Darklands Book 2: Something Wild This Way Comes

by Autumn Dawn

  Her mind whirled with possibilities, none of them good. Oh, she was driving herself crazy with negative thoughts. What was she going to do for the rest of the night? Stand shivering and racked with uncertainty on the step of Ravenswood House, or take a step into the unknown. She squared her shoulders. Well, Millie had always said that fear is mostly not knowing what's ahead. Once she knew what was ahead, she'd be able to decide on a course of action.

  Camille stepped away from the house, striding determinedly toward the woods, only hesitating twice, as she passed her car, and again as the lawn gave way to the dense wood. Then she was amid the thicket of trees, dark and spookily silent for the most part. From time to time she heard a rustle and she would turn, expecting to see someone on the path behind her but it was empty and silence fell once more. She walked further into the darkness, her eyes straining to see a light, but there was nothing, only inky blackness and the slim dark trunks of trees all around.

  A twig cracked, sudden and sharp. She heard a soft footfall. She turned abruptly, and saw gleaming eyes and a sharp beak disappear into the brush. Some sort of nocturnal bird, she thought. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she forgot to breathe for a minute. The dark woods which had appeared silently forbidding a few seconds before suddenly became menacingly animated. The trees creaked and groaned, as though in pain. Animals snarled and shrieked. She gasped and dashed forward blindly along the path, her breath sobbing from her as she ran.

  Something soft caught her face, clung. A spider's web, its occupant caught in her hair. She felt its legs on her and shrieked, brushing wildly at it until she knocked it to the ground. The web still entwined around her, but she didn't stop to remove it, she simply picked up her pace, running, running straight on down the path.

  Oh God, she saw the gleaming, slitted eyes again, the beak ... it was stalking her ... the path curved to the left and she bolted down it. Light! Just a glimmer, but sharp as day between the trees. Another flicker, and she was dashing toward it, trees catching at her face, her hair. Her lungs were bursting as she threw herself out of the woods and into a clearing as brightly lit as a church by a myriad candles.

  A cloaked figure with long red hair turned toward her. It was Rowan, holding her arms wide for Camille to run into. With a sob, Camille rushed into her embrace, feeling those slender, strong arms close around her and that same warming pulse of energy she'd felt the day she'd met Rowan in town.

  "Ssshh.” Rowan soothed her. “It's okay. He was just trying to scare you, but you found me."

  Camille wanted to ask who was trying to scare her, but she was still trying to get her breath back, so she just stood there, letting Rowan's warmth and security drive the chill from her. At long last, she drew back, calmer.

  "I'm sorry,” she said, meeting that calm blue-gray gaze. “It was probably nothing. It was dark and I couldn't see the light for the trees. I thought I saw a pair of eyes in the darkness and I panicked. It was an animal, a bird."

  "Oh, you were being followed,” said Rowan. “You've probably been followed for a while now. The difference is, now he wants you to know it."

  "You mean Lord is out there?” Camille got out through dry lips. She spun around, here eyes searching the darkness beyond the candlelit circle in the clearing.

  "Is that his name? Lord?"

  Camille pressed her lips together. How was it that this woman always got her to say far more than she intended? “Well, who?” she said.

  "His name doesn't much matter,” said Rowan. “It's more about what he's capable of.” She rubbed the small of her back tiredly, made her way to a tree stump by the perimeter of the circle and sat down. She was backlit by the candles and Camille thought she looked like some pagan fertility goddess with that wild hair and ripe belly.

  "Sit down.” Rowan motioned Camille to the dry ground nearby. “It's time you told me everything. We're safe here."

  Camille knelt slowly onto the forest floor, the leaves making a surprisingly comfortable cushion. She looked at the ground, trying to find the words that would make sense of her story.

  When she looked up she found those still-lake eyes on her and the words seemed to form without any effort.

  "Elizabeth's not my daughter,” she said, feeling the burden of guilt slide from her shoulders with that stark admission. “My sister was ... my sister died. Elizabeth's her daughter. I.... “The word “kidnapped” was on her lips. She said instead, “I took her."

