Keeper of the Black Stones (30 page)

“I will not sign papers that allow you and the church to take what is rightfully mine,” she ground out, realizing that she could well be signing her own death warrant with the words. “If you want my things, man of the church, you will have to kill me for them.” She got to her feet at that, meeting his eyes.

He paused for only a moment at her pointed mention of his religion. Then his mouth turned up in a cruel smile. “That can be arranged, girl.”

He took the jeweled dagger from his belt and lifted it above her, savoring the moment of the kill. Katherine lifted her chin and watched his movements, waiting for the second that he began his strike. At that point, she knew, he would be off balance, and set on his path. He wouldn't be able to alter the blow.

And he wouldn't be able to stop her when she darted to the side, to get around him and out the door.

Before he could strike, though, a man's figure appeared behind him, and all hell broke loose.

I had sprung to my feet, shocked at the fat man's violence toward the girl. I'd never seen anyone hit a woman–much less a girl my own age–and my blood was burning with outrage. I knew that women had been suppressed and even abused during this time period. That didn't mean I had to stand around and watch it happen, though, and I had no intention of doing so.

I felt rather than saw Tatiana appear at my side, growling in anger. Before we could rush to the girl's aid, Reis had moved past us and into the light of the barn. He slid into place behind one of the robed men, wrapped his left arm around the man's neck, and jammed his right thumb into the flesh between the man's neck and collarbone. The man dropped to the ground, unconscious. The second man heard his companion's collapse and turned, his hand going to the dagger at his belt. Reis took one quick step forward and pivoted gracefully, swinging his foot toward the man's face. This man went down beside his companion, blood gushing from his broken nose.

The short, round man–obviously the leader of the group–turned, his mouth opening and closing in shock. He took in his fallen companions and then faced Reis, his expression dark and arrogantly angry. I glanced quickly at Reis, wondering if he had a plan, and gasped at his expression. He had been hard and professional up to this point–the ultimate cold-blooded assassin. Now he was angry. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, and he was breathing heavily.

The fat man evidently didn't notice the danger. “This girl is with me. You have no right to interfere. I am a messenger of God, and the Bishop of Fairhaven!”

Reis took one step toward the self-proclaimed Bishop and planted a quick jab into the man's nose, snapping cartilage and flattening his face. A gush of blood hit the hay below the Bishop, and he cried out in pain and shock. Reis threw one more punch and the man went down, out cold.

No one moved or said a word for several seconds, until Paul broke the silence.

“Holy crap,” he whispered.

Reis had followed the fat man to the ground, and was now pulling a small roll of duct tape from his pocket. He moved quickly and efficiently, taping the three men together and then to one of the support columns of the barn. Tatiana and Paul moved toward him on silent feet, bending to help.

I shook myself into action and strode past them all, uninterested in the men on the ground, and came to a stop in front of the girl. She was standing
more firmly now, and attempting to put her dress and hair back in order. She looked up at me when I stopped, then looked past me to the men on the ground. Her eyes moved back to mine, and she opened her mouth to say something. Before she could utter a word, her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell to the ground.

Katherine hadn't actually fainted, but she badly needed a moment to figure things out, and from where she stood, pretending to faint was her only option. It had worked wonders for her in the past, and gave her at least a couple minutes of peace. Now she pressed her back against the ground and focused on deep, regular breathing, trying not to let her eyes or eyelids move. The secret to a fake fainting spell was to look like you were actually unconscious–she'd learned that one the hard way once, when her father had caught her faking it. She gave herself a couple of seconds to get her body under control, then turned to the important thing. Namely, the situation at hand.

What on earth had just happened? A moment ago, her situation had been … well, difficult, really. She'd been facing a choice: join the church and lose everything, or embrace death and join her parents in heaven. Neither had been appealing. Now, things seemed to have changed. A man, obviously very powerful, had appeared out of nowhere. He had with him a girl and two young men, similar in age to her own. They were strangers to this area; Katherine had never seen their faces before, and she knew everyone in Doncaster and the surrounding villages. So who were they?

She slit one eye open to take in the scene before her, then shut it again. One of the boys had moved even closer to her, his face full of concern, and was now kneeling at her side. While that was sweet of him, it was also inconvenient, as it blocked her view of the others. What were they doing? Why had they saved her? What did they want?

