Fascinated (15 page)

“So I thought. That’s why I didn’t quiz you about your foreseeing when we had to determine if it was safe to let Alicia live.
Use the amulet. That will keep her and the family safe.
” Hester sneered. “That was what you told us, I believe? I should have seen that for the lie it was. Not your usual style at all. Far too direct.”

“Are you saying you made a mistake, Hester?” inquired Eugenia, and Hester was sure she did not imagine the hint of relish in her sister’s voice.

“Yes. I was deceived.” Hester rose to her feet, towering over Mary, who squeaked again and shrank back in her chair. “You’re a liar and a traitor to your family, Mary Hartwell.”

“No, Hester. Never that. I only…” But she clamped her fat, damp lips shut around the words.

“You only
what
?”

She thought her sister would try lying again, but to Hester’s surprise, Mary grasped hold of her smelling salts, and what little courage her fat frame held, with both hands. “Hester, it’s not right. Times have changed. It’s not right that we’re wounding the whole family.”

“You think times have changed, do you?” snapped Hester. “Perhaps you think we’re all safe? What’s happening now, after all?
The Fae are only preparing for invasion, and that man who now calls himself Captain Smith has only sent his agent into our home to ferret out our secrets, which
you
, you
stupid
thing, have handed over to him!” Hester felt her voice rise and she pulled back, fighting for calm. No good would come of a display. It was undignified and unnecessary. “What was the true prophecy regarding Alicia?” Hester’s demanded. “What did you really see?”

Mary’s watery eyes slid sideways to Eugenia, but there would be no help there. Eugenia took no risks and knew no real loyalty. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone with her books and her letters. Because Eugenia did as she was told, Hester was happy to oblige.

Seeing Eugenia remain stone-faced, Mary dropped her gaze to her hands where they clutched the bottle and the kerchief.

“I won’t.”

“What was that, Mary?” Hester took a step forward. “Hold your head up. I did not hear you.”

Mary lifted her head. Her chin quivered again, and Hester was forced to conceal her surprise. For in Mary’s moist blue eyes waited something she had never seen there before: defiance.

“I won’t tell you,” Mary said, her words soft but steady. “I know I’m only a fat old fool, and I know the reason you haven’t done for me like you have the rest of the family is that I’m the only Seer to been born to us in the last fifty years. But you’re wrong, Hester. This
isn’t
the hanging times. We don’t have to wipe the magic out of the children. They could be their own protectors and find their own destinies. They would be strong enough if we taught them properly.”

Anger crackled through Hester. She stalked forward. Mary
cringed backward so far, she lost her balance and plopped into the wooden chair with another squeak.

“You will stop that horrid noise!”
thundered Hester, which only made Mary try to duck behind her hanky-wrapped bottle. Patience finally gone, Hester struck the ridiculous object from her hands, sending the bottle spinning and spraying violet water across the room.

“What. Did. You.
See?
What is Alicia’s true prophecy?”

Mary clenched her eyes and mouth shut and shook her head.

“Eugenia.” Hester held out her hand.

“Eugenia, you can’t do this,” Mary babbled. “Please. Not this.”

But Eugenia shrugged and laid her hand into Hester’s palm. “You’ve brought it on yourself, Mary.”

Magic rushed into Hester’s veins, quickening her tired heart and renewing her understanding of her power and purpose. Mary sobbed freely now, and she actually tried to dart between them, but Hester grabbed the collar of her nightdress and hauled her back into the chair. She wrapped her bony hand around Mary’s plump neck and forced her chin up, catching and holding Mary’s pitiful weeping gaze.

Intent formed in Hester’s mind. She knew exactly what to do. Hester took the magic Eugenia funneled toward her and shaped its power into a knife blade. She stabbed that blade deep into Mary’s weak mind to split it open. Then she stepped inside.

Mary’s mind was a pathetic place. Her tiny thoughts fluttered about like moths caught in a whirlwind—vain loves, silly hopes, childish distractions. Hester caught them one by one, examining each before tossing it away. At last, back in the dark, she found
what she was looking for. Hester caught up the trembling thought, forced it open, and looked close.

Mary was looking down into the silver waters of a scrying bowl. Hester saw herself leaning over Mary’s shoulder. From Mary’s point of view, the candlelight gave her face a gargoyle’s shape.

“Well?” As Mary heard it, Hester’s voice was harsh as any crow’s. “What do you see? If Alicia lives, do I…Do the Hartwells remain safe?”

Mary was strangely calm. She liked the seeing. It was the only time she felt whole, the only time she understood who she was.

This one thing I will do,
Mary was thinking.
It may be the last thing I ever do, but at least I will have tried.

“Well?” Hester heard herself croak as if from a great distance. “If she lives, are we still safe?”

But that was not the question Mary formed with her power.

How do I free Alicia?
Mary shaped the words of intent and of power.
How do I free
us?

And there it was. Constance’s betrayal had infected Mary. Mary, like Constance, had abandoned her duty to the family safety. Mary had taken up this fool’s dream of freedom. As if anyone with the curse of magic in their blood could ever be free. They would always be in danger, from the Fae or from men like Smith, who wanted to make use of their power. For them, there was only vigilance, only the constant work of keeping the family safe from those who would use them, and destroy them.

The silver waters in Mary’s bowl swirled and trembled, although no hand touched them. A thousand images, a thousand voices, invaded Hester’s mind. Her consciousness shuddered and shrank back under the assault. She saw Alicia, but it was as if all the moments of her life were piled on top of each other. She was
a girl, a maiden, a mother, an ancient woman, but not just once; a hundred times. A thousand. It was too much and too fast. But Mary held. This was what Mary’s power as Seeress allowed her to not just withstand but also comprehend.

