Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  She looked out the window again. The perfect arc was still there, pointing to heaven.

  Chapter

  25

  Moncore watched the door of the southwest tower from his hiding place behind the blacksmith’s stall in the courtyard. He felt his blood pulsing through his body, throbbing in his neck, as he watched Rose and her dog leave the castle and pass through the gatehouse into town. My perfect opportunity at last. He had seen Frau Geruscha leave several minutes earlier. He would finally begin the process of making Duke Godehard of Marienberg pay for his crimes against him, for taking away the income he’d enjoyed under Godehard’s father and expelling him from the region. How he hated him, and how sweet would be his revenge when Duke Godehard learned his only daughter had been driven mad by demons.

  For a while he hadn’t been sure if Rose was the one he sought. But once he’d finally discovered Frau Geruscha’s whereabouts, as Hagenheim’s town healer, it had been almost obvious that her new apprentice was Lady Salomea. Besides, when he finally got a good look at the girl they called Rose, she looked so much like her mother the duchess that he had been certain she was the one.

  After his failed attempt to pour the ash over her head and say the incantation, which would have begun her torments, he knew it was no longer safe for him to stalk her openly. Since then, he’d never seen her alone. If no one else was with her, it was her dog, that cursed animal, by her side. And dogs seemed to have a special sense. They hated him and knew when he planned to hurt their owners. Loyal beasts, dogs were, and they would fight to the death to protect someone they loved.

  So he had waited patiently, thinking his revenge would be all the sweeter if he waited until just before Lady Salomea’s wedding

  to the young Duke Wilhelm. If he timed his attack just right, Duke Godehard would reach Hagenheim just as it was too late to help his daughter. He’d be furious that Geruscha and Duke Wilhelm hadn’t been able to protect her, with her right under their noses all the time. And if he got a good opportunity, he would kill all three of them—Godehard, Geruscha, and Wilhelm. As for Lady Salomea…once she was completely under demonic possession, she would be at his mercy.

  Moncore pulled the cowl of his coarse brown monk’s tunic over his face. He tucked his hands inside the folds of his garment and bowed his head, careful to walk at a normal pace so as not to attract attention.

  He had to stifle a gasp as he pushed open the door. It wasn’t locked. Without pausing to look around, he casually entered, flipped off his hood, and rushed across the room and up the stairs to the tiny bedchamber that had to be Rose’s. He pulled a flask from an inside pocket and sprinkled black ash all over the floor around her bed. He chanted an incantation in Gaelic, rotating slowly around until he had made a complete circle in the ash with his foot. He grinned at the thought of the nightmares she would have because of the demonic spirits he had just unleashed in her bedchamber. Just a small hint of what he planned to cast into her soon.

  If only he could stay and watch that insipid Geruscha’s face when she realized her failure to protect her precious charge.

  He hastened down the steps then threw his hood back over his head as he closed the door behind him.

  Rose went to her room to get ready for bed. Barely enough moon-light filtered through the window to help her find her night clothes. She began to undress. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, as if someone was behind her, watching her. She spun around, but no one was there. She quickly donned her nightgown and slipped into bed, her breath coming fast and shallow. She scolded herself for her foolishness, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of an evil presence filling the room.

  She clutched the blankets up to her chin and prayed, O God, please be with me. Jesus, protect me. As her fear had not subsided, she decided to pray out loud. “Lord Jesus, save me. O God, I am your child. Protect me.”

  Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything moving or lurking in the darkness, but she saw nothing. “Yea, though I walk

  through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” I will not fear, I will not fear…What is wrong with me? There was nothing there to be afraid of.

  Rose took a deep breath. No one was in the room but herself, and God was with her. She closed her eyes and refused to open them again.

  Rose awoke with a start, her heart pounding and her breath short. She sat up and opened her eyes wide, trying to see something, anything, in the dark room. I was only dreaming. But her heart wouldn’t calm down. In her dream an evil spirit hovered over her, a blackness with orange eyes and a green mouth, then wrapped around her body and squeezed, taunting, “You’ll never get away.”

  Rose shuddered, sinking down again into her bed. At first she believed it had been a demon, come to her in her sleep. But then she told herself it was only her imagination that had caused the dream, a product of becoming frightened when she was getting ready for bed.

  She huddled under the covers, her eyes searching every dark corner of her chamber. She wanted to run into Frau Geruscha’s room but was too afraid to get out of bed. Instead, she lay shivering and praying, “God, help me. Jesus, help me. Holy Spirit, help me.”

  “Did you sleep well?” Frau Geruscha asked as they walked to the kitchen to break their fast.

  Rose turned to look at her. She didn’t normally ask her if she slept well. “No, I didn’t. I had a horrible nightmare. You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

  “Hear anything?”

  “Or know of anyone entering my room lately?”

  “No. Why do you ask?” Frau Geruscha stopped, making Rose pause on the path to the kitchen.

  “There is something strange on my floor. It looks like ashes, as if someone had drawn a circle and made some strange markings.”

  Frau Geruscha’s face went white. She grabbed Rose’s arm as if to steady herself.

