One Haunted Evening (Haunted Regency Series Book 1)

by Ava Stone

  What a fool he had been to tell her that he would have nothing to do with her if she were a real witch. Even as he had uttered those words, a part of him knew the truth. On one level it was frightening. Yet on a clearer and larger level it was comforting. There was nothing evil about Brighid. She was all that was good and light, and she was about to battle, if that is what one called it, a great evil. He had no doubt that she would somehow have to fight Mary Routledge to get Miss Eilbeck back.

  Brighid hadn’t said that there would be a confrontation, but the ghost had taken the young woman and he surmised she would not give her up without a fight, which left Brighid with the task of seeing it done. Blake’s main concern was how dangerous this would all be for Brighid. Could she be harmed? What if Mrs. Routledge took her, then where would they be? He hadn’t the foggiest idea what would need to be done. He couldn’t even read the blasted books.

  He clenched his jaw to keep from speaking. Brighid needed to concentrate, but all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and beg her not to do whatever she was planning. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not when they had a chance at a future. Yet, he knew no matter how much he begged, she would fight to get her friend back, even if she were harmed in the process. All he could do was stand by helplessly and watch.

  Damn and blast! Why hadn’t he just taken her when he was twenty-five? They would have had a few years together already. He wouldn’t have sailed away and gotten malaria and they wouldn’t even be in this damned castle now.

  He corrected the thought. No doubt Braden would have invited him here, so they would have ended up here anyway and Brighid would be doing exactly what she was doing right now. The difference was, they wouldn’t have had the wasted years.

  “Here we are,” came Quent’s affable voice.

  Blake jerked toward the door. Quent stood at the threshold with Braden, the magistrate and the vicar’s daughter right behind him. What the hell were they all doing here? This was no time to disturb Brighid. He rose, moving to stand in front of the door to keep anyone from coming in.

  Quent beamed at Brighid and touched his cheek. “My eye is much better thanks to you.”

  “I am glad to hear it, Lord Quentin,” Brighid replied softly.

  Braden brushed past his brother and his gaze swept over Blake as though he was trying to sort him out. Then Braden looked past him, leveling his eyes on Brighid. “Are you really a witch, Miss Glace?”

  She stood, stiffening at his words. Blake cursed himself for the many times he had called her the same.

  “Yes.”

  “And you can help me get Callie back”? Braden took a step forward but stopped mid-step. He pressed his hand against the opening of the herbarium but it would not go through.

  “What the devil!” Braden cursed. “Why can’t I get in there?”

  “It is not permitted,” Brighid answered. “You are blood of the castle.”

  Blake turned toward her. “He is what?”

  “Blood of the castle,” she repeated. “This room was sealed off by my great-grandmother to keep it safe.”

  “Safe from me?” Braden frowned.

  “Safe from any descendant of Mary Routledge. Her blood runs through your veins too, my lord.”

  “I was in there.” Quent frowned. “We have the same blood.”

  “Only because I led you in here. It was a mistake on my part, Lord Quentin. The room has been sealed once more. You won’t be able to enter it again.”

  Blake glanced back at Brighid. Why would she have Quentin Post of all people in her herbarium?

  “Unless Callie’s in there somewhere, I don’t care one whit about who can or cannot enter the damned room,” the magistrate snapped. “Can you find my sister or not, Miss Glace?”

  Brighid’s throat worked as she swallowed over what Blake assumed was a lump in her throat. Poor girl. It was bad enough her friend was missing, but to have these boorish men barking at her must have make it ten times worse. “I’ll do everything in my power to bring her back, Sir Cyrus.”

  Blake stayed with her all through the night and finally fell asleep, his head rested in his folded arms upon the table. What she wouldn’t give to sleep, but she didn’t have time. The books had given her some answers, but not all. And, there were still two more to read. The tomes were lengthy, handwritten by the ancestors before her, and not all of them had the neatest penmanship.

  Would she one day write spells and incantations into the book for her descendants to read? If she were successful in bringing Callie back, then she most certainly would. The concern lay in the if.

  Brighid blew out a sigh and slid the empty plate away. She had eaten enough hazelnuts to help with her magic that she was quite certain she never wanted to eat another again.

  But, books, spells, tea and hazelnuts weren’t the only thing that could help and as much as she should probably remain in the herbarium, she needed to leave. She tiptoed into the kitchen so as not to wake Blake and then rushed to the room she had been given to change into an appropriate dress for attending Sunday services. Mother always said, “Prayer comes before all else, and then rely on the gifts you have been given.” Brighid had never really understood until now.

  Before leaving the castle, she checked on Blake one last time. He still slept, so she left him and hurried into town. She normally attended the church in Tolbright with her grandmother and brother, Clive. It was the one Blake attended too, when he was in residence at Torrington, but that was nearly a half hour away, and further by foot. She just didn’t have that kind of time, so she decided to attend in Ravenglass instead.

