He glanced at me, and his eyes narrowed when he saw me shivering. After shrugging off his cloak, he wound it around me. The fabric, warm from his skin, enveloped me like a lover’s embrace. I sighed gratefully.
John Clark, head down, trudged down the dark road. After giving me an encouraging smile, Logan followed. I grasped his arm and kept pace with him.
We crossed the road and turned left into a small cul-de-sac where a carriage and two guards waited. One sat atop the carriage, the other upon a glossy, chestnut horse.
“You’re late,” the one on horseback said, and spat into the shadows.
“I don’t control the tide,” John said mildly.
“No,” retorted the guard from atop the carriage.” But those damn sea witches do.”
Beside me, Logan bristled. I tensed. These two didn’t appear to be all that sympathetic to witches. They were John’s trusted allies? Unease prickled down my spine.
“There’s been a change of plan,” John said. He addressed the guard on horseback who had more gleaming stripes on his sleeve than the one on the carriage. “We’re not going to Seawall South. We’re headed for Regents Row. These two have to get into the basement archives.”
The guard on the chestnut horse frowned, while the one on the carriage bounced indignantly in his seat, flopping the reins. The gray horse between the shafts perked up its ears as if waiting for a command, but didn’t move forward.
“John,” said the guard on horseback.
“We talked about this possibility, Dustin. You know we did.” John placed hands on his hips and looked flatly at the guard on the chestnut horse.
“Shit,” Dustin muttered. “I know. Seawall South’s a safer option.”
“Easier, you mean,” John said.
“That too.”
“If we’re caught, we’ll be executed,” said the guard on the carriage, his face pasty white.
“I’m not going to wait to be hanged. If we’re caught, I’m going down fighting,” Dustin declared, shrugging. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Logan and me.
“You two worth dying for?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m just a damned sea witch.” Logan’s lip curled.
“Never seen one of you sea witch men with short hair. The Regent do that?” Dustin asked.
“Colonel Murgatroyd.”
Dustin spat again, contempt written across his face.
John opened the carriage door and gestured at us to get in.
Logan made no move toward the door, and I stayed glued to his side.
“What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation delivered by a pageboy on a velvet pillow? Get in.” John glared at us – Logan mostly.
“Get in, sea witch,” Dustin suggested, shaking his head. The horse whickered and swished its long, full tail. “Seems to me you haven’t got a lot of options and time’s wasting. You won’t get into the mansion after sunrise, and you’ll lose a whole day. Maybe forever, because I’m taking a huge chance letting you in the cellar. That damned housekeeper rises early to make breakfast, and the cellar door’s in the kitchen. You want to stand here debating the issue, or trust us and get in?”
Logan looked at me. “What do you think, Dem? Do we trust them?” He looked deadly serious in the moonlight, his mouth a tight, thin line.
My stomach clenched. Why ask me? What did I know?
I glanced over at John. He clutched the carriage door, his knuckles white against the black polished wood. When he’d shed his guard’s uniform, he’d turned into a stranger. And my father. Would my blood lead me into a trap? Even if he was non-magical?
“Come on,” I decided, tugging at Logan’s arm. Some of the tension evaporated from John’s shoulders, and an indescribable relief flooded his eyes. He held the door open as Logan and I climbed in then jumped inside, shutting the door behind him.
This carriage had curtained windows, and I found I missed the one without a way for anyone to see us inside. I yanked the curtains shut. The guard chirruped to the gray horse between the carriage shafts, and we jerked forward, smoothing into a roll as we once again headed toward Moody Mansion.
Chapter 25
Logan and I huddled in the shrubbery outside the back porch of Moody Mansion while Dustin boldly approached the guard on sentry duty by the back door.
“Your wife’s due any day now, isn’t she?” He leaned against a support pole with a nonchalant grace that astounded me. My heart beat so loudly in my ears, everything else sounded muffled. Logan clutched my hand, both our palms slick with sweat.
