Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red

by Barb Hendee

  And then . . . all she felt was rage, the need to kill . . . and she rushed forward on four legs . . .

  “Amelie!”

  The scene vanished, and she was choking. Opening her eyes, she found herself partially on the barn floor and partially in Jaromir’s arms. Céline was running toward her, falling to her knees.

  “Are you all right?” Céline asked. “Jaromir had to pull you away. You were gagging so badly.”

  Trying to draw in a few breaths, Amelie couldn’t help the waves of despair washing through her. Ramsey was gone. There was nothing left of him inside the wolf.

  “I couldn’t . . . ,” she tried to say. “I couldn’t get past last night when he started to change. I felt it. I felt everything.”

  Jaromir held her, rocking her back and forth.

  For a moment, she let him. Then she pulled away and tried to sit up on her own. “Is there any water left in that pitcher?”

  Rurik grabbed the pitcher and hurried over.

  Once Amelie had washed out her mouth, she shook her head in strained sorrow. “I tried, Céline. I can’t see anything of Ramsey’s life. I can only see when the wolf began.”

  * * *

  Looking at Amelie, Céline hated that her sister had been forced to endure this. She couldn’t imagine what Amelie had seen and felt in the past few moments.

  Climbing to her feet, Céline turned to face Keegan and Quinn.

  Keegan looked more unsettled now and less disgusted.

  Good, Céline thought. He should be unsettled.

  “I had hoped this would work,” she told him, “but it seems that there is not enough left of Ramsey’s spirit for my sister to see into his past.” She paused and steeled herself. “It’s time to change tactics. Captain, you must give us permission to begin reading your men. If I can pinpoint the next victim, we might be able to find out what is happening.”

  His mouth fell open, and this time, his green-tinged skin began turning pink.

  “Absolutely not!” he spat at her. “I’ll not have my men subjected to two ladies playing at being Anton’s seers, only to have you single one man out as the next ‘victim,’ as you so gracefully put it. Do you know what would happen to him? The others would kill him on the spot.”

  Jaromir stood up. “Captain, your prince requested help from his son, and his son sent us, and you were asked to afford us every cooperation.”

  “Not to the point where it endangers my men,” Keegan shot back.

  His derision of their abilities didn’t surprise Céline, but he’d seemed uncertain after watching Amelie—as if he was beginning to wonder if they could do as they claimed. Until this moment, he’d not shown much concern for his men. But what other reason could he have for not wanting her or Amelie to read them?

  Keegan turned back to the wolf, and the horror in his bloodshot eyes was clear enough. “Lady Céline,” he said, clipping off his words, “is there anything more you can learn from this beast?”

  Perhaps he wished to dismiss her. She struggled for something else to try—anything. If he wouldn’t allow her to read the soldiers, she was at a dead end. But nothing came to her, at least not yet.

  He seemed to take her silence as an answer, and she expected him to break up the group so they could all leave this barn. Instead, he motioned to Quinn and then to the wolf. Quinn hefted his spear and took a few steps forward.

  Céline went cold. “Stop! What are you doing?”

  Amelie climbed to her feet but didn’t say anything.

  Jaromir drew his sword and said, “Céline, go outside.”

  She could feel her eyes widening. “Jaromir, no! He’s tied to a stake and unable to hurt anything. You cannot just kill him. He is a victim here.” She couldn’t believe they were even considering this. “Amelie, don’t let them!”

  But her sister glanced away, and Jaromir nodded to someone behind Céline. An arm reached around her stomach and lifted her feet off the ground. She kicked and tried to break free.

  “It’s just me,” Rurik said in her ear. “Don’t struggle.”

  “Rurik, put me down! Jaromir, you cannot allow this!”

  Rurik turned and began walking swiftly though the barn, carrying her past the stalls and finally through the door outside. Only then did he place her back on her feet, and she jerked away, pressing her back up against the outside of the barn.

  “Rurik, how could you? How could you let them?”

  “The lieutenant’s right!” His voice was ragged. “You heard Amelie. Guardsman Ramsey is gone. He died last night, and all that’s left is that thing in there. What if it got loose? Do you want it running around camp? You want it to kill one of the miners’ children or Amelie? Is that what you want?”

  She fell silent, stricken.

  He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. “You know the lieutenant’s right. He protects his own.”

  The loyalty in his voice moved her, and she didn’t know what to think.

  “How can we finish this, so that we can leave?” he asked quietly.

  She was silent for a while and then whispered, “I don’t know. Amelie and I are not a pair of trained military investigators. We’re only seers, and we cannot solve anything unless we’re allowed to use our abilities. You heard Captain Keegan. Unless he gives us a freer hand, I’m not even sure what to try next.”

  Rurik appeared to be considering this. “So Keegan is the problem?”

  Things were more complicated than that, but, yes, Keegan was at the heart of it.

  “I don’t want to see any of them when they come out,” she said, changing the subject. “Will you take me back to my tent?”

  “Of course.”

  * * *

  After Rurik had left her inside the tent—and headed back for the barn—Céline busied herself, straightening up and making the bed. Time seemed to pass slowly.

