Swamp Magic (Crimson Romance) (14 page)

As sudden as things had gone dark, the candles flickered once again to life, though she almost wished they hadn’t. The floor moved with life. Snakes slithered everywhere, and if she wasn’t mistaken …

“Grace, look out!” Beth screamed in warning as an eight-foot alligator began skulking her way.

“Oh, don’t mind Sebastian — he’s all bark and little bite. A rare mistake.” Octavia seemed to get lost in thought for a moment, looking down at the eight-foot, scaled monster, which seemed a bit lost itself. Himself? Instinct told her the creature would rip anyone to shreds, including Octavia if given half a chance. Her aunt stood frozen in place, caught between the gator and Damien. Damien stood between the gator and Octavia, leaving Beth and Moss behind them all. Which, to Beth, meant in a much better position to attack as they were the least visible.

Octavia returned her attentions to them. Her gaze narrowed when it passed over Damien, and tightened even further when it stopped on Moss. Clearly, she was pissed he hadn’t darted to her side like a good little reptile shifter.

“You will live to regret your decision and betrayal.” Though she hadn’t indicated whom she addressed, Moss hissed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beth caught her aunt swinging her hand in a shooing motion. Grace wanted them to move back, away from the gator and Octavia.

She glanced behind them then down. Wow, that was a mistake. The sight of a wiggling floor brought the shudders out. No, she didn’t hate snakes, but that sure as hell didn’t mean she wanted to be swimming through them, either. Blech.

“Son of a bitch!” Damien hissed, and she squinted to see that he kicked something before hopping around on one foot. “Damn thing bit me.”

“A snake?” Grace gasped.

“No one of those damn little gators.” Damien still hopped, but all could tell he was fine.

“You think he meant son of bitch literally?” Beth whispered in Moss’s ear, earning a quiet chuckle from her quiet giant.

“They may be small, but their bite packs a punch.” Damien warned as each used their feet to shuffle the small reptiles away.

Shoving the creepy thoughts of the numerous things scurrying about below, Beth focused on figuring out what her aunt had up her sleeve. If Grace had a plan, they all needed to be in on it. Grace said she’d skimmed Damien’s mind earlier, apparently seeing the snakes covering the floor. If Grace could skim Damien’s mind, and Beth herself had caught tidbits from both, then maybe she’d be able to broadcast a message to her aunt. It was worth a shot at least.

Squeezing her hands in concentration, making fists that actually had her nails breaking her palms’ surface, she telepathically tossed out her question.

What’s the plan, Grace?

Damn, but this telepathy shit was hard with Octavia’s scathing remarks and threats flying about in the background. The witch had one of those voices like nails on a chalkboard. Beth did her best to tune out everything, Continuing to broadcast her questions while envisioning Grace’s face.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, her aunt’s clear voice came through. In no uncertain terms, Grace told her she and Moss needed to slowly back up. She planned to cause a partial cave-in. Grace hoped to knock the bitch down into the pit as the falling rocks effectively walled off the area.

Beth didn’t understand how Grace intended to pull off the cave-in, but at least one of them had a solid plan. Slowly, she reached out and grasped Moss’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Moss squeezed back, confirming he got the message something was up.

She slid off his back and gently tugged his arm, alerting him he needed to follow her. As he stepped back, so did she, matching his steps so neither appeared to have moved. Doing so was made difficult by the snakes and small gators littering the floor. Thank goodness, short of the eight-footer up by Grace, the rest of the gators seemed small enough they had to be babies. On one hand, good, on the other, Beth feared they were truly wild gators and not baby gator shifters. By all accounts, only handsome, grown men ended up on Octavia’s menu. Wild meant they would have to tread carefully, as these gators lacked the human instincts locked inside, but were rather nature’s creatures with their own set of survival and feeding rules.

Grace must have sent a mental message to Damien, as both she and Moss noted his sly moves in their direction. Grace obviously meant to unsettle Octavia with her remarks and Beth bet, hoped to catch her off guard.

“Oh, yeah, whoop dee do. You wham-bammed a few poor souls, trapping them here in your bug-infested home to do your sexual bidding and you think you’re all that? What’s the matter, Octavia So butt ugly you couldn’t snag a man the old-fashioned way? Is that it?
Ohh
, it is?”

