Spellbound Trilogy: The Wind Casts No Shadow, Heart of the Jaguar, Shadows in the Mirror

by Jeanne Rose

  TORTURED BY NIGHTMARES, Monte tried to escape them even in his sleep. He tossed, turned, fought his covers, but Xosi wouldn't go away.

  Why do you turn from me, my beautiful man?

  He felt cold fingers up creep up his spine. He turned once more, flattening his back against the bed.

  "Go away," he mumbled, refusing to open his eyes. "Back to whatever hell you came from."

  The fingers were on his stomach now, smoothing, seducing, making him grow taut and hard even while part of him recoiled in distaste.

  You see ...you cannot resist me, came the voice in his head.

  He sensed Xosi settling down along his side. His skin rippled with the cold.

  Stop fighting what is between us. I can give you much pleasure. You remember this, do you not?

  He remembered, all right. Their making love that last night. Xosi had been wild and abandoned and he'd taken everything she had to give. He remembered other things ...his suggesting that she seduce Montgomery into letting the prisoners go ...his inability to save her when Montgomery plunged his knife into her heaving breast.

  His disgust and sickness at the human sacrifice.

  The dream-Xosi plunged her hand along his shaft. Despite the chill of her palm, he throbbed. Ached. She manipulated him until his back arched. Sensation filled him as, seemingly without will, he imitated the thrusts of lovemaking. He wanted to stop ...he couldn't. He'd gone so long without a woman that he was near to bursting. He was filled with the need for release.

  And as he quickly drew closer to the edge, thoughts of a woman with long blond hair filled him, as well. "Iphigenia," he murmured.

  The sensations stopped at once, leaving him suspended in frustration.

  How dare you utter the name of that bitch when you are with me!

  He couldn't help himself. "Iphigenia," he murmured again, suddenly devastated that he couldn't touch her, couldn't make love to her.

  You will regret your decision to put this pale shadow of a woman above me, the dream-Xosi predicted. For if I cannot have you ...

  Hollow laughter filled him with a panicky sensation that drove him awake. Monte sat up in bed, shuddering, his skin pebbled. He swore he saw Xosi for a second before her shimmering silhouette disappeared like a candle extinguished.

  His erection dissipated as quickly, leaving him frustrated, empty ...and, yes, afraid.

  Xosi was indeed haunting him. He had no illusions about her. She had been a beautiful and seductive woman, who'd chosen to believe she had true feelings for him. She had also been greedy and not above pettiness. And if he got too close to Iphigenia, who knew what wrath Xosi would wreak against the flesh-and-blood woman.

  His fault. All his fault. Xosi would be alive if not for him. Cursing, Monte pressed a hand to his forehead. This was his punishment. To be haunted, possibly for the rest of his days.

  And to have the one thing he was just now realizing he wanted more than anything -- Iphigenia -- threatened.

  As much as he desired the beautiful woman, he wouldn't touch her, Monte vowed, not while Xosi walked the halls of his home. He'd been responsible for her death and that of his wife before her.

  If anything happened to Iphigenia because of him, he would never forgive himself ...and his soul would surely be damned for eternity.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, feeling damned on general principles -- undoubtedly from not having enough sleep after a hard day on the range -- Monte was downing his second mug of coffee in the kitchen when Iphigenia entered, her posture unnaturally stiff. Seeming startled by his presence, she straightened her back further and avoided his gaze.

  "I'm here to get my things from the pantry," she told the housekeeper.

  "I have already washed the clothing and hung it out to dry, Señorita Wenthworth," Carmen said.

  "Then you'll need help with the tub --"

  "Taken care of," Monte growled at her, noticing the way her cheeks pinkened at his attention.

  "I see," she said, still refusing to look his way. "So then I'm not needed here, either."

  Either?

  Figuring he was missing something, Monte frowned into his coffee but kept his mouth shut. He didn't need an argument with her to start his day.

  "Shall I bring you tea in the parlor?" Carmen asked Iphigenia.

  "I can help myself."