  “What is it?”

  “Probably nothing, but I’d like to see this. Let’s go back now and look at it.”

  Why was Frau Geruscha so concerned? The back of her neck prickled as it had the night before.

  Frau Geruscha examined Rose’s floor. The ashes were strewn about from Rose’s walking across them, but though indistinct, the crude circle was still visible.

  Frau Geruscha, after bending down and staring at the floor, searched about the room, itself in the shape of a semicircle as part of the cylindrical southwest tower. Then she got on her hands and knees and looked under Rose’s bed.

  She got up slowly, taking Rose’s arm to help pull herself up from the floor. “Someone must have come into your chamber.” Her eyes were dark and her brows were pulled down. With a quick, deliberate motion, she used her foot to smear the ashes around, messing up the circle and any other markings that might have been there. “We need to start barricading our door, Rose. I’ll ask Bailiff Eckehart to have a crossbar placed on our door. You haven’t seen anyone around—that Peter Brunckhorst or anyone suspicious looking, have you?”

  “No. What do the ashes and the circle mean?”

  “I’m not certain. But don’t worry about it. Some servant probably spilled them there unintentionally.” Frau Geruscha’s voice seemed falsely cheery. “Let’s go on and have some food. Then I’ll go ask the bailiff for that lock.”

  She watched Frau Geruscha’s face until she turned away and went down the stairs ahead of her. A shiver passed over Rose’s shoulders. Frau Geruscha knew more than she was telling her. How strange.

  Wilhelm needed some activity. He wandered out to the stable to saddle Shadow for a ride. He had hardly said two words to anyone in the last week, since he asked Rose to marry him and she refused him. He hated to admit it, but she had hurt his pride, and anger mingled with the pain of his heart shattering into thousands of tiny pieces.

  His knights, Sir Georg and Sir Christoff, insisted on coming with him on his ride. They said his new status as Duke demanded that he be escorted wherever he went. But
Wilhelm refused. He even sent the groomsman and stable boy out on errands while he tended to Shadow’s brushing himself. He started with the horse’s black mane.

  Rose was right. He did love honor and duty and the respect of his people. Heaven above, she had seen through him and into his very soul. She might have even been right about him coming to resent her. His heart twisted painfully at the thought. He remembered Paul’s words. O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?

  A mean, dirty trick life had played on him, forcing him to choose between his duty to his people and his love for Rose. But hadn’t he chosen her for all the right reasons? Yes, he loved her for her beauty, but he also loved her for her mind and her heart, her compassion, and her ability to see people as equal. Even as God did. And he wanted Rose to be safe and happy and protected.

  But his love for her was selfish too. He loved her because she would make a good wife. He just plain wanted her, and he had been willing to sell his people short so that he could have what he wanted.

  But God obviously wanted him to marry his betrothed. Anger welled up inside him. Anger at God? That must be the worst sin there was.

  Shadow whinnied, and Wilhelm realized he’d been brushing the poor horse’s back over and over in the same spot. He moved to Shadow’s other side.

  Rose was nobler than either Wilhelm or his brother. She didn’t want to be responsible for turning the region over to Rupert, for taking Wilhelm away from his duty and causing him to break his oath of betrothal.

  But he had let her down. She loved him, and yet he couldn’t make a way for them to be together. And he’d betrayed his betrothed by wanting to be rid of her. He couldn’t even save her from Moncore, the man who wished to destroy her. In addition, he’d let his father down by not capturing Moncore in time.

  O God, I’m an utter failure. He threw down the brush and clenched his fists, pressing them into his eye sockets until he saw only white light. Not only could he not protect Rose as she deserved, but he couldn’t protect his betrothed either.

  What did it matter now? He would be forced to marry Lady Salomea whether or not he found Moncore. And perhaps now Moncore would come to him.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine marrying the Duke of Marienberg’s daughter in three weeks. When he pictured the wedding, he saw Rose in the bridal gown, standing with him before the priest

  with her beautiful golden-brown hair flowing down her back. He tried to block her out, to picture someone else, someone with black hair, or blonde, or red, to think of a different face, with a different smile. But when he was able to force Rose out of his mind, he saw nothing but an empty veil.

  God, where is your help in all of this?

  He turned and began to saddle his horse. Clenching his teeth, he focused his concentration on Shadow and wrenched it away from the vicious circle of pain to which his mind kept returning. The crisp air nipped at his bare hands, reminding him that he had forgotten his gloves. He grasped Shadow’s reins and hauled himself into the saddle. He steered his horse through the edge of the courtyard toward the gatehouse.

  The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Was he imagining it, or was that Moncore standing two feet from the castle gate?

  Wilhelm’s pulse thumped in his ears as he spurred Shadow on, leaning forward in the saddle. The man turned and ran, disappearing around the gatehouse.

  Wilhelm urged his horse into an all-out gallop, then turned him sharply to the left where he’d seen the man run. But upon rounding the corner, all Wilhelm saw was the empty side street behind the Rathous.

