Passage (Soul of the Witch Book 1)

by C. Marie Bowen

  Kevin's eyes smoldered into hers as he waltzed her across the platform. “You don't appear excited at the prospect of becoming my wife. Why is that?”

  “You’re criminally insane,” she replied. Her eyes darted to his, then away.

  “My sweet bride,” he cooed. “Why do you make such horrible accusations? Have you no love for me? Perhaps you would be a more eager bride if I visited you tonight.”

  Nichole's stomach clenched, and she swallowed the hot bile that rose in her throat. She tipped her head back and met his smug gaze. Her anger flared. “Try it, and I'll blacken your other eye ... oh, wait, Merril already did that.”

  “You'll pay for that. There's an awful lot I intend to make you pay for.” He jerked her waist closer to his hip, and a few of the cowboys up front hooted at the couple.

  Nichole hissed as he wrenched her fingers even more. “So you keep saying.”

  “Maybe a little lesson right now would teach you to respect your future husband. Just a taste to get you ready for our wedding night.”

  Before Nichole could respond, Kevin whirled her around the dance floor one last time, and then stepped down, drawing her with him. Held in his muscular arms, he spun her into the crowd that parted before them, and toward the darkness behind the barn. She pushed her free hand against his shoulder, and struggled for release—but it was no use. His superior strength held her captive, and his cruel smile terrified her.

  Kevin's momentum came to a sudden stop as he backed into a man who stood between the couple and the darkness. He growled and turned his head, then stilled.

  “Could I have this dance?” Jimmy Leigh's face was grim. He slid his hand between Kevin's iron grip and Nichole's fingers and forced Kevin to relinquish her hand. Then, he stepped between the couple and put his arm around Nichole's waist.

  “This dance is taken,” Kevin spat but stepped back from Jim's angry glare.

  “Yes, please.” Nichole felt her knees begin to buckle with relief, but Jim held her waist in his firm grasp and moved her away from Kevin.

  Kevin hesitated for a moment and glowered his frustration as Jim led Nichole back to the dance platform. Finally, he stalked away across the yard and into the house.

  “Thank you,” Nichole whispered. Tears filled her eyes as blood rushed back to her hand.

  Jim's brow furrowed in concern, but he remained silent as she struggled to control her emotions. When she smiled up at him, he spoke softly. “Amy tells me you want to leave with her in the morning. After what I've seen, I'm inclined to agree with you.”

  “I'm already packed.”

  Jim made no reply as they danced across the platform. His great height made it impossible for Nichole to study his face. After a few turns, he slowed near the corner of the dance floor closest to the back of the house. The torch beyond the vittles table had gone out, and the kitchen yard was in shadow. They stepped from the platform as the music became lively once again and stopped near the table at the edge of the torchlight.

  Nichole shivered in the chilly night air. Her wrap was lost somewhere in the crowd.

  Jim touched her shoulder hesitantly. “Are you sure you're all right?”

  “I will be ... after tomorrow.”

  He brushed his hair back and reset his cowboy hat with one easy movement. “Amy told me Jason could have stopped this and didn't.”

  “It's true.”

  “That doesn't make a lick of sense to me.” Jim shook his head. “Jase loves you like a sister. He would never let harm come to you.”

  “I don't know.” Nichole shrugged. “He acted as though he loved me, but when I needed him, he turned away.”

  Jim let his gaze pass over the crowded yard. “What are you gonna do now? Go back in there?” He gestured to the crowd of people who talked and danced in the yard.

  She shook her head. “No. I'm going to sneak up to my room and stay there. I'm freezing, and I don't want to run into Kevin again tonight.”

  “If we cut across the back, behind the kitchen, we can get you to the front door from the other side. I think it's your best chance to get upstairs unnoticed.”

  On the porch, Kevin and Renata surveyed the crowd from their height advantage.

  Nichole slid further into the shadow. “I think you're right, but please, I need a few moments to myself. Keep an eye on Kevin while I go around back. Thank you, Jim, for everything. I'll see you in the morning.”

