The Cursed One (14 page)

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Authors: Ronda Thompson

BOOK: The Cursed One
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Mullins removed a dirty rag from his pocket and extended it toward Gabriel. He hated to be rude, but he wasn't about to place that vermin-ridden rag against the wound to stanch the blood. Instead he tore the sleeve of his shirt from the shoulder. It wasn't much cleaner, but at least it was his own dirt and sweat. Mullins walked back to the fire and placed the knife in the flame again.
“Bet you yell this time,” he said with a grin.
The man seemed to be enjoying himself too much at Gabriel's expense. His thigh stung like the dickens, but he knew he had to press the wound, get as much of the infection from it as he could before Mullins cauterized it closed again. He was drenched in sweat by the time he'd managed to press the wound several times. His sleeve was soaked in blood and worse.
“Ready?” Mullins called again.
Sucking in a deep breath, Gabriel nodded.
“You're strong,” Mullins said, respect flavoring his gruff voice as he returned to Gabriel. Mullins pressed the knife to Gabriel's thigh.
The red-hot burn of the knife made Gabriel jerk. He nearly gagged on the smell of his own singed flesh. His mind screamed with the pain, but he clamped his lips together and bit back a response. Mullins had bent down beside him. The man removed the knife and glanced up at Gabriel.
“I heard you were.”
Pain clouding his mind, Gabriel didn't understand what the blacksmith meant. As Gabriel grappled with the sharp sting, the burning sensation in his thigh, the man slowly lifted his knife, pointing the blade toward Gabriel's throat.
“Strong,” the man explained. “Was told to be on the lookout for you if you happened this way. Was told to take care of you.”
Dawning registered when the man's eyes began to glitter in the shadowed darkness of the barn. He was one of them. Damn, Gabriel had left his pistol with Amelia.
“What do you want?” he managed to ask through the pain. “What are you?”
Mullins grinned, and his teeth looked pointed and sharp. “We want the woman,” he answered. “And you dead. Any dead who bear witness to our plans. We've waited a long time.”
Gabriel had placed himself in a vulnerable situation. Something he would have never done had his mind not been fogged by the pain in his leg. If he could keep the man, creature, whatever Mullins was, talking long enough to recover, he might have a chance.
“What are you?” he repeated.
Mullins brought the knife closer to Gabriel's throat. “A man, the same as you are. A man with gifts.”
Curse? Gifts? Gabriel imagined it was a matter of opinion. “How does your kind shift into another person?”
“Not all can,” the man answered. “Those gifted practice at it for years. But enough talk.”
Talk was exactly what Gabriel needed to recover enough to defend himself. “Why lance my wound, then cauterize it if you were planning to kill me anyway?”
Mullins grinned his toothy grin again. “To make you suffer more.”
Gabriel slumped, as if resigned to his fate. He wanted information from the man and also needed a little more time to recover from having his wound lanced. “If you're going to kill me, I'd like to know your plans.”
Mullins shook his shaggy head. “No point in that. Time to die. Sorry, it's only orders.”
The man made the mistake of pulling back his hand
to stab with more force. Gabriel used his good leg to kick Mullins in the face. He tumbled backward and Gabriel quickly jumped to his feet. Pain shot through his leg, but he tried to ignore it and concentrate on defending himself. His wounded leg nearly folded beneath him when he kicked at the man again, aiming for the knife in his hand. Mullins howled in pain, then rolled and gained his feet.
“Got no chance against me,” he hissed. “Best to just lie down and die.”
“You first,” Gabriel said, then lunged forward and delivered a solid blow to the man's face. Mullins stumbled back again, but when he glanced up at Gabriel, his features were contorted. He was changing himself. Were Gabriel's chances better against a man or a beast?
Mullins lunged forward, swiping at Gabriel with the long claws now jutting from his fingertips. Maneuvering with his injured leg was difficult. Gabriel took a scratch to the arm before he managed to get out of the way.
He needed an advantage, and at the moment Mullins had them all. To strengthen himself, Gabriel thought of Amelia and Mora, left to the mercy of Mullins and his kind. Rage managed to make it past Gabriel's pain. It bubbled up inside of him and Gabriel welcomed it, did not fight for control of his emotions as he usually did. When Mullins growled low in his throat, Gabriel growled back at him.
