“Teach me more about these witches,” I said softly. “I want to understand your battle with them.”
He gazed at me for a moment, eyes narrowed, then he held out a hand to me. I accepted it, unfolding my legs and stepping to my feet as gracefully as I could manage. He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm as neatly as any gentleman and led me forward. With his free hand, he opened the other door - the one that did not lead to the kitchen.
We stepped into a dark room, and Theo let go of my arm to fumble for a moment with a lamp set into the wall. When the sudden bloom of light burst into life, I gasped. The room around me was small enough in floor plan, an exact match for the kitchen. But it towered above me for two stories, with every inch of the wall covered in bookshelves, ladders reaching up into the darkness. A narrow gallery hung above our heads, presumably reachable from the upper storey. Who would ever have guessed that a humble little cottage held such treasure?
I drifted forwards, pulled almost magnetically towards the books. Some were titles I recognised - scientific works, philosophical treatises. Others, I had never seen before, while yet more seemed to be handwritten works. Diaries, perhaps, or collections of letters. And such a jumble of languages - Latin, Ancient Greek, French, German, Italian. More languages, many that even I could not read. Something Scandinavian, great tomes in Arabic, strange languages that looked like nothing I had ever seen before. I had thought myself educated, perhaps the best educated young lady in the country, but this library was beyond even my grasp.
I turned to Theo, a Byzantine text on magic clutched in my hands.
“What is this, Theo? What are you?”
“This is my family library,” he said, looking down at the book in my hands. “We keep it here, hidden, where our enemies will not think to look. Those books contain all the knowledge we have collected on the evil that is magic.”
“All magic is evil?” I ventured. “Can it not be used for good?”
Theo shook his head sharply. “Magic is a deep evil in the soul. Even those who begin with the purest of intentions will quickly slip, tumbling into a darkness from which there is no escape. We study these books only to identify magic and root it out. Never to practice it or learn from it.”
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Such anger, such hatred. There were many more sides to Theodoric Amberson than I had first realised.
“But enough of that,” he said, evidently realising that he had cowed me somewhat. “I did not bring you in here for the books, strange as that may sound. I have something else to show you.”
A large desk stood in the middle of the room, a wooden cabinet beside it. Opening the cabinet, he pulled out a series of long, slim chests, which I assumed to be map chests. Geography was not my primary area of interest, but I owned a number of extensive properties. Daniel had impressed upon me the importance of understanding my lands through the careful study of maps. These cases, delicately carved out of a dark wood, were as fine as any held in my own study.
When Theo laid the first map out on the desk, I recognised the area depicted.
“Killston Hall! See, there is the driveway and the house, and there the abandoned wing. Here, the inn. And… where is this cottage?”
“You will find this house on no maps,” Theo said. “But we are here, lying on the straight line that passes through both the Hall and the stone circle which is marked here.”
“A perfect straight line?”
Theo nodded. “Killston Hall was built on an old place of power, as was the stone circle. My grandfather linked into that power when he built this house. It serves as protection.”
I frowned. “Magic protects this house? But you said magic is always evil.”
“No, not magic,” Theo said, shaking his head as he peered at the map. “Magic is carried in the blood, borne by witches and their offspring. This power is drawn from the earth, older than humankind itself. It is neither good nor evil. It just… is. That is why Killston Hall could be defended so well against witches - but also why they had power to draw upon once they found a way inside.”
I did not want to think any more of those long fingers and blank faces in the fog.
“Do you have any more detailed plans of the Hall?” I asked Theo hopefully. Perhaps I could gain something useful from my time here. But he shook his head.
“I’d not identified it as a special place of interest before I agreed to take you there and realised what was going on. I’d only ever visited once or twice before. My grandfather’s collection has almost nothing on the house. It came as something of a shock to realise that it was the place he had chosen to trap the witch queen’s body.”
I tried not to look too disappointed as he unrolled another map.
“But this one shows the route I think we should take to get you to the inn. Look, these coloured lines show where the witches’ influence is likely to be strongest.”
I squinted at the map, trying to decipher all the swirling lines and multiple colours.
“The roads mostly seem clear,” I ventured.
“Well spotted. Many of the roads in this area also draw on old power. Some of them were built by the Romans, and others are older still. Not all roads are safe, though, so take care. It’s only the old ways that offer you any kind of protection.”
“That’s why we had to get back to the road on the first day,” I said, awareness dawning. “We truly were safer there.”
“Exactly. The roads aren’t safe like this house is, but witches are weaker there. It can make all the difference.”
We sat and pored over the maps for a few hours longer until the room filled with long shadows. Theo stretched and sat upright, yawning as his arms straightened over his head.
“I’ll find more food,” he said. “You must be hungry. My apologies for not thinking of it sooner.”
“I am quite well,” I assured him politely. But my stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly, and we both laughed. I met his eyes, twinkling with his smile. He certainly was a handsome man.
