Eternity: Immortal Witches Book 1 (The Immortal Witches) (12 page)

“Admit it to me, dammit! Have you any idea how many times I’ve doubted my own sanity since that night? Have you?”

“I am sorry,” I whispered. “Gods forgive me, I am so sorry. Yes, Duncan, I came to you that night. I...they wanted to put you off, thought you carried the plague. I couldn’t let them.” With one trembling hand, I touched his cheek. “No matter the cost, I couldn’t let harm come to you.”

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes in relief. “I knew ‘twas you. Even without the light. I would know you even if I were blind, Raven.”

“And I you, Duncan,” I murmured, lowering my head. “I...I never forgot how you tried to help us.”

Then you will tell me the truth,” he said softly.

I looked into his eyes...and I wanted to share this burden, this wonder, this miracle of what I was with him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. And I lied to him.

“‘Twas a trick, and nothing more.” I had to avert my eyes in order to force the words out. I could not lie to him while looking into his eyes. “The dress I wore that day had a high neck. Do you remember?”

“Aye, I remember everything. The dress was brown, roughly woven, with small yellow buttons up the front, all the way to your chin. An’ your hair smelled of lavender.”

I was warm inside. His voice was like a caress upon my very soul. “Beneath the dress I wore a steel collar. No one could see it. It protected my neck from the noose.”

His eyes narrowed, probed, and plumbed mine.

“An’ where did you get this collar? They said you had spent the night in the stocks.”

“A friend...he stole into the square and slipped it round my neck.”

Frowning at me, Duncan shook his head. “Nay. Even with the collar, the fall could have broken your wee neck.” And his forefinger danced across my neck as he said it, sending shivers down my spine.

“Could have,” I said. “But did not.”

His eyes were piercing, as if he sought to see inside my mind, to the truth hidden there.

“There was no life in you when I held you in my arms,” he whispered. “You were not pretendin’ that.”

“No,” I whispered, half afraid he’d see right through the lie. “I fainted. Perhaps from the fall, or the fear, I cannot say. But I woke in....” I shuddered at the memory. “In a horrible place.”

His face softened then. Slowly he lowered his head. “Aye, I know about that,” he said softly. Then meeting my gaze, he asked, “An’ your mother? Did she wear this trick collar as well?”

I closed my eyes, my pain all too real. “Someone saw my friend and he had to run away, or be caught. There was no time for him to help her as he did me. When I woke among the dead, she was beside me...and....” Tears choked me and I could not go on.

His hand came to me, stroking my cheek. I wanted to clasp it in my own and press a kiss to his palm. But I only stood still, closing my eyes at the feelings his touch evoked. Weak with relief that I was feeling this man’s touch again, as I’d so often dreamed of doing. Weak, too, with the remembered pain of finding my precious mother, dead.

“I went there,” he said. “To the place where they took you. But you were not there. Nor was your mother.”

I looked at him through my tears. “Why?”

“I couldna save you, lass. I thought....at least I might give you a proper burial.”

I smiled gently at him, and he brushed a tear from my cheek.

“You’re a kind man, Duncan Wallace,’’ I said.

“Nay,” he said softly, eyes going harder. “Not so kind, not when I’m lied to.”

I swallowed hard. He could be a dangerous man, as well. Dangerous to me. To my life, as well as to my heart.

“Go on, lass. What happened when you woke?”

“I carried my mother into the forest and buried her there. She would have been pleased with the spot I chose, I think.’’

“She’d have been pleased,” he said, “to know you survived.”

“She knew,” I whispered. And then I sniffed and impatiently dashed the tears from my face. “If you tell them what you know of me, Duncan—”

“I willna tell them.”

I could only blink in surprise.

“I willna betray your secret, Raven. I swear it on all that I am. But you must tell me the truth. All of the truth.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye when he asked me that. “I can only tell you that I have never brought harm to another human being. Not in all my life, Duncan. On my mother’s soul, I swear ‘tis the truth.”

