by J. M. Davies
“I’m so glad you’re here. Come inside.” Ella breathed into her hair and stepped back to let her in. Once Isabella passed her, Ella walked closer to the men.
“Do you have to stay outside all day? It looks like rain and I have coffee brewing.”
The tallest of the two turned to face her. His stern pale face stared and one of his slim eyebrows rose, but as he opened his mouth, the black man smiled.
“We can come inside, ma’am, but we don’t want to be in the way,” Ben said.
Ella smiled back and met the man’s warm brown eyes. “Come in, and you can set yourselves up in the living room and front study as much as you can out here. It’s no bother.”
He nodded and removed his beanie to reveal a military buzz cut before he stepped inside. The other man caught hold of his arm.
“We were told to stay vigilant,” Connor said.
“We will, but my nuts are freezing out there, which doesn’t help my concentration any.”
Ella laughed and closed the door as Connor reluctantly entered. The size of the men made the room shrink around them.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Ben, you will be if you continue to call me ma’am. It’s Ella.”
He smiled, and she left them gazing out the windows as she walked back into the kitchen. She made the chamomile tea for Josephine, and peppermint for her and Isabella. She left her friend talking with Josephine and carried the two mugs of strong coffee to the guards, who both grabbed them from her waiting hands.
“Any news?” She wondered besides the death of the doctor whether there was anything more she didn’t know. Staying with Josephine was necessary, but she felt adrift and isolated from the world beyond. The surlier one—Connor, with short blond hair—eyed her over the steaming mug and lifted his mouth.
“Mrs. Drayton, we’re stationed here until your husband returns. Our agenda is to keep you and Josephine Laurent safe. We’re not at liberty to discuss any intel with you unless asked to do so by headquarters. Your part of the team, I know that, but in the circumstances, you need to let us do our job. We’re trained for worse conditions than a bit of drizzle. We’ll finish the coffee and return to our station, if you don’t mind.”
She swallowed down his words. She didn’t mind; she knew why they were here and that she was their mission. The other man, Ben, gave her an apologetic smile but after they downed their mugs, they left and returned outside. She blew out a breath and intended to walk back to the kitchen, but Isabella walked toward her with her cup in hand.
“I helped Josephine get to bed. She’s exhausted and needed sleep. Is she all right?”
Ella lifted her gaze toward the stairs and wondered whether she should go and check on her. Josephine always worried and fussed over others, never herself.
“I think I will just go and check in on her.”
Isabella stepped closer and handed her the cup of peppermint tea. “You can check on her later, but for now, let her sleep. She asked me to help her. I cast a spell to ensure she is rested for a couple of hours at least. Come on, I know there’s a reason you called me over.”
Ella accepted the warm cup. “Isabella, casting spells? I thought you didn’t like to use your magic?”
Isabella gave a wide smile and sat down in the high back Chesterfield armchair next to the fireplace. She gazed at the stacked firewood arranged in the grate, and clicked her fingers. Flames burst to life and brought a heat into the cool room. Ella laughed and sighed.
“Sit down, Ella. Josephine isn’t the only one who’s tired.”
She was right and she yawned. “You better not cast a spell over me because I need to talk to you,” she said in a serious voice.
“Relax, honey. I don’t perform random spells on unsuspecting people. Magic is a gift, and it’s not to be wasted. I only use magic when there is no other option. Magic is precious, you understand that being the old soul that you are, and possessing the healing touch—that is not something you want everyone to witness, now is it?”
Ella nodded at her. They were alike in many ways, both hiding their gifts from the world, not wanting to draw attention, both knowing the danger it would cause. She finished the refreshing tea. The soothing liquid passed down her throat and her worries over Marcus settled to the point she almost forgot why she had asked Isabella over.