“I won’t be long,” he promised, and left the room. I gazed around the library for a few moments, wondering what wisdom I could learn here. But Theo did not know the full extent of my studies, and I suspected things were best left that way. So I slipped out after him, closing the door behind me. I poked the fire back to life, admittedly incompetently, and once again settled on the sofa, waiting for my host to produce food.
We ate a surprisingly adequate dinner - Theo clearly kept this house provisioned even while he was away. In fact, why had he accepted my uncle’s offer of room and board when he had his own home? Had he worried so much about my safety? I felt a glow of warmth at the thought.
Theo offered me a bottle of wine as we started our main course (he had somehow managed to produce a soup to begin), and I accepted automatically. The first sip came as something of a surprise - wine so good that I smiled in appreciation and then froze. I was one of the wealthiest women in England, with tastes to match. How did a man like Theo come by wine that even I recognised as superior?
I glanced at him under my lashes, but he seemed focused on laying out the food, with no notice paid to my reaction. Had he stolen this wine? Still, I would not turn my nose up at such an excellent beverage, so I drank my first glass with no comment.
Theo’s eyes kept meeting mine as we ate. I delicately wiped my lips, blushing as I felt him watching me. His gaze seemed overly warm, leaving me too nervous for even my usual polite conversation. As the meal drew to a close, and we laid down our knives and forks, I fumbled for something to say.
“Perhaps another bottle of wine would be in order?”
He raised an eyebrow at that, but did not disagree. He pulled up one of the flagstones to reveal a small storage space under the kitchen floor and produced yet another bottle of excellent wine. To my disappointment, I had been unable to see what else that storage space held.
We returned to our sofa, where Theo did a rather better job of building the fire, until I
sat wrapped in a blanket of warm air, Theo a solid presence at my side. I sipped at the wine, delighted I had suggested the second bottle.
“You’re a very handsome man, you know,” I told Theo absently, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. He smiled at me.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Lady Lily.”
“So everyone tells me,” I said, frowning. I took another healthy swig of wine. My glass seemed almost empty already. “But I often suspect I am, in truth, merely a very wealthy woman.”
Theo gripped my chin with gentle fingers, tilting my head so I was looking straight up into his eyes. Almost afraid to move, I lowered my glass until it rested on the floor.
“You’d be beautiful in a dress made of sackcloth,” he said, his voice hoarse. His face was so close to mine, so tantalisingly near. I shifted forwards the tiniest bit, so I could feel his breath hot on my skin. He moved the final inch, his lips crushing against mine so desperately that I gasped. My fingers finally crept into his hair, brushing back those messy locks as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close against him.
He broke from my lips for a second, his kisses hot along my neck and across my collarbone, then he grabbed me again in a kiss that knocked my breath from my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck, wriggling about on the awkward sofa, trying to get as close to him as possible. I felt his arm shift, then he had one arm under my knees and another behind my back as he lifted me effortlessly onto his lap, never breaking the kiss.
He carried me upstairs, my knees bumping against the wall, his lips still on mine. He lowered me to the bed, his arms braced either side of me - and then he seemed to wake up.
“We should stop,” he said, pulling away from me. “I should stop.”
His voice was low and rough, his eyes full of unshed tears.
“Stay,” I said, reaching up to grasp his hair and pull him back down. He resisted for a moment, hovering a few inches above me, gazing down at me.
“You don’t need me in your life,” he whispered, brushing a light kiss across my lips.
“Maybe not,” I agreed. “But I want you.”
I tugged harder, pulling his face against mine as I arched upwards, his lips crashing into mine, our hips wedged together.
“I want you,” I whispered again, my voice soft against his skin, my fingers wrapped tightly in his hair.
He moaned softly into my mouth, his hands already on my legs as my nightdress pooled around my hips. My shawl was long gone.
I had worn no stockings with my night dress, so his hands were hot on my bare skin, sliding higher and higher. Past my knees - no pantaloons, either, and I heard him gasp as he realised how little I was wearing. I tugged at his shirt, my fingers desperate. He fumbled at the buttons with one hand, the other arm still braced on the bed, his hand on my skin.
He pulled the shirt off and I gasped to see him, tanned as a farm hand, strong and dusted with freckles. I kissed across his collarbone, loving the way he moaned at the touch of my lips. Then his face was against mine again, his hand in my hair as he pulled me closer to him.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, but I kissed him again instead. Then I felt his hands along my spine, hot as fire through my nightgown, and the little buttons of my dress gave way. I let it fall, the fabric slipping off my shoulders. Now it was his turn to gasp, to kiss, to touch me all over as I let my head fall back in sheer ecstasy. He pulled off the last of my dress. The air was icy cold on my skin for a second, but he covered me with his own body. His skin was smooth and warm on mine, his weight heavy between my thighs as he kissed me harder.
I could barely think now, could scarcely breathe through the want.
“Tell me now,” he whispered, but I bit his lip.
“Don’t stop,” I told him fiercely, and he thrust, his body sliding inside mine in one glide. I gasped hard against his throat, twisting and writhing in the sheer beautiful agony of it. His body was bliss, every feeling like sparks of fire flooding out through my veins until I couldn’t hold in the pleasure and it all poured out in a scream. And he didn’t stop moving, relentless and desperate, murmuring beautiful words against my neck and face as he grasped my hips.