  "With good reason, I presume,” prompted Rowan.

  "Yes, at least I believed so. Still believe so. My sister's death wasn't suicide or accidental.” Camille glanced toward the dark trees. “Her husband, my brother-in-law Malcolm Lord, killed her because ... because.... “Camille faltered when she tried to explain his evil motives. How could she make Rowan understand that Lord felt he was above the law. No, more than that! He was above natural humanity. Or below it. She sucked in a breath. “He killed her because he could, and because he believed he could get away with it. He's a powerful man."

  Rowan's fine red brows rose a notch, but from what Camille could see, there was no other indication of surprise on her face. She seemed to be taking it in. When she spoke, it was Camille who was the one left reeling.

  "This will sound off the wall,” she said, smiling at Camille. “Though perhaps no more than anything else I've told you in the past few hours. Your brother-in-law is as powerful or powerless as you make him."

  Camille pushed herself back onto her knees to look at Rowan. “You don't understand. He's a lawyer, a rich and powerful one. He knows how to influence people, how to twist the truth. He can make his reality the only one."

  "Yes. He's all of that and none of that. If you believe he's all-powerful, then he will be.” Rowan looked hard at Camille, as if trying to find something she knew was there but not where. “If you believe he can be beaten, then he can be beaten."

  "I don't know,” whispered Camille. “He knows people, knows the system. If he finds me, I'll find myself incarcerated, in prison or an institution, or even dead. And Elizabeth ... what will happen to her?"

  "Exactly what you fear will happen,” said Rowan, ignoring Camille's harsh cry. “On the other hand, if you banish all fear, if you believe and trust that you can stand up to him, fight and defeat him, then you will."

  "It's not as simple as that!” Camille wanted to throw her arms up in frustration. Didn't Rowan understand they were talking about the real world here. This wasn't some Hollywood movie where the underdog came from behind to win the battle, to rousing cheers. This was real, and the wrong decision would mean imprisonment or worse for her, and God knows what future for Elizabeth. “I abducted his child. Don't you get that? In the eyes of the police, the law, everyone, I'm the criminal."

  "Maybe, but the laws of nature, of humanity, don't judge as harshly. And that is why you can win this. If you believe it.” Rowan pushed herself up from her stump seat and walked to the perimeter of the circle, turned and faced Camille. It was if she was glowing. “Do you believe it?"

  "I don't know.... “She wanted to believe it, wanted to believe so badly that at the end of the nightmare, she would have her life and Elizabeth.

  "Do you believe it?” Rowan commanded, her voice strong in the silence of the night.

  Camille stood and faced her inside the circle of light, drew on her strength and certainty. “Yes,” she said at long last. “I believe."

  * * * *

  Max looked up at them when they returned to the house. He didn't say anything, and after scrutinizing Rowan's face intensely for a second, he returned to the task of making coffee. Camille wondered how he felt about his wife being a witch. She herself felt stunned by the revelation, even more so by having observed Rowan casting a ritual spell for protection. It had been earthier, more practical than she'd expected. True, there had been a silver dagger, which Rowan referred to as an athame, but there was nothing of the cauldrons or eyes of newt that she associated with witchcraft.

  She'd asked Rowan
about that as they walked home through the slowly lightening woods, and Rowan had muttered something about Shakespeare having a lot to answer for. Camille was trying to get her head around the idea that Rowan believed she could harness the power of nature, and that anyone could if they truly believed it and practiced the art. The idea that there was a force out there, working for her, excited her and scared her. She wanted the belief that Rowan had, and the serenity it gave her.

  "Elizabeth hasn't so much as batted an eyelash since I put her down,” said Max, handing her a steaming cup of the fragrant brew. She's upstairs, second bedroom on the left if you want to check on her."

  "Thanks.” Camille took the mug gratefully and wandered out into the vast foyer. She climbed the stairs, admiring the craftsmanship in the carpentry of the old banister, the carved newel posts top and bottom. Elizabeth was snoring contentedly in an old-fashioned white crib. She'd kicked off the sheet and Camille drew it gently up over her plump body and tucked it carefully around her.

