Chapter Sixteen
Catherine put up her hands, intending to fight off Mr. Thorn. That was her intention until he tangled his hands in her hair. It should not have but kissing him felt very right. She rested her hands against his chest. The taste of him was earthy. He parted her lips with little resistance, and the pressure of his tongue against hers was exotic and exciting. He held her close, his body wrapping around hers. Every sensible part of her was telling her to stop, this was not right, she was a married woman; her body responded in kind despite the apparent immorality of the situation. Then the kiss changed, it was no longer pleasure but pain. Burning fire was swirling in her gut and up through her throat. It scorched her tongue and erupted in Mr. Thorn. He jerked back from the first touch of flame, but he could not dislodge himself from Catherine. They were tied together by invisible bonds. He tried to scream, but it came out as a muffled wail. He pressed on her shoulders in an attempt to push her away, but he could not seem to dislodge himself from her. They were locked together in a burning inferno. Her skin felt as if it was blistering and her flesh was melting away. Moving her limbs caused excruciating pain.
With a great effort, she pushed him off. She fell to her knees, panting. Ray crumpled onto the ground beside her. For her, the burning sensation ended when they broke apart. For Ray, the torture was increased. He writhed on the ground in agony, clutching at his face and raking his nails across his flesh.
"I am being burnt from inside out!" he screamed.
What have I done! I kissed him, and now he is burning alive. This must be a punishment for my sin. Ray was wailing, a gut-wrenching sound. She had to do something to help him. Catherine looked about for something to cool him off with. She found a slop bucket hanging from the fence post above the feed trough. She snatched it up and ran it over to a nearby watering trough. She filled it up and carried it back over to Mr. Thorn and dumped the water onto him directly. His skin was red and feverish. The water did not seem to improve his condition. What do I do? What is happening to him?
She rocked from foot to foot, looking around the farm, expecting someone to come and take charge. She needed guidance, she had never dealt with something like this before; then inspiration struck. "I should call for Dr. Rowan."
"No!" he snarled, and it was a sound that was almost inhuman. He twisted around in the mud, and he appeared like some feral creature.
Catherine wrung her hands. Edward would know what to do. Edward was nowhere to be seen, and she did not know what else to do. He was delusional with pain. "I am going to find Edward, and he will help us get the doctor."
Catherine headed for the road, but before she could get a few feet, Ray called after her. "Do not involve Lord Thornton or I will tell him about our kiss."
Catherine turned back to him, and Ray had climbed onto his knees. He was shaking with the pain. His skin was pink and streaked with red veins bulging along his flesh. She could see from the set of his jaw he was remaining calm with a great effort. She felt conflicted. Though she did not know how, she was certain Mr. Thorn's current condition was her doing. I have to find him help, but if I go to Edward, he will tell him everything. What do I do?
She had no time to think. She could not even process their kiss or what it meant. She had to do something to help Mr. Thorn or he might die. "I cannot let you stay here like this," she said at last. "There has to be something I can do."
"Bring me home." He climbed to his feet, using the fence to the pigpen as a support. "I can treat this there."
"Back to Thornwood Abbey? That is kilometers away. I would need the coach or we would never make it."
He shook his head. "Not the manor. In there." He pointed a trembling hand towards the forest.
"You must be mistaken..." He cannot mean that. He is not in his right mind. She trembled like a leaf. This might be a trick to get me into the forest so he can take my heart. She looked from Mr. Thorn to the forest. It was looming above her. She saw shadows shifting about in the undergrowth and heard the urgent whisper of something that was waiting and watching. What if I am wrong and he can only be healed by the forest? Can I live with his death on my conscience?
"There's no time. I have to get into the forest or I will die, Lady Thornton." He held his hand in a pleading gesture.
She was never strong willed, and despite her fears, her resistance crumbled. Maybe if I can get him into the trees, he will feel well enough to let me go for help. She went and offered him a shoulder to lean upon, and they made their way haltingly into the forest. He was heavy, and she struggled to keep her feet under her. Muscles in her back and arms protested against the unfamiliar weight. From a distance the forest seemed overgrown, but as they approached, a pathway materialized from beyond the mist. When they were on the path, Mr. Thorn leaned less on her, giving her some reprieve. His skin remained feverish enough to burn when she touched him.
"I will leave you here and go for help," Catherine said as she led him over to a nearby tree, which she intended to prop him up against.
"You cannot leave me. Do you see? They are watching."
Catherine glanced up, and the shadows in the brush she had been trying to avoid had circled them. Their eyes glowed yellow from under shrubs and in between roots. She squeaked with fear, and the creatures tittered and rustled the leaves on the bushes and trees. She saw tiny figures hopping from branch to branch and skittering about just out of sight.
"Leave me here and it will be the last you see of me."
Would I be safer if I left him here? There is still the potential that he might be trying to kill me; I cannot be sure he is not one of the Thorn Dwellers. I do believe he is ill, but do I have it in me to let him die? She cursed herself for letting him coax her into the forest. "Are those the Thorn Dwellers?" she said beyond a lump in her throat.