His hand turned my face toward his again. He searched my face for a long moment, his velvet brown eyes as piercing as before. And then he nodded. “I believe you,” he said. “But there is another question I have, and you must know what it is. I am a man of the cloth, Raven, a man of God, even though I abandoned my studies for the priesthood. And yet....and yet you’ve haunted my soul.” He closed his eyes slowly. “I have to know the truth. Am I damning myself by lettin’ you haunt my thoughts day and night? Am I, Raven? Are you, truly, a—”

The doors burst open then, and Elias Stanton, of all people, marched inside, saw us together, and stopped dead.

“Damning yourself?” I whispered, and anger swelled in my chest until I thought I’d burst with it. “How dare you?”

I took a single step toward the door and stopped when I saw the way Elias was staring from one of us to the other, his cheeks reddening with anger before he hid the emotion. Instead he painted his face with a false smile.

“Wondered where you’d gone, Reverend.” Then he nodded at me. “Mistress St. James.”

I acknowledged him with the briefest of glances, then turned to Duncan again. “Thank you for helping me find my shawl, Reverend Wallace,” I said, my tone dripping ice. “Aunt Eleanor says I’d lose my head were it not for my neck keeping it attached.”

“Then I’m glad your neck is intact,” he said softly, and there was an apology in his eyes. One I refused to acknowledge. More softly, he whispered, “Very glad.”

No. I would not feel this way for him. I would not.

Yet my knees were weak as I strode out of the church. And my heart, a quivering puddle.

* * *

‘Twas midway through the afternoon when I drove our wagon over the worn path along the shore. My aunt prattled on about the sermon and the food and town gossip and such, but I paid little attention. I could think only of Duncan, the way he’d touched me. The look in his eyes. His promise that he would not betray me. I told myself I was angry with him for implying that my being a witch could somehow damn his standing with his creator. And yet, I longed for the time when I might see him again. Certainly, my habit of skipping Sunday services was a thing of the past.

We were nearly home when I saw a woman in the road. Small and fair, with golden hair cut scandalously short, she was down on one knee, bending as if to tie the lace of her shoe. I drew the wagon to a halt before I spotted the pendant dangling from her neck, as she had no doubt intended me to see it. A pentacle, very like the one I wore.

As I caught my breath, I noticed the dagger that lay on the road beside her. And this was not only like my own, but identical to it.

The woman was a witch. An immortal High Witch like me. I’d known ‘twas only a matter of time before another one came for me. I’d known I should prepare myself for this day. But I wasn’t prepared. Not at all.

When the woman’s soft brown eyes met mine, I shivered. Perhaps I would not escape this time. Perhaps this day would be the last one I was to see. I was not willing to die. Not now, when I’d only just found Duncan again.

I was even less willing, however, to risk my aunt’s safety. So, holding this strange woman’s gaze, I handed the reins to Aunt Eleanor. “Go on to the cabin,” I told her. I’ll be along soon.”

“But, Raven...my goodness, girl, what’s the matter? You’ve gone as pale as a wraith!”

“Nothing. I’m fine. I simply wish to speak with...an old acquaintance.”

And the woman on the road straightened, gathering her dagger and slipping it into the sheath at her hip as she stepped off the track to allow the wagon to pass. She wore breeches, as a man would wear, and white stockings. Her shirt was white, with laces up the front, and she wore no cap upon her short, golden locks.

“You know this person?” Aunt Eleanor asked in surprise.

“I will tell you all about it later,” I promised. “Please, Aunt Eleanor, go on without me.”

My aunt rolled her eyes and shook her head to make sure I knew of her displeasure, but after I stepped down, she did as I asked, snapping the reins. Ebony drew her away from me, away from this strange woman, home to safety.

The witch took a step forward, and I took an equal step back. And then she smiled, though only very slightly.

“You’re right to be afraid, Raven St. James. But not of me.”

“No?” I lifted my skirts to pull the dagger from its place at my thigh. “You’ll understand if I choose caution over trust.” I held the weapon in my hands, though they trembled.

The woman looked at it, then at me. For a very long time she stared at me, as if taking my measure. There was something else in her eyes. “You don’t know me at all, do you, Raven?”

Narrowing my eyes on her, I said nothing, and it seemed for a moment a great sadness clouded her face. But she quickly dismissed whatever troubled her, chased it away to some dark corner, and lifted her chin once more. And then she drew her blade from its sheath, and I went rigid with fear.