The response caused Mullins to draw up, or Gabriel had to assume that was the reason the man simply stood staring at him. The contortion of Mullin's features unnerved Gabriel. It reminded him of a time
years before, when his father had transformed before them all one night at the dinner table. That nightmare had haunted Gabriel for years.
“You are one of us-s-s,” Mullins hissed, his voice distorted, but not so much that Gabriel couldn't understand him.
“No.” Gabriel shook his head. He lifted his hand, tried to ball it into a fist, but the claws jutting from his fingertips would not allow it. Gabriel stared at his hand for a moment, his brain refusing to acknowledge what his eyes told him.
Mullin's deep laughter, garbled, which made it more hideous, drew Gabriel's attention back to the threat the man posed, not only to him but also to Amelia and Mora. He ran his tongue over his teeth. They were sharper, his eyeteeth longer … like fangs.
“I am not like you,” he spat at Mullins, then found strength he would have never had … not as only a man. He leaped forward and slashed his claws across Mullins's throat. The man gasped, his deformed hands clutching at his throat. Blood spilled down his neck, and his legs went out from beneath him. Gabriel stood over Mullins, watching the life drain from him. Only in death did Mullins reclaim his shape as a man.
Gabriel drew in deep breaths between the fangs that had lengthened in his mouth. He held up his hand again, willing the claws to retract. Never had he come so close to transforming. Why now? But he thought he knew. Amelia … and the girl. He had to protect them, and protect them with everything he had, even his curse.
In a matter of minutes, Gabriel felt the pain of his claws retracting into his fingertips. He groaned and
stumbled to sit again. His breathing ragged, he reached up and tore the other sleeve from his shirt. Gabriel wrapped the material around his throbbing thigh, yanked on his trousers, and set off at as fast a pace as the injury would allow. He had to get to Amelia and Mora now. He had to get the women out of the village!
Amelia relaxed in the short tub, allowing the warm water
to soothe her. There was no perfumed soap. The rough lye would probably take the top layer of her skin off, but Amelia didn't care. Not at the moment. She was clean. She was safe. There was hope they would reach Wulfglen alive.
Mora had been starving and wished to eat first rather than bathe. Amelia left her in a kitchen at the back of the tavern, licking her lips over a thick bowl of stew, fresh bread, and thick slabs of cheese. Amelia's stomach growled at the thought of the feast she'd have waiting for her when she found the energy to rouse herself from the soothing water. The thought of dressing in her dirty clothes held little appeal. But she supposed she must.
Sighing, she rose from the tub, grateful that a fire burned in the grate and the room was warm. A thin towel had been set out for her to dry herself with. Amelia snatched it up and set to work on her dripping hair. She'd only begun to dry her body when the door suddenly burst open. Amelia squeaked, clutching the towel to her breasts. Gabriel stood framed in the doorway.
He looked somewhat wild. His eyes seemed to glow back at her, and the sleeves of his shirt were missing.
“We have to leave,” he barked. “Now!”
“What?” The thin towel barely covered Amelia from the tops of her breasts to the tops of her thighs. “What's going on?”
“Dress quickly.” He came into the room and began gathering her clothes. Her undergarments he tossed aside. He dug the pistol from the pocket of her gown and shoved it beneath his shirt into the waistband of his trousers. Then he held the tattered gown toward her.
“Put this on.”
“But my underthings,” Amelia protested. “I can't go around without—”
“There isn't time!” he nearly shouted. “They're here.”
Chill bumps rose on Amelia's arms, but they had nothing to do with her still-damp body. She understood what he meant. He shoved the gown at her and turned back toward the door.
“I'll get Mora. Meet us downstairs. Hurry, Amelia!”
Amelia dropped the towel and scrambled into the dirty gown. She ran to the heap of her discarded underwear and found her slippers; sorry as they were, she slipped them on and ran downstairs. She heard Gabriel arguing with the tavern owner.
“What do you mean, she's gone? Gone where?”
“I don't know,” the man answered. “I left her in the back, but when I went to fetch her like you asked, she wasn't there. The back door was standing open.”
Amelia joined Gabriel downstairs. “Where is Mora?” she whispered.
“Gone,” he growled. “Maybe taken.”
Her heart lurched. “We have to find her.”
Gabriel pulled her toward the tavern door. “There's no time. We must escape now.”
He was strong and Amelia had trouble struggling against his hold, but she did. “We can't leave Mora! No telling what those beasts will do to her!”