  "Sleeping like, well, a baby,” she said, smiling at Max when she went back downstairs.

  Something nagged at her and then she remembered. Max had been expecting her to turn up because Rowan had told him she would. She turned to Rowan. “You knew I would come, didn't you? You called me."

  "I just opened up to you and hoped your powers were strong enough to pick me up. Everyone has intuitive powers to a greater or lesser extent, but you're more naturally gifted than most I've heard of,” said Rowan. She turned to Camille, laughing. “Science isn't the be-all and end-all, as Max thinks. He believes that if it can't be proven scientifically, it doesn't exist."

  "I'm not quite that narrow-minded,” Max responded calmly to the provocation. “Not now, after having witnessed things that rationally I still can't explain."

  Camille looked at him curiously and Max laughed, shaking his head as though he was still amazed by it all. “Not long after we met, I saw Rowan lay hands on a man with burns and take his pain away. He healed in a fraction of the time I would have normally expected. You witnessed it yourself when she took Elizabeth's fever away. That's just the thin end of the wedge. When you see a man just disappear off the face of the earth, that's when it gets really weird."

  "Disappear?” Camille questioned. She looked from Max to Rowan.

  "Roth,” said Rowan. “I started to tell you before about what happened here last year.” She turned to Max. “Roth wasn't a man. He simply took the form of one. I took him on as my ancestors have been taking on his kind for centuries. I took him on and dealt with him."

  "She kicked his butt,” said Max, his eyes admiring.

  Rowan's face turned sombre. “He said to me before he disappeared that this wasn't the end of it, that more like him would come.” She looked intently at Camille. “I think the dark one recruits suitable candidates to his cause. People like Roth and your brother-in-law. They're simply manifestations of his power. When he needs them, he summons them. When he no longer needs them, they disappear. That's why I called for you during the night. That's what I was doing in the woods tonight. I was asking the Goddess for help to convince you."

  Camille sat up straight, meeting those guileless blue eyes. “I dreamed of you in the woods,” she said slowly. “I saw you there in the candlelight, and I knew I had to come."

  "Your gift.” Rowan smiled. “You picked up the energy."

  A cry sounded from above. Max stood, laying a hand on Camille's shoulder. “I'll get her."

  Camille nodded absently, staring at Rowan. “It was the clearest vision I've had yet. And when I saw Nathan Donnelly at his house, it—” She came to an abrupt halt as she remembered precisely what she'd seen in Detective Sergeant Donnelly's room.

  Rowan was staring keenly at her, lips curved in a half-smile. “You saw Nathan in your vision?"

  "Twice now, but tonight it was much clearer and more extended than before."

  Rowan raised her eyebrows. “Probably because as your mind opens, your ability is enhanced.” She looked up as Max carried Elizabeth into the room. “From your face, I suspect you wouldn't appreciate me asking what Nathan was up to when you saw him."

  "Nathan?” asked Max, placing the baby in her lap.

  "She saw him,” said Rowan, with a smug look on her face. “In her dreams."

  Camille blushed afresh, and buried her flaming face against the baby's warm neck. “He was just sleeping.” Even to her own ears it didn't sound convincing.

  "Well!” Rowan slapped her hands lightly against the pine table. “That convinces me, more than anything. “Nathan needs to know what you've told me,” she said. “And he needs to know as soon as possible. He can handle the policing side of things, while we focus on keeping you and Elizabeth safe."

  "It's the fair tomorrow, remember,” said Max. “Nathan is going to be pretty tied up till it's over."

  "Lord, yes.” Rowan moaned. “I'd forgotten."

  "Anyway, I need to get Elizabeth home. It's more than past time for her bottle,” said Camille. And I need to think about what I'm going to do, she thought to herself.

  "You need to see Nathan as soon as possible,” said Rowan. “He's a good guy, dependable. Tell him what you've told me and he'll understand, believe me."

  "Nathan Donnelly's a cop,” said Camille flatly. “I don't know whether police officers have to sign some sort of ethics thing or not, but I know for certain that he'd have to make it official. In case you've forgotten, I've committed a crime."

