by Jane Charles
Anna leaned forward, anxious to learn more. The answer to helping her uncle was here somewhere.
“They fashioned a box of the Oak, the only time they’ve ever cut into a tree in the grove, but it was necessary to contain the evil. They then removed the ring from the hand and placed it inside the box. Once sealed and blessed, the ring could cause no harm.”
Brighid pinned Anna with a look. “Where is the ring now?”
Tears filled Anna’s eyes. “On my uncle’s finger.”
Brighid groaned and practically doubled over. At first, Anna feared it was because of what she’d told her, but Brighid was having another labor pain.
Mr. Chetwey rubbed her lower back until it passed and Brighid stood once again.
“I’m getting you out of here now. Babe or no babe,” Mr. Chetwey insisted.
“We cannot be harmed in here.”
“What the hell are you going to do with that?” Mr. Chetwey yelled when the cook entered, holding a large butcher knife.
“To put under the mattress to cut the pain,” she answered. Anna had heard of the old wives tale but never believed it actually helped.
“It’s time for you to leave, Mr. Chetwey,” the cook insisted.
“I’m not leaving my wife,” he argued.
“This is no place for you.” Cook pointed to the door.
“I need you to walk about the castle seven times,” Brighid ground out as if another pain was coming upon her.
“Why?” Mr. Chetwey thrust his fingers through his hair, staring at her in disbelief.
“To ward off evil influences.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”
“Please?” Brighid begged.
Chetwey blew out a sigh. “I’ll do what you wish, but I’ll be back.
“You’ll join the others and get drunk,” Cook said. “That’s what a gentleman is supposed to do. We’ll take good care of Mrs. Chetwey and let you know when it’s arrived.”
“Help the others,” she said. “I love you.”
His features softened and he bent, gently kissing her lips. “And I you, my lovely witch.”
A smile pulled at the corner of her lips for but a moment. “Go. Please.”
Mr. Chetwey looked down at his wife, distress in his eyes before he turned and stomped out the door muttering something about seven times around the blasted castle when he should be at her side.
Brighid glanced up and met Anna’s gaze after Mr. Chetwey left the room. There was fear in them but Anna wasn’t sure if it was because of the pending birth or the fact that the evil ring was being worn once again.
“What do we do? How do we get it off of his finger?”
“Unless you can find a Druid Priest, I don’t know.” With that, Brighid cried out as another pain racked her body.
Anna stood paralyzed with fear. She couldn’t help her friend and for the first time, Brighid could not help her. She was a powerful witch and the only answer she offered was to find something that no longer existed.
Brighid relaxed after the pain passed and pointed to the door. “Go. I need to add a stronger spell for this room so that nothing can get in or out.”
Anna stepped back into the kitchen but watched her friend from the other side of the door. Brighid muttered words nobody could possibly understand. A moment later, she waved her hand in front of the door and the room shook.
“Anna, could you try and enter?” Brighid called. “And do be careful.”
Anna tentatively held up her hand at the entrance and was immediately shocked, as if a bolt of lightning shot up her arm.
Brighid relaxed against the table. “Good.” She breathed out. “I’m sorry to have harmed you, Anna, but I needed to make certain.”
“Of course, Brighid,” she said as she shook her hand, trying to get the tingling to go away. Thank goodness she hadn’t attempted to walk through the door. Who knows what could have happened?
“The tingling will pass. You need to tell the others.”
“I will, and Brighid, good luck.”
Anna turned and rushed back through the castle to where she left the others. It was her fault Brighid was about to give birth at Marisdùn. If anything happened to either of them she’d never forgive herself, and she didn’t even want to think about what Mr. Chetwey would do to her. If she hadn’t sought Brighid out after finding Quent on the road, she would be safely in the comfort of her home right now.
The clock struck midnight just as she entered the room and a feeling of foreboding settled around her. This was probably the worst night of the year for Brighid to bring a babe into the world.