  “Take care, gal. Amy said she wants to be away before dawn.”

  She nodded, rubbed her arms and made her way around the back of the house.

  As soon as she stepped away from the torchlight, darkness took her sight. She put her hand on the side of the house and took a few hesitant steps, then stopped to allow her eyes to adjust. As she listened to the music and voices behind her, she glanced back at the party.

  Jim stood watch by the table, his arms crossed, guarding her retreat.

  The cloud cover broke, and a gibbous moon spread thin, silver light across the prairie. She rounded the corner of the house just as a shadow detached itself from the darkness under her balcony and stepped into her path.

  Nichole halted her step with a silent gasp. She stepped back and felt the hard, unyielding frame of the house. Too startled to run or cry out, her eyes widened as a match flared, and then rose to the tip of a cigarette.

  Angry green eyes glared into hers and then vanished as the match extinguished. Sulfur and smoke scented the night air.

  “Holy shit, Merril,” she croaked, hand on her chest. “Why didn't you say something?”

  He stood silently as smoke curled up through the moonlit branches of the cottonwood tree.

  She waited for him to speak, but he only watched her. The moon in her eyes left his face in shadow. A cheer went up on the other side of the house.

  He stepped from beneath the balcony, crossed in front of her and leaned against the tree trunk. The tip of his cigarette glowed for a moment, then disappeared—crushed beneath his boot. “It seems I should extend my congratulations to you and Kevin.” His voice was cold and laced with sarcasm.

  “No, of course not.” She took a breath to say more, but it caught in her throat. She swallowed and blinked back the sting of fresh tears. Heartfelt or heartache, he overpowered her senses. Her chest fluttered at his closeness.

  I've no time for this. I must be away at first light.

  Her shoulders sagged, and she stepped away from him—and her heart. Merril could lurk out here all night if that's all he wanted.

  Before she took the second step, his hand gripped her arm. “Don't leave so fast, Nic, we need to talk.”

  His touch warmed her chilled arm as he led her away from the house, along the shadow line of the tree. His hold didn't hurt; it guided her in the dark and held her steady. Part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and weep. His hateful comment crushed the other part.

  He stopped several paces from the house and turned to study her face. “Calm down for Christ's sake. You'll be back with your sweetheart soon enough.”

  “Kevin's not my sweetheart. He's a cruel psychotic monster.”

  The side of Merril's mouth ticked up. “What's this? It sounds like you can't decide between us—or maybe you just saddle up with whoever stands next to you.”

  The sting of his words left her speechless for a moment. Then anger brushed her heartache aside. “Me? I heard you forced yourself on Renata. She's quite a catch, Merril. It seems you've always had a thing for her.” The words were out before she could stop them.

  He dropped his hand from her arm and stood, fists on his belt, and glared at her. “I never touched that whore.” He looked away and down. “I don't know what kind of game you three are playing, and I don't care. What's important is that you, and that lying brother of mine, understand that I'm not out of this yet.” He raised his head and glared into her eyes. “Tell Kevin I'll be around.”

  What?

  Nichole stared dumbfounded at his profile in the dappled moonlight. She wa
nted to caress it and slap it. The cork in her kettle of emotions came loose, and she laughed. It started as a choked chuckle and ended in a sob. She pressed the back of her hand hard against her mouth—so hard she tasted blood. If her emotions slipped now, she would be lost.

  She swallowed back the tears and cleared her throat. “Tell him yourself. I won't be here.” Her voice quivered. She sniffed and wiped her face. “For the record, I would never have anything to do with them.” Her gaze rose, and she frowned at him. “And if you think I would, then you don't know me at all.” She raised her hand to her brow and rubbed her forehead. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Then again, how could you? I don't know myself anymore.”

  Merril stared at her. A dozen different emotions flitted across his face. He ran his hand over his mouth then stepped closer. “What the hell does that mean, Nicki?” He leaned toward her. “After what I just heard—” He gestured toward the party.

