by Cate Dean
He looked at her, defiant and scared. Claire met his eyes, hoping that what he just told her was not some smooth lie. “Annie—please bring me the pile of papers on the desk. Wait until I tell you to hand them to me.”
She watched Annie sprint to the desk and gather up all the correspondence she had pulled out of Juliet’s secretary, then turned to Daniel. “Move one inch while she is passing the papers to me over the salt, and I will drive this poker straight through you.”
“Understood, witch.”
It hurt that they were back to the barely contained animosity. Even as she suspected Daniel, she still liked him, wanted him to be innocent. Keeping her gaze on him, the tip of the poker leveled an inch from his chest, she held out her free hand, careful not to cross the salt. Annie laid the papers in her open hand and backed away quickly.
Daniel didn’t even blink.
Glancing up at him every couple of seconds, Claire scanned the other correspondence. Every single one had the sprig of lavender, sometimes cleverly worked into her name, other times a small drawing at the end of the note or letter.
“Have I passed your damn fool test, witch?”
“I’m sorry. I had to know, before I left my power wide open.” She broke the salt circle with her foot and stepped away from Daniel. He glared at her as he stood, as he walked past her, finally freeing her from that vengeful, powerful gaze. Her next words stopped his furious stride. “Someone was meant to find that note, Daniel.”
He swung around—and disappeared, reappearing in front of her, so close she almost stumbled backward. His hand caught her wrist, his icy grip burning into her skin.
“I would seek to learn who wrote it, from one who would know.”
He studied Claire, like she already had the answer...
“Oh,” she whispered. “You think—”
“I do. Which means she has known, all these years, who murdered my Juliet.”
Annie cleared her throat. “Care to let me in on the joke?” Claire held out her hand, and pulled Annie down to whisper in her ear. “Holy sh—” She cut herself off, and met Claire’s eyes. “How?”
“Just as we did with Daniel. A trap.”
ELEVEN
Rage and grief burned through Daniel as he waited for the trap to spring.
How? How could she stand by and watch Juliet walk to her own death?
Her transparent figure appeared in the bedroom doorway, and he watched her drift over to the secretary before he blocked the way out. Behind him, he felt the noxious salt as Claire sealed them in. Neither would leave until he had the truth.
Emily turned, one hand at her throat. “Daniel? Why are you—I thought—”
“That I had been removed from the game? Claire doubted enough to question me first, before she believed that I lied to her, and murdered Juliet.”
He shot across the room, so fast Emily did not have time to do more than stare. She tried to disappear, but he was ready for her, and dumped the bag of salt he held, trapping them both in the corner. Even with the bag doubled, the salt still burned him, and he felt heat under his skin for the first time in two hundred years.
“Daniel—what are you—”
“I want the truth, Emily. Neither of us will leave until I am satisfied.”
“You would stay, miss the chance to save your beloved Juliet?”
There it was—the anger he had expected. “I know you saw who wrote this note. That your jealousy condemned your own sister.”
“She was supposed to marry first! Instead, our father gave into her whining pleas, and I was forced into a marriage with a man I could barely stand to look at.” Emily lifted her chin, fire in her blue eyes. “I blamed Juliet, for years. But we reconciled, and when year after year passed with no proposal, I knew she would become a spinster, and an outcast, despite her looks. I died with that knowledge as comfort, stayed to watch her live a solitary life. The years softened my animosity, and I enjoyed spending time with her, listening to her talk about her life, as if she knew I was in the room with her. I did love her, Daniel, before she met you.”
“Who wrote the note?” When she kept silent, he leaned in, bracing his hands against the wall. “Do not test me, Emily. I have lost everything that is dear to me, but I will give up my last chance to be with Juliet to condemn her murderer to Hell.”
Her eyes widened. “You would not—”
“If you refuse to tell me, I will leave you here, trapped. Tell me, and I will not have Claire send you the way of Juliet’s murderer.”
Emily stared up at him, silent for so long he nearly gave up. When he began to turn away, she spoke.
“It was Bea.”
Surprise left him speechless for several moments. “Juliet’s chaperone?”
“Aunt Beatrice has been jealous of Juliet from the beginning. She looked—happy, when she was writing it. I thought nothing of it then.”
“How could you not—”
“I thought it was another of her spiteful messages to Juliet! But now, after what you’ve told me, and that I was trapped here the night of her death, when I had always been able to wander freely—”
“Thank you, Emily. Claire!”
She strode into the bedroom, her power surrounding her like silver-shot gold light. “I heard. We don’t have much time. If this aunt has hated Juliet for so many years, that hate will give her more power than I had planned to face.”
Fear struck Daniel, hard and fast. “You do not mean to—”
“Walk away? I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it. Now, I know what I’m dealing with.” She pushed aside the salt trapping them. “Daniel—your hand.”
He looked down, and saw that simply holding the bag that contained the salt had left an angry burn on his palm. “It is nothing, Claire. I would rather you expend your energy for Juliet.”
“All right. Let’s go. I want some time before the main event.” She blinked, and looked up at Daniel. “That sounded like Annie.”