“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about me, but I know everything about you.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Grace taunted, edging a bit closer to her.

“Cocky, aren’t you? Well, let’s test just how cocky you are. Does the name Henry Gerard ring a bell? Oh, my, I guess from that look, that’s a yes?”

Though they continuing their slow movements backwards, Beth could tell Octavia had hit a nerve with Grace. Her aunt’s back went ramrod straight, but so far, Grace hadn’t made a peep in response to Octavia’s last comment. Who was this Henry Gerard Octavia spoke of? Obviously, he hadn’t just been someone her aunt was acquainted with. No, by her aunt’s tense posture and changing aura, he’d been important to Grace. She’d cared for him deeply.

“They do say a picture is worth a thousand words. Let’s test the theory, shall we?” Octavia’s hands flew up in front of her, and she swirled them round and round until a glowing, golden-red haze enveloped Grace, who seemed unable to move or speak.

Beth watched in horror as Grace began trembling. She couldn’t tell if her aunt’s reaction stemmed from fear, rage, or a combination of both. Beth halted, and Moss too, as she tried in vain to grasp the severity of the situation. What had happened to the plan? Was Grace okay or had she, too, fallen under a spell of the witch?

Just as Beth went to reverse her course and head back toward Grace, she heard her aunt’s sharp, rage-filled message ordering her to continue as she had been. Her tone was fierce, crisp, on edge, and worried Beth as to exactly who was unnerving whom.

Images of a handsome man projected from within the red haze and Grace gasped, falling to her knees.

“How sad. But on the bright side, I proved how quickly your one true love could be seduced. Don’t worry about thanking me. I assure you, Henry was all my pleasure. Hours and hours’ worth.”

In the midst of the golden hue encircling Grace a brighter, bluish glow began. This glow didn’t come from the witch, however. It came from Grace and grew brighter by the moment.

“Justice met is Justice served to those who’ve passed beyond their bode. I call you now to aid with those who’ve fought the same and refused to lose. Hear our cries and empower us to ensure free will against all those lost.”

Beth, alongside Moss and Damien, stilled as the power of her aunt’s words unleashed the now blinding, bluish glow. The light flooded the cavern, spilling forth into every tunnel, crack, and crevice. The power was undeniable and already causing instability as loose rocks began scattering down. By the time Octavia realized what Grace intended, it was too late. The power had built into such a force it had nowhere to retreat except within the rocks themselves.

Soon, boulder-sized chunks tumbled down, blocking Beth’s view of Octavia and Grace.

With the wall erected, her aunt had succeeded. But at what price? Beth screamed Grace’s name and broke from Moss’s embrace, frantic to get to her beloved aunt.

Beth nearly throttled her aunt for scaring her like she had. Beth thought for sure she’d lost Grace in the cave-in, but she’d learned Grace had thrown a protection spell about them all before casting the power out toward Octavia. When the debris settled, there her aunt had stood without so much as a scratch on her. Where Octavia had gone, none knew, but regardless, it had bought them the time needed to escape the tunnels and get back to Grace’s to plot their next course of action.

Once she’d returned from her shower, they sat around Grace’s table with Moss looking more than a little apprehensive about his new surroundings. He’d never seen a microwave, an iPod, or the many other modern items, much less had an opportunity to toy with them.

His favorite? Well, of course, the television. To be fair, the giant, flat-screen plasma had also captured Damien’s attention. What was it with men and giant televisions? Here were two men, unused to any real technology to speak of, and both were drawn like moths to a flame to the plasma.

Beth and Grace both sat back, rolling their eyes at how the boob tube could turn even the most rugged, outdoorsy men into drooling zombies. Beth had never guessed what a sense of humor Grace had until her aunt snatched the remote and jacked up the sound to max level right
as both men went to tentatively touch it.

Priceless. Beth thought Grace would have to replace the roof, as high as each he-man jumped. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Grace laugh so long or hard. Of course, after Damien put his fist through the plasma, she didn’t laugh so much. But Beth still sensed the humor hiding behind the shock. Grace knew all too well life was far too short to sweat the small, replaceable stuff.

