by Ava Stone
Chetwey scooped the girl up into his arms and bellowed for the others to make way. Then he started for the stone steps, leaving the rest of the assembled group staring at each other.
Quent made a direct path for Braden and whispered, “Are you all right?”
Braden was shaken, and his back ached like the devil, but none of that mattered at the moment. “Callie?” he whispered back. “Do you see her anywhere?”
Quent spun on his heels to glance around the dungeons, and Braden did the same. His heart sank to his toes when there was no sign of his beloved. He raced back to the hearth and peered down into it. Just a few ashes were inside, but nothing else. Was that the portal? Had Brighid Glace closed it without retrieving Callie first?
Braden stumbled forward, pressing against the bottom of the hearth. It couldn’t be closed. It couldn’t be! Not if Callie was still trapped on the other side. “Callie!” he bellowed, hitting the hearth with his fists until they were bloody. “Callie! Oh, dear God, where is she?”
The ground had shaken. There’d been a wind. A blazing ball of fire had shot into the air, for God’s sake. This had been their chance. This had been their one opportunity to save his Callie. And they’d failed. An anguished sob escaped him, he couldn’t help it. There was no way to keep his suffering silent.
The dungeons were deathly quiet when he finally lifted his head. His friends and the others assembled were all staring helplessly at him. There was nothing any of them could do.
Quent stepped forward a moment later and offered his arm to Braden. “Doctor Alcott left some laudanum.”
Laudanum! Quent’s answer to Callie being lost forever was to sedate Braden? “I don’t need any damned laudanum,” he growled.
“You’ve barely slept,” Quent said softly. “You need some rest, Braden.”
A gasp sounded behind him and Braden turned to find Mrs. Small gesturing to him. “Your back, my lord! You’re bleeding.”
He was?
Quent grasped Braden’s shoulder and turned him away so he could inspect his back. “Good God, Braden! You’re nearly shredded to pieces.”
“Shall I call for Dr. Alcott?” Alastair asked, coming around the table to join his friend.
“No,” Mrs. Small said, coming to her feet. “She’ll be fine. Let’s get her to her bed.”
Alastair wasn’t convinced. They’d lost one young woman to the ghosts already—he didn’t care to lose another.
Chetwey had the girl in his arms in but a moment, and was already carrying her off toward the stairs. Everyone was silent, probably as terrified and mystified as Alastair was. But desperate cries and groans drew all their attention to Braden. The poor man was going to go completely mad if Callie didn’t return soon. And frighteningly, his back was torn to shreds. It was Mrs. Small who pointed it out first, and despite Braden’s protests, Quent finally demanded she call for Dr. Alcott.
Morning light was just as depressing as the evening darkness had been. Braden had drained one entire bottle of whiskey, but it still hadn’t been enough to knock him unconscious. In retrospect, he probably should have used Doctor Alcott’s laudanum after all.
A scratch came at his door and he glared in that direction. There was no one he wanted to see today and no one who wanted to see him the way he was this morning. “Go away,” he called, his head pounding and the scratches across his back pulsing, as they had all night long.
“My lord,” came Mrs. Small’s voice through the crack in his door. “Sir Cyrus and Miss Southward are here. I’ve left them in the library.”
Braden’s heart twisted in his chest once more. How could he look Cyrus Eilbeck in the eyes and tell the man his sister was lost forever? “Very well.” He winced. “I’ll be right down.”
Damn it all. He should have brought his valet with him. It was bloody difficult throwing on a shirt with his back wrapped up like a mummy. Still, he managed to toss on a clean shirt and struggled into his waistcoat and jacket. A cravat he would do without, however. He didn’t have the patience or inclination to fight with the thing this morning.
He ran a quick brush through his hair, glancing briefly at his reflection. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes, he hadn’t shaved in two days, and his color was most definitely pale. “You’re a pretty sight,” he mumbled to himself as he turned on his heel and started for the corridor.