A voice lifted up above the cacophony. It was Mary’s voice, but not the weak, cringing whine that Hester knew. This was Mary as she might have been, calm and confident.

Let her be kept from sight. Let her be lost to herself until she finds her match with the scion of the Carstairs land. If their love shall prove true, then the children of Hartwell will be freed.

“Well?” Hester heard herself croak again. She felt her own breath oddly cold on the back of Mary’s neck. “Are we safe if we let her live?”

“It…it says we should use the amulet,” answered Mary slowly, because she was trying to think of the best way to form her lie. “It says that will keep her and the family safe. It says…it says she can even be safely married.”

Hester drew herself back out of Mary’s mind until she was fully returned to her own body and her own room. Mary had not weathered the opening of her mind well. Her head lolled sideways and plump hands dangled at her sides as she struggled to catch her breath. Her lips twitched restlessly.

“You were right, Mary,” said Hester. “It will be the last thing you ever do.” She raised her hand.

But to her surprise, Eugenia spoke. “You’ll leave us without a Seer.”

Of course, as Catalyst, Eugenia had felt Hester’s intent take shape and had shared her visions. “We can do well enough without Mary’s lies. One of the children will be brought up to serve.”

“By whom, Hester? Mary was right about one thing. There
hasn’t been a Seer born to us for fifty years. You and I could well be dead before the next one arrives.”

Slowly, Hester lowered her hand. Just as slowly, she turned to face her other sister. “Are you questioning my judgment now, Eugenia?”

Eugenia pulled herself up straighter, but Hester did not miss the fear underlying that small gesture. “Certainly not.”

“Good, because Mary did not think to conceal the next Catalyst from me. Verity will come fully into her gift in another year. We have only ever needed one Catalyst.”

Eugenia made no reply and Hester turned her attention back to Mary. She drew the magic from Eugenia, but this time instead of shaping it into a knife blade, she twisted it into a rope.

“Curse you, Mary Hartwell,” Hester whispered, winding her noose around her sister’s spirit. “Curse you for your treachery. Curse you for your foolishness. Fire take you for each lie you told, for each false prophecy you gave. Fire take you and burn you slow.”

Hester knotted the magic, and pulled it tight.

E
dward opened his eyes to darkness and a sense of contentment. A warm, soft weight shifted beside him, and memory came flooding back. Carefully, he extricated his arm from around Alicia. She stirred and stretched beneath the covers, but did not wake.

A sliver of moonlight seeped around the room’s heavy draperies. It glinted on the dark gold curls tumbling across Alicia’s cheeks and around her shoulders. As Carstairs’s eyes adjusted to the faint illumination, he saw how sleep smoothed and softened her features. She retained only a hint of a smile about her full lips, as if her dreams were sweet ones.

So I hope they may be.
Edward sat himself up and rested his forearms on his knees. Just looking at her brought the memory of their tempestuous lovemaking to the front of his mind, allowing him to savor again the feel of her mouth, her lush curves, her willingness to be carried along by her desire. A new lover was always a delight, but Alicia had been more than that. She’d followed
him unafraid into the new world of erotic desire. She’d trusted him with her body and her freshly discovered passions.

The problem was, neither of them knew who “she” really was. He’d gone to bed with strangers before, but never like this. Alicia had never known her own deepest spirit, not even in the common way of a girl growing up. She’d never felt the joy and the ache that were the heritage of the human heart, let alone the boundless possibilities of desire. Those were all yet to be explored by her, and Edward found the idea both intriguing and a little frightening.

He had to admit he enjoyed discovering this Alicia Hartwell far more than the virago who had thrown things at him and jabbed him with a hat pin. Although, if he stopped to consider it, that Alicia was admirable in her own way. She’d kept her head and made an excellent attempt at escape. If she hadn’t been so at war with herself, she might even have succeeded.

Edward frowned. Far more serious was this matter of the memories he had glimpsed when he’d touched her mind—of the furious child, and this “White Knight” she had so desperately wanted to return to. That memory may not have resurfaced in the rush of her being freed of the enchantment, but it was still in the depths of her mind, and it would return, one way or another.

He touched her cheek lightly, and she turned her face toward his fingertips. He could not resist drawing them over to the corner of her smiling mouth. Her lush lips parted slightly, as if preparing for a new kiss. Carstairs’s cock stiffened. With a rueful smile, he lifted his hand away and folded his arms. Alicia’s mouth closed and she shifted again, turning toward him, seeking his warmth in the cool room. He tucked the blankets in a little more firmly around her and she stilled.

Who would Alicia prove to be when she woke once more? The
passionate lover or the calculating and distant woman? Some combination of the two, most likely, but what combination?

That was what nagged at him now, even more than the restless swelling in his all-too-ready cock. Seeing Alicia curled up in his bed brought all Rathe’s warnings back to him. He didn’t really know how she came to be imprisoned by her enchantment. She might be more than an innocent victim in this unfolding mystery, but he found he already had trouble considering that possibility.

And this is exactly how our enemies work. They play on our loves and our vanities.

With a mild curse Carstairs climbed out of the bed and paced across the room. The air was cold against his bare skin, but he welcomed it, because it cleared his mind. It was nonsensical that he should be angry at Rathe for reminding him only of what he already knew. He had been raised in a family of Catalysts and Sorcerers. He had been barely thirteen when he’d called up the magic the first time. He’d been sixteen when he had helped ensnare his first Fae.

Sixteen when his weakness killed his brother.

He’d never forget the sight of the impossibly beautiful and delicate woman cowering on the ground before Nicholas. Nick was just nineteen, but he’d already proven himself to Captain Smith as a strong and competent agent. The whole family had been so proud of him, and of Edward when Nick had declared him to be ready to take on his first mission.