  She heard the catch in his voice, and her anger softened. “What Kevin announced was a lie. The same kind of lie Renata told about you.” She reached out and touched his arm, then lowered her hand. “I don't intend to be here for a wedding.”

  Merril looked into her eyes. “Tell me.” It was an offer to listen, and a need to understand. “How could you step on that stage with Kevin and let him announce your engagement?”

  Nichole sighed and brushed at her skirt. “I wasn't given a choice. Renata brought a doctor to The Highlands yesterday. They knew I would never marry Kevin. Dr. Clemens is their way to make sure I do. Either I marry your brother, or they lock me in the doctor's private insane asylum.”

  Merril shook his head. “You have an injury. You're not insane.”

  “I'm not?” Her words both defiant and questioning hung between them for a moment, suspended and unanswered. “I'm afraid there's more to it than simple insanity. I've ... changed.”

  He searched her face. “I don't understand.”

  “Yes, you do. You've even said it yourself—how I act like a different person.” She gripped his shirt in her fist, anxious to speak her mind, to lay it before him. “I don't think like Nichole anymore. I don't act or talk like her.”

  “What?” Merril pulled her hands from his shirt. Eyes wide, he tilted his head as though considering her anew. “Are you trying to tell me you're not ... Nichole?”

  Nichole stiffened. Her chin raised, but her attention never left his face.

  Merril dropped her hands and turned away. “You make me plumb loco—you know that? You make me think I'm the one who's lost his mind.”

  “Maybe you're not the one who's lost.” Nichole stepped around to face him.

  Merril raised his gaze to hers. “What are you saying, Nic?”

  “Nothing you didn't just say yourself. I'm not Nichole—or maybe—I'm not just Nichole anymore.” Her breath caught as she said it, as though saying it aloud made it real.

  Merril looked away. “Christ.”

  She grabbed his arm to make him stay. “Merril. Look at me.” When he didn't turn, she stepped into his line of sight. Her eyes captured his. “What else did White Eagle tell you?”

  “White Eagle?” Merril's brow furrowed. “I already told you what he said.”

  “Not all of it,” she insisted. “I want to know everything.”

  Merril ignored her and ran his hands over his face.

  “Please, Merril. What did he say?”

  He closed his eyes. His voice was low and soft when he spoke. “White Eagle said he could feel a spirit beside you. He begged the spirit for guidance.” He opened his eyes and looked away from her. “He said my eyes would deceive me, but in the end, my heart would speak the truth.”

  He was silent for several minutes. Nichole watched him struggle to find the right translation, the right words. Finally, he lowered his gaze and studied her face.

  Her hair had come undone and spilled down her back. The night breeze teased at the ends and brushed her shoulders. “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “He said the wind would possess me—consume me. He said I would chase the wind beyond my grave.” Merril searched her eyes, as though they might hold the answers.

  She shuddered at his words and swallowed. “And ... I'm the wind?” Her voice low and even.

  “I believe that's what he meant. Yes.”

  “Merril ... something happened to me after the carriage accident. I've changed. I'm not the Nichole you knew anymore.”

  Merril's eyes opened wide. He spun and paced away from her arms. “No.” He stopped, then turned to look at her. In two paces he was upon her. Gripping her shoulders, he stared into her eyes. “If you're not my Nichole, then who the hell are you?” His voice was frightened and desperate.

  Terror coursed through her veins. She couldn't answer him because she didn't know. But he believed her. She reached out to him, but he backed away from her touch.

  “No. You can't tell me this and then reach for me.”

  “Merril, I'm sorry. I'm scared, too.” She brushed her tears. “When my memory started coming back, and I knew—or I thought—” She stopped her stammered words and her silver-blue eyes met his. “Memories come back in fragments. I remember things that never happened to me ... I mean, to Nichole.” She sighed and crossed her arms. “But, I remember normal things too. It's all in pieces.” She caught her breath and held her hand to her lips to still their quivering. When she found her voice, she raised her eyes. “It wouldn't be fair to you if you didn't know about—whatever this is. I don't know how or why this has happened to me—to us.”