He could not stop the smile at her surprised expression. “She has influenced you more than you expected.”
“It’s hard not to like her.”
“You sound surprised.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t make friends. It has never been to my advantage.”
“You are an odd woman, Claire Wiche.”
“You are an annoying ghost, Daniel Sutherland. And I’m glad I met you.”
Another smile crossed his face, surprising him.
“The sentiment is mutual.”
“Let’s go free your Juliet.”
Daniel followed her, and prayed that his trust was well placed. If not, he may lose Juliet forever.
TWELVE
Annie watched Claire get ready for the—ejection? Banishing? She wasn’t quite sure what to call it, but she’d had too long to think, and now she was beyond scared and moving into terrified.
“—hand me that flashlight. Annie.” Claire’s voice burst into her oncoming panic attack. “Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”
“Terror. Panic. Unbelievably vivid images of me, you, dead on the floor.”
Claire held out her hand. “None of that is going to happen, not if I can help it. You don’t need to be part of this.”
“Don’t.” Annie dropped the flashlight into Claire’s hand and crossed her arms. “Don’t baby me because I’m freaking out a little. Okay, a lot. I wanted to be part of this. I need to, if I’m going to do more than just acknowledge the fact that I have power.”
“More power than you think.”
“I—what?”
“It shines around you, Annie. I will be happy to help you train, learn how to control it.”
“I—okay.” She wandered over to the table that held their hodgepodge of supplies.
Everything Claire asked for, that Daniel knew was in the mansion, was collected on the side table.
Now he stood in the corner, as far from the salt and iron as he could get and still be in the room. He looked appropriately dark
and brooding, with his shoulder length hair and long wool coat. Annie definitely saw the appeal—especially to a woman who had probably given up on marrying. Daniel Sutherland was Heathcliff, without all the emotional hang ups.
That distracted her from what Claire said about her power—for a minute.
She had always known she had some kind of—talent. Mom had been terrified that she had a tumor, so Annie tucked away her odd experiences, and became the little girl she thought they wanted.
Soon she forgot about the way she could float her toys across the room, and fell into the role of normal daughter. A role she loved, until she lost her parents, and everything that mattered to her. Walking into Claire’s store was the first thing she had done for the person she might have been. The person she wanted to be now.
She just hoped she had the courage for it.
“Midnight is approaching.” Daniel pushed away from the wall and stalked forward, looking at Claire. “Are you prepared, witch? The murderer will hold sway sooner than later.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Daniel—I think you should—”
The French doors blasted open and leaves flew into the room.
Daniel stepped in front of Claire and raised his arms, blocking the leaves. An angry shriek cut through the air, and Daniel doubled, falling to his hands and knees.
Annie darted forward. “Daniel—”
“Get—back—”
She ignored his weak order and crouched down next to him, Claire joining her on his other side.
“We’ll each take an arm.” She hooked her arm around his and pulled. Slowly, with Claire supporting his other side, they got him upright. “What happened?”
“Pain, like I have not felt since my death.”
Claire touched his chest. “Where were you stabbed?”
“Here.” He pressed his hand over his left ribcage. “I could not breathe, or move once I fell.”
“The knife punctured a lung. Is the pain still there?”
“I certainly hope so.” A cloaked figure stood at the blasted French doors. “I want your beloved to watch you suffer before she dies. Again.”
*
Daniel managed to get in front of Claire before the figure threw them against the far wall, taking the brunt of the blast. Claire caught him around the waist and eased him to the floor.
“Stay here,” she whispered. “You’ve done enough.”
“Juliet—ˮ
“I’m not leaving until she is free. I promise.” Claire stood and faced the cloaked figure. Black velvet billowed around her, revealing a busty, obviously female form. “You can stop hiding, Beatrice.”
A hollow laugh filtered out from under the deep hood. She pushed it back, her round, pretty face as solid as Daniel. “So, the cowardly Emily gave me up. I would have been her chaperone, if Juliet had not whined to her father about wanting to marry for love.” Long, smoky black coils spread out from under her cloak, slithering toward Claire, toward Daniel. Claire threw up a shield, aware that it would take more power than she could afford. She didn’t dare look for Annie, and betray her presence. “I was hired by my own sister to watch over her, keep her from running off with the first man she decided she was in love with.”
“Why did you kill her?”
“She taunted me!” Beatrice took a moment to calm herself, the ugly black trails of her power creeping back across the floor. “I could have married, had a family of my own. I am a good person, a kind person—except with her. She had a way about her that left me shaking with anger every time I was around her. When she boasted of her marriage to him,” she pointed at Daniel, “and claimed that I would be a spinster for the rest of my life, I could no longer restrain myself.”
“It must have been difficult, living in her shadow. That’s why you wrote the note.”
“The note—right.” That tripped Beatrice up, and Claire knew the story had been a lie.
“You wrote the note, and waited for her here the following night. She would have taken time after all, to decide to kill herself after losing the love of her life.”
“No—I—ˮ
“But it didn’t go as planned, did it? She fought you, and you were forced to kill her in a way that wouldn’t point to suicide. Did you know that Daniel was already dead?”
