Eternity: Immortal Witches Book 1 (The Immortal Witches) (17 page)

Nathanial had had a son of his own, once, long, long ago. Before he’d known about immortality, before he’d taken his first heart, and thus stolen the gift for himself. So much time had passed that he remembered very little about that life—the life before. But he remembered the boy, and his love for him.

He hadn’t thought it through, this endless life he’d managed to acquire for himself. He hadn’t thought it through!

Nathanial’s son had grown old. Died, eventually. As had his wife, and his friends and everyone and everything he’d ever known. So much pain swamped him then that he cursed his decision to kill his first witch; to hold her heart entrapped in a small box, sucking the very life from it to extend his own lifetime.

He’d cursed his immortality. Briefly. He got over that in time.

But he’d never gotten over the loss of his son.

Duncan...Duncan had reminded him of the boy in some small way—had, perhaps, come close to filling the void that remained in Nathanial’s heart after all these centuries.

Until Raven St. James had turned Duncan against him.

She would pay. She would pay with her very heart. If it took him a thousand lifetimes, Nathanial would make sure of that. He would get her, take her heart, take her special brand of magic and make it his own. He would repay her for thwarting him, not once, but twice, for he’d attempted to kill her when she’d returned to her former home after the hanging.

But he’d been weak. And she’d defeated him.

Only once before had he been defeated in battle by a woman. Only once. He hadn’t been weakened, then, but at his strongest. But she had been a woman possessed of a fury beyond anything he’d ever seen. All because he’d murdered her lover. She’d nearly killed him, would have, had he not been clever enough to get away. He would never face that one again if he had his way.

But Raven, he would face Raven.

And soon, for it seemed her day of reckoning was at hand. He knew where she was hiding. And as if the fates had decided to take his side for a change, he knew where Duncan was, as well. As if he were meant to go there, to dispose of the bitch once and for all, and to make Duncan come back to England with him. And he would. He would win Duncan back again, he would have Raven’s heart. Not because he’d die without it. Not this time. No, this time it was sheer vengeance that drove him. He wanted Raven’s heart. . . because she had taken his. She’d taken Duncan.

* * *

Duncan stood at the pulpit in the log structure that was his church, going over his notes for this morning’s service. His sermons had taken a turn of late. He didn’t preach about hellfire and the damnation of sinners anymore. He could not. To do so made him squirm inside, knowing that according to the beliefs he was supposed to be preaching, he was damned himself. But more and more he questioned those beliefs. More and more he felt with everything in him that loving Raven St. James could be no sin. No more so than breathing...because it came to him just as naturally.

He looked up when the groan of the heavy door announced a visitor, and quickly hid a frown of displeasure when he saw Elias Stanton coming in.

He looked ill, Elias did. Pale, weak somehow. The man came inside and sank onto a wooden bench as if his legs were too tired to carry him any farther.

Duncan set his notes aside and hurried forward. “Elias? Are you ill?”

Shoulders slumped, Elias only shook his head.” ‘Tis no natural illness plaguing me, Duncan. ‘Tis far darker than that, I fear.” As Duncan frowned, Elias lifted his head, revealing the dark circles beneath his eyes. “But I’ve not come to you for that. You’re no physician. ‘Tis my soul needs cleansing, Reverend. I’ve come to confess. Will you hear me?”

Duncan blinked in surprise. “Aye, you know I will. But confession is nay part of our dogma here, Elias.”

Nonetheless....” He lowered his head once more.

Duncan nodded, clasping Elias’s shoulder briefly. “Go on, then. Tell me what troubles you so. I’ll help you if I can.”

Tiredly Elias nodded. “‘Tis the woman.”

And Duncan knew without asking what woman he spoke of, but he asked all the same.

“That St. James wench,” Elias spat out. “Who else?”

A tingle of warning whispered through Duncan’s limbs. He took the bench in front of Elias, turned sideways to look back at the bowed man, and warned himself to keep quiet. To give nothing away. To simply...listen.

“I thought myself strong enough in my faith to resist her, you know. Fool that I was. No man could withstand such an onslaught.”

Swallowing the retort that leaped to his lips, Duncan only nodded. “What is it she’s done to upset you so much?”

Elias brought his head up fast, and his eyes lost some of that tired look when they riled instead with anger. Rage.

