He spread the map across his bed and placed bags of sand on each corner to hold it flat. The chart had been painstakingly drawn over the last ten years, as he traveled the country and northern territories, collecting bounties. Many sections showed only rivers or boundaries and were marked with a number that corresponded with one of the smaller maps.
Hunter opened the small window and hoped the light breeze would disperse the noxious odor from the vial once he uncorked it. He picked up the white satin sack and measured its weight in his hand. With a short prayer, he withdrew his pendulum from the bag.
He had crafted the instrument at age sixteen. An arrowhead that once belonged to his great-grandfather. A pink rose quartz from his beloved grand-mère. Both items attached with wire to a watch chain that had belonged to his father. No one touched the pendulum except Hunter, and it never failed him.
He uncorked the vial and tipped it to allow only one drop of blood to touch the arrowhead. The thick bead of rancid blood set for a moment on the stone, then hissed as it dissolved into the arrowhead. He recapped the glass flask and set it aside.
Hunter took a deep breath to calm his mind. Then another. He positioned himself before the map and held the quartz portion of the pendulum. The arrowhead swung free at the end of the chain. He held the apparatus as still as possible over the center of the map and closed his eyes.
Seeress, I seek the ones you spoke of in the prophecy.
He allowed his urgency to build in his mind. Spirit voices whispered to him—warning him of danger—but he already knew. He’d always known the risk inherent in this magic. His grand-mère had taught him of the dangers long ago. It didn’t matter. The innocent had to be warned of the minister’s deadly intent.
Help me, Seeress. By your own blood, I beseech you.
Anxiety grew in his chest, and he imagined it flowed into the pendulum. “Where are they?” He spoke aloud to both the instrument and the blood of the woman who had died, chained to a dirt floor shack.
The pendulum began to circle the map and Hunter opened his eyes. He held a steady hand as the arrowhead’s swing became oblong, then a line, from the northeast to the center of the country. Those he searched for were in more than one location. This would make warning them much harder.
He reached down and folded the map in half, adjusting the sandbags to hold it flat. Only the Western half of the country lay revealed, from the furthest tip of Texas to the Canadian border. Again, he let the pendulum swing and watched its movements. At first, the arrowhead circled in a counterclockwise direction. Soon, its wide circumference decreased, and the spiral swung slower and tighter. Hunter moved the pendulum in one direction, then the other until the spiral motion stopped. He dropped the tip to the map.
Denver.
He flipped the map over and repeated the divination for the east coast. This time the pendulum did not stop, but moved in a line between the southern end of Lake Ontario to the Boston area.
Hunter cleaned the arrowhead meticulously and slid his pendulum into the satin bag. He folded his map and returned all the items he used for divination to the leather folder, then placed it in his travel bag.
He sat on the bed, still naked, and picked up the train schedule. A train leaving for Dallas would depart late this evening. From Dallas, he could take another train on the same line to Kansas City. Once there, he would have to change lines and board the Union Pacific straight into Denver. He considered Boston and Toronto but felt Denver to be the wiser choice. There could be two individuals on the east coast, or one person who traveled between two points. No, the best and closest target appeared to be in Denver.
His head came up at a knock on his door. He wrapped the towel around his waist and unbolted the door.
The laundress held his bag in one hand and his boots in the other. Her eyes traveled up from his bare feet to the towel, then to his broad, muscular chest, with an appreciative smile. The smile faded, however, when she saw the scar on his face.
“You need these back tonight, sir?” Her eyes never strayed from the scar that ran from his left eye to his chin.
“Yes, thank you. I will need them no later than seven this evening.”
“There will be an extra fee for the rush order.”
“There always is.”
She bobbed her head. “By seven.”
“Thank you,” Hunter replied and closed the door.
He dressed and reviewed all that needed to be accomplished this evening. His first stop would be the train station to buy his ticket. He checked his wallet and slipped it into his vest. On the way back, he would stop at the livery. The owner needed to understand Hunter’s expectations—feed, exercise, and care for Roulette as though she were his own. He already regretted leaving la belle Roulette behind. This time, however, it would be best to travel by boat or rail. Time was of the essence.
After visiting the stable, he would return to the boarding house and pick up his cleaned clothing. The room was his for a monthly fee. He need only tell the clerk he intended to travel on business. Then he would return to the station for the 8:15 train. His final destination—Denver.
Chapter 12
Morago
The merchant and his wagon traveled far too slow for Morago. He urged the man to whip the team to greater speed. However, their pace remained unsatisfactory.
The chatter of demons inside Morago's mind suggested he punish the merchant for his pace.
The lips on the possessed merchant formed a smile as Morago’s demons crackled with glee. But Morago did not wish to waste time torturing this human. Instead, he remained focused on his destination and the prize that awaited him there.
In the end, they left the merchant to vomit at the side of the road, and took possession of a small fox, asleep in a den nearby. The fox proved much faster, and raced directly toward Morago's beacon, unhampered by human roadways.