  Just as she finished, Amelie came in through the flap and stood near the entrance uncomfortably. She was holding a few red apples in her hands. “I got these at the provisions tent. I thought you might be hungry.”

  Céline pretended to continue making the bed.

  “I’m sorry I let Rurik carry you out of there,” Amelie added.

  “That’s what you’re sorry about? That Rurik had to carry me out?”

  Glancing over, she saw Amelie wince, and she regretted her words. “Oh, Amelie . . .” Walking over, she drew her sister further inside. “Forgive me. I’m just upset.” She hesitated. “Is it . . . is it done?”

  Amelie nodded. “Jaromir made sure it was quick. That’s why I stayed, too.”

  Céline sighed quietly, no longer certain what was right or wrong. Perhaps it had been the right thing to kill Ramsey. It just seemed so unfair.

  “Rurik thinks we need an outing,” Amelie went on. “He says a few of the men told him there’s a small meadow not far to the east. He and I are going to lead all four of our horses there so they can graze for a few hours. He says it’s not good for them to live on a diet of straight grain.”

  “He seems to know a good deal about horses.” Even as the words left Céline’s mouth, it seemed odd to be speaking of outings and horses when a man had just been killed while tied to a stake.

  “His father is Prince Lieven’s gamekeeper, but I think he grew up with horses, too.” Amelie reached for her red cloak. “Why don’t you come with us? At the moment, there’s nothing we can do here.”

  Céline glanced at her supply box. “I promised some of the miners that I’d come back today. There are a few people I need to check on.”

  “Oh . . . do you want me to stay and help?”

  “No, no. You go with Rurik. He needs your help more. I just want to look at a few of the children with coughs and some of the men suffering in their joints.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Céli
ne could tell from Amelie’s voice that her sister would much rather be outside with Rurik, away from this camp, sitting in a meadow and letting the horses graze. But Céline found herself looking forward to some time away from all her traveling companions—even Amelie.

  “I’m sure. You go ahead.”

  As Amelie slipped out, Céline wondered what Jaromir was going to do with his day, but she didn’t wonder for long. Donning her own red cloak, she slipped the apples into the large front pockets. After gathering up the soiled wool dresses from their journey, she hefted her box of supplies. Once she had everything in her arms, she headed out, walking north through the tents and to the path through the trees.

  As the path emptied into the open area of the miners’ encampment, she couldn’t help being struck by a feeling that the camps were almost separate worlds, joined only by a small stretch of cleared ground between them.

  She looked right to the shacks and huts and then left to the collection of covered wagons. Her gaze stopped on the largest wagon, with its painted shutters.

  Gripping her box, she headed left, wondering how her reception was going to be after last night. Several of the Móndyalítko milling around outside glanced her way, and she smiled in greeting. As she reached her destination, Mercedes opened the door and looked down at her with an unreadable expression.

  “I’m sorry about Mariah and Marcus being dragged to the soldiers’ camp last night,” Céline said immediately. “I had no idea that was going to happen.”

  Mercedes’s expression seemed locked in a quiet brand of eternal anger, but she nodded. “I know you didn’t. Marcus told me.” Her eyes moved to the supply box. “And even if you had, I’d be a fool to turn you away.”

  Her black-brown hair hung loose this morning, making her look younger. She motioned with one hand. “Come on up. Marcus is off hunting, but I’ll have word spread that you’re here.” She reached out. “Let me put those gowns with the wash.”

  “Where’s Mariah?”

  “I don’t know. I rarely know where that girl is off to. She’s as wild as a deer.”

  Céline climbed the few steps, passed off the gowns, and stepped inside. She took off her cloak and began setting up at the table as Mercedes prepared to head out.

  “I’d like to see the boy with the broken arm,” Céline said, “and certainly that older man with the swollen finger joints. I want to send some of this monkshood home with him.”

  The afternoon progressed from there, and burying herself in work proved a good outlet for Céline. She lost herself in helping others.

  She was pleased to see her rose petal cough syrup had done well for the afflicted children, and Mercedes had managed to find a few small bottles so that some of the mixture could be sent home.

  The boy with the broken arm was in discomfort, but that was to be expected with a newly set bone, and as he complained more about the bandages itching than anything else, Céline thought him on the road to recovery. His father thanked Céline three times—to her embarrassment.

  She spent the remainder of the afternoon massaging more of the monkshood into sore or swollen joints, and again Mercedes went out and scavenged some small containers so Céline could send the liniment home with those suffering the worst.

  As the sun began to wane, after the last patient had been seen, both women sank into chairs. Céline reached into the box and pulled out a pouch.

  “Do you think you could manage one more thing,” she asked, “and get us some hot water?”

  Mercedes leaned forward. “What is it? Some other herb I haven’t seen you use?”

  “No.” Céline smiled tiredly. “It’s spiced tea. For us.”

  “Spiced tea? We haven’t seen tea in over a year. I’ll be right back.”

  As Mercedes went outside, Céline took the apples from the pocket of her cloak and found a knife. She sliced them into pieces and cut out the seeds. When Mercedes returned with small pot of boiling water—from the fire outside—and produced two mugs, Céline made them tea.