“What has she done? Have you not seen it yourself, Reverend? The sidelong glances. The way she parades her beauty so proudly about this town. The devil is in her, I vow it!”

“I’ve nay seen anythin’ of the sort,” he said, too quickly, he knew.

“She’s taken to haunting my dreams,” Elias went on. “She comes to me by night, while I sleep. Tempts me to sin of the most vile sort while I’m helpless to resist. I tell you, only a witch would be capable of such things!”

Duncan closed his eyes slowly. God, he’d been afraid of this. “Aye, only a witch,” he said slowly. “Or a man lustin’ after an innocent. Take care, Elias, not to blame your own failin’s on another.”

“‘Tis witchery, I tell you! And I’m not alone in my opinion, Reverend!”

Duncan felt his eyes narrow on the man. “Aren’t you, now?” And he waited, dreading what he was about to hear.

“I didn’t speak of it to you at the time,” Elias said slowly. “But I wrote to a man in England about her. A famous witch-hunter. And now, at last, I have his reply.” This as he tugged a folded sheet of vellum from within his coat. “He believes all the signs are there, Duncan. He says she’s dangerous and that we ought to exercise extreme caution, that she could destroy us all! Read it for yourself!” He thrust the letter at Duncan.

Duncan recoiled from the sheet as if its very touch could burn him. “Nay, I’ve no need to read the words of a man like that. How can he judge and condemn a woman from across the sea, Elias? Think on this! He hasna even met her.”

“A man with his experience has no need. Besides, he will. He’s on his way here. Could arrive within a fortnight. Perhaps sooner. Then we’ll see—”

Duncan surged to his feet. “You’re bringin’ a witch-hunter here? To Sanctuary? Good God, Elias, do you know what you’ve done?”

Elias rose very slowly, staring hard at Duncan from head to toe. “I see. I guessed it long ago, but I doubted my own instincts. Now, though, I see it clear. All those nights you spend out there, on the pretense of spying on those women. She’s got to you, too. Hasn’t she, Reverend? Hasn’t she?”

Duncan averted his eyes. “Dinna be a fool.”

“Have you fallen even further than I? Has she lifted her skirts for you already? Have you been sampling her tender—”

Duncan lashed out, unable and utterly unwilling to restrain himself. His fist connected with Elias’s face, and the man reeled backward, over the bench and onto the floor behind it.

“You dare!” Elias blustered, clutching his nose as blood ran from beneath his hand.

Duncan gripped the front of the man’s shirt and lifted him to his feet. “Raven St. James is a fine and decent woman. I’ll nay have you sullyin’ her name, nor causin’ her harm on account of your own rampant lust, Elias Stanton. You’re a ruttin’ pig of a man, with a mind so bent on the carnal there isna room for reason nor decency left in you anymore.”

Elias stepped back and Duncan let him go.

“Leave her alone,” he told the bastard. “I’m warnin’ you, Elias, leave her alone.”

Elias sniffed, rubbed his nose again, and examined the blood on his fingertips. “I’ll forgive you, Reverend. Only because I know the power of her spells on a man. She’s obviously worked them on you as well. But she’ll get what’s coming to her. And I've half a mind to set the wheels in motion now, myself, rather than wait for the witch-hunter’s arrival as he advises in his letter. What more evidence do we need, after all?”

“Do you spread any more of this malicious gossip, Elias, I’ll kill you myself.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he took a hasty step away. “You? A man of God, threatening murder?”

“Murder is what you have in mind for Raven. Dinna try to deny it.”

Elias narrowed his eyes. “Raven, is it? I knew—”

“You know nothing. She’s the innocent here. You’re the sinner, Elias. As the leader of this church ‘‘Tis my duty to protect the flock from lechers like you.”

Lowering his head, Elias shook it slowly. “You make me wonder, Reverend, whether she has enchanted you at all...or if perhaps you’ve been in league with her all along. Mayhap you be a witch as well.”

“Get out!” Duncan lifted a hand that shook with barely contained rage, and pointed toward the door. “Get out of my church. You soil it with your very presence.”

Nodding twice, Elias turned and walked away.