However, when a deer bounded past the exhausted fox, the demon jumped again. Morago possessed the doe and left the fox to die in the bushes. When the deer's heart burst, he jumped to another animal, an elk this time, and allowed his demonic host to take part in the race. Two dozen elk ran headlong toward Toronto, until one by one they failed and fell to their death. As the last elk fell, Morago and his host leapt to a crow, which wheeled in midair and turned west.
Chapter 13
Nichole Harris-Shilo
Nichole took Merril’s hand as she stepped off the boardwalk along Park Avenue and crossed the dusty street. The sweet music of a fiddle and harmonica from down the block drew them from the dining room at their hotel, into the cool Denver evening. As they strolled past the celebration, a bride and groom raised their glasses in a toast surrounded by their wedding guests. Laughter blended with the music, and the couple kissed on a side yard platform.
“Are you sorry we didn’t have a church wedding?” Merril ran his warm hands up her arms.
She leaned back against his chest and shook her head. “No. Not at all. Everyone I care about was there.”
“Our marriage will cause a scandal among the Cattlemen’s Association.” Merril’s voice was low in her ear.
“I know. I thought about that, too.” She shivered as the memory of Kevin’s announcement at The Highlands’ barbeque flashed through her mind. “I don’t care what anyone thinks, honestly. I only care about you.” She tipped her head back and smiled at the concern on his face. “Really, it’s okay.”
“You’re chilled. Let’s go back.” He ran his hands down her sleeves one last time, then offered her his arm.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and they retraced their steps to their small hotel.
Inside their room, a banked fire in the wood-burning stove removed the chill and warmed the room.
Nichole unbuttoned her jacket and glanced at her saddlebag stacked on top of Merril’s in the corner.
Should I find my nightgown?
She shrugged the light coat from her shoulders and turned to Merril. His emerald gaze locked ont
o hers as she tossed the jacket onto the chair.
Probably not.
“Have a seat. I’ll pull your boots off.” His grin ticked up on one side, and he hung his hat on a hook beside the door.
Nichole’s face warmed, and butterflies fluttered low in her chest as she sat on the chair and lifted her foot to her husband.
Merril grabbed the heel of her boot and slid the leather free from her foot with a quick movement. Her heel dropped into the palm of his hand. He lowered her foot as she raised her other boot. Her second boot dropped beside the first, and he bent to kiss the top of her stocking-covered foot.
“Now yours?” she asked.
Merril shook his head, pushed his boots off, one at a time, toe to heel, and kicked them aside. “Mine are old. They come off easy.”
Nichole lifted her skirt and untied the garter just below her knee. She rolled the stocking down and slipped it from her foot, then glanced at Merril.
His gaze shifted from her foot to her face and back to her foot.
She wiggled her toes at him, stuffed the garter into the stocking, then lifted her skirt above the other knee.
Merril groaned.
“Torturing you is kind of fun.” Nichole grinned as she rolled the other stocking leisurely down her leg and set it aside. She looked up as he shrugged out of his shirt.
He unbuckled his belt and undid the top button loose on his trousers.
Her gaze scorched a path from his tightened trousers, across his tanned chest to his laughing green eyes.
“You’re right. This is fun.” His grin widened as he crossed his arms and leaned his back against the wall. “Your turn, darlin’.”
Nichole stood, reached back and unhooked the buttons on her skirt. She stepped out of the material and folded it on the chair with her jacket. The blouse followed. She smiled over her shoulder at Merril. “Would you unlace me?”
He stepped close and loosened the ties on her corset as she unpinned her hair and let it fall across her back. Merril swept the curls to one side and nibbled along her neck to her shoulder.
Gooseflesh ran down her arms, and her breath hitched as his tongue swirled across her skin. The corset slid over her hips to the floor, and Merril’s warm hands slipped beneath her camisole and cupped her breasts. She turned her head and lifted her face to his. His soft lips found hers as his thumbs stroked her nipples.
When she turned in his arms, he lifted the camisole over her head, and pulled her tight against him. His mouth slanted across hers with desire.
Nichole wrapped her arms around Merril’s neck and pulled his hair free from a black ribbon. She ran her fingers through his long hair and pressed herself closer.
He unfastened the button on her drawers and guided them down her hips.
She trailed one hand down his chest to his trousers and caressed the tight denim. The answering rumble deep in his chest made her legs weaken.
His hands disappeared from her hips, and then the entire burning length of his body pressed against hers. He lifted her leg and ran his hand down her back and between her legs, inflaming her passion.
“Such nice long arms,” she whispered, as her other leg gave way. “I’m going to fall.”
“No, you’re not. I have you.” Merril picked her up and set her on the bed.
Squeeeeak.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nichole laughed.
The bed squealed again as it took Merril’s weight. “Do you want me to stop?” He rose to his elbows, and grinned at her as he pressed himself part way into the center of her desire, then withdrew.
“Don’t tease me, Merril.” She tried to wiggle onto him, but he pulled back.
“I don’t want you to be embarrassed in the morning.”
Her eyes opened and stared hard into his.
