Davien looked at Quinn and noticed the white lines around his mouth, along with the bead of sweat that had popped up on his forehead, both of which indicated his pain. “I can’t do anything more for him at the moment.” He spun on his heel.
“I’ll stay and watch over him.”
Davien stopped. He slowly turned to face Charlotte, his brow raised expectantly.
“Dinna look a’ me like that.” She lifted her chin. “I grew up with eight other bairns. I’m sure I canna look after one man.”
“Very well. Whatever you need shall be at your disposal.”
This time, she lifted a brow. “And who shall I be askin’? There’s no one around.”
He merely said, “It will be provided.”
With that cryptic statement, he departed.
~ ~ ~
The next time the door to her makeshift cell opened, Cosette faced a member of the Order in a white robe. He set down a tray of food and backed out of the door without a word. She looked at the stale bread and salted pork and felt her stomach churn. While it wasn’t anything worse than what she’d been served over the years, it was obvious that she had become accustomed to an easier way of life at Shadowlawn. In the short time that she had lived within those mysterious walls, she had begun to think of it as home—with Davien as something even more.
Ignoring the pang in her chest, Cosette laid down on the cot and turned away from it all. She closed her eyes and eventually shut out the rest of the world.
Cosette . . .
She stirred, her lids fluttering at the sound of her name.
Cosette . . .
Her eyes flew open, her body soaked in perspiration. What do you want? She replied through her mind.
A dark, swirling laughter enclosed her, causing the air within her prison to slowly dissipate. Cosette clutched her throat, choking. Do you truly think that you can keep us here? I cannot be contained within human walls. I will soon prove just how powerful I can be.
What are you? A demon? Cosette asked.
I am so much more than that. So much more . . . In time, you will know. I will come to you, but only when you are ready.
The pressure on her windpipe suddenly eased and Cosette drew great heaving gulps of air into her lungs. A tear seeped out of her lid and fell down her cheek. She might not have to worry about Davien helping her escape before the spring rite took place.
She could be dead long before then.
~ ~ ~
Davien paused in the middle of reading. He balled his fist on top of the table in the archive room. He’d arrived only moments before, speaking in clipped sentences to Dashwood, before he was given access to the only place that was left to turn, the last avenue available if he ever hoped to have a normal existence.
With Cosette.
But as he was going through the Ars Almadel, he was struck with a sudden urge to see her. He’d only left her a few short hours ago, yet it already felt like an eternity.
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he went back to the page he’d been on—and froze. The wheels of his mind stopped turning, as if everything had suddenly clicked into place. At long last, this was something that might actually work.
The passage before him spoke of creating a wax tablet as a way of contacting angels and demons by a method of scrying. Beside this was the image of a sigil, a symbol that varied, depending on what being you wished to summon. While he didn’t yet know what exactly it was he was trying to find, if he could locate a suitable medium by which to translate a vision, it would be worth the effort to finally understand who, or what, they were dealing with.
He ripped the page out of the volume and shoved it into the inside of his jacket pocket. At the moment he didn’t care that he’d just desecrated a book that had been around for more than two hundred years.
He was a man on a mission and time was running out.
~ ~ ~
Davien took to the skies in the form of the crow. He was hoping to find a gypsy encampment, but that might be next to impossible. After the raid that took place in Spain more than ten years prior, where the Romani people were arrested and imprisoned in labor camps, they had made sure to lay low around other public areas in Europe. These travelers were considered, by many, to be a godless and wicked people, viewed as little better than slaves, so they stayed hidden in forests and glades where they wouldn’t be bothered, and made sure that their caravans moved steadily to avoid detection.
Not only that, but they were a superstitious people. They had a great fear of ghosts, or mullo. Even if he were to find a camp, he might be denied entry to speak to anyone, for surely the beast within would be easily detected.
If they refused him, so be it, but he had to try.
He soared over fields and streams, until London was a twinkling city in the distance. It was quiet here, in the midst of the country. He could pick out the white coats of sheep dotting the land, even though night had fallen. He embraced the feel of the wind through his feathers, the sensation like breath on skin.
He might have closed his eyes to relish the freedom he had up here, but a twinkling light on the ground caught his attention. It was a small fire among the trees. As he drew closer, he could hear the murmur of voices, and the clanging of pans, the gentle strum of a harp.
He circled around the area, looking for signs of danger, before he landed a short distance away from the activity. However, the moment he resumed his human form, he heard a click from behind him. He had to snort. Apparently, he wasn’t as stealthy as he’d planned. He held up his arms.
“You’re not welcome in this area, englez. Return to where you came from.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see I’m rather in need of assistance.”
“I don’t care about your reasons. If you don’t leave now, I’ll have no choice but to escort you–“
“Vano?” a female voice intoned. “Who are you talking to, iubit unu?”
“An intrus,” he returned gruffly.