  Monte watched Iphigenia busy herself and wondered if she'd even known what the kitchen in her fancy New York house looked like. No matter what challenge she was faced with, Iphigenia Wentworth was resourceful, he'd say that for her. She was also lovely, her beauty stirring him anew and reminding him of the nightmare.

  Not that he'd exactly been asleep. As sure as the day was long, Xosi had been in his bed last night.

  He shifted uncomfortably and wondered whether there could ever be anything more intimate between him and Iphigenia. Sure as hell not as long as Xosi's spirit stuck around. Something told him Iphigenia wouldn't be safe. But how could he get rid of the woman who chose to haunt him?

  Maybe if he found that damned mirror he'd have some say about what was what ...

  "Boss!" Shorty yelled, sticking his head through the doorway. "You gotta come quick. Trouble!"

  "What sort of trouble?" Iphigenia demanded, even as Shorty took off and Monte set his mug down.

  They headed for the door as one, brushing shoulders when they arrived at the opening. The left-overs of the night's desire sluiced through Monte, and considering her pink-cheeked visage, he figured Iphigenia was feeling the attraction, too.

  "Stay here," he ordered her, shooting out the door with little hope of her listening to him.

  Shorty was running toward the barn farthest from the house. Monte caught up with him quick, yelling, "What's going on?"

  "Man's dead," the small man said, puffing. "Norbert Tyler."

  Monte's gut clenched. "Dead how?"

  "Dunno. Head's twisted around all funny like, and his body's covered with blood."

  The word curse sang through Monte's mind. A curse that Xosi had put on him in return for her death? He ran the rest of the way to the barn in tight-lipped silence.

  Wranglers were gathered around the body, their low tones ominous. Monte pushed through the crowd, felt fear and hostility rumbling through his men. He took in the corpse ...and the signs painted in blood on the barn. He knelt next to Norbert and turned the body over, his stomach clenching when the head lolled weirdly. Using his bandanna, Monte wiped away some of the blood from the throat and noticed an even bruising, as if something had tightened around the man's neck.

  One of the men muttered, "Jake's right. This place is cursed for sure."

  Monte whipped around to face him. "Yeah, by someone who doesn't like me."

  "Look at the hex signs, Mr. Ryerson," the cowboy insisted, pointing at the upside down crosses and stars on the barn.

  "You think some ghost painted those?" Monte demanded. "Or made this bruise on Norbert's neck?" He shook his head. "Another human being is responsible for this death."

  "Weren't no footprints," Bill said. "I found Norbert first. I looked."

  "No footprints at all?"

  "No, sir. None."

  "Then how did Norbert get here? Fly?"

  A murmur went up through the growing crowd which now included a wide-eyed, pale-faced Iphigenia.

  "I don't care what anyone says, this place is cursed, and I ain't staying no longer," one of the cowboys said.

  "Me, neither," another agreed. "First the horses, then the cattle, now a man. Ain't waitin' to be next in line to shake hands with the devil."

  The two men stormed off. Monte rose and faced the ones who remained. He looked closely at their expressions. He read fear, but how deep did it go?

  "I tell you Norbert Tyler was killed by a man, not by a ghost, and not by some damned curse," Monte insisted. "Now are you with me?"

  "I am," Shorty said without hesitation.

  A murmur of reluctant agreement rippled through the rest of the men.

  Easi
ng Monte's mind some. He didn't need to lose any more hands -- too small a work force would put him in danger of not being able to run his spread or to bring his stock into market. One disaster could lead to another, and he was in financial straits as it was. Not that he could count on the rest of his wranglers to stick by him, Monte realized. Once word got out about Norbert Tyler, he expected he might have a few more defections.

  "We can't leave Norbert here," he said, pushing the possibility of losing his ranch to the back of his mind and allowing sentiment to take over. "I need a couple of you men to carry him into the barn and cover him for the time being, another to ride into El Paso for an undertaker." And since Norbert had no relatives as far as he knew. "We'll have to dig a grave and bury him in that little plot out north of the big pasture." Not the family graveyard but the area alloted for the few other strays who'd needed a final resting spot through the years. He took a deep breath, gazing up at the bloody symbols. "Meantime, I also need someone to get that trash off of my barn."