Party guests lined the hallways and people offered their morning felicitations. But Braden barely heard them, grumbling his greetings, wanting nothing more than to be past the people all together. He found his way into the library and heaved a sigh at the sight of Callie’s brother.
Sir Cyrus’s gaze dropped to his feet. “Mrs. Small said there was no word about Callie.”
Braden shook his head. “You don’t know how I wish otherwise, Eilbeck.”
“The portal is sealed?” Miss Southward asked, her grey eyes keenly focused on Braden.
He nodded as a lump lodged in his throat. “And I don’t know how we’ll get her back with it closed.”
At that moment, Quent strode into the room. He nodded towards the magistrate and smiled at the vicar’s daughter. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he began. “But Miss Glace seems to be stirring.”
The witch was stirring. Bloody wonderful. She hadn’t been a ton of help thus far, had she? “Unless she has Callie with her, I don’t care if I ever see Miss Glace again.”
Lila Southward gasped slightly. “I don’t know what happened last night, my lord, but I’ve known Brighid Glace all my life. So has Callie. I’m sure she’s only trying to help.”
“And we can use every bit of help we can get,” Quent added. “Tonight is the thirty-first, Braden. Mrs. Small says we can still get Miss Eilbeck back tonight when the veil is at its thinnest.”
So the portal was closed, but the veil would be thin enough to retrieve Callie? Was that what he was supposed to believe now? Braden heaved a sigh. Getting his hopes up was going to destroy his soul from the inside out. But, what other choice did he have?
A knock sounded on the door and then Doctor Alcott ushered his sister over the threshold of the library. The young doctor met Braden’s eyes and said, “How is your back this morning?”
It hurt like the devil, but Braden shrugged instead of saying so. “The only thing I’m focused on is locating Miss Eilbeck.”
Doctor Alcott agreed with an incline of his head. “Yes, you said as much last night. Many times. I still think you ought to take a bit of laudanum tonight. If you don’t get some rest, my lord, you won’t be any good to anyone, including Miss Eilbeck.”
“Oh good!” Quent said, striding into the library behind the pair. “You’re all here.” Then he was followed by Thorn, Wolf, and Garrick, whom Braden nodded towards in greeting. “Chetwey is bringing Miss Glace just now so we can sort out the plan for today.”
Alastair didn’t sleep a wink after the banishment. He stayed up the night, pacing the library with a glass of scotch in hand. Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one who had trouble sleeping. By four in the morning, most of them were pacing the study, waiting for something to happen—for Miss Glace to wake up or for Callie to reappear—but neither of those things happened.
As promised, Daphne arrived first thing in the morning, though her brother had arrived hours earlier to tend to the strange cuts on Braden’s back.
As soon as Daphne crossed the threshold into the library, Alastair rushed to her side and led her to a far corner of the library.
“Is it true she’s gone?” she asked once his arms were around her, holding her tightly against him. Damn, but she felt good. Perhaps he could have slept if she had been near him last night.
“It would appear so.” Alastair pulled back to look into his betrothed’s beautiful blue eyes. “But there’s been no sign of Miss Eilbeck. We have to wait for Miss Glace to awaken to tell us what to do now.”
Fear clouded Daphne’s eyes. “What if she never wakes?”
He wouldn’t allow her to believe that. Hell, he w
ouldn’t allow himself to believe that. She had to awaken. They had to find Miss Eilbeck.
Brighid blinked and opened her eyes. The room was dark with only a hint of light coming from the lamp. There was no window in the room so she had no idea of the time. Was it still dark? What had happened?
With a gasp, she sat up in the bed. She had summoned Mrs. Routledge and in the last moments Brighid looked into the hate-filled face of the ghost. It was so frightening she nearly stumbled. Had Blake not been holding her hand, she might have very well run from the room after such a frightening sight. Instead, Brighid had grabbed the poppet and tossed it into the hearth. Mrs. Routledge screamed in anguish as the flames devoured her spirit and pulled her down into the dark hearth. She remembered nothing else.