Once they’d both managed to miraculously settle the two beasts down with a few grunts at having their newfound toys taken away, those being the remotes to several appliances in the home, Moss and Damien grew serious. Both spoke of their inside information regarding Octavia. Damien had discovered many others like themselves lost to the swamp’s nocturnal magic. Lost to her dark magic. They explained what some of her weaknesses were, though neither had enough information to ensure ending the old battle-axe.

For the most part, Octavia had left Moss and Damien in the dark, but they’d caught whispers in the swamp of one
who had escaped her clutches. The one
that chose an eternal life as a swamp creature over being a cross between the two, neither wholly man nor beast.

And to that one poor soul, the secrets of the witch and swamp had been released. Her magic stemmed from the essence of the swamp itself. The place she’d been born into, the place she called home, and the place where, when her time came, she would meet her maker.

Grace’s eyes moistened at the mention of this other creature. A wistful, faraway sadness quickly darkened the shine in them. Beth wasn’t the only one to see it. Both men and, as if in unity, the three sat in a moment of silence. A moment to honor those who’d fallen to the fates of dark magic and mortal hatreds.

“You knew this other? The one who gave up his fight and chose to remain one with the swamp?” Damien spoke in a soft, soothing tone as his eyes sought her aunt’s.

The two stared quietly at one another, as if reading the other’s thoughts. Grace’s subtle sadness took on much darker hues as their silence stretched. Beth glanced at Moss. A small nod of his head acknowledged he was aware of the private moment transpiring between the two.

“Yes, I know of the rumored one and his choice all too well. We were to have been married before he was stolen from me.”

Her voice had been little above a whisper, but the fiery rage born from pain burned in the depths of Grace’s eyes was intense. Beth understood then what Grace had left out. Her love had ultimately chosen the swamp over her.

There was so much about her aunt that she’d ever dreamed. So many deeply faceted layers under what had appeared on the outside to be a normal woman. And now Beth’s heart broke for her, as had Grace’s all those years ago.

Though Grace wore a perfect poker face, clear and evident pain still radiated from her. She had loved and bitterly lost, and the scars would forever remain. Invisible, but there, just under the surface.

Beth noticed Damien’s demeanor had gone icy as he studied Grace with serious scrutiny. Worry appeared to adorn his tanned, weathered features. A look of camaraderie passed between them. Damien had lost someone too, which explained the loneliness she’d picked up from him back at his chamber.

She was relieved when Moss’s strong hand encased hers. The grip settled her. Put her heart a little at ease, though he had the same faraway look the others bore. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was remembering his own losses.

Here she sat, with three people all deeply affected by the cold, calculating brutality of one mean-ass witch. The more she observed their pained silence, the angrier she grew. The angrier she grew, the more determined she became to make the bitch pay in some equally painful and lengthy way.

“What was his name?” Beth hoped talking about him would somehow bring Grace closure. She’d kept him a secret for too long. He might also be their secret weapon for destroying Octavia and bringing ultimate closure for them all.

“His name was Henry, and he was a brilliant herpetologist,” Grace answered, holding her head high with pride and memory.

Beth smiled gently. She knew Grace would have to be pushed a bit to get the entire story from her. Beth hated having to do it, knowing how much pain the subject might cause, but she knew no way around it. She caught her aunt’s understanding glance just before Grace took it upon herself to go into the details surrounding Henry’s disappearance.

“I was nineteen to his thirty, but I didn’t care about the age difference. His compassion and love for nature and all things innocent won my heart. We were engaged to be married. I planned our wedding while he worked on his thesis. He’d made plans to camp out in the swamp over the weekend. I was actually to have joined him, but at the last moment, I canceled.”

Her voice cracked when she spoke the word
canceled
. Beth reached out with the intention of holding her aunt’s hand, but was beaten in doing so by none other than Damien. Instead, she patted her aunt’s shoulder. Odd as it was, she felt a strange surge of energy and relief pour through Grace at the first contact with Damien.

After taking a moment to collect herself, Grace cleared her throat and continued, all the while clutching Damien’s hand in support. Damien’s thumb never stopped stroking the top of Grace’s hand.