Green eyes glittered with gold as he almost entered her, and then withdrew again. “You need to tell me what you want me to do.”
“I need you to break this damn bed, Merril.”
He laughed as he filled her, and then groaned as he wrapped his arms around her and tucked his head into her neck.
She didn’t hear the bed squawk in time with their lovemaking, and didn’t care if it did.
After their passion cooled, he drew the cover over them and pulled her close.
Nichole curled into his side, her leg over his, her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Merril.”
“And I love you, Mrs. Shilo.”
She looked up at him and smiled as he dropped a quick kiss on her nose.
“What?” he asked. “I see you’ve got something on your mind.”
“I do.” She cuddled closer. “Remember what I told you at the barbeque, before I went in the house?”
“Mmm.” His head fell back on the pillow as his hand ran up and down her arm. “You told me you remembered things that never happened. You were worried about what White Eagle had said about you.”
“That’s right.” She paused and chewed her nail for a moment, then looked up at him. “Let me ask something else. Have you ever heard of reincarnation—of being born again into another life?”
“Actually, I have.” He looked at the ceiling, his arm around her shoulder. “I worked for almost a year laying a spur of the Central Pacific line. My partner was a Chinese man named Chen. He spoke in broken English, but we understood each other well enough. He told me he hoped for great things in his next life.”
“Good—then this might not be an impossible explanation.” She pushed up onto her elbow and stared into his sleepy eyes. “When Jones hit you and you lost consciousness—imagine that when you woke up you were in ancient Rome.”
He raised his head slightly as his gaze focused on her. “Instead of The Highlands?”
“Yeah. Say you opened your eyes, and you were someone else, thrust back into a life and body of the person you used to be—in a previous life.”
Merril’s brow furrowed as he stared at Nichole. “Is that what happened to you? You woke up in a previous life?”
Nichole nodded. “I did.”
Merril folded his arm behind his head and studied her eyes. “What was it like? Do you know who you were?”
Nichole nodded. “I know.” She looked down at her hand on his chest. “I woke up on a cattle ranch and met a man I couldn’t live without.” She raised her gaze to his. “I married him today.”
“What?” Merril blinked and shook his head. “But that’s—now.”
“It’s who I am now. In this life, I’m Nichole Harris. But I have memories from another life.”
“A previous life?”
“This is my previous life, Merril. I had to make a choice—stay where I was, or come back to you. White Eagle was right, the choice was mine. I chose to be with you.”
Merril’s head fell back, and he gazed at the ceiling.
Nichole watched his eyes as he considered what she had told him.
When his gaze returned to her, he remained silent.
“Did I blow your mind?” She ran her hand along his stubbled jaw.
“Blow my mind?” His brow creased.
“Yeah... ka-boom.” She held her fist to her head, and pulled it away as she opened her fingers. “I don’t mean to upset you, but I need you to know.”
“I’m not upset, I’m—I don’t know—in a state of wonder, I suppose. Do you remember your name, your life?”
Nichole nodded. “My name was Courtney Veau. I had parents, grew up, went to school.” She tore her gaze from his and looked down at her hand. “I never gave any thought to things like past lives, until I woke up in the hospital and remembered the time I spent as Nichole. When I realized you were lost to me—forever—it was the worst thing that ever happened to me, in either life.” She raised her gaze to his. “I love you, Merril and I didn’t want to live a life without you in it. I found a way back.”
He tightened her in his arms and closed his eyes. “I’ll thank God every day of my life that you did.”
Chapter 14
&
nbsp; Chantal James
Chantal turned Acorn into the corral and unwound her legs from the sidesaddle.
When did I become so old?
She slid to the ground and held the saddle to steady herself.
No time to rest. Too much to do.
She saw to Acorn’s comfort and turned him loose in the small enclosure. Thankfully, he had plenty of food and water.
The trip to the station had been long, but the ride back felt longer. Every bone in her 81-year-old body ached as she hurried toward the house. She had made this farm a home for her boys and her granddaughter for twenty-five years. She took pride in what she had accomplished, and how much she’d been able to teach Alyse and her own twin sons. Chantal had one last gift for her children, and she intended to give it now.
She raced to the well pump, filled a bucket of water and carried the heavy, sloshing pail into the house. Once she sealed her home, she would not be able to leave it. She made a final trip to the garden to collect a few vegetables which could serve as a quick meal. She closed her eyes and cast her senses into the breeze that blew from the east. He drew near, and his evil stench already tainted the wind.
Hurry!
She slammed and bolted the door. With her back against the entrance, she let her lungs calm while she surveyed the room.
So much to do before I face the monster who would harm my family.
Her mouth lifted in a snarl.
I will crush this devil.
She checked the kerosene in the lanterns to make sure they were full, then placed what remained in open containers and located them with care throughout the house.
Next, she took a bag of salt from the pantry and cut a tiny hole in one corner. She drew a line of salt across the front and back door thresholds, and along every windowsill in-between. She set the bag in a large bowl on the counter beside the vegetables.
Prophecy (Soul of the Witch Book 2) Page 9