  Many parishioners had already taken their seats when she slipped inside and found one of the few empty places. She clasped the cross at her neck, a gift from her father, and glanced up at the ceiling, waiting to be punished, but she wasn’t struck dead. Should she even be in a house of God? She was a witch. It didn’t seem conceivable, but mother and grandmother always prayed, so it must be so. And, pray was what she did.

  Brighid could recall nothing of the service, not words of the vicar or nor which hymns they’d sung because she spent the entire service in prayer. She begged for the answers to bring Callie back, prayed for her friend’s safety, and asked for comfort to all those who were worried.

  She hadn’t even been aware the service had come to an end until those around her began to stir, stand and leave the building. She probably should have paid better attention to the sermon, and requested it not held against her for being inattentive, but she really needed to pray more than anything.

  Brighid jumped when someone linked their arm with hers. She glanced up into the concerned eyes of Daphne. Her friend led her way from the others. “Have you remained at Marisdùn?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Brighid answered in a whisper.

  Daphne’s eyes bore into hers. “Is there any news?”

  Brighid glanced around to make sure nobody was near enough to hear. “No, but I am doing everything in my power to bring her back.”

  “Power?” Daphne seemed more interested in this statement than alarmed or surprised.

  Brighid pulled away. “I must go.” She ran away, back toward the castle before Daphne could question her further.

  Blake blinked and looked around the room. When had he fallen asleep and where was Brighid? Her books remained open on the table, the crystal was in the window, a dark mirror sat in the center of the table, and the fire had died in the hearth. He picked up the cup of tea. It was cold.

  “Ah, I see that you are awake.” Brighid breezed into the room.

  He pushed his fingers through his hair. Maybe she had just gone up to freshen and change her gown. “Where were you?”

  “Church.” Brighid removed the bonnet from her head and tossed it onto an empty stool.

  “Church?” He couldn’t believe she would leave the castle at a time like this.

  Did witches even attend church? He assumed that was the last place they would want to be.

  “I alw
ays go on Sunday mornings.” She drew off her gloves and set them beside the bonnet. “Besides, I needed to pray.”

  He should have been at her side, not sleeping. Besides, it certainly couldn’t hurt to pray himself.

  “Have you eaten?”

  He blinked. She should be exhausted. Why did she seem so bright and chipper? He wished he could crawl into a bed and sleep for a few hours, and he had gotten some rest.

  “I’ll have cook prepare something.” Blake rose from the stool and walked around the table, pausing at her side. “Did you find the answers after I drifted off?”

  Her smile faltered. “No.”

  Blake caressed her arm, wanting nothing more than to draw her into his arms. “You will.”

  She gave a quick nod but turned away. Brighid may have seemed in good spirits when she entered the herbarium, but she remained troubled. He returned to the hearth and lifted the tea kettle. “I’ll bring more water as well.”

  Brighid offered a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  As she moved around the table and resumed her place in front of the books he could only watch, his heart going out to her. Everything rested on her shoulders and there was nothing he could do but try to take care of her.

  Brighid pushed back from the table, exhausted beyond anything than she had ever experienced before. She had been awake for almost two days. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever find the answers or if she even understood what she was reading because she was so tired. That is, when her eyes weren’t blurry from lack of sleep and she could actually read, but she had managed to read all the tomes and hopefully now had the answers. “I know what needs to be done.”

  Blake grasped her hands in his. “Will it work?”

  So much concern in those green depths was almost her undoing. She blinked so as not to let the tears fall. “I don’t know.”

  “You should rest.”

  Yes, she should, but not yet. “I must do something first.” She walked to the small window and glanced out. The moon had moved to the western part of the sky. There was enough brightness outside and the moon was nearly full, which gave her hope. If only it was at its fullest, then she would have its power to draw from, but according to the charts, it wouldn’t be full until November first, and if she didn’t get Callie back before the sun rose on that day, it would be too late.

  No, she mustn’t think like that. She would get Callie back. She had to get her back.

  Taking the black cloth and the crystal from the ledge, she started for the door leading to the kitchens and stopped. “I can’t go out there yet.”

  Blake rushed to her side. “Why?”

  “I fear Mrs. Routledge will see what I am about. She mustn’t know or it will never work.”

  “What won’t work?” Blake demanded.

  She blew out a breath and turned to Blake. “To claim a spirit we must give one up.” It sounded even scarier when spoken than it had in her mind.

  “I don’t understand,”

  Brighid sighed, setting the crystal and cloth onto the table. “All of the spirits in the castle were brought here because of a séance that Mrs. Routledge performed. They were left wandering about, not free to return from whence they came.” He would think her mad if she continued, but it was written in the tomes and the ceremony had been performed once before—over a century ago.

  “Why did she do this?”

  Brighid blinked at him. “I truly do not know, only that she did. This upset my great-grandmother and the two had words and my family was banished.

  Blake rubbed the bridge of his nose and blew out a breath. He must be as exhausted as she was, yet he remained with her to the early morning hours. “You should sleep.”

  His head jerked up and he grasped her hand in his. “Not until you do.”