  Max looked from Camille to his wife.

  Elizabeth is my niece, not my daughter,” Camille told him. “I took her without her father's permission after my sister was ... died."

  "Camille thinks her sister died at her husband's hands."

  "I have no proof. In the eyes of the law, I kidnapped Elizabeth, whether or not my intentions were good."

  "Hell,” said Max slowly. “Camille would be putting Nathan in a hell of a position. She'd be asking him to choose between helping her and his commitment to the law he's sworn to uphold. I've only known Nathan a few months but he's a career cop. He believes in the law."

  "Nathan believes in justice,” Rowan replied. “That's not always the same thing as the law. Trust me,” she said, her eyes on Camille. “Nathan will do the right thing."

  Camille nodded although she couldn't see how Nathan could avoid taking a woman who'd admitted abducting a child into custody. And complicating it all was the fact that in some weird way she'd been in his bedroom last night, spying on him. How on earth was she supposed to talk to him after seeing him, after wanting him as she had.

  "Trust Nathan. Trust your own instincts,” Rowan said softly. “That's all you have to do."

  * * * *

  All? Camille thought on the drive home. Rowan made it seem like such a simple little thing, but nothing in her life was simple right now. It was a tangled web of fears and lies and hope, and the right path was hopelessly obscured. At least for her.

  She glanced automatically in her rearview mirror as she did with increasing frequency these days, but the road behind was clear. If only the road ahead was. She sighed. It was after seven. She and Elizabeth needed to eat and catch up on some sleep, and Camille needed to work out a plan.

  Rowan had said she and Max would meet them tomorrow afternoon at the fair, and she knew Rowan wouldn't back down from insisting she spoke to Nathan. But if she was going to talk to him, she had to work out what to say and what to leave out. It would be simpler all round if she and Elizabeth just packed up and left, but Camille felt as though she'd made a promise to Rowan. A promise that she would trust herself to overcome whatever Lord threw at her. But it was a promise she didn't yet know if she'd be able to keep.

  Chapter Nine

  Malcolm Lord stood on the balcony of his mansion in the same spot where he'd seen his wife plummet to her death mere weeks ago. But he wasn't thinking of her. He was thinking of her sister, Camille, and the fact that he should have acted earlier when she'd been alone and more vulnerable.
/>
  Now she knew who she was, what she was, although she hadn't quite come to terms with her powers. And she was becoming close to the Byrne woman, the bitch who'd dared to confront the dark one last year.

  Not to mention the burly policeman sniffing around. Oh, yes, he knew all about them. He'd felt the desire burning between them, and his fury had been so great that the power of it had triggered the detective's car alarm. Lord sniggered to himself. The policeman wasn't going to have Camille. Well, not until Lord had shown her who she was messing with, and then it would be unlikely that anyone would want her. But he needed to resolve the situation swiftly, before Camille discovered the full force of her female power and how to wield it against his kind. It was time he brought this to a close.

  Lord closed his eyes and let the dark one's power engulf him. He was a bird of prey again, hovering over the landscape, eagle eyes focused unwaveringly on his victim, missing nothing. The moment of reckoning was coming ... and it would be soon. Very soon.

  * * * *

  God! Nathan rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension he'd felt building there. He cast an eye over the thinning crowd and glanced at his watch. Ten past four. He'd give it another twenty and then call it quits. His constables could oversee things until the remaining few fair stalls had been dismantled and the rest of the crowd had made it either home or to their cars.

  He looked at the sky. Vast clouds with menacing purple underbellies were closing in, hastened by the whipping breeze. Thunder boomed faintly from miles away and sheet lightning lit the darkening sky. The fair was finishing just in time for what looked like being the electrical storm of the century.

  He wondered whether Rowan and Max were still around. He'd seen them out and about earlier. They'd been talking to Camille, who had the baby with her. Just a glimpse of her had been enough for him to feel a tangible pull to her side and he'd been on his way over to her when he'd been accosted by Fred Bellows, who as usual had a list of complaints that needed Nathan's immediate and personal attention.