Duncan released all his breath at once and sank onto the bench. Damn! Elias was dangerous, and this witch-hunter, whoever he was, likely even more so. How many of the women in this town might be falsely accused, even executed, now that Elias had started this disaster? How many? Elias Stanton may well have lit a wildfire in Sanctuary that would spread until it consumed the entire settlement.

But it wouldn’t consume Raven. Nay, not if it cost Duncan’s life to prevent it.

He had to get to Raven, had to speak to her. She must leave this place, now. Right away.

But even now the parishioners were arriving for the service. God, there was no time. Afterward, then. He wouldd go to her tonight and he would make her understand the danger she faced here. He would take the lass away from this place if he had to sling her over his shoulder and carry her all the way. Aye, he would!

He closed his eyes slowly and prayed to his God to watch over her in the meantime.

* * *

After the Sunday meeting, I lingered. Arianna did not. She put on a good show, acting prim and pious in her humble, dark skirts, white cap always in place, hair discreetly tucked beneath it. But she hated the Sunday meetings, the townspeople with their false smiles and friendly words when all the while they were whispering their suspicions to one another in private. And as usual, she left as soon as possible. She always did, even if it meant walking all the way back to the cabin. But I was feeling generous today, so I told her to take the wagon. I would walk home this time, if she couldn’t wait to leave.

I was quite the opposite in my feelings about the Sunday meetings. Oh, the make-believe friendship of those backbiting locals riled me every bit as much as it did Arianna. But for me there was reason to stay. I’d grown to cherish every moment I could spend near Duncan, even those moments when we had to pretend there was nothing between us, for he would shower love on me all the same—in a single glance sent my way and filled with fire, even as he spoke to one crowd of parishioners and I to another. In an accidental touch. In the very way his voice changed when he spoke to me. I knew I was always on his mind, in his thoughts, just as he lingered constantly in mine.

There were, of course, unpleasant experiences awaiting me each time I attended services. For Elias Stanton tended to pay nearly as much mind to me as Duncan did. Only his glances were dirty somehow, leaving me feeling stained when I chanced to meet his lecherous gaze, and even more so when he touched me “accidentally,” which happened more and more often.

I was blessed today, though, because Elias did not attend services. Aunt Eleanor, too, had stayed at home, having awoken this morn with a crushing headache that kept her abed. And since Arianna had already gone with our wagon, I was to walk back to the cabin alone. Not that I minded. I was, in fact, looking forward to the walk, for the leaves were turning and beautiful, and Duncan was on my mind.

He’d tried several times to speak with me, and there was a new urgency in his eyes when they caught mine, but each time he’d been swept away by someone else begging a word or asking advice. No matter. He would come to me tonight. In the forest, beneath the stars, we would make tender love. I would spend my walk home dreaming of the evening to come.

It did not turn out that way at all.

I’d trekked only halfway, walking slowly along the worn track, singing to myself, bursting with the joy of the changing seasons, the scent of the autumn leaves and the sea at my side. But I was jolted out of my pleasure at the sound of a horse’s clopping gait, and the rattling of the wagon it pulled. And when I turned, expecting to see Duncan coming to see me home, I caught my breath. For ‘twas Elias Stanton manning the reins. He looked ragged, and there was a vacant look to his eyes that chilled me.

“Good morn, Mistress St. James,” he called, drawing the rig to a halt right beside me.

“Good morn,” I replied, my voice stiff. “We missed you at the meeting hall this morn.” I hadn’t missed him at all, but ‘twas something to say.

“I had some thinking to do,” he said. “Thinking...that was best done alone.”

Something quivered inside me. Some sense of danger. I kept walking. But he snapped the reins to keep pace.

“I be on my way to call on your aunt,” he announced, as if I might care where he were going.

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Perhaps you’d care to ride the rest of the way in comfort, rather than taxing yourself by walking?”

I met his eyes, cold and menacing, revealing the lie of his voice, and I gave a quick shake of my head. “I thank you, sir, but I am enjoying my walk too much to end it so soon.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “A woman walking alone is unsafe. Come, ride with me.”

“I walk this way often and never see another soul, Master Stanton. I assure you, I’m perfectly safe.”

Grunting deep in his throat, he stopped the wagon again, only this time he climbed down. Walking toward the horse, he took its halter in one hand. “I’ll walk with you, then. Lord forbid some harm befall you while I ride safely away, unaware.”