Her mind darted from one possibility to the next. They certainly weren't from this area, as she'd never seen them, so she didn't think they were here for the land or property. Were they mercenaries? Kidnappers? Slave traders?
Don't be silly, Katherine
, she lectured herself. They were too far inland for slave traders. Those people needed ships. Still…

Sighing, she came to the crux of the matter. Regardless of who they were, they had saved her from the Bishop. Come to her rescue when no one else had. And if they were willing to rescue her once…

What option did she have, really? She couldn't stay here, not after this, and she had no place else to go. Her life in Doncaster had ended, just as surely as her father's. She needed a fresh start, and these people might provide her with one, whether they meant to or not.

Katherine fluttered her eyelids and pretended to wake up. “Where … where am I? Who are you?” she asked, sitting up and holding a hand to her forehead. She'd found that men expected this sort of behavior when a woman was waking up from a ‘fainting spell.' Personally she found it ridiculous, but as long as she was putting on a performance, she needed to do it right.

She glanced through her eyelashes at the thin boy with the kind eyes, giving him a weak smile. Something about him suggested a trustworthy kindness, and her smile grew involuntarily larger. His mouth turned up in response, and something in her heart relaxed. Perhaps these people were friends after all.

Then the girl she'd seen stepped out from behind the older man. She had beautiful black hair, smooth skin, and deep, penetrating eyes. She was also frowning in disapproval, her eyes roving along Katherine's clothing and general state of feminine distress. Her mouth turned down in deep disappointment, and Katherine narrowed her eyes. The men might be friendly. The girl, on the other hand…

She pulled herself to her feet and turned from the angry girl toward the boy, who seemed to be a leader of some sort.

“My name's Jason,” he said in a soft, gentle voice. “These are my friends, Paul, Reis, and Tatiana. Are you okay? Can you walk?”

Katherine nodded and took the boy's offered hand, allowing him to pull her into the light. His hand was as soft as a young child's, and she wondered fleetingly who he was. Who
they
were, she corrected. They certainly weren't
Danes or mercenaries.
Or slave traders
, she thought, her mouth quirking to the side. Were they nobility? She was certain that they'd never done hard labor, given the state of their skin. Their dress was odd, too … not the standard traveling clothing of members of the nobility. This boy obviously traveled with a guard, though, and had no fear of the church. Their assault on the Bishop had told her that much. If he was nobility, then what–who–were the boy and girl who traveled with him?

Why had they interfered with the Bishop?

And most importantly, could they save her again?

I stood back as best I could, given the fact that she wouldn't let go of my hand, and watched her carefully. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Her straw-colored hair was matted, dirty, and tangled, her face and neck bloody and smeared with mud. When she looked up at me, though, her bright green eyes were clear and lucid. And calculating. She was the exact opposite of Tatiana in every way–slight where the other girl was strong, bright where the other girl was dark. But there was something about her eyes that reminded me of my traveling companion. That cool, direct gaze, as though she could see right through me…

Suddenly I gasped, my memory flooding back. I had seen this girl before. I
did
know that gaze. That was why it was so familiar.

I'd seen them both on the trip through the stone. This girl's image had made the trip with me, her eyes meeting mine whenever they could. For reasons I couldn't comprehend, the stone had shown me this girl's image during my jump. Again and again. And then we'd found our way to her farm, to save her from scoundrels doing God-knew what. We'd been brought together for a reason, I could feel it in my bones and through my blood.

Of course, I had no idea what that reason actually was.

At my gasp, her eyes grew unfocused and soft, as though she'd realized that
she was staring. She smiled vaguely and turned away to look at the others.

“My name is Katherine,” she said in little more than a whisper. She brushed a lock of hair quickly away from her face, looking around with both curiosity and caution.

Reis grunted and gestured angrily at the men on the ground. “And what are you doing here on your own, Katherine, being beaten by this so-called Bishop? Where are your parents? Who's meant to be looking out for you?” he asked.

The girl watched him, frowning at his anger, then glanced down at the fat man. “He's the Bishop of Fairhaven,” she said, her voice cold and full of hatred. “And he's a pig!” She stepped toward the three men and spit on the ground to emphasize her point, and Paul snorted.

“We noticed,” he muttered. “And your parents?”

Katherine turned toward Paul, her expression softening somewhat. “The Bishop came because he knew I would be alone and at his mercy. My father was put to death today.” She paused, swallowing heavily. “He came here to force me into an abbey and take possession of my estate. Failing that, he would have killed me.”

“Your father was put to death?” I gasped, the unfamiliar words sticking on my tongue. “Who would do that? Why?”

Katherine's face dissolved into tears, and my heart ached for her. “My father was a good man. He helped others who were in pain. He tried to–” she choked on a sob, then swallowed and continued. “He tried to cure the lord's pain.” She ducked her head, her shoulders shaking, and I squeezed her hand. My parents hadn't been put to death, but I knew what it was like to lose a father.