Chapter 15
David had never seen anything like this before. Surely the vicar wasn’t going to stay in that state, all rigid with his head thrown back.
“Papa?” Miss Lila Southward hurried to her father and reached out a hand to him.
Braden frowned and looked at his sisters. “Darlings, why don’t you keep Callie and Hope company across the hallway?”
One of the triplets tilted her head in defiance.
“You can’t expect us to leave now.”
Braden frowned down at the girl. “I do expect that you’ll do exactly what I asked, Grace.”
How did Braden tell them apart? David had studied them, once a long time ago, and there wasn’t a single thing the he could find that was different in any of them. Not even a small, misplaced freckle.
“Now go sit with Callie and Hope, and don’t make me ask again,” Braden ordered.
“But, Braden…” one started to argue.
A most determined expression came over Braden’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest, silencing the girl.
After a moment, her shoulders slumped and she and her sister left the room.
“Truly, it’s hardly a thing for a lady to witness,” Braden explained.
“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t leave my father like this,” Miss Matilda said, as if she expected Braden to ban her from the room as well.
“No, no, of course not, Tilly,” Garrick soothed, rubbing his hands down her arms.
There certainly was more to the two of them than David had realized, not that this was the time to ask his friend.
“And I’ll stay right here with you,” Garrick assured the young woman.
Quent moved to stand behind Miss Lila Southward and squeezed her shoulder. Another interesting turn of events, but one he would question his friend about later.
“I think perhaps we should lay him on the settee, Lila,” Quent suggested.
The young woman nodded in agreement. “Thank you, my lord.”
“A little help, Braden.” Quent reached his hand out to Lila’s father.
The moment he touched the vicar’s arm, the man’s head fell back into place. He glared down at Quent with eyes as black as coal. A chill ran down David’s spine and he took a step back, thankful Anna was not here, then said a quick prayer that Brighid knew what to do.
Surely the witch had a concoction stored away just for instances like this, didn’t she? According to Chetwey, she’d been reading her ancestral tomes since last year. Witches in her family dated back to before the Romans so surely she’d know exactly what to do.
“Step away from me!” He snarled. His voice was unnaturally deep, filling the room. “Insidious invader.”
David blinked. Insidious invaders? He knew the vicar wasn’t happy that Braden and Quent inherited the castle and had come to Ravenglass, but calling them such was a bit much.
Miss Lila Southward studied him in confusion. “Papa? What’s wrong with you?”
“Be gone, whore,” he dismissed her.
David blinked again, anger churning in his gut. If that was how the man addressed his daughter, how did he treat Anna? As soon as they were past this, he was taking her far away. Or, at least to Scotland, where they could wed, then back to London, by way of the opposite coast, to stay far away from this vile gentleman.
“Be gone all of y
ou,” the man roared.
“Now see here,” Quent stepped toward him. “I won’t allow you to talk to your daughter like that. I—”
A low growl emanated from the vicar as he lifted his arm and without even touching Quent, threw him across the room and into a wall.
Miss Lisa Southward screamed as Quent slid to the floor.
“My lord!” Miss Lila rushed to Quent and knelt beside him.
David was too stunned to react, though he knew he wasn’t going anywhere near the man. At least Anna hadn’t been here. It was disconcerting enough for him to watch and he wasn’t even related to the man.
Quent clutched Miss Southward’s hand. “Li-Lila, don’t go near him.”
* * *
Anna hurried to the blue salon, praying that nothing unpleasant happened in her absence. “Brighid said—“She stopped just inside the entrance. Her uncle was standing there, apparently recovered from his seizure, but she’d never seen his eyes so cold, dark and black.
Her stomach tightened. Had the spirit taken hold of him?
She glanced down at his hand. The ring was still upon his finger. Somehow, they had to get it off before it was too late, if it wasn’t already too late.