Davien watched as an elderly woman came around the side of a round wagon. She was draped in several colorful scarves and held a cane to steady her movements. Her honey-colored face was lined and weathered. Her eyes were clouded with blindness, but her voice was strong. “Nonsense. There are no intruders, only strangers seeking answers.” She turned her head and appeared to look directly at Davien. “Isn’t that right, cautator?”
Davien slowly lowered his arms to his sides. “That’s correct. I’m hoping that someone here might help me.”
“Vadoma will speak with you.” She held an arm full of gold bracelets out to him.
“Bunica,” the man called Vano snarled. “Don’t allow this vermin—”
She thrust a finger in his direction. “You will respect my wishes, baiat! I am your grandmother!” With that, she turned and started to hobble away, but not after she waved a hand at Davien to follow.
He couldn’t resist the urge to turn and look at her grandson. His dark face was pinched in a thunderous scowl, which only deepened when Davien shrugged. “Some battles aren’t meant to be won,” he murmured, before he strode away.
“Come into my wagon,” Vadoma instructed. She ambled up the steps and disappeared behind the purple curtains that afforded her some privacy.
A few curious glances were shot in Davien’s direction among the rest of the band assembled around the area, but other than Vano who had moved to stand against a tree to glare at him with his arms crossed, Davien was met with no more resistance. They must be used to his grandmother’s eccentric ways.
Davien had to duck to enter the wagon, but the moment he entered, Vadoma waved her hand at a nearby cushion. “Sit, sit.”
He obediently did as she instructed.
She was rummaging around the modest shelves, speaking as she did so. “You
need a wax tablet, do you not?”
If Davien had been sitting upright in a normal chair, he would have surely fallen out of it. “How did you—?”
She tapped the side of her head. “Vadoma knows. My name says so. I see things that others cannot. I know what you are, englez.”
“Are you not afraid?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nu. I know you have a true heart, even if your life has been filled with opposition. And now that you are with Cosette—”
Davien held up a hand, even though he knew she couldn’t see the gesture. “Wait. You know about her?”
“Da, I do. She has faced many trials over the years, but there are more to traverse.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “I feel as if I might have saved myself years of relentless pursuit if only I’d known to seek you out first, Vadoma.”
“Vadoma does not know the future,” she said, still speaking of herself in the second person. “I cannot see what will take place. Only what has.”
“Do you know about the paper I carry with me?”
She nodded. “You are trying to find the one who cursed you, so that you may become human again. Vadoma will help.”
“Why?” When a silence fell, Davien wondered if he had offended her, so he added, “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, because I am immensely grateful that you are willing to assist me. Rest assured, I will gladly pay you handsomely for your time. I just wanted to know why.”
“Does there need to be a reason, englez? What are people on this earth for but to help one another?”
If that didn’t firmly put him in his place. “Of course, you’re right.”
“Vadoma knows,” she repeated, causing Davien to smile. He hadn’t been around many gypsies in his life, but if they were all as delightful as this one, he might have to change that.
“Vadoma likes you too.”
This time, he laughed.
After a brief time, Vadoma finally turned to him. She held several materials in her hands, which she gave to him. “This is what you will need to make the wax tablet. You have the instructions. Complete this task and then bring it back to me. I will tell you what you wish to see. But do not lose these items, englez, for they have special power to see into the past.”
He looked at the items she had given him, a combination of wood and wax, along with a pair of ivory plates and string to make a diptych to tie it all together. “Thank you, Vadoma. I am indebted to you.”
“You owe Vadoma nothing. Use the good I gift you with to offer to someone in need.”
He bowed, and even though she couldn’t see the action, he gave it in reverence, and he had a good idea that she could sense that. “I will return this evening.”
With that, he opened the flap and descended the steps of her wagon. Vano was waiting for him. “Did you get everything you wanted from my grandmother?” he asked sourly.
Davien shot him a grin meant to provoke. “Not yet, but I will.” He dared to clap the man on the shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”
He didn’t even try to hide his shifting abilities, as he transformed back into the crow right before the man’s eyes. With a caw that rent the night air, Davien disappeared above the trees.
~ ~ ~
By the time Davien returned home, it was well past dawn. After more than twenty long years, he felt as though the tide was starting to turn in his favor. Vadoma had given him the optimism he needed to withstand this time apart from Cosette. For the first time since he’d been cursed, he felt the shining presence of faith smiling down upon him.
However, the moment he walked inside the foyer, he was met with the sound of opposition. “Whot kind o’ house is this?”
He glanced at Charlotte where she stood at the top of the stairs, although he headed toward the library. “Efficient.”
“Dinna ye want t’ know aboot yer coachman?”
The mention of Quinn caused him to hesitate. He looked up at her expectantly.
“He’s alive and I dinna see no evidence o’ a fever.”
“That is welcome news.” He moved on. He didn’t care if he had been rude, he wasn’t in the mood to chat.
He had a wax tablet to make and a couple of curses to break.
