by Ann Gimpel
He dragged her from his body, chucked her back inside the stationhouse, and pulled the door closed, turning the key to engage the locking bolt. Glass shattered, but he was ready this time and moved away from the window Abigail/Goody tumbled from. An unholy shriek rose from her and she threw herself on the ground thrashing and kicking. Her body lurched upright, only to sprawl on the ground again.
A grim smile split Luke’s face. Goody was trying to leave, but Abigail subverted her by dragging their shared body downward. From the sound of it, Goody was shredding the hell out of Abigail’s innards. Luke felt proud of her for not giving in and letting the Salem witch have ascendency, even though she was obviously in pain. He ached for her, wanted to help her, but didn’t know how.
A rush of magic buffeted him from two sides. He raised his hands to call power, and sent magic catapulting outward to see what he faced. Mad wolves. Lots of them. No doubt they’d risen to Goody’s summons, and they’d be furious when they raced into the clearing and saw their two dead companions. Luke ratcheted up his magic and loosed a distress call. He needed help. There’d be forest wolves here; maybe they’d fight if he asked. Luke had been outmanned and outgunned before, but never by so large a margin.
Until the wolves showed up, assuming they heeded his summons, he cut a wide swath with his power, feeling it snuff out one mad wolf after another. Once he had allies, he’d have to be more careful so he didn’t kill one of the good wolves by mistake. Thank Christ he’d had a decent meal. Magic wasn’t a bottomless well. If he didn’t pace himself, he’d run dry. Luke dialed back the intensity of his attack. So far, nothing had ventured within the clearing hogged out of the forest where the stage station stood. Distant howls from forest wolves, not mad ones, plucked at him and gave him hope. Even though they didn’t know him, they were on their way.
He spared a glance at Abigail and sucked in a horrified breath. Deep scratches marred her face where she’d dug her nails in. Blood ran from her face and hands and arms. Had Goody forced Abigail to mutilate herself? Worse, was Abigail trying to kill the body that housed them both? The thought sickened him. He raced to her side and pulled her out of the dirt. She twisted in his arms, trying to bite him. Hating to do it, but not seeing any other choice, Luke directed enough magic to knock her out. It took way more than he’d expected. When she finally went limp against him, he was scared shitless he’d killed her.
He laid a hand on the side of her neck, relieved beyond words when he felt her pulse still beating. He carried her to the porch and considered simply leaving her there, but thought better of it, twisted the key, and laid her gently on the floor inside the station. Luke kissed her forehead, told her everything would work out somehow, and let himself back out onto the porch, taking care to lock the door and pocket the key. If Goody clawed her way through his spell, there was always the broken window she could use to escape, but he’d fight that battle when he had to.
A pack of wolves, normal ones, burst into the clearing, eyes bright, fangs bared. They twisted their heads this way and that, hunting something to kill. Luke sucked in a steadying breath and spiraled magic in a huge circle so he could help his new allies. He sensed evil, but it was moving away from them.
He shook his head. It didn’t make sense. Why were the mad wolves leaving? Sudden understanding filled him with elation. Goody was truly out of commission. Without her calling the shots and flogging them forward, her minions were rudderless, and had chosen the path of least resistance. Luke didn’t blame them. They might dance to the wrong piper’s tune, but they were far from stupid. Why die if you didn’t have to?
He bowed to a large black and gray timber wolf, maybe the pack’s alpha. “Thank you, brother, for responding to my need. The wicked ones are leaving.”
“We thought as much.” The wolf’s tail plumed. His breath frosted the chill, night air. “We will patrol for a while, in case they change their minds and return.”
Luke bowed low. “I am in your debt.”
The wolf’s tongue lolled and lupine laughter rang in Luke’s mind. “If you’re truly indebted, you won’t mind if we help ourselves.” The wolf trotted to one of the dead men and nosed him with his snout.
“Feel free. At least they and your twisted brethren can fill your bellies.”
Luke turned and unlocked the door to let himself back into the station. Morning was still hours away. Regardless whether the relief driver showed up, he had to prioritize freeing Abigail from the Salem witch. The gig was up. Goody must know he’d figured out what she was up to, which meant Abigail had become expendable.