Frantically, she glanced about the room. She was in the sleeping chamber off of the herbarium. Where was everyone and how did she get in here? Pushing the blankets aside, she jumped from the bed and rushed out into the kitchens. Cook and the maids were busily preparing a meal. They were smiling and humming. A few nodded in greeting. The room even seemed brighter. Brighid glanced to the window. The sun was high in the sky. How long had she slept and where was Blake? Had something happened to him?
Heart hammering in her chest, she rushed into corridor and stopped. Most of the doors were open and there were people everywhere. Brighid grasped her throat and stumbled backwards. Everyone was here for the masquerade. Were they still going to have a party tonight? Had Callie come back? Why couldn’t she see anyone she knew or at least recognized from last night?
Oh, she hoped it was last night and not two nights ago. Unless Callie was safe, then it wouldn’t matter. But where were they?
A door opened further down the corridor. “I’ll check on Brighid.”
That was Blake. Relief swept through her as she hurried toward the sound of his voice.
“Did it work?” she cried when she came within sight of him.
“Brighid,” he uttered with surprise. “I was wondering if you would ever wake.”
“What happened?”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead before escorting her into a room that appeared to be a library. They were all there. Everyone who had been in the dungeon, with the exception of Mrs. Small was there. Also in the room were Lila Southward and Callie’s brother, Sir Cyrus, as well as Daphne Alcott and her brother.
Dr. Alcott lounged against the wall beside a window. “See, Chetwey, I told you she would awaken. Spells do tend to take a lot out of a person, especially if they are not accustomed to harnessing their magic.”
Brighid blinked at him in surprise. He merely chuckled. “I’ve always known, as did my father, Miss Glace. My father said that your mother once slept for an entire twenty-four hours.”
Daphne smiled and shrugged. Had she known too?
Brighid gasped, remembering what she was about. “What time is it? What day is it?”
“Shush,” Blake insisted, though it did little to calm her panic. “It is October thirty-first and it is barely two in the afternoon.”
She blew out a breath and then glanced about the room again. Nobody looked as if they wished to celebrate. In fact, Lord Bradenham seemed even grimmer than before. Not that she had seen all the much of him. “What happened?”
“The servants claim that you did rid the castle of my great-grandmother,” Lord Bradenham answered.
Laura poured a cup of tea and pressed it into her hand after Blake led her to a vacant seat.
“What of Callie?” She held her breath, already knowing the answer; if she had been found, Lord Bradenham wouldn’t seem so defeated, nor Lila pale or Sir Cyrus stern.
“She hasn’t emerged,” Blake confirmed.
“It is still the thirty-first?” she asked, needing assurance again.
“Yes,” Blake answered.
“Then we have time.”
“What do you now suggest, Miss Glace?” Lord Bradenham stood. “Mrs. Small assures me that if Callie is not back by midnight, all is lost.”
Goodness, he was rather frightening, but she couldn’t really blame the man for being upset. Callie had gone missing on his property and he was to have a party. This wasn’t a convenient situation for him at all.
She placed her tea on the table. “First, it does not have to be exactly at midnight, but before the sun rises tomorrow. However, the closer to midnight is better.” Brighid stood. “Lila, Daphne and Sir Cyrus, you should come with me.”
The three shared confused looks. “Where to?” Lila asked.
“Why?” Sir Cyrus demanded.
“You are closest to Callie. You might help me find her.”
Sir Cyrus focused on Lord Bradenham. “He is the one you need.”
Brighid frowned. Lord Bradenham was needed to get rid of his great-grandmother, not find a miss from Ravenglass. Did they even know one another?
“He is the one she loves.”
Her eyes widened. Goodness, what had she missed while tending to Blake?
“And I love her.”
This was certainly a story she wished to hear, but now was not the time. “Then you shall come as well.”
Blake stopped her with a hand on her waist. “Where are you going and what do you plan to do?” Worry etched across his brow.
“I must look into the crystal.” Certainly he understood.
“You need to rest more. Last night nearly killed you.”