We’d disembarked from the carriage a block before Moody Mansion, just before the beginning of Regiment Thirteen’s patrol area. The guard driving the carriage had guided it away, wheels clattering against the cobblestones leaving us with only Dustin as a guide.
Logan had manipulated clouds to cover the bright moonlight. Following Logan’s suggestion, I juggled shadows cast from trees and bushes. Once shadows struck the ground, the earth seized them and wrapped my magic around them. Infused with the earth, the shadows morphed into otherworldly cloaks that shielded us from view. Influencing these shadows with magic eased some of the tension building in my skull. The links I’d forged between my magic and the earth sang in my ears as shadows wrapped around us, and Logan and I were able to keep hidden as we followed Dustin’s more overt approach to the mansion.
We’d snuck through the open front gates using shadows while Dustin distracted the guards with small talk. He was doing the same now with the guard at the back door.
“More like any minute,” the guard at the door said. A worried groan escaped his lips. “She cursed me out something fierce for leaving tonight, but I’m on the roster.”
“I’m about an hour early for my shift. You want to take off now? I’ll cover you.”
“You’re on the back door? I thought Collins was.”
“I’ll switch with him when he arrives. I’m front door, but not officially for another hour.”
“Who says we’re not a brotherhood?” The guard leaped forward to wring Dustin’s hand, then dashed down the steps and passed so close to the shrubbery where Logan and I crouched, I squeezed my eyes shut, certain we’d be discovered. I hadn’t time to call upon the earth shadows again.
Miraculously, the guard’s running footsteps faded. The back door creaked, Dustin opening it presumably. I opened my eyes when Logan tugged my hand. Furtively, we emerged from the bushes, rushed up the stairs and into the dark kitchen.
Dustin stared out the kitchen archway into the hall, scanning for movement. He turned his head and hissed, “Stop standing there and move. Basement door is to the right of the stove.”
Logan wasted no time crossing the floor, dragging me with him. He opened the door, which groaned on its hinges and made us both wince. The basement stairs loomed like a giant throat leading into darkness. I swallowed. How would we see?
Logan fished in his pocket and withdrew a small flashlight he lit with his magic.
“Always come prepared,” he whispered, stepping down into the darkness. I followed, pulling the door shut behind me. We descended slowly. Once, a stair creaked when Logan put his weight on it. I forged a link with the stairs convincing them not to make noise. I crept downward slowly, gripping the railing with my sweat-slicked fingers. Once we’d negotiated the staircase, we found ourselves in a vast room with rock flooring and walls. I pulled Logan’s cloak around me as the cold tried to penetrate my bones.
Logan shined the flashlight in several directions. I counted six different doors and a corridor.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping. He sighed. “I guess we try each door. Let’s start all the way to the right and work our way toward the corridor.”
The flashlight only created a few feet of narrow light, making it impossible for me to step too far from Logan. No windows admitted any light, so my eyes couldn’t adjust much in the darkness.
“Some plan, huh?” Logan glanced over his shoulder,
the flashlight carving eerie shadows beneath his eyes. “Sorry, Dem.”
“Let’s just look. One of these doors has to lead to the archives,” I said, stepping forward to grasp a doorknob. It twisted easily beneath my fingers. Not locked. That didn’t bode well. Sure enough, when I swung it open and Logan flashed his light within, all we saw were baskets of potatoes and carrots.
The next two doors – also unlocked – revealed canned preserves and vegetables and table linens.
The fourth door wouldn’t yield beneath my fingers. My heart sped up.
“Locked,” I told Logan.
His eyes lit. “Can you unlock it?”
I focused my magic on the glass doorknob and the metal lock. They both answered me, and the knob turned easily. Behind the door we found shelves full of silver and gold candlesticks, decorative bowls, and ornaments. Priceless, but not journals.