Lord Quentin was on the floor against a wall and Lila knelt beside him, clutching his hand while he rubbed the back of his head with the other.
Mr. Thorn rushed to her side, as if to protect her. He might very well be too late for that.
“Out of my way, whore!”
Anna flinched but didn’t step away. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. If Brighid was right, this wasn’t her uncle. It certainly didn’t sound like him. The voice he now possessed was loud, cold, and deep, as if it had come from the depths of hell.
“Papa! Let me get you a glass of warm milk, and—“Miss Lila Southward began.
Anna wanted to warn her to just stay away, but her cousin was on the other side of the room.
The vicar glared down at Lila. “I am Cynbel, and you will address me as such.”
What Brighid feared most had come true, and none of them had any idea what they were about to experience. “And a glass of warm milk is certainly not going to help matters, unless it is laced with hemlock,” Anna whispered.
Mr. Thorn stepped closer. “Did Brighid tell you what needs to be done?” He asked quietly.
“Papa..er..I mean, Cynbel, Are you staying you’re Cynbel the Celt who battled Rufus Flavius fifteen hundred years ago?”
Anna wanted to scream at Tilly to get away from the man instead of questioning him. Of course it was Cynbel, but nobody else knew that, or why, or how, except Brighid, and she was probably giving birth at this very moment.
Anna reached over and clutched Mr. Thorn’s hand. Her hands were shaking and he wove his fingers with hers, which helped calm her somewhat.
“How dare you speak to me, invader!” Cynbel’s voice reverberated through the room. A mirror shattered behind Tilly and Anna took a step closer to David.
Mr. Chetwey appeared in the door behind her uncle. Either he hadn’t walked around the castle seven times, or he ran. Anna suspected he ignored Brighid’s request and went to find the axe he now held in his hand.
Their eyes met. Even if she begged him not to cut off her uncle’s hand, she doubted Mr. Chetwey would listen to her. Not with Brighid in the castle giving birth.
Anna held her breath as he walked up behind her uncle—er Cynbel—and raised the axe. In one fluid movement, he struck the vicar in the back of the head with the wooden handle. The man dropped and fell forward, out cold.
Anna pulled away from David, ran to her uncle and grasped his hand. She had to get the ring off his finger while they had a chance.
As much as she tried, her gloved fingers kept slipping. “It won’t come off,” she cried.
“Move! I’ll cut off his hand.” Chetwey raised the axe over his head.
“No!” Lila and Tilly cried in unison. Anna didn’t want to see her uncle’s hand removed either, but she also knew they may not have a choice in the matter.
“Why don’t you just try to remove the ring before we resort to such drastic measures, Chetwey?” Lord Quentin pushed to his feet.
“Brighid said the ring has to come off at all costs,” Mr. Chetwey informed him.
“All right,” Mr. Garrick offered in a reasonable voice. “But I don’t think the first resort should be cutting off the man’s hand for God’s sakes.”
“I’ll try,” Mr. Thorn offered, kneeling beside Anna.
Chapter 16
David removed his gloves and set them aside. How blasted hard could it be to get a ring off? The only reason Anna was having difficulty was probably because she her hands were encased in red satin gloves.
Holding tight to the vicar’s hand he grasped the ring between the tips of his finger and thumb. Heat surged through them as if they’d been thrust into fire. David jerked back and looked down. Blisters were already forming. “Bloody hell.”
“Thorn,” Braden chastised.
“Apologies,” he muttered. It wasn’t well done of him to curse in front of the females, but that blasted ring just burned his fingers.
“Given the circumstances, I’m quite sure Mr. Thorn can be forgiven,” Anna said as she looked at his hand before blowing against the burns. “As soon as we deal with my uncle, I’ll see about bandaging them.”
David glanced over at her. With Anna holding his hand, he barely felt the pain.
A shadow fell over him and Thorn glanced up at Chetwey, who was still holding the axe. “Do not cut off his hand. We’ll try a cream or something to help it slide off.”