“Stop fighting me,” Gabriel ordered. “I'll come back for her. I swear to you, but for now, I must get you safely out of the village.”
Amelia hated the thought of leaving Mora behind. All of Amelia's life, she'd only thought of herself. What she wanted most and how best to get it. Mora wasn't just a servant; she'd become a friend. But Gabriel was right. They must get away before—
Low growls from the shadows cut into her thoughts. Glittering eyes watched them. Amelia fought down a scream. Gabriel pulled her to a horse tied in front of the tavern. The animal reared, or tried to; tied as it was, it couldn't do much but prance nervously in place.
“What's going on?” Nate called from the tavern door.
“Get inside! Bolt your doors!” Gabriel yelled to him. “There are wolves roaming the village.”
Amelia was yanked up upon the horse's back. The animal reared again, and she nearly slid off the back.
“Hold on!” Gabriel shouted.
She wrapped her arms around his middle, closed her eyes, and pressed her face against his broad back. The horse shot forward and they were thundering down the road that wound through the village. She didn't want to look behind them. She wanted to keep her eyes closed and pray they made it safely away, and without her
falling from the horse and breaking her neck, but she did look.
Several dark shadows chased them. Two were nearly upon the horse's heels. Amelia fumbled with Gabriel's shirt, slid her hand beneath and down the flat ridges of his stomach to remove the pistol from his trousers. She cocked the pistol with one hand, turned, and fired, bringing down the first wolf.
Gabriel veered off of the road, turning the horse so sharply Amelia nearly fell. In her struggle to hold on, she dropped the pistol. They crashed through the underbrush lining the road and into the trees. Branches tore at her clothing. She bent her head and pressed her face against Gabriel's back again.
Forever it seemed they rode. Amelia wondered when the beasts would catch them, when she would fall off the horse and surely be killed, given the pace to which Gabriel pushed the animal. Amelia had never seen a man handle a horse the way Gabriel did. Twisting and turning, taking the animal deep into the forest, seemingly able to see where they were going when darkness had fallen and Amelia saw nothing but blackness all around them.
Suddenly Gabriel brought the gasping horse to a halt. He slid down, reached up, and plucked Amelia from the animal's back. He slapped the horse's rump and sent it running.
Amelia gasped. “Why did you do that? Now we're afoot again.”
“We need shelter. I know a place, but the horse must race ahead in hopes they will follow. The pistol,” he said. “I need it.”
Amelia wanted to whimper. “I dropped it,” she said. “It was when the horse veered and it was that or fall off.”
He was silent for a moment. She knew he was upset over the loss of the weapon. “All right, come on, then. We must fight with our wits tonight.”
He took her hand and then they were running through the brush. Several times Gabriel had to stop for a moment and Amelia knew his leg must be killing him. The night closed around them, made eerier by the knowledge that they might be set upon at any moment.
Shadows and shapes passed in a blur. They stumbled upon a small cabin before Amelia managed to make it out in the darkness. There were no lamps burning inside. No smell of a fire from the chimney. The door creaked when Gabriel eased it open. He pulled her inside and eased it shut. Then he stood very still, listening.
Amelia listened, too. The cottage was as silent as a tomb. The night chill rose gooseflesh on her skin. She shivered, but she didn't know if it was from being cold or frightened.
“This is where Bruin and his family lived. It's deserted,” Gabriel finally said, his voice quiet. “Stay here. I'll be back in a moment.”
As quietly as he usually moved, the leg must have hampered him, because she heard him creeping through the cottage. He returned a moment later and she felt the scratchy wool of a blanket being shoved toward her.
“You must strip from your clothing, Amelia,” he said. “Animals hunt by scent. I need to take our clothes into the woods and get rid of them.”
Had any other man asked her to strip naked in front of him, Amelia would have thought it was a ploy to seduce her. She knew Gabriel would not ask if their lives were not at stake. Although she wasn't modest, it felt strange to undress in the same room with a man, one who was doing the same, by the sounds of it. Once she'd stripped from the worn gown, Amelia wrapped a blanket around her and held her discarded clothing toward Gabriel.
“I'll be back in a moment. Stay inside; be very quiet.”
He was gone before she could argue. Amelia didn't want to be left alone. Her heart pounded so loudly she felt certain anyone within a mile could hear it. On shaky legs, she slumped down a wall to the floor and waited. The blanket was scratchy against her skin. It was the least of her worries. She had begun to think Gabriel would not return when the door eased open. She nearly screamed, but he called out quietly to her.