“You’re right. It’s why I didn’t heal myself as quickly as I should have. It’s why I almost ended up in the morgue when they couldn’t feel a pulse. Anyway, that day haunts me. The sound of a baby’s cry fill my dreams. I need you to remove those memories. It’s driving me insane. If I tell you something, you must promise not to tell Marcus. When I was unconscious, I visited Ariana. I don’t know how. It’s complicated but she feels remorse for the situation her people are in and wants to help. She revealed that Marcus and I hadn’t completed the mating ritual. Neither of us realized that. Now, I need to make sure that we don’t finish what Marcus started when he bit my neck. That way, he’ll be free to walk away. Deep down, I know it’s what he wants. I need your help. I’m better on my own. I know how to survive. This is killing us both. After that, I am going to hunt the professor and kill him.”
Isabella sat back, her thick, wavy hair highlighted with the flames and her vivid green eyes stood out. “Wow, and there’s me thinking we could have a nice girlie chat. Ella, what you’re asking me to do is possible. At times, I have been called upon to use dark magic, but it’s not without risk. It may seem that to remove memories is a simple task, but it isn’t. You’re also grieving. Look how you responded to the removal of your baby’s clothes. To erase the memory of your abduction—well, it wouldn’t end there. You would remember you were pregnant, and would question what happened. To remove the memory of being pregnant itself—well, that may extend to erase all memories of Marcus. Is that what you want? Once those memories are gone, it’s impossible to regain them. You’re my best friend. You saved my life, asking nothing in return. You kept my secret, and I am in your debt, but I cannot do this, Ella. If I removed that memory, your future will be affected. You’re also not human. The spell would require you revisit that time you wished to forget, to relive it. But what if your mind wandered? You are a soul-shifter, after all. It’s way too risky. I may end up removing the very essence that makes you who you are. You would be lost, perhaps with no clue as to who you are at all.”
Ella listened as the fire crackled. She shifted herself in the chair to keep herself from falling asleep. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon but it might as well have been midnight. The room was dark. She should switch the lamp on. The windows across from her gave little light as the rain settled in. Isabella stood and lit a candle on the mantelpiece, and she studied her graceful movements. She hadn’t noticed the pretty pale-blue candle before.
“As for not telling Marcus, are you sure he doesn’t realize that the bonding hasn’t taken place? From what I know, the sex is earth-shattering and after the ritual is complete, there is no mistaking you belong to each other. You cannot survive without the other. Sex is vital as your kind are driven by emotion, and the need to be close to each other swayed by the moon. You’re a very sexual race. I’ve seen the pictures. Now, you need to relax. The candle won’t remove those memories but it will help you in the way you need most.” Isabella leaned over her and kissed her forehead.
The next thing she knew, she was sound asleep. Ella couldn’t believe how Isabella had cast a spell making her fall asleep, even if she did feel more refreshed. When she awoke, the sun shone through the half-drawn curtains and the smell of rich aromatic coffee swirled around her. She dashed out of bed and charged downstairs.
Isabella stood there, dressed casually, and looked gorgeous with a tentative smile on her face. She lifted her hands up in surrender. “Don’t be mad. Your purple aura called to me. I’ve never seen you more stressed, Ella. You’re not thinking straight. You would hate me forever if I took your memories, because good or bad, they are part of you. If you’re dreaming
of a baby’s cry, you must listen to it. You’re an intuitive soul. Something is calling to you. Don’t ignore it. Last night, I had no choice. Today, you must face your demons. You must tell Marcus about the mating. You love him. Don’t hide from him. He’s struggling too. He wanted me to keep an eye on you and asked if there was anything that would ease your pain. You’re wrong to believe he doesn’t care about you. Anyway, I wouldn’t cast a spell unless you called for it. Your mind asked for sleep. I listened to your thoughts. You’re a warrior, Ella, but sometimes you have to give in and let those who love you in.”
Maybe Isabella was right or maybe Marcus simply felt sorry for her. Either way, her friend was right: she needed to face reality. Perhaps there was something to Josephine’s vision of a child? Perhaps the sound of a baby crying was hope?