When he finally stilled, shuddering against me, I wrapped my arms tightly around him and kissed the smooth sweaty skin of his neck. He kissed me gently on my lips, both of us silent. His kind hands tugged the blanket over me as he rolled to wrap me in his arms, and together we drifted off to sleep.
Temptation
I awoke alone in an icy-cold bedroom. Shivering, I clutched the blanket to my chest and sat up. Where was Theo?
I fumbled to put on my nightgown, wishing for not the first time that it had buttons anywhere rather than the back. I did not see my shawl anywhere, so I wrapped the blanket around me in its stead and tiptoed downstairs. I passed no mirror, for which I was grateful; my hair must be a terrible, tangled fright. No Theo downstairs, either. Not even in the kitchen or library. I frowned. Why would he have gone out? Perhaps to see his sister and inform her of his plans?
I filled the kettle from the water butt in the kitchen and set it neatly on the stove. It took me a little longer to light the fire, as I fumbled with the kindling. At last, I had the water bubbling, and I felt more in control of my situation.
Had last night been a terrible mistake? Almost everyone I knew would tell me yes - but I could not bring myself to regret it. I felt safe with Theo, and something more than that. Any time spent getting closer to him seemed time well spent. Besides, I thought, smiling to myself, it had been pleasurable in other ways as well.
As the kettle boiled, I peered out of the kitchen window, wondering if Theo was perhaps in the yard outside. It was still early morning, judging by the soft pink light that rimmed the edge of the clouds. Why would he leave when dawn had barely broken? I bit my lip. What if he already regretted last night and hadn’t wanted to face me?
Determined to find him, I pulled open the kitchen door and stepped out into the muddy yard beyond, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. My bare feet sank into the earth as I looked around. It was a viciously cold morning, the kind of crisp, chill day that only comes as autumn draws on. The surrounding bracken had begun collapsing into dead copper swirls, the last of the summer green soon to vanish from the moors. It was oddly still, barely a breeze shaking those feathery heads. I shaded my eyes with my arm as I squinted out over the low stone wall and across the sweep of moorland beyond. Where was Theo?
“We thought we’d find you here, little sister.”
I swung around, my tongue thick and heavy with dread. Leaning against the wall on the far side of the house, her smile bright and confident, stood Mrs Pender.
“Stay away from me,” I said, stumbling back towards the door, and she laughed.
“Don’t worry. I can’t cross this wall. Not yet. But I didn’t come to hurt you. I’m afraid you’ve entirely misunderstood. My sisters and I, we want to help you.”
I shrank further away, reaching for the door handle.
“I don’t believe a word you say. Theo told me all about you. Stay away.”
“We can help you find that stone you so desperately seek,” Mrs Pender said, her eyes blazing bright. Without her cap, and with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, she looked wild and powerful like no woman I had ever seen.
“What do you want?” I asked her. “I don’t believe you would ever help me.”
But my mind was not so calm as my voice. Did she speak the truth?
“You are more like us than you realise,” she told me, watching me closely. How had I ever thought her a plain, middle-aged woman?
“Leave now,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “If you are still here when Theodoric returns, you will regret it.”
“He is not your saviour, you know,” Mrs Pender said. “Put all your trust in him and it will be you who regrets it. We understand you far more than he ever could.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, grasping the door handle more firm
ly.
She laughed, a loud, eerie sound that echoed across the moors.
“You plan to raise the dead and still think you have nothing in common with my kind? What a fool you are.”
Why had I listened to her even for a moment? Of course she didn’t have the stone. She knew nothing about it! No doubt she'd read my notes while snooping through all my possessions at Killston Hall. She was just a mad, angry woman. Here in the daylight, I struggled to even feel afraid of her as I had in the darkness of the Hall.
“I am staying with Theo,” I told her. I stepped inside the house and slammed the door shut behind me. My heart was beating fast, and I tried to calm myself. If she could hurt me, she would surely have done so by now. But when I glanced out of the kitchen window, fog had begun to rise on the moors. Mrs Pender was gone. The yard of the house still stood clear of fog, but I had no doubt it would be thickest on whatever path Theo most needed to take. Where was he?
I wanted to help him, but my rational brain told me I would be a hindrance more than a help. How many times had he already rescued me from this unearthly fog? Instead, I levered up that loose flagstone in the kitchen, and found myself a bottle of wine from what turned out to be a collection of dozens. I worked the cork out with a sharp little knife and sat down beside the fire. My shawl lay on the sofa, but I felt no need to replace the blanket. I had no idea where our glasses from the previous night had gone, and I did not much care. I drank the wine from the bottle, hugging it against me as I waited.
Where was Theo?
I couldn’t bear to look out of the window. If I only saw thicker fog, my heart would break. He couldn’t leave me here all alone! Where was he?
Witchfog Page 10