  He waited for volunteers. His men looked away from him. No matter that they were sticking with him, they believed what they wanted to. They feared having anything to do with Norbert's burial. They feared some vague curse that someone had planted in their heads. Jake O'Brian?

  He assigned men to the task and waited for refusals. When none came, when two men picked up the body, another took off to saddle up a horse, and the rest picked up shovels or went to see about getting the bloody symbols off the barn, he was sadly relieved. A man had died, after all, a fact not to be taken lightly.

  The rest of the small crowd drifted away, all but Iphigenia. "I'm sorry, Monte," she said, looking stricken. "Such a terrible thing for you ..."

  "Murder's not pleasant for anyone."

  "Is there any way you can figure out who was responsible?" she asked.

  "I can try." He was already inspecting the ground around his boots. "No guarantees. Maybe you oughta go back to the house."

  "Yes." Seeming reluctant, she turned away.

  And Monte had to stop himself from asking her to stay, from comforting himself by taking her in his arms and resting his head on hers and inhaling her sweet scent. He had to remember that until he found a way to rid himself of Xosi's shadow, he couldn't make a move toward Iphigenia. He couldn't allow her to end up dead like Norbert Tyler.

  The uninvited thought stunned him.

  Even though he'd seen bruising indicating the cowboy had been killed by human means, deep inside, Monte felt Xosi was ultimately responsible. If she hadn't shown up in the first place, there'd be no talk of curses ...

  The thought drifted off when his boot toe stirred something out of the dust where Norbert Tyler's body had been found. He crouched and picked up a piece of decorative braided leather -- the kind that wound around a bullwhip's handle. He imagined a bullwhip would easily break a man's neck if the person who was wielding it knew what to do.

  He glanced up at the barn, at the signs of the curse written in what probably was the same blood as covered the corpse. He wondered if Norbert had had anything to do with them.

  Too late to ask.

  Fingering the soft hide, Monte only wished he had the power to know whose bullwhip the leather had come from. Jake's? Barkley's? Or Louis Padilla's?

  One of these men had it in for him, Monte knew, and until he figured out which, he was certain the R&Y would be plagued by more strange occurrences.

  He only hoped that didn't include more deaths.

  SICKENED BY THE THOUGHT of a murderer being on the loose, Iphigenia was eager to take shelter in Carmen's safe kitchen, away from harsh reality. But upon entering, reality of another kind faced her. Ginnie was eating eggs and tortillas at the scarred table the housekeeper used for food preparation. Carmen herself was nowhere to be seen.

  Iphigenia retrieved the pot of tea she'd brewed for herself and poured out a cup. The tea was tepid and bitter, but she sipped at it anyway and took a seat across from Ginnie. The girl shoved out of her seat as if to break for the back door. Iphigenia flashed out an arm to stop her.

  "We have to talk."

  Ginnie jumped back as if burned by her touch. "Got nothing to say to you."

  "Sit."

  The girl glared at her but threw herself back into the chair. "So talk."

  Thinking about the snake incident added to all the other unpleasant encounters she'd had with the dark twin, Iphigenia calmly sipped at her tea until her equilibrium righted.

  "You and I must come to an understanding. I am no threat to you."

  Ginnie made a face. "Didn't think you were."

  "Yes, you do or you wouldn't be so disagreeable. Your manner is troubling, not only to me, but to your family. Cassie in particular. She doesn't understand what's happened between the two of you. You've hurt her deeply."

  A guilty expression flashed across the sullen young face, but only for a moment. "I'm not like Cassie. I don't need a new mother!"

  Iphigenia heard the lie in the angry words. "I was very much like you not so long ago. I, too, know what it's like to be without a loving female presence."

  Ginnie looked at her suspiciously. "Your mother died?"

  "When I was five. And I did all kinds of bad things to get attention from my father. But I didn't feel any better for it, not deep down where it counts. I always wanted something I couldn't have."

  She thought she'd struck a chord in the girl until Ginnie lashed out at her, saying, "Well, I don't want you, and neither does Pa! You with your fancy ways ...you're horrible ...nothing like Ma was ...and nothing like Xosi! She's perfect for Pa."