  As Mercedes looked down at the tea and sliced apples, some of the anger in her face faded as sorrow took its place. “You make me remember so many things I’d forgotten. You make me ashamed of what I’ve come to accept.”

  Céline pushed over a mug of tea. “Marcus says he’s going to take you out of here in the autumn. When he’s finished out his brother’s contract.”

  Mercedes looked over. “He told you that? I mean . . . I knew his plan. He’s just normally not one for talking.” She sat and picked up an apple slice. “We should have left years ago. I should have shown some spirit and shouted the roof down. Just before coming here, we’d hit . . . hard times, very hard times. Hearing of this place, it seemed wise for the men to sign contracts and try to earn some money. The captain back then was a fair man. But a year went by, and some of our men, including my father, signed new contracts, and then we were locked in for another year . . . and then another.”

  “Your father is gone now?” Céline asked softly.

  Mercedes nodded. “Died from a fever, and we had nowhere to go. I could see that Mariah was growing into a wild thing, with no sense and no purpose, and yet we stayed.” She lowered her eyes. “When I was a girl, my mother once told me that if you drop a frog into hot water, it will jump out. But if you put a frog into cool water and then slowly, slowly heat the water, it will stay there until it dies. I let myself become the frog.”

  “What else could you have done? The rest of your people were here.”

  “I should have fought harder for Mariah. When Keegan came last spring, I shouldn’t have let him near her.” The anger in her face was returning. “I’d given up the fight by then. But you . . . you make me remember things, that helping others, that decency, that a life worth a fight, those things all still matter.”

  Céline had no idea what to say. She badly wished to help Mercedes and Mariah . . . and Marcus. She simply didn’t know how yet.

  “Well,” she said finally. “I think you’ve done the best you could with the hand you were dealt.”

  Mercedes shook her head but didn’t answer.

  Céline stood up. “I should be getting back or my sister will come looking for me.” She leaned over and touched Mercedes’s arm. “I’ll be back.”

  Mercedes looked up. “I believe you.”

  * * *

  Jaromir spent most of the day frustrated and annoyed, and without the correct outlet, by the time the sun dipped low, he was on the edge of seething.

  The whole ordeal in the barn had left him more shaken than he’d admit to anyone. Though he remained convinced that killing Ramsey had been the right decision, that didn’t make it any easier. Céline was right in that Ramsey was as much a victim as the soldier he’d killed in the night.

  But . . . at present, his main concern was Amelie. Céline might fight him on moral issues, even to the point of occasionally challenging his decisions, but he knew how to handle her and he always won.

  Amelie was openly disobeying his orders—and doing so in front of the men.

  That had to stop, and it had to stop now.

  He’d let her leave the barn and walk away with Rurik, but he knew that Rurik was planning to take their horses to a nearby meadow to graze, so he decided to wait and catch Amelie alone. He had no wish to embarrass her. He simply needed to impress upon her the absolute necessity of obeying his orders in their current situation. He’d been charged with protecting her, and he’d not allow her to endanger herself.

  However, after waiting a short time, he’d gone to visit her tent and found it empty. A short while later, Guardsman Saunders told him that she’d gone off with Rurik, to help him with the horses, and that Céline had last been seen walking toward the miners’ encampment with her box of supplies.

  This left Jaromir facing an entire afternoon with nothing to do besides think and stew and grow angrier wit
h Amelie. Near dusk, he was standing outside the women’s tent, waiting with his arms crossed.

  And that was his mood as Amelie came walking back after her excursion. Watching her approach, he couldn’t help thinking how pretty she looked in her pale blue dress, with her short black hair swinging back and forth as she walked. Her skin glowed, as if the afternoon away had done her good.

  She stopped at the sight of him. “Rurik is putting the horses away,” she said. “Are you waiting for him?”

  “No.” He motioned toward the flap of her tent with his chin. “In there.”

  She tensed, but this only irritated him more, as if she needed to be cautious of his behavior instead of the other way around.

  “I want to talk to you,” he said.

  With a wary expression, she walked into the tent, and he followed.

  Inside, she turned to square off with him and crossed her arms as well. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he was handling this badly, and he knew her well enough not to take her head-on like this, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  “You disobeyed a direct order last night,” he started, letting anger leak into his voice. “Worse, you tripped the man I assigned as your escort, and you took his weapon!”

  “I saved your life! I’m the one who reached you and Céline. I’m the one who clubbed the wolf with the butt of that spear I ‘took.’”

  “Saved my . . . ,” he sputtered. Was she really delusional enough to believe he couldn’t have handled that beast by himself? “My job is to protect you, and our position here is uncertain at best. Do you understand how much your behavior has undermined my authority?”

  “Your authority? So far, you haven’t done a damn thing besides let Captain Keegan walk all over us and tie our hands.”

  “When I give an order, you will follow it!”

  Amelie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not one of your soldiers!” she shouted, uncrossing her arms and clenching her fists. “And I’m not some gypsy girl you can order around the way Keegan orders Mariah!”

  His head jerked involuntarily as if she’d slapped him. “The way Keegan orders . . .” He trailed off, so stunned he couldn’t finish the sentence, and for just an instant, he thought he saw a flash of panic and regret cross her face.