Chapter 21
Cosette sat in the middle of her cot. She didn’t know what time it was unless she went by the hour her meals arrived. They were brought by the same man draped in a white robe and the fare never changed. It was hardly fit for an animal, much less a human. Cosette only ate when her stomach gave no other choice, rumbling with a deep hunger. The hours could have easily turned into days for as miserable as she felt in this hovel of a room. If there was one blessing, it was that the voice hadn’t reappeared. Yet.
The only thing that helped ease her anguish was the thought of Davien. She prayed that he was finding something useful in his studies of the archives. Otherwise, she might very well be a permanent member of the Order.
She wondered how Quinn was faring, and if Charlotte had gone back to the workhouse. She thought of Shadowlawn and imagined that she was back in the duke’s chamber—in the chamber they shared. The image of that room was so clear that she could almost picture herself there—in Davien’s arms, his strength surrounding her, comforting her.
The ache to see him was almost physical at times, but she fought against it. She would not let anything bring her down when she was so close to freedom. It was in her grasp. She could almost taste it. She knew that Davien wouldn’t let her down, wouldn’t let them down.
It was only a matter of time.
She closed her eyes . . .
And awoke to the sight of claw marks on her door.
The hinges were splintered, and a man in a white robe stared lifelessly at the ceiling. She didn’t have to see the blood coating her dress to know that she was responsible for this latest slaughter. Only this time she’d done the unthinkable and murdered a human instead of a flock of sheep. And she had no doubt that she would hang for it.
She didn’t remember screaming. Only that she heard the sound of an anguished, wail, almost an animalistic cry, before footsteps came running.
~ ~ ~
Davien was forced to ride horseback to the gypsy camp that night. It was the only way he could safely carry the completed tablet back to Vadoma.
Anticipation flowed through his veins, because he knew that the end was finally in sight. He’d had a difficult time stringing the tablet together, for his mind was flooded with memories of Cosette. But with Vadoma’s help, he knew that it wouldn’t be long before this nightmare ended and they were reunited. After twenty years of penance, surely he was forgiven for any transgressions he might have committed.
As he caught sight of the encampment, he frowned, for the fire that was burning tonight was much brighter than the night before. He urged his mount forward and soon found out why.
Vadoma’s wagon was on fire, the flames so high that they nearly touched the night sky. Fear gripped him as he pulled back on the reins. His horse reared back with an angry whinny, but the black stallion stopped long enough for him to vault to the ground. He hit the ground running, his only objective to get to Vadoma.
He held an arm in front of him to block the heat that singed his face and threatened to suffocate him. He was close now. Only a few more steps and he would—
“How dare you come back here!”
Davien was spun around. He met the deadly glare of Vano—right before the gypsy’s fist connected with his jaw. Davien’s head snapped back with the force of it, causing him to stumble, but he didn’t fall. The scene caused others from the band to gather around, but none of them dared to interfere in something they were not part of.
“You spawn of Satan!” Vano roared. “You are the reason that my bunica is dead!”
&n
bsp; Davien felt himself pale. This blow was stronger than anything Vano might have hurled at him physically. “What are you talking about?” His voice was raspy, on the cusp of an emotion too strong to even give a name for.
“She was murdered just before nightfall, englez! We had to burn her wagon to set her spirit free, and to keep others from entering in her place.” He pointed a finger at Davien. “Her demise is laid at your feet. She would still be alive if she hadn’t invited you in.” He spat on the ground near Davien’s feet. “I curse you!”
It started out as a slow, steady building of savage despondency that spiraled into something even more fearsome, lethal. The beast inside of Davien grew until his eyes glowed and his fangs lengthened. “I’m afraid it’s too late for curses,” he snarled. “As you can see, I am already damned.”
Vano visibly paled as Davien transformed into the black wolf. After all these years of trying to fight what he had become, perhaps it was time that he succumbed to the inevitable, considering the last spark of hope that had lived inside of him had just withered and died as surely as Vadoma’s body was turning to ash inside that wagon. “I had nothing to do with your grandmother’s death,” he snarled. “But I will find out who did and tear them apart.”
With a howl mixed with despair and rage, Davien ran toward the one person who could give him solace, and remind him that he was worth staying on this miserable earth.
He headed for the Abbey.
~ ~ ~
Davien didn’t even bother resuming his human form as he bounded up the steps to the Abbey. His only thought was to get to Cosette. He was tired of waiting, hoping, praying. It all ended today.
He crashed through the front door with a dangerous growl. But the sight that greeted him on the other side in the great hall was enough to make every hair stand up on end in a threatening bristle. Cosette was lying in the middle of the room, her wrists in chains, her dress split down the middle in the back. Several Brothers surrounded her in their white robes, but it was the sight of the Abbot in red who brought the whip down across her back, the crack as it hit its mark splitting the air like a burst of thunder, that caused him to leap forward.
The Secrets of Shadows Page 17