“Look, I have to dash. The replacement guards are here and ready to take you both to the hospital. Josephine has more energy this morning, but I’m worried about her aura, Ella. Look after her. You look absolutely stunning this morning, but you need to put some clothes on, sweetie.”
Damn. She glanced down at her white camisole and itsy-bitsy thong, realizing her near nakedness. She headed back the way she came with her friend laughing behind her.
“We still need to talk, Isabella,” she threw over her shoulder.
Isabella walked closer. “Did Marcus tell you that Doctor Adams insisted on seeing you? We were bringing him back to the compound when he was shot. He said a few things but clammed up, unwilling to say anything more until he saw you. He was consumed with guilt, but in viewing his memories, I saw a picture of the building you were in. I saw him arrive there, and deliver the baby. I know where it is. I think it is worth checking out. I’ll get Jake to come with me.”
As Isabella talked away, a cold, damp sensation touched Ella’s skin and she ran her hands up and down her arms to bring some heat to her body.
“Are you all right, Ella?”
She swallowed down the fear and nodded.
Isabella narrowed her eyes over at her. “The doctor was terrified, but he wanted to see you despite knowing he could be killed. He worried over you and the baby.”
Ella stopped, shut her eyes and drew in a long breath to force the panic rising inside her away. When Marcus told her the doctor was shot, she felt nothing. No pity. No anger. Now, knowing he wanted to speak with her and that Marcus hadn’t said a word, she didn’t know what to think. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glanced at her friend.
“No, he didn’t.”
“I tried, Ella. To get the doctor to release what he was holding back but he was too scared. I’m sorry.”
Ella continued upstairs. “It’s okay, Isabella. Check the building out and let me know what you find.” She couldn’t face returning there.
“Of course.”
Two hours later, she stood, waiting in the busy hospital, inspecting the nurses, doctors, and orderlies who passed by. She couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander back to the time she was in the hospital, drifting in and out of consciousness. The overwhelming loss of her child hit her like a freight train, and it was all she could do not to walk right out that minute. As much as she wanted to ignore those memories, they kept surfacing out of nowhere, catching her and setting her off-balance. She was here to help Josephine, who was having her CT scan, but she couldn’t wait to get out of this clinical building that reminded her of death.
Several footsteps tapped along the corridor and people rushed toward some emergency. Ella sat there, praying whatever was going on that the person involved would be all right. There were too many spirits lingering around this place unsure of what to do and it wasn’t her place to direct them. A tap on her shoulder sent her back in time to another place.
“Mistress, nay tell me I pray, will she live?” Mary Ross, the child’s mother, gripped her shoulder and dug her nails in.
Gwendoline bent over the sleeping girl, bathed in an unhealthy sweat and covered in a ragged sheet, naked underneath. She pressed her hand to the child’s ashen face and started her prayers.
“In the blessed name of the Lord Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost…” She continued whispering quietly in the small, dimly lit room. It was out of her hands. She had done all she could to break the fever; now it was God’s will. A stomping of footsteps and a sudden harsh intake of cold air made her turn to stare into the angry eyes of the village priest.
“Take heed, mistress. Unhand the child.”
Gwendoline didn’t fear the man dressed in his black cloth from head to foot or his formidable size as he towered above her, almost touching the roof of the small abode. She watched as he peered down at her and over at the child, sniffing the air around them.
“What witchcraft is at play here? The child lays unclothed.” The severe-looking man with a hawk nose and severe chin grabbed hold of blankets from the end of the bed and called for more. His gaze caught hold of a cup next to the bed and his bony finger pointed at it.
“By my father’s soul, have you poisoned the child?” His narrow dark eyes rested on Gwendoline’s face and his pencil-slim lips tightened into a thin line. The mixture she had prepared was only to aid the child with fluids that she was losing through the fever. It was a harmless and refreshing concoction of elderberry. As Gwen tried to defend her actions, Mary gasped and her face flushed.