But she simply tossed it. It landed at my feet, its blade embedded in the rich black earth. I looked down at it, blinking in surprise. Was this a trick?

“I am not one of the Dark Ones, Raven,” she said. “I’ve not come for your heart.”

“Then...then what do you want of me?”

She shrugged. “Would friendship be too much to ask?”

Still, I was hesitant.

Shaking her head, she untied the string that held her breeches, and as I gasped, wide eyed, she tugged them low over her right hip, revealing the crescent mark blazed on the skin there. “Now will you believe I mean you no harm?” she asked, righting the breeches and looking not the least embarrassed.

“That proves nothing. We all have the crescent mark.”

“My Lord and Lady, you really are as ignorant as a babe, aren’t you?”

I said nothing, only waited for her to clarify.

“The Dark Ones bear the mark on their left flank, Raven. And the moon faces the opposite way. Did you not know even that much?”

Finally I lowered my dagger. “No,” I said. “I am afraid I did not.”

“Then I was right to come to you.”

I met her eyes, so strangely like the eyes of a doe. Innocent and liquid, while somehow dangerous at the same time. “I do not understand.”

She sighed deeply. “I shall begin at the beginning, then. I am Arianna Sinclair, and I am nearly two hundred years old.” I gasped in surprise, and maybe disbelief, but she only went on. “Several months ago I heard rumors of a lovely witch hanged in a village in England, who’d been seen by some sailors alive and well only days later. And I thought to myself, she must truly be young if she took so few precautions to disguise her identity. So I set about the task of finding you, and here I am.” She picked up her dagger, wiped its blade clean of dirt, and sheathed it at her side.

I shook my head slowly. “I still do not understand,” I told her, no longer backing away in fear, relaxing my defenses. “Why would you want to find me?”

“The hanging...it was your first death, wasn’t it, Raven?”

I nodded.

“Then you’ve much to learn. You see, young one, if I heard the rumors, if I could so easily track you down, then you must believe others will do the same. I’m here to help you, Raven. To teach you.”

I stood before her now, my hands at my sides. She offered her hand, in friendship, I thought, and I took it.

And suddenly found myself twisted backward and held in small arms that had no business being so strong. I felt a sizzling flash of heat tear through my body at her first touch, as if lightning had struck me. And then my own dagger was wrenched from my hand and held to my heart, and I cried out, certain my life was about to end.

Her face close to my ear, she whispered, “First lesson, Raven. Trust no one.”

I shuddered at the familiarity of those words, the way they echoed what my mother had written to me. And then she released me and gently pressed my weapon back into my hand as my heart thundered against my ribs. I was breathing heavily from fear, pressing one hand to my breast as if to calm my racing heart.

“I would say, Raven, that it is a very good thing I was the first to find you.”

“You weren’t,” I told her. And she crooked a golden brow. “Another one...a man, attacked me before I left England.”

“And you defeated him?” Her tawny brown eyes were wide now with disbelief.

Ashamed, I lowered my head. “I escaped him. Barely.”

“You survived,” she told me. “There’s no shame in living to fight another day, Raven. Come now, and take me to your home. I’ll be needing a place to stay, and I suppose a silly dress so I can pass as one of them.”

She expected my hospitality? After what she’d just done?

Smiling, she glanced at my dagger. “You can put that away. It will do you little good, anyway, until I’ve taught you to use it properly.”

“I believe I’ll hold on to it a bit longer,” I responded.

And her smile grew wider as she nodded her approval. “Very good, Raven. You’re a fast learner. You always were.”

“And how would you know that?” I asked, studying her closely.

She laughed at herself, shrugging. “Oh, don’t mind my cryptic comments. I’m a bit of a psychic, you know. I can read people. It’s just something I picked up on. Besides, after what you’ve been through, having to flee for your life, start over, you’d almost have to be a fast learner, wouldn’t you?”

She turned and began walking the road toward my home, glancing now and again at the tracks the wagon wheels had left in the dirt.

I had little choice but to follow her.

Chapter 7

Duncan paced the length of the spartan cabin he’d been given as shelter, turned, and paced back again. The fire snapped and popped loudly, drawing his gaze, and he found himself going still, staring into the flames, remembering.