“Damn it.” Logan stalked to the fifth door. It opened to reveal apples. My stomach growled. I hadn’t been able to eat anything on the Selkie due to my ramped-up nerves. I was no less anxious now, but hunger twisted my guts. I scooped up a bright red apple and crunched into it. Sweet juice spurted over my lips and down my chin. Othala, that apple tasted magnificent. Better than any I’d ever tasted. Surely the Regent received better-quality fruit than Seawall North’s farmers market, but fear spiced that apple as well.
The last door yielded nothing but flour and spices.
“Shit.” Logan all but slammed the door shut, careless in his frustration. I took another large bite.
“There’s still the corridor. When you think about it, it doesn’t make sense the archives would be right at the bottom of the stairs anyway. This stuff is all for housekeeping and cooking. Easy access to the kitchen. I’ll bet we find it down that corridor.” I sounded much more confident than I felt. I finished the apple, but didn’t dare drop it to the floor. Grimacing, I pushed the core into my pocket and followed Logan into the corridor.
It twisted to the left about ten yards down. I caught up with Logan as he made the turn, the flashlight illuminating our way.
I couldn’t help the startled shriek that escaped my lips when the light caught someone’s face directly in its beam.
Logan stopped dead, putting out an arm to keep me from going any farther.
The ghostly face in the light blinked its eyes against the glare, then opened its mouth. “You!”
Matilda. The housekeeper who hated witches. We were caught with nowhere to run.
Chapter 26
Matilda lifted a lantern and light speared my eyes, forcing me to take a step back so I could refocus. Logan grimaced and moved the flashlight so it didn’t shine directly in Matilda’s face.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be far out to sea.” Matilda lowered her lantern. Her expression wavered between grim and confused.
We said nothing and she shook her head. “Someone told you about your mother.”
I opened my mouth, but she held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. What I don’t know, I can’t reveal.”
I knitted my brow in confusion. She sounded almost as though she didn’t want to tell. I would have expected her to be shrieking the mansion down by now, announcing our presence and gloating at our capture. Instead, she simply stood there watching us.
“I’m doing the best I can for her,” Matilda said in a gruff voice. “I’m down here trying to find some chamomile tea. She likes that kind.”
At home, Mother had a stash of different kinds of tea. Chamomile was her favorite. She drank it before bedtime to help her sleep.
“She can’t be still awake. It’s nearly dawn,” I said.
Matilda frowned. “The Regent prefers her to sleep by day. She can’t always, of course, but the tea helps.”
A sick fury swept through me. The Regent preferred her to sleep by day? Why? So he could have his way with her at night and not worry about her appearing in front of any of his council or friends by day?
Hatred burned hard in my heart.
“Without Regina to gently advise him, his cruel side is untampered,” Matilda said. “He was always spiteful. Even as a child. He used to lock me inside the archive room and laugh when I screamed. Said it was a game. As the housekeeper’s child, naturally I couldn’t tell anyone.” A grotesque smile more pain than pleasure twitched her thin lips. “I convinced myself some of our games were even fun.”
Archives! Excitement pinged down my spine. She knew where they were. Would she tell us? I couldn’t just blurt it out and ask her. Not yet.
“You serve him with such devotion,” I whispered. “I’ve seen you look at him. There’s no hatred in your eyes.”
Matilda shrugged. “I’ve always loved him. Except for the brief time I fancied myself in love with that –” Her brow furrowed. Anger churned in her dark eyes. “That earth witch who used to make flowers grow in the garden for me. I wasn’t to know I was simply tryst material. Imagine a witch thinking himself above a non-magical? Even if I was only a housemaid. I had prospects. Everyone knew I’d one day be housekeeper. But if that witch had asked me to run away with him, I would have left all this behind for him. We could never have legally married, but I would’ve gladly been his wife in spirit. Lived in Seawall South. Instead, when I suggested it, he laughed at me. Laughed. In my face. Imagine me thinking I could forget David that way. With that witch.” Some of the wild anger faded from her expression, and she drew herself up, most likely remembering with whom she was speaking.
