desperately need something from Hope.”

  Her brows pressed together in confusion. “What is it?”

  “Marry me.”

  “What? But I thought . . .”

  “I don’t care what my brother says. I will not leave you. I love you, Hope.”

  Hope shook her head, in confusion. She stood. “Conall?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “Would you accompany me on a walk?”

  “A walk?”

  She nodded, resolute.

  Minutes later, they were next to a small stream.

  “You still haven’t answered me,” he said.

  “Technically what you said was more of a statement than a question. Besides, you told me there could be no future for us.”

  “I am not going to keep waiting around for my brother. Time passes differently in Faery; days there translate to weeks here. He may not even show up in your lifetime. Besides, there is no future for me without you.”

  “I thought I was alone in my affection,” she said. Her voice broke, revealing her tender feelings.

  He stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her. “After the kiss we shared, how could you doubt how I felt about you?”

  “You said yourself that you have no qualms about seducing women,” she said. “I thought myself a fool for imagining there might be more than lust in that kiss.”

  “I feel plenty of lust for you, but there’s something else no other woman has ever elicited from me.”

  “And what would that be?” she asked, breathless.

  “I would lay down my life for a simple smile from you, woman.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Really?”

  He leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Without a doubt.”

  She tilted her head back, licked her lips, and then closed her eyes. He chuckled as she obviously expected him to kiss her. He did not disappoint her as he captured her mouth with his and lifted her off the ground.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, causing a dull ache in his still-healing flesh. He only gave the discomfort a passing thought as he concentrated on everything about her—her taste, the feel of her body, the fresh smell of her. When he finally forced himself to pull away, she sighed and dropped her head against his shoulder.

  “We should probably get married sooner than later,” she said. “I have discovered I have a terrible weakness.”

  “You? You have a weakness?” He chuckled.

  “It’s not funny. It’s rather embarrassing.”

  “I am sorry I laughed. What weakness do you have?”

  “I don’t even want to say it.”

  “Nothing you could say will change how I feel about you.”

  She stood for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. Finally, she said, “I am feeling . . . lust. There, I said it. I am sure you are appalled.”

  He did his best not to laugh again. “I am the opposite of appalled—unless you are wanting someone other than me. Then I am afraid I would have to kill the man.”

  “Of course not. And murder is a mortal sin.”

  “It’s a good thing I am not mortal. And as for your weakness, I could not be happier.”

  “You don’t understand. Proper women do not lust.”

  “Thank the heavens you
are not a proper woman.”

  “That is not a nice—"

  He interrupted her with another kiss, which after a stunned moment, she returned with fervor.

  Chapter 24

  Conall held Hope’s tiny hand in his as they made their way back to the house. Fall leaves crunched under his boots, and the lingering smell of smoke mingled with the earthy smell of decaying vegetation, ripe apples, and baked goods. Strangely enough, it was a pleasant smell. In fact, everything around him was appealing—especially the woman at his side.

  How he ever thought he could leave her behind, he had no idea. She was a breath of fresh air. With the innocence of a child and the strength and power of a dragon, Hope was a force to be reckoned with. And he had fallen under her spell.

  Conall’s heart skipped a beat when he caught another scent—musky like the scent of a wild animal. And then were other scents—charred, white oak, and honeysuckle. He pushed Hope back. “Stay behind me,” he hissed.

  “What is it?”

  “Unexpected visitors.”

  The front door of Rebekah’s home burst open, and Mr. Henry stepped out. “Now don’t be shy! I have friends that need introducin’.”

  “This must be the help that Mr. Henry promised to bring,” Hope said.

  Right. The letter.

  Conall kept Hope close to him, not trusting Mr. Henry’s so called “help.”

  Inside, next to Mr. Henry stood two men and a woman. The woman was Elvin, with big green eyes and jet-black hair. She wasn’t the worry; the man on Mr. Henry’s left was a vampire, and the other next to him was a werewolf. Strange mixed company.

  “Conall, Miss Hope,” Mr. Henry said, “these are my friends in the Order. Rose is a healer, and Vladmir is the director, and Richard’s a tracker like I once was.”

  “Why did you bring them here?” Conall asked.

  “Thought we might need help. After all, it’s not every day you come against a witch as powerful as Lavinia. And now that she’s caught . . .”

  “She’s free,” Conall said.

  “How’d she get free?” the werewolf snapped.

  “I helped her escape,” Hope said. “You don’t know the terrible things they were doing to her, what they planned to do to her.”