“We have to act quickly before he wakes. I don’t think it’ll be possible once he regains consciousness.”
Garrick glanced at Quent. “I can’t believe he threw you across the room with no effort at all.”
“My child is about to be born,” Chetwey complained. “I should be with my wife at my home, but we’re here in this godforsaken castle, and she’s barred me from her herbarium and pressed upon me the fact that no one in the area will be safe until that ring is retrieved. Now, I won’t have Brighid or my babe put in danger. So do get out of my way.”
“I understand your concern,” Quent said, stepping between Chetwey and the vicar. “But we’re still not cutting off his hand unless it comes to that.”
But, what to do until then? David glanced around the room. There was nothing to stop him in here and the man wouldn’t remain unconscious indefinitely. If he could throw Quent across the room without touching him, David shuddered to think on what other havoc, or danger he could cause.
The man needed to be locked away where he couldn’t harm anyone until they figured this out. And, he had searched the perfect place last year, before it was used to banish Mrs. Routledge. “The dungeons!” David exclaimed. “What if we put him in the dungeons? We could shackle him in one of the cells and then even if he comes to before we’re able to retrieve the ring, he won’t be able to harm anyone. It’ll buy us the time we need.”
“Perfect solution,” Garrick agreed. “I’ll take his hands, you grab his feet.”
Thorn grabbed an ankle with each hand, biting back a groan as pain shot through his fingers. This was a minor inconvenience in comparison to the pain Cynbel could cause if he were alert.
As they moved toward the entry, Sir Cyrus Eilbeck appeared in the doorway. He glanced from Kilworth’s dead body to Garrick and Thorn. His eyes rounded in surprise. “What the devil is going on here, Braden?”
Thorn glanced back at his friend, wondering what he might say. The truth probably wasn’t the best explanation at the moment.
“Fainted,” Quent answered quickly. “Took one look at Lord Kilworth and he just dropped to the floor.”
“We’re, uh, taking him somewhere more comfortable to recover,” Garrick added. “Do excuse us, passed out clergyman coming through.”
* * *
“I’ll retrieve the smelling salt
s,” Anna called out after a quick nod to Sir Eilbeck and before she hurried after Mr. Thorn and Mr. Garrick.
Thankfully all of the guests were still outdoors and they didn’t need to explain these circumstances to anyone. At least, not until they reached the corridor outside the door leading down to the dungeon.
“My word,” a maid said as she hurried forward. “Whatever has happened?”
“Had a bit much,” Mr. Garrick answered and lifted a hand to mimic a drink, nearly dropping the vicar in the process.
Anna gasped. “Do be careful with my uncle.”
Garrick grabbed him again before her uncle completely fell from his grasp.
“I’ve got just the thing to bring him around,” the maid announced and started to hurry toward the kitchens.
“No!” all three of them cried out.
She turned, her eyes wide with alarm.
“I think it would be best if we just let him sleep it off,” Anna said.
The maid frowned. “You’re probably right, if he drank that much, he’s going to have a most unpleasant headache when he awakes.”
After the way Mr. Chetwey had struck him in the head, Anna didn’t doubt that in the least.
“Well, let’s get him into a room where he can be comfortable,” the maid offered.
“No,” Anna said, stepping around the men. “I thought it would be a great prank to put my uncle in the dungeons.” She smiled.
The woman frowned even further. “A prank on the vicar? He doesn’t strike me as one who would take to kindly to that.”
“You just don’t know him like I do. Why, my uncle has a devilish sense of humor.” Anna forced a laugh. “He just doesn’t think it proper for parishioners to know. Being he’s a vicar and all, he feels he needs to be serious, judgmental, condescending and the like.”
This time the maid pursed her lips and eyed Anna as if she didn’t quite believe her. Of course, she was telling a blatant lie especially since her uncle rarely smiled and she couldn’t remember him laughing even once.