Luke put out a telepathic call to any enforcers close enough to hear him. The odds of saving Abigail were thin, but without help, they’d erode to nil and he’d have to kill the abomination she’d become. He paid magic into the spell keeping her comatose, knowing full well the deeper she went, the greater the danger she’d die anyway.
Chapter Seven
Luke fetched a soft, woolen shawl out of Abigail’s valise and folded it beneath her head. He didn’t have much of a plan, but he’d try to keep her unconscious until one or more enforcers arrived, and they could come up with something better. Her hands were trashed with several nails ripped from their beds. Damn, but that must have been excruciating. He focused a slender thread of magic to heal the worst of her wounds, including her lacerated face. It was little enough, but doing something eased the ache in his heart when he gazed at her ruined body.
He tried to piece together what Goody had hatched up for a strategy. The men riding the mad wolves were obviously servants of the dark. Maybe she’d wanted them to drive the stagecoach because they’d do what she wanted. He wondered if they’d killed the real stationmaster somewhere along the way. Luke had no doubt he’d have been the next casualty somewhere along the Overland Stage Road to Salt Lake. A knife in the ribs, or maybe a gunshot wound when he went into the woods to relieve himself.
Time passed. The windows grayed with the dawn, and then got even lighter. Abigail/Goody still slept. Luke pursed his lips into a hard line. Which of the enforcers would heed his call? When would they show up? Most important of all, would they insist on taking the high road and killing Abigail’s body to quash Goody permanently?
Almost as if he’d broadcast his thoughts, a voice eddied in his mind. “Sam here. You still with us, brother?”
“Yes.”
“Damn! Sounding pretty chipper. We’ll be there in half an hour, maybe a little less. Rode most of the night, ever since we got your call.”
Because he didn’t know what else to say, Luke murmured, “Thanks.”
Gratitude flooded him. The enforcer brotherhood was unbreakable. No one had a past, not one that mattered, but they were the best kind of family. Loyal to the core. He’d have knocked himself out, too, if one of the others had sent out a distress call. What Sam had called him wasn’t accidental. The other enforcer was the closest thing he had to a partner, to a brother. Luke settled in to wait. Abigail’s ashen face made his soul hurt.
“Soon,” he whispered. “We’ll figure this out and free you.” He wanted to draw her against him, but was afraid he’d waken her. Luke gazed at her and tried to infuse hope into some deep place Goody hadn’t touched. He stood guard until he heard hooves pounding and felt the unmistakable twang of enforcer energy drawing near.
He moved to the door and made a chopping motion with one hand so the men would be quiet. Sam, Joshua, and Chris dismounted. Like all their ilk, they were tall, rangy, tough as nails, and dressed in leathers. Sam was another of the undercover enforcers, which was why Luke knew him so well. While he recognized the other men, he had no sense how they might react to Abigail’s problem. Using shielded speech, he synopsized what had happened, starting with Carolyn’s death, and the black magick books.
“What’s this mess?” Sam pointed at places where the ground was stained red and blood still pooled.
“Oh yeah. Forgot that part,” Luke said. “Goody summoned men who’d been turned and mad wolves.
Their bodies aren’t here because the wolves that came to my aid must have dragged them away.”
“So one of our witches is in there?” Joshua jerked his thumb toward the stationhouse.
“I know her,” Chris said. “She’s a good woman. Magic runs strong in her. I’m sure you’ve met her too, Josh.” He shook his head. “It’s a rotten shame, but we don’t have much choice here.”
Luke’s hands had been balled into such tight fists they ached. Chris’ words chilled him, but he’d been expecting them. He held up a hand. “Wait. Please. Isn’t there some way we can get Goody out of Abigail—and trounce her? I’ve racked my brain, but I’ll be damned if I can come up with anything that won’t kill Abigail right along with it.”
“No. There’s not,” Chris said flatly.
Joshua walked closer. “We have to do the right thing and destroy her. Now. Before she wakes.”