  "Xosi?" Iphigenia had never heard of a woman by that name. "Pa met her in Mexico," Ginnie explained, her smile triumphant. "She's beautiful, with long fiery hair. Xosi followed him back to the ranch. She loves Pa and she's not leaving. She would do anything for him."

  Iphigenia nearly gaped. Ginnie had just described the apparition she'd seen the night before -- a phantom woman with long burnished hair and wearing the attire of a Mexican peasant. But she'd never heard of ghosts that traveled from place to place.

  She asked, "You say that this Xosi followed your father back to the ranch from Mexico?" The "bad medicine" he'd referred to? He'd spoken of ritualistic deaths and a man who thought himself an Aztec god but he must have left out some other names and details. "Where does Xosi live?"

  Ginnie wore a cunning expression. "In a secret place."

  "Within this house?"

  The girl shrugged. "Maybe."

  Iphigenia knew she'd seen a vision the night before, not a living presence. Though the specter apparently hadn't been Amanda Ryerson. Her skin prickled.

  "Did Xosi die here? After following your father from Mexico?" Death on the premises being the only explanation Iphigenia had ever heard of for hauntings. Furthermore, it must have been a recent death, since everyone said the eerie incidents had started not long ago.

  "It's none of your business." Ginnie rose, face still sullen, obviously straining at the bit to get away. She inquired sarcastically, "Can I go now?"

  The girl knew about the ghost, was obviously attached to it. Cassie maintained Ginnie had changed several months before. Was the girl's attachment to a spirit the reason for that? Was this Xosi influencing Ginnie to do bad things like placing rattlesnakes where people would encounter them?

  And what else might the girl be led to do?

  Ginnie had been sneaking around the house the other night. She'd lost interest in working with the men because she had more important things to do. Somehow, this was all tied in with the ghost, Iphigenia was certain of it.

  Worried that the girl would get herself into some terrible trouble, she said, "Be careful, Ginnie." The girl could be in trouble on more than one level, for her thinking wasn't straight. More important at the moment, however, was physical threat. "A man was killed here last night. Don't go off by yourself, all right?"

  "That all?"

  Iphigenia nodded.

  Ginnie flew by her and the
door, muttering to herself, "Not my Ma. Can't tell me what to do."

  Iphigenia sighed and only hoped Ginnie wouldn't find more trouble than she could handle.

  Alone, she tried to think of ways she could help the troubled young girl, her mind wandering back to this Xosi. Since Monte told her that, if there was a ghost, it wasn't his wife, he was undoubtedly aware of the wraith's identity. And yet he hadn't spoken of any woman who'd died the past few months. Why? Was he hiding something? Or merely sparing her unpleasant details? The latter seemed more likely, considering the integrity of his character.

  She should have gone to him the night before, Iphigenia fretted. She could have helped him face the bizarre situation. She shouldn't have let some apparition keep her from the man she loved.

  Man she loved?

  Shocked, Iphigenia realized she did love Monte. She desired him physically, yes, but her attraction went far deeper. Despite his unusual background and beliefs, despite his dark moods, he was the most decent and straight-forward man she'd ever known, a refreshing change from a society where people rarely expressed their true opinions or feelings. And he was a family man who loved his children and let them know it, so unlike her own father. But most important, Monte was the kind of man she needed -- strong enough to take her on, strong enough to love her despite the fact that she could be difficult.

  But did Monte love her?

  He desired her, of that she was certain. His embraces had revealed his passion. But he'd also been holding himself back from taking what he wanted ...what she would have gladly given. Why?

  Because he cared?

  Because she had answered an advertisement for a husband and they were not yet wed?

  The conclusions she'd drawn in bed the night before about being able to work things out so that everyone was happy came back to her. She was thinking it could work when heavy footsteps on the stoop alerted Iphigenia to Monte's arrival. Knowing she had to talk to him about it, her heart thundered with anticipation. She waited to see what his mood would be. Surprisingly, his expression was not nearly as dour as she had expected.