He laughed and it was thin and reedy. "Not even close. They are scavengers who pick on the weak. We call them the small folk. They are desperate for magic, and they would not hesitate to drain me of every last drop."
Catherine shuddered and looked back to the edge of the forest only to find the farmhouse and cottage had disappeared. Fear had an icy grip on her heart now. I was a fool to trust him even for a second. This may all have been a trap. If I were stronger, I would not have let this happen.
"They will not hurt you," Ray said. "It's me they want because I am weak right now. Please, Lady Thornton, bring me home."
She bit her lip and said, "Very well." She seemed to have little choice in the matter now.
They stumbled along, further into the forest. The pathway never faltered, and the small folk kept their distance. Catherine's brain buzzed with questions, but she had no time for answers. The pathway ended at an oak tree with a door mounted into the trunk. Mr. Thorn climbed out from under her arm and went to lean against the tree. He whispered something to the door in a language she did not understand. It swung open, and she rushed forward to help him inside.
The room beyond was larger than she would have expected given it was inside a tree. There was a bed nestled between giant roots. The blanket looked like it was sewn together with bits of discarded fabric. There was a hole in one of the patchwork seams, and blue and red feathers poke out from within. The walls were lined with shelves hewn into the earth. They were filled with jars, bundles of herbs, and odds and ends. Catherine helped Mr. Thorn to lie down on the bed. After everything she had witnessed, she was numb to the oddities of Mr. Thorn's dwelling. Before she would have blacked out everything that she had witnessed. Now she was in emotional shock, she was going through the motions until her mind could catch up with her body.
"What do you need? How can I help?" she said. She had resigned herself to the role of nursemaid. If she did cause this illness, then she would do her best to heal him.
"That jar on the middle shelf, it has the green liquid, bring it to me." A few of the veins had started turning black, and he was striped with them. His lips were swollen and his eyes were puffy. He was deteriorating before her e
yes. Catherine could see the effort he was putting into appearing in control.
She grabbed the jar and handed it to him. It was topped with a cork. He popped it off with his thumb and drank the entirety of the contents. He grimaced and wiped his lips with his sleeve. His eyes were stark against his fevered skin, and his hair was clinging to his forehead from the sweat collecting along his brow.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. Catherine hovered, uncertain what to do next. She had so many questions. They were questions she had never before dared to ask, but now that she knew these things were real, she wanted to know. Now was not the time to ask them. Processing everything would take quiet reflection, and they were not out of the woods yet.
"What are you?" she asked, defaulting to chitchat to keep her brain occupied and away from more dangerous topics like their kiss.
He cracked open one eye. "Dying, if this poison is not taken from me. What did you give me?" he asked.
"I did not give you anything, not intentionally, anyway." She flushed just thinking about their kiss. What would Edward do if he found out? Was there a gesture or comment that may have led Mr. Thorn to believe I would accept his advances. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a furrowed brow. The swelling had yet to go down, and the action made his face look pinched and quite unlike himself. He reminded her of a cream puff. She bit down on a laugh and looked away. I did accept his advance. I kissed him back. What would my mother think of me if she were to see me? I never thought I could be so weak willed.
He leaned up on his elbow. "Here's the thing." He groaned and closed his eyes. The eyelids were bruised a purple color. The veins were across his forehead now as well. "I always have control, but just now I had no control over my actions. There is a powerful spell on you for it to override my self-control."
She looked at her feet, not sure of how to respond. She had no way of casting a spell that she knew of. "I did not even believe these things were real until recently. How could I have learned such a powerful spell in such a short time?"
"How indeed?" he groaned. "Whatever the reason, we will have to discover it later. This antidote is not working. I need you to go to the king's grove and retrieve one of the leaves from the king's oak." He lay back down and flung his arm over his face. "Be quick about it, please. I would rather not die."
Out there? What if those things attack me? How can I possibly go alone? What she said instead was, "I would not even know where to go."
"The pathway will lead you; just think of what you need and stay on the path. Nothing will touch or harm you while you are on it."
She doubted the truth of that, but she feared arguing would only worsen his condition. He seemed to fall asleep, and without the ability to question him further, Catherine realized she was on her own. She went to the door and hesitated on the threshold. The forest was more or less clear and bright. She thought of her destination, and as Ray had promised, the pathway appeared at the door. It led in a twisting pattern away from the direction she had come. At least it was away from the direction she thought she had come. She took a step, and when nothing leapt out to attack her, she kept going. The small folk were her shadows, whispering and singing to her but never revealing themselves. She found if she ignored them, it was easier to forget her fear.
The trees thinned out, and more golden light spilled through the sparse branches and left patterns on the ground. It was beautiful. She would have spent more time admiring the flowers that lined the path or the sweet scent in the air if she were not focused on her task. The trees ended at a clearing. Several massive trees of different varieties--ash, willow, rowan, maple and yew--all ringed an enormous oak tree. Its canopy made a ceiling over the clearing, it was darker here than the rest of the forest. The strange part was it did not feel dangerous; there was nothing lurking in the shadows. She felt safe here.
The clearing was silent as if the world was holding its breath. Even the small folk shrank back from the majesty of the tree. She took a tentative step up towards the tree. The branches were high up in the sky and impossible to reach. How can I get a leaf? There was nothing on the ground; it was as if the earth had been swept clean.