  A smile pulled at her lips. It was sweet and kind of him and she did draw on his strength. Each time he touched her, a part of her was renewed, as if he were the life to her magic. Mother had told her that she would recognize her mate, the man she was destined to love; by the way he fed her magic. Brighid had not understood what she meant until now. She just wasn’t certain he would remain when this was over. Nobody wished to be married to a witch and for her to fully realize her magic; they would need to become one.

  She shook the thought from her mind, now was not the time to think of such things. She needed to get Callie back. Her mind couldn’t remain muddled as it was. The kettle still hung above the burning embers of the fire and she prepared another cup of tea. Once she was finished with what needed to be done, she would brew chamomile to help her rest.

  “If your great-grandmother was banished, how is it that you and your mother came to be here?”

  Brighid blew on the hot liquid. “After Mrs. Routledge was gone, there was no one to keep my family from returning and the servants liked having us here.”

  Blake pushed his fingers through his hair. “I never really believed Mrs. Routledge disappeared until recently. I thought the woman had run off and her husband concocted the entire story to save himself from the humiliation.”

  Brighid giggled. Goodness she was tired. This was not a story to be laughed at, but she knew there were many who wished to make up a believable tale they were comfortable with instead of acknowledging the truth. “There is a spell, though it hasn’t been used in a very long time, to bring someone back that was taken.”

  “Why didn’t they do the spell for Mrs. Routledge?”

  Brighid shrugged. “Perhaps they didn’t want her back or maybe my great-grandmother was still angry at her, or too stubborn. I don’t know.”

  “So tell me, what must happen?”

  She drank the rest of her tea, letting it seep into her being, closing her eyes, renewing her mind in hopes of bringing further clarity. After a moment, she answered. “To get back one who has been taken, you must send one on who can never return.”

  “You plan on sending Mrs. Routledge on?” Blake asked with alarm.

  “She is the one who caused the mischief. It isn’t safe to leave her wandering about.” She set her cup aside as another giggle escaped. “Or, I could send Blythe Tucker away. That would give me great pleasure.”

  Blake chuckled. “You did very well in banishing her from my chamber.”

  “It was only temporary, I’m afraid.”

  He walked around the table and pulled her into his arms. “Do I note a bit of jealousy?” He winked. “You were rather put out at finding her in my bed.”

  She turned away, unable to look him in the eye. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Blake Chetwey, and you didn’t think of me as anything but a witch in the woods. Yes, it hurt to see you with her, knowing you would never wish for me in that way.”

  He chuckled again and pulled her against him until her head rested on his chest. “Oh, Brighid, had I listened to my heart long ago, we would be married by now with at least a child or two of our own.”

  She smiled, his heartbeat strong in her ear. It was a comforting vision; one she feared would never come to be.

  His heart warmed at the thought of raising children with Brighid. Little girls with midnight hair and grey eyes, tending plants and casting spells. Their sons would play in the woods outside of Torrington Abbey, pretending to slay dragons or sailing away as pirates. The picture was so vivid in his mind that he needed it to be real.

  He rubbed his hand up and down her back, offering what comfort he could. She sighed and snuggled against him. “How will you banish her?”

  “At the portal.”

  A chill ran through him. “Is that safe?”

  She wound her hands about his waist but said nothing.

  Blake pulled back and looked down at her. “Is it safe?”

  “I’m not certain.” She slowly lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “Powerful black magic opened it.”

  “Why not just close the damn thing. Seal it off. Put all the spirits in there and close the damn thing for good.”

  Her smile was weak as she pulle
d away. “I could try but we would lose Callie.”

  She wasn’t a ghost yet, was she? Blake tried to understand, but it was all so confusing.

  “There is a spell to put everyone back and close it for good, but more than one witch is needed for a task so large. I am not even sure I am strong enough to send just one spirit through.”

  As he knew of no other witches, it couldn’t be done.

  “My grandmother and mother were going to try and close the portal, but grandmother died before it could be done. My mother was waiting until I was old enough, but she died too soon, so it has remained open.”

  “What were they waiting for? Why couldn’t your mother and grandmother just see that it was done?”

  “It can only be accomplished from the first moment of Samhain through sunrise on the first of November,” she explained. “There are only about thirty hours each year when the spell can be cast and be successful. We could try this year, but in doing so, if we don’t have Callie back, we risk her disappearing for good.”

  Blake scrubbed his face. That was something Braden would never stand for so they would need to dismiss the possibility.

  “As Mrs. Routledge took Callie, it is my hope that if we can rid ourselves of her, Callie will be released to return to us.”

  “How soon would we know?”

  Brighid shrugged. “I don’t know. What is certain is that I must close the portal after Mrs. Routledge is through or we risk her returning.”

  “So the other ghosts will remain for good?” He needed to make sure he understood, though he wasn’t certain he did.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Blake pulled her back against him and kissed the top of her head. “Could I lose you in this?”

  When she didn’t respond, his arms tightened. “Could I lose you?” he asked with more force.

  “I don’t believe so, but it does scare me. What if I am not strong enough?”

  He would see that she was strong enough, even if he had to hold onto her himself. “You should rest. You will need sleep before you do what is necessary.”