Luke turned away to shield his emotions from the others and waged an internal battle. He’d never felt such antipathy for duty before. Coming to a hard decision, he spun and let his gaze settle briefly on each man. “If there’s anything, anything at all that might save Abigail,” he said, “I’d be forever in your debt. I understand we can’t let evil like that loose in the world, but I care about her. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. I know if we try and fail, we’ll have no choice, but…” His voice cracked. He stopped talking because he didn’t know what else to say.
Chris and Joshua exchanged worried glances. Sam narrowed his blue eyes and shoved strands of blond hair out of his face. “Luke wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t deadly important,” he told the others before turning his attention toward the stage station, his brow furrowed in thought. He didn’t speak for so long, Luke felt hope ebb and prepared himself as much as he could for a world without Abigail in it.
“It’s risky, but the only thing I can think of is this…” Sam said at last.
As he listened, Luke’s heart sped up. “If we do that, it should be me.”
Joshua shook his head, making his red braids slap from side to side. “No. Goody knows you’re onto her. You said as much. If this is going to work, you have to stay in the background. We’ll tell Abigail you left and hide you with magic. If things go to hell,” he snorted and rolled his hazel eyes, “feel free to jump into the fray. It won’t matter then.”
Chris clapped Luke on the shoulder, his brown eyes brimming with deviltry, and said, “No time like the present. Withdraw whatever you knocked her out with and let the games begin.”
“Games, my ass,” Joshua muttered darkly. “I’d rather be almost anywhere than here right about now.”
Sam slugged Luke lightly in the arm. “We’ll give it our best shot, bro.” He spun Luke to face him, his blue gaze auguring deep. “You do understand if this doesn’t work, we won’t have any choice.”
“Got it.” Luke forced breath into his lungs past his narrowed airway. They’d have to move fast if their plan blew up, before Goody got away. He wasn’t certain if she could inveigle her way into any of their bodies, but he didn’t want to find out. In truth, Sam’s suggestion was incredibly dangerous and required split-second timing. If Goody caught onto them, she was more than capable of killing them all.
“Okay,” Sam said to Luke. “Open yourself so this spell takes.” He raked his fingers through blond hair that had been hacked off to uneven lengths, and walked in a circle around Luke scattering an invisibility enchantment. The enforcer stood back and cocked his head to one side, assessing his work. “What do you think?” he asked the others.
“Looks good to me,” Joshua said. Chris gave a thumbs-up sign.
Luke sent up a fervent prayer things wouldn’t turn to shit and reeled in the magic he’d pumped into Abigail. The other three enforcers sashayed into the stationhouse; Luke slipped in right behind them and stood off to one side. He trusted Sam’s casting to both render him invisible and damp down his energy. Hopefully, Goody would be distracted enough by the other men she wouldn’t notice him.
The woman on the floor stirred. Sam strode to her side, gathered her into his arms, and pulled her to her feet. She wrapped her arms around him. Jealousy knifed through Luke, but he ignored it. Goody was running the show, not Abigail. The Salem witch would have woken first. He hoped Abigail would remain out of it until their strategy played itself out.
“Well, lookee here,” Sam crooned. “Say, it’s not every day I find a sleeping beauty like you out in the wilderness.” He laid his cheek next to hers. “You feeling all right, sunshine? What happened?”
“I’m fine. Must have just fallen asleep.” The woman craned her neck around as if she was trying to work the kinks out of it.
“Can you stand by yourself?” Sam asked.
“If she can’t, I’d be glad to help her,” Joshua stepped forward, flanked by Chris.
“How you doing, sweets?” Chris flashed a grin and winked. “Been a while, but we met back at Coven headquarters a time or two.”
She cast a blank look his way, murmured, “Of course,” and tightened her hold on Sam.
Luke exhaled tensely. At least the Abigail part was still asleep since she’d have recognized Chris.
“Say,” the woman cast a crafty look about, “wasn’t there another of you boys?”
“Yup.” Sam patted her bottom and pulled her against him. “He left. Got orders he was needed elsewhere.”
“It’s why we showed up,” Joshua said brightly. “To make certain you and the Giraud girl’s things made it to Salt Lake.”