  She closed her eyes. When they opened, they were directed toward the house. “I'm leaving for Denver in the morning. I can't stay here. I won't marry your brother. He's a monster.”

  Her gaze shifted to his as she swallowed and took a breath. “Believe me when I tell you that whatever is happening inside my head doesn't change the way I feel about you. Nichole loves—” She stopped and blinked her eyes, brushing the tears away. Then she wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I love you.”

  She struggled to take a breath and felt his arms go around her. He held her head to his shoulder as she cried. His warmth engulfed her. How could he be so warm when she was so cold? The storm of tears passed, and she found her handkerchief and wiped her face.

  “I need to go inside, Merril.” She spoke into his chest. “We leave before sunrise.”

  “We?” He held her at arm's-length and searched her face.

  “Amy and Jimmy Leigh are taking me to Denver. I'll be safe there.”

  “You could leave with me now.”

  She smiled through her tears and shook her head. “It's already planned. I'll be in Denver tomorrow night.”

  He tipped his head and ran his hands up and down her arms. “Can I meet you in there? If I leave tonight, I'll be at the house when you and Amy arrive.”

  Nichole nodded and stepped back into his arms. They folded around her, and she wrapped her arms around his back.

  His voice was low when he spoke. “I can't stay here anyway. You know that. They'll charge me with attempted rape and murder.”

  She closed her eyes nodded against his chest.

  They had trapped him, too.

  “You certainly did beat the shit out of Kevin.” A chuckle escaped her, and Merril laughed. She raised her face to his.

  His lips brushed across her cheek and then captured her mouth.

  She could taste her tears on his lips.

  His hand wound in her hair as he deepened the kiss. When he pulled away, he kissed her eyes and forehead and then held her face in his hands.

  Nichole opened her eyes to his smile.

  “You had best go in, Nicki. Look for me in Denver.”

  Nichole nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She stepped away from him and stopped at the corner of the house.

  The front porch was empty, and her path to the door was clear. She looked back at Merril and waved her hand, then stepped onto the porch and across to the door.

  * * *
/>
  Blackie Jones

  Blackie Jones had left the road and circled the house. Most of the folks at the big shindig were between the house and the barn, leaving the other nice and quiet. He dismounted several yards away and approached on foot.

  He heard them talking before he could see where they stood. He crouched low and waited until a movement in the shadow of the tree caught his eye. The couple embraced, and he snickered to himself when they kissed.

  The man said, “You had best go in, Nicki. Look for me in Denver.”

  Jones watched the woman walk toward the house.

  Damned if it isn't that blonde-haired bitch.

  He waited until she disappeared around the front of the house and then scurried up behind Shilo. He already had his pistol out with a firm grip on the barrel. He brought the butt down on Shilo's head as hard as he could. When the man sank to his knees, he hit him two more times.

  Jones flipped the gun around, slipped it back in his holster and smiled. “So they're goin' to Denver.” He grabbed Shilo by the boots and pulled him several feet from the house. He chuckled and kicked a tumbleweed over Merril's motionless form. “I'll just have to have a little surprise waitin' for 'em.” He kicked Merril twice in the gut and drew his gun from his holster once more. “I should shoot you in the head, but they'd hear it at the party. You're dang near dead, anyway.”

  He holstered his weapon and captured his horse’s reins. “Denver, Denver,” he repeated. “Just you wait, you fancy bitch. I'm going to take a peek at what you keep hidden under those satin skirts. Maybe even try a piece.” He licked his lips in anticipation.

  “Oh, I'll try you out all right. I'll try you out real good ... right before I put a bullet between those pretty blue eyes.”

  Chapter 36

  Nichole Harris

  Nichole woke to a soft but insistent scratch at her door.

  Did I sleep at all?

  Her conversation with Merril had replayed in her mind a dozen times as she’d lain in bed and listened to the revelers below.

  She turned her eyes to the sound at the door and rolled from her bed to her feet. She slid the chair from beneath the latch and opened the door a crack to peek out.