“Here,” she said. “On the floor.”
With a slight groan he settled beside her. He was winded. When she reached out to touch him she also realized he was quite naked. She snatched her hand back.
“Where's your blanket?”
“Could only find one,” he huffed. “Truth is, I knew I'd move better without having to hold on to something draped around me.” With another grunt, he rose. She heard him go into the next room. Not long after, she heard him come out and pad off somewhere to her right. When he squatted beside her again he shoved a stale chunk of bread into her hands.
Starving, Amelia tore a chunk of the bread off and stuffed it into her mouth. It tasted like heaven.
“There's some cider. A few apples. They left in a hurry. Didn't take anything with them.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Frightened away, I'm guessing,” Gabriel answered. “Mullins, the new blacksmith, came to Hempshire to watch for us if we passed this way. He needed a reason to be here so he wouldn't look suspicious. I imagine he and his men frightened Bruin and his family away in the night.”
A thought raised the hackles on the back of Amelia's neck. “Then, is this where they are staying?”
“No,” Gabriel assured her. “I don't smell them here. They would have eaten the food Bruin and his family left behind. I imagine they took up residence at the blacksmith barn in the village. They wouldn't want to take the chance of missing us if we passed through.”
“Will they come here?”
He didn't answer for a moment. “I don't think so. They will assume we'd want to get as far away from Hempshire as we can. They'll look for us in the woods.”
Amelia felt far from comforted, but for the moment they had shelter, at least some food, and maybe a measure of safety. “What about Mora?” she whispered. “We can't leave her behind. Not with those beasts. They might kill her.”
Gabriel sighed. “My first duty is to get you safely to Wulfglen, Amelia. I am sorry for the girl. I do not wish to leave her behind. I will in fact return and try to find her after I have you safely away.”
Once, the situation would have suited Amelia fine. It no longer did. She couldn't bear the thought of poor Mora at the mercy of the beasts that frightened her so. “I will not go until we at least make an effort on Mora's behalf. We are all in this together, aren't we? What does it say about me if I let you leave her behind?”
Gabriel didn't respond for a moment. “She wouldn't expect us to stay,” he finally said. “You know that.”
“One day,” Amelia bargained. “Tomorrow, we can go to the village and have a look around. If we don't see her, we will move on.”
“It's insane to go back to the village,” he argued. “Mora wouldn't expect you to put yourself in danger for her. She has the sense not to put herself in danger for you.”
Amelia recalled that Mora had left them to fend for themselves when the den had caved in on her and Gabriel. Perhaps the girl would not expect them to rescue her if she'd been captured. Amelia couldn't help believing what had happened at Collingsworth Manor was somehow her fault. It was Amelia whom the beasts had wanted, and Gabriel and Mora were both innocent bystanders.
“One day,” Amelia begged. “If we don't see her, we will go, I promise.”
He was silent for so long Amelia wondered if he'd drifted off to sleep; then he sighed. “One day,” he agreed. “And I'll go alone to look for her. You'll stay here.”
Amelia knew she'd be pushing her luck if she argued further with him. Although she wanted nothing more than to get away from the threat that must surely surround
them, she felt better knowing they wouldn't leave Mora behind without making an effort to rescue her.
“I keep thinking this must be a dream,” she said softly. “That I will wake up in my parents' fine home in London and laugh that my imagination provided me with such a tale.”
She handed a piece of bread to Gabriel in the darkness. “And if you are dreaming and you wake tomorrow, would you still marry Robert Collingsworth?”
Amelia could say with certainty that she would not. She realized now that she should have married Robert for more reason than to please her parents. She was curious as to why Gabriel had asked. “Would you want me to?”
The question was brave, but then, circumstances called for bravery. He said nothing for a moment and she thought he wouldn't answer her. “No,” he finally answered softly.
Her heart sped a measure, not with fear this time but with hope. “Why not?” she ventured a step further.
 
Why not? Indeed. Gabriel didn't know why he had an
swered “no” to her question. He'd known from the moment he saw her she was not for him, no matter that he couldn't get her from his mind. What had just happened to him in Hempshire left little doubt about what he was, what he might easily become. He was not a fit husband for any woman. He'd known that long ago. That was why he'd pledged his vow along with his brothers.

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