“You would have me rest while my friend is missing?” He was mad. “I promise to sleep the day away tomorrow. This must be done now.”
She didn’t give him a chance to argue and marched out of the room, assuming the others followed. She met Mrs. Small in the corridor by a door leading outside. “Is it true, she is gone?”
Mrs. Small smiled brightly. “She is. Can’t you feel it?” She raised her hands up, as if weighing the air. “No more oppressive mood and the castle is bright. It has never been like this before.”
Brighid supposed that was true, but it was still too soon to celebrate. First, they needed to find Callie.
Blake stood numbly and watched her leave. What could he do? He couldn’t stop her. If he did, and she was unable to get her friend back, she would never forgive him. Further, Braden might never forgive him, but at what cost to Brighid? She was pale, her face drawn as if she were ill, yet she pressed on. Dammit, he would see that she remained in bed for the next week, even if he had to tie her to it. And, never again would he allow her to banish ghosts. Seeing her lay so lifeless had nearly frightened him more than the banishing itself. He could not live through that again.
Though he had not been asked, he followed after Brighid and the others. They may be more concerned with finding Miss Eilbeck, but someone had to watch over Brighid.
She stopped in the center of her garden and knelt before the crystal. “Daphne, you go first.”
Daphne followed Brighid all the way to the garden, her hand clasped with Lila Southward’s. This was all so very unnerving—it was good to have a friend to cling to. Not that Brighid wasn’t her friend, but she was rather preoccupied at the moment.
Somewhere in the middle of the garden sat a crystal, and Brighid stopped before it.
“Daphne, you go first.”
“What do I do?”
“Sit on the other side, close your eyes and think only of Callie.”
Daphne did as she was told. She knelt down on the opposite side of the crystal, closed her eyes and, with a deep breath, conjured an image of her dear friend in her mind.
After a couple of minutes, Brighid said, “The colors are shifting from lavender to blue but I cannot find an image.”
“I tried,” Daphne told her, trying not to feel like a complete failure.
Brighid smiled kindly at her. “I know. Now it is…” She turned to Callie’s brother. “Sir Cyrus, would you please do the same.”
He helped Daphne to her feet then settled on the ground. As with Daphne, he inhaled and closed his eyes. Once again, Brighid lea
ned to peer into the crystal. She frowned and tilted her head.
“What is it?” Braden demanded.
She blinked. “Nothing to be concerned with, I assure you. But, I didn’t see Callie.”
“This is ridiculous,” Lord Bradenham bit out.
“She got rid of your great-grandmother didn’t she,” Blake reminded him. “Trust her in this.”
“Lila, now it is your turn,” Brighid announced.
The young woman hurried over and took her place on the other side of the crystal.
Brighid breathed out and leaned in. A smile grew on her face as she studied the crystal. Finally, she sighed and pulled back. “We are getting closer. This time I saw white. It is an excellent sign.”
She turned, “If you don’t mind, Lord Bradenham?”
“Why am I last?” he demanded.
“Because she loves you and I thought to build the connection.”
He said nothing as he settled across from Brighid.
“Concentrate only on Callie.”
“That is all I’ve been doing for the past several days.”
“Braden,” Blake warned. His friend might be frustrated but it was no reason to take his anger out on Brighid. She was only trying to help.
“I apologize.”
Brighid waited for him to close his eyes before learning forward. Her eyes widened. “Oh, pink.”
Blake wanted to ask if that was good or bad, but held his silence, as everyone else did, allowing her to concentrate. She wasn’t frowning, so it must be a good sign.
She pulled slightly back. “Red.”
Was that worry in her voice? What did it mean?”
“Pink again, now white.”
Blake would have to ask what all of this meant when she was done. It might not matter at all, but he was of a curious nature.
Brighid gasped and leaned forward, concentrating on whatever it was she saw. A moment later she blinked and fell back. “She is gone.”
“Gone!” Braden barked. “I thought you found her. White, pink, red, whatever the devil all of that means.”