“Anyway, love isn’t everything. I’ve turned my back on it since that summer. I devoted myself to the Regent and being the best servant he could want. When he married Regina I was happy for him. Really, I was.” Her voice trembled.
“Why are you telling us these things?” I asked. Beside me, Logan inhaled sharply, and I winced. I might break the spell, and Matilda would start screaming for the guards instead of sharing painful memories with us, which I hoped would lead us to the archives.
Matilda fixed us with a dark, unwavering stare. “Because I was wrong to blame all witches for what one witch did to me. Just as I was wrong to blindly serve a cruel man. I could have been more like Regina – helping him past his malicious nature. Instead, I fed into it. Allowed myself to become a warped, bitter old woman before my time.”
Her mouth twisted and the lantern light wobbled before she steadied her trembling hand. “When you saved me from that ravager, earth witch, I took a step back to really look at myself. And what I saw I didn’t like.”
“Matilda,” I began, only to stop speaking when she held up her hand.
“I know you were annihilating all the ravagers. Yet, you could have destroyed that one after it had killed me.” She took a deep, painful breath. “It’s what I would have done in your place. Instead, you saved my life. So when the Regent took your mother as his mistress, I vowed I would take care of her as best I could. It’s the least I could do.”
For a moment I couldn’t breathe or think straight. I wanted to embrace her, but a part of me still remembered how she’d sneered at me. Was this the truth or a trap? When had I become so cynical and suspicious?
“If you really want to help us, you’ll show us where the archives are,” I said, trying not to think of my mother. She must be only a few floors away, but that might as well be hundreds of miles out to sea for as much good I could do her at this point.
“Why?” Matilda stared at us, all traces of her vulnerability erased. “I won’t let you hurt the Regent. I’ll only go so far.”
“We don’t want to hurt him. That’s why we want to find the archives,” I said, chafing at the delay. The longer we stood here debating about this, the higher the risk we’d be discovered.
“They’re just dusty old books. What could you do with them?” Realization dawned across her narrow face. Had she once been pretty? I couldn’t fathom her infatuated with an earth witch, no matter how hard I tried. “Spells. You’re after spells, aren’t you?”
“We’re after information that can help us take back what was rightfully ours once,” Logan declared, his eyes steely blue in the lantern light. “The Trumbull family was never meant to rule Galveteen and people have suffered enough.”
“People. You mean witches.” Matilda’s flat tone didn’t bode well for her cooperation. Her mouth thinned. “Always the same, aren’t you? Greedy and grasping. Selfish to the core.”
“Are you going to help us or not?” Logan fixed her with an uncompromising glare.
Matilda opened her mouth to retort, but froze when the cellar door banged open, and Dustin yelled, “You found the Sea Cursed adrift? The witches weren’t onboard? You think they might have come back here? I’ll search the cellar, you take the rest of the mansion!”
“We’re coming with you. One non-magical against those damned witches is a death wish!” Someone else shouted.
“Shit.” Logan’s face blanched. He took hold of my upper arm hard enough to bruise. “Run, Dem!”
“Follow me!” Matilda hesitated only half a second before turning to rush down the hall, grabbing for the bundle of keys tied to a belt around her small waist.
We had no choice. The guards were behind us, so we followed her, trying not to make noise with our rushed footsteps.
We rounded a corner and all but skidded into Matilda who was fumbling at the lock of an arched door. “You want the archives,” she whispered. “Fine. Here they are. But if I were you, I wouldn’t linger. I’d take the escape route. Guards will be here any minute. If you want to live, press the third stone to the left of the fireplace. You’ll find an underground passage that comes out behind the stables.” Her lips thinned in a ghastly smile. “It took me twelve hours to find it when David locked me in here telling me to try to find it. That was our game for that day. Find the secret passage. Only, after an hour of waiting, he walked away. He forgot about me. But I’ve never forgotten.”
Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 26