“We’ll be going with the stagecoach,” Chris added.
“But it’s not leaving anytime soon.” Sam smiled meaningfully. “Lots of the witches like to have a bit of fun.” He quirked a brow her way in obvious invitation.
Color stained the woman’s cheeks. “Would it just be you? Or will the rest of you play too?”
Luke bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Damn if Goody hadn’t risen to the bait. He felt elated, but sickened that Abigail was a pawn in this endgame. Even if she was asleep, it didn’t make it any better.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Sam smoothed her hair back from her face.
“Ooooh, the three of you would be…exciting.” She licked her lips, eyes shining with anticipation.
“Maybe we could get to know one another a little better first,” Joshua moved closer. “Chris knows you, but I’ve only heard your name. Tell us a little bit about yourself. I’m sure Sam’s interested too.”
A frantic look washed across Goody’s face, but it was gone in an instant. “Why most of us witches are pretty much the same,” she murmured. “I’ve been with the Coven for years.”
“Have you always lived in New York?” Sam pressed.
“Not always.”
“Which of the women mentored you?” Joshua asked. “I’ve been around for a while, maybe I know her.”
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t. I’m quite old and she, um, went back to England years ago.” Goody cocked her head to one side, a come-hither grin on her face. “There are quicker ways to get to know me, boys.”
“Which ones did you mentor?” Sam went on as if she hadn’t said anything.
Goody rolled her eyes and leaned her body even closer to Sam. “Well, let me see. There was Eliza and Mary Jo…”
As the men fed Goody questions, piling them atop one another, Luke felt anxiety pour off her. She stammered and stuttered as she tried to come up with answers to increasingly complex queries about arcane magics and spells. Chris stood behind the Salem witch, hands on her waist, trapping her between his body and Sam’s. His brown hair fell across his face as he nuzzled her neck—and anchored magic inside Abigail’s body.
It was damn near killing Luke, but he kept his gaze trained on the tableau unfolding in front of him. Goody tried hard to maintain the charade she was Abigail, but lack of access to her memories was clearly frustrating her. Irritation joined anxiety and Luke knew they had to make their move soon before Goody’s temper got the be
tter of her.
Chris ran his tongue down her neck. “You’ve been really patient,” he crooned. “We’re not animals. We like to know a woman before we…do other things.”
Goody laughed, but it held rough, impatient edges. “Have I told you enough yet? You’re a mighty attractive bunch of men. Worth waiting for, but not forever.”
“I’m not sure.” A feral grin split Joshua’s face and he glanced at Chris. “Has she told us enough?”
Luke tensed. When Chris gave the word it meant he’d finished laying the magical spadework within Abigail. Once that happened, they’d all pounce. It was the perfect time, the only time, to drag Goody from Abigail’s body. Chris nodded, which meant he had the requisite magic anchored deep.
“Yes,” Chris drawled in case anyone hadn’t seen his nod. “I think she has.”
“Let’s go!” Sam commanded.
Obviously assuming Sam meant something entirely different, the woman leaned her head back and tried to drag his mouth down to hers, but her body started to shake. A high, thin wail rose from her and she fairly vibrated against the hold Chris and Sam had on her. “You bastards,” she screeched. “Fucking bastards. You tricked me.”
Luke and Joshua surged forward and dumped magic into Abigail/Goody, along with Sam and Chris, to force the Salem witch out. Her shrieks changed from horror to terror to fury as she understood she’d left herself vulnerable. A shadowy essence formed behind Abigail’s suddenly inert form, still supported between Chris and Sam. Luke didn’t hesitate. He summoned mage fire. Goody’s spirit sputtered, burst into flames, and formed a conical pyre.
“Take her.” Chris thrust Abigail’s body into Luke’s arms. “I’ll tend the fire and make sure it has enough of a toehold nothing can interrupt it. Sam’ll help me.”
Luke clasped Abigail against him and met Chris and Sam’s somber gazes. “Did she make it?”
“Not sure,” Chris said.
“If she did, it’ll be close,” Sam muttered. “The Salem witch had her claws deep into that one. I felt things rip when we forced her out.”