  He jumped off his horse and drew his sword, running toward the alley behind the buildings that bordered the Marktplatz. He pushed himself to run faster. No one was in the narrow street, but perhaps he could overtake him down the next one, between the guild hall and the Rathous.

  He splashed through the sludge and filth that stood ankle deep in the narrow passageway. He came to the back corner of the guild hall, not even pausing to look before streaking around into the alley between the two buildings.

  There. He caught a glimpse of him at the end of the street just before he disappeared around the next corner to the left.

  Wilhelm poured every ounce of his strength into moving his legs faster, never taking his eyes off the end of the alley.

  He burst into the light of the Marktplatz and looked all around. Moncore must have gone inside the Rathous. Wilhelm darted into the gray building.

  The light was dim inside the town hall, but Wilhelm’s eyes adjusted. O God, don’t let him get away!

  He had to make a decision. Either he searched the ground floor or he headed up the steps to the second or third floor. He chose to search where he was, hoping Moncore couldn’t get past him, since there was only one door leading out.

  Holding his sword in front of his body, he moved toward the back of the large hall, trying to make his footfalls as quiet as possible.

  He threw open a door, thrusting his sword into the chamber as he entered. No one was there. In the same way, he went through each room on the bottom floor but found no one.

  He made haste to mount the steps to the second floor, taking them two at a time. He searched the rooms there, snatching open several creaking doors but finding nothing.

  He bounded up to the third floor. If Moncore wasn’t here, he’d gotten away. If only he could split himself up and look in two places at once! There were more chambers on the third floor than the other two. He snatched the doors open, looking into every room, but still found no trace of him.

  Wilhelm let out a roar of anger and gritted his teeth. The villain had escaped.

  He ran back down the steps and into the streets. The towns people stared curiously as he ran past them. He reached the town gate and seized the guard’s attention with his look of urgency. “Has anyone gone out of this gate in the last five minutes?”

  “No, Your Grace. No one.” The burly, bearded guard was all attention, his back straight and stiff as he waited for his master’s instructions.

  “Close the gate. Don’t let anyone out until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The man put his shoulder against the heavy door and pushed it closed then slammed down the huge crossbeam.

  Wilhelm stalked back to the castle to retrieve Shadow and to organize every available knight and soldier at his disposal into searching the town for Moncore.

  Rose screamed. She sat up in the bed, jerking her head first to the right, then to the left. Was it still in the room?

  Frau Geruscha burst in. “What is it?”

  “Do you see it?” Rose’s terror was so strong she could taste bitterness in the back of her throat. “It was just here. Did you see it?”

  “What, Rose? See what?”

  “Something was here, right here by my bed. I saw it!”

  “What did it look like?”

  Rose shuddered. “It was a small, white man, and I could see right through him. It was here. It looked me straight in the eye.”

  “Were you dreaming? Because nothing is here now.” Frau Geruscha searched the room as she spoke. “And your door was closed.”

  A dry sob escaped her. “I know not. I only know I was terrified. Oh, I’m so tired of these nightmares.”

  “It’s time we took some stronger action.” Frau Geruscha narrowed her eyes, looking ready to do battle. “Hold my hand and say these words with me. ‘In the name of Jesus, I command all evil spirits to leave this room and never return.’”

  Rose took her hand and repeated the words with Frau Geruscha. After saying them, she felt a measure of peace. She told herself that Jesus was more powerful than any demon. But her skin still crawled at the thought of being alone in her room again. “Can I sleep with you, in your bed tonight?”

  “Yes, my dear. In fact, tomorrow I’ll find a servant boy to come and move your bed into my room.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  Moncore waited in his dark, dank cellar for night to fall. He
cursed and gnashed his teeth at the voices in his head. Now that he had been seen, his plans would have to be moved up. He couldn’t wait. Lady Salomea would be brought out of hiding in two weeks. He had to act sooner, before he was found out and captured.

  You’re a failure if you don’t get this right.

  Sometimes he hated the voices. But they were always there for him, always supporting him in his goal of revenge.

  No one respects you. If you don’t want to be a blighted failure, you must kill Duke Wilhelm.

  Moncore didn’t argue with the voices, as he knew they were right. After all, the spirits of darkness were in a position to know everything, weren’t they?

  He remembered the monk, Gustav, who had befriended him and given him a place to sleep when Moncore was a boy. Gustav told Moncore that his voices were lies, of the Devil. But Moncore felt the voices had chosen him, an orphan with few prospects for the future. They helped him learn to place curses, to enforce his will on those he didn’t like. They gave him power. So he gave himself over to them. In turn, they helped him ascend to a level of respect in the household of the Duke of Marienberg when the old man was still alive. But his son piously cast Moncore out.

  It was that Geruscha’s fault. She convinced him my services were evil.

  But finally revenge was in sight. He’d located Duke Godehard’s only daughter, had even fooled that simpleton family she’d been living with into leading him straight to her. Very soon, he would send powerful demons to possess her and completely destroy her sanity. Then he would kill Geruscha and Wilhelm, taking special pleasure in exterminating the annoying man who had kept him on the run and hiding these last seventeen years, interfering with his work as a conjurer to the rich nobility.