"Do you need something?"
Catherine looked up to see a man leaning against the tree. He was different than any man she had seen before. He had long hair that was loose and falling forward. He had thin lips and high arched brows. His skin was a golden color, and his features were sharp but beautiful. Is this a Thorn Dweller? She involuntarily covered her heart.
"Can you speak, child?" he said.
She could not imagine this beautiful man was the creature that the villagers feared. "A man has been poisoned. He said he needs a leaf from the king's tree; is this it?" She pointed at the branches overhead.
"It is," the man replied.
"How do I get one?"
"Who is it that you are trying to save?"
"Mr. Thorn."
The man quirked an eyebrow at her.
"His Christian name is Ray," Catherine elaborated.
The man laughed. "Oh, what trouble has he gotten himself into?"
Catherine was not sure how to respond, so she remained silent. She was not certain this man was friend or foe. For all she knew he was a Thorn Dweller and this was all part of his game before he cut out her heart.
"I will fetch the leaf for Mr. Thorn." He tilted his lips up in a smile. Then in a flash he scaled the side of the tree and plucked a single leaf from it. He landed beside Catherine and handed it to her. "Move quickly, daughter of the Thorns. I can smell the poison on you still. It is one that will kill him if you do not return soon."
"Thank you." Catherine nodded and ran off back the way she came. She spared one glance over her shoulder towards the mysterious man to make sure he was not trying to attack her from behind. Not that she could have done much if he did. He leaned against the tree with his arms folded over his chest, watching her, a smile pulling at his lips. She should have been afraid of him, but there was something about that place that made her feel as if nothing bad could happen there. She felt safe.
The path guided her back to Ray's home, and she ran with renewed vigor. The mysterious man's words added urgency to the situation. She opened the door with no trouble; whatever spell Ray had spoken when they first arrived allowed her to pass through a second time. She found Ray rolling in bed, wearing nothing but his breeches. His shirt had been cast off and was hanging from the edge of a root that broke through the ceiling of his home. He was glistening with sweat as he thrashed about in the bed.
"Mr. Thorn, I've brought the leaf," she said, holding up the leaf. It looked no different than any other oak leaf. It was a glossy green, with numerous prongs around the edges. How can this heal him?
He did not respond but for an inhuman growl.
What do I do? She had the cure but was uncertain of how to administer it. She could only assume it was meant to be ingested. He had drunk the previous antidote. She kneeled on the edge of the bed and touched his arm. It was hot. She imagined this was what touching a hot coal would feel like. She retracted her hand at once. I have to give this to him somehow. She tried shaking him, hoping he would regain some sense as he had before. He arched his back and moved away from her. I need to force this into him, but I do not know if I am strong enough to do so. She looked around for rope or even a bit of twine to bind his hands but found nothing of use. There was no other choice. The veins of black were circling his neck, and his cheeks were lined as well. He is dying; I have to do this. She took a deep breath and then climbed onto the bed. She knelt beside him. He struck her inadvertently with his flailing limbs.
She held his arm down with her free hand. She knew what she had to do next, but it went against everything she had been taught. I should not be alone with him here; would doing this next step to save his life damn me any further? She straddled him and pinned him with her knees. Under different circumstances she would not have considered doing such a thing, but s
he could not hold him still otherwise. He was writhing beneath her, bucking his hips forward trying to dislodge her. She steadied herself by resting a hand on his shoulder. Now. Do it now. She grabbed both sides of his face and forced his mouth open. Using one hand to keep his mouth open, she shoved the leaf in with the other. She clamped her hands around his chin to keep his mouth closed so he could not spit it up. She recalled seeing that done at the sanatorium.
He swallowed and then relaxed. His ceaseless movement stopped. She could see the black veins receding almost instantly. Catherine exhaled with relief. She eased off his torso, ready to put distance between them after being in such an intimate position. As she slid off the bed, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her backwards. Her back was slammed against the blanket. He leaned over her, his long hair falling forward to curtain his face.
"Why, Lady Thornton, I did not know you would go to such lengths to save my life. I think thanks are in order." He grinned.
Catherine realized too late she had gotten into a far more dangerous situation by saving Mr. Thorn.
Chapter Seventeen
His desire burned out of him, evaporating off of his skin. It left his skin tingling with sensation. All his senses were heightened. He could smell the lilac of her perfume. He could feel her hair brushing against his skin, whisper soft. Lady Thornton stared up at him, wide eyed and shocked. He would give anything to kiss her again. He knew now that would be a fatal decision, but remembering the taste of her, the feel of her body against his and his fingers running through her silken hair, it was enough to drive him mad. He could not think of ever wanting a woman this bad before; was it the spell or Lady Thornton? He did not know, and at the moment he did not care.
She opened and closed her mouth. Her gaze flickered to his lips. She's thinking about it too. She felt that fire--the flame before the burn. He leaned close, enough to breathe the same air as her and brush his lips against hers. She turned away, and it was like a bucket of cold water. I think I've overestimated my own sexual appeal.
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