“Sir, the child has a fever and I…”
Before Gwen could explain further, the priest shoved her forcibly away. He shouted out commands and words flew around her—ungodly, wicked, and poison were a few that stuck in the air. Even Mary, now intimidated by the man’s presence, resumed her hysterics and wailing.
“Ye casting spells before whence thou came.”
Gwen shot a glance over at the woman who had sent her oldest child to come and call on her before the sunrise to tend to her sick daughter, Megan, as they were too poor to afford a doctor.
“On thy way, woman. Get thou son to fetch the doctor and collect some leeches. We’ll be needing them.”
Gwen stood in the background and observed the scene, knowing for her own sake, she should leave. But if she left, the child would almost certainly die. She twisted around and grabbed Mary’s arm. “I’m pleading with you by all things holy, if you use the leeches, Megan will die.” Her instinct drove her to beseech the woman once more.
She heard her name, only it wasn’t Gwen; someone was calling Ella. She had fallen asleep and hearing her name made her open her eyes and blink. Today was weird. She had said good-bye to Gwen a while ago. Why would a memory of that life resurface? Would the ghosts of her past always surround her? Josephine stood in front of her, but it was the strangest thing: her aura was nonexistent, but a brilliant ethereal glow surrounded her, the likes of which she had never seen. Ella blinked again, feeling dazed. She studied Josephine as she sat next to her. She was still dressed in the pale-blue and white hospital gown they had given her for the scan. Was this a dream? A cold hand lay on top of hers and the touch startled her. The world around her suspended.
“Before I go, I need to tell you something. I did try before but you weren’t ready to listen. You must believe me. I see many things. Some I wish I didn’t. Some come to pass and some do not. For example, I knew before we met that you and Marcus were destined for each other. I knew I would love you like a daughter. It’s strange but in life we can choose many things, but not who we fall in love with. But I believe that would spoil the fun anyway. I have always held a strong sense of life and death. I felt the life force inside you the moment I touched your belly before you were married. Your child. Yours and Marcus’s.”
Ella pulled her hand, not wanting to hear any more, but couldn’t free it. Josephine’s hand was like ice and stuck to her.
“Every life has an energy, a unique aura that identifies it like a signature, you know that. The baby they found with you didn’t have the right one. Your baby is alive.”
Her heartbeat spiked. Bile rose in the back of her mouth as a cold sweat trickle
d down her spine. No. It couldn’t be true. She didn’t want to hear the old woman’s words, but more importantly, she couldn’t accept what her brain insisted she believe. Tears bubbled and dropped.
Josephine continued to talk but her voice grew quiet like a distant echo. “Don’t give up. He needs you. They both need you.”
Words formed and she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. She didn’t want to acknowledge what she knew to be true right in front of her. Ella’s eyes widened and fixed on the woman who was Marcus’s mother and the woman she had grown to love as she stared off into the distance. As huge tears formed in her eyes, she knew what was happening; she had seen it before. A slim golden light appeared like a crack in the atmosphere. It shimmered in the distance and widened like a fan opening slowly. The warmth from the light beckoned. It was breathtaking and hypnotic.
“It’s beautiful.” Josephine gazed ahead.
As the woman switched her attention back to Ella, tears fell down her soft, wrinkled cheeks. Ella reached her hand out to wipe it away and the moisture lingered on her fingertips. It was real. Tears formed in her own eyes.
“This isn’t good-bye, dear child. Everything is as it should be. Tell him I love him.”
Josephine stood and drifted toward the majestic light. But Ella darted toward her, reaching for her hand, bereft at her departure. Josephine glanced over her shoulder.
“I’m always with you, Ella. I’m the wind brushing your hair, the sunrise and sunset, the birdsong in the trees. I’ll never leave you. I love you, but you need to be strong because Marcus needs you.”
In that split second, she vanished and the door closed. Ella couldn’t believe what she had witnessed but an echo of Josephine’s voice boomed around her.