Beatrice lifted her chin. “Since I am the one who killed him, yes. Minutes before I killed his beloved Juliet.”
The angry snarl behind Claire told her she didn’t have much time, and she needed to keep Beatrice talking, keep her from marking the time. “Did you tell Juliet, before you attacked her?”
“Of course! What was the point, if she did not know she was alone in the world, and about to follow her precious Daniel? But the foolish girl did not believe, and fought me—ˮ She cut herself off as silver-shot light flared from the obsidian on Claire’s ring. Her gaze snapped up to the clock, and she smiled, an ugly smile. “You thought to distract me, until we passed the time for me to kill her. Clever, witch, but not clever enough.”
“Once again, Aunt Beatrice, you are wrong.”
Claire understood the flash of light when she saw Juliet in the doorway. A rich silver glow surrounded her, highlighted her delicate, beautiful face.
“Juliet...” Daniel’s raw whisper turned her, and the love that filled her clear blue eyes lodged tears in Claire’s throat. “My love.”
“Daniel. You came for me.” She stepped toward him, and stopped, her hands twisted together, as if she needed to force herself to keep from touching him. “I must finish this.”
“Not alone.” He used the wall to stand, the front of his pristine shirt dark with blood. “I will not leave you this time.”
She smiled at him, then turned to face Beatrice. “I was on my way here, as I have done every year since I can remember, always moving toward the library. But this time I was interrupted. This time, my sister Emily stepped in to warn me, wake me from my stupor.”
Emily appeared behind her, obviously frightened. But she met Beatrice’s furious glare.
Beatrice curled her lip. “You deserved the death you received, Emily. Slipping away like a coward, so you would not have to deal with the responsibility of motherhood.”
Emily flinched and stepped back, but Juliet moved to Beatrice, anger radiating from her.
“You have always been bitter, even before Mother asked you to be my chaperone.”
“Asked? You honestly believe I was asked? Your mother, my baby sister, ordered me to watch over you, paid me a pittance so I would never have the means to leave, and live the life I should have lived, with a man who could have loved me!”
She disappeared, her screeching voice echoing in the room.
Claire slumped against the wall, exhausted from the effort of keeping Beatrice from touching her mind, her heart. A cool hand closed over her shoulder.
“You did it, Claire.” Daniel smiled down at her. “Thank you.”
“Juliet had more to do with it than I did, and Emily as well.”
Emily moved forward, and Juliet gathered her into her arms. “Thank you, my darling sister.” She cradled Emily’s cheek. “I want you to go now. Be with your son. He will be waiting for you, missing you.”
“Juliet—ˮ
“We will join you soon. Go, Emily. You have earned your place.”
Emily kissed Juliet’s cheek. “I am sorry I stood by, when I could have tried to warn you. I knew that Beatrice hated you, that the hate was growing, every day that your wedding drew closer.”
“Thank you, but you know I wouldn’t have heard you. Oh, I knew you were with me. I felt your presence. But most of the time, I convinced myself it was fanciful wishing, because I missed you so much. Go, little sister. Daniel and I will see you there.”
Emily stepped back, fading as she was enveloped by a soft, warm gold light.
“Juliet—” Daniel caught the wall, his knees buckling, his right hand pressed to his chest.
“No, Daniel.” Juliet moved to him. “We are going
together. You need to hold on, my love, for a minute longer—ˮ
An ugly scream cut her off.
“I will take you to Hell with me, first!” Beatrice burst out of thin air and aimed the knife in her hand at Juliet’s back. “You will never see him again!”
Before Claire could move Annie sprinted across the library and threw herself in front of the knife.
“Annie!” Claire gathered her power, fear a knot in her throat when she knew she wouldn’t make it in time—
The knife arced straight at Annie’s heart—and froze, like it had caught itself in a—
Claire looked at Annie’s raised hand. She held the hunk of obsidian.
“You’re going to Hell all by yourself, you heartless, dried up bitch.”
Rage twisted Beatrice’s face. “You dare—ˮ
She raised the knife again, and Annie threw the obsidian at her.
The black stone drove into Beatrice’s chest. She dropped the knife and clawed at it, black smoke pouring out of the wound.
Annie stumbled backward. Claire caught her around the waist, holding her upright. They both recoiled when Beatrice started screaming. Claire knew what was about to happen; she hauled Annie back and stepped in front of her, just before the clawed hands appeared, reaching up through the floor.
They wrapped around Beatrice and dragged her down, into the floor. Her desperate screams echoed in the library long after she disappeared.
Annie sagged behind her, and Claire turned to catch her before she collapsed.
“What were you thinking?”
Annie met her eyes, so pale Claire expected her to pass out any moment. Instead, she took a few deep breaths.
“I didn’t want her to win.”
“You could have been killed.” The fear Claire had felt when she saw Annie leap in front of that very solid knife swept through her again. “What made you think you wouldn’t be hurt?”
“Oh, I knew there was a good chance I’d be hurt. I just believed that the obsidian would do what it was supposed to do, and that good would triumph, blah blah blah.”