“Morainn, are ye all right?” he heard Simon ask and knew his friend was afraid Tormand had done just what he had tried to do.
“Aye, Simon. I but need to return to my cooking. And I am ready to hold another of those hairpins whenever ye wish to give me one.”
“Are ye certain?”
“Verra certain.”
“Then we shall try again right after we sup and young Walin is abed.”
“Good. We need to stop these killings. And the sooner we do that, the sooner I can return to my home and my life.”
Tormand winced as he listened to Morainn walk away. He shrugged when Simon entered the room and looked at him, raising one dark brow in silent question. “She saw the list.”
“Ye actually showed it to her?”
The tone of Simon’s voice implied he thought Tormand was an idiot and he scowled at the man. “Of course I didnae. I thought it tucked safely beneath my ledgers.” He pointed at William. “Then that fool cat came in and neatly pushed everything off the desk and sat down. Morainn rushed over to pick up the mess and saw the list. And, if ye laugh, I must warn ye that I am in the mood to hit something or someone. Verra hard.”
“Ye tried to seduce the lass, didnae ye?”
“Aye, mayhap I did, but ye need not make it sound as if I am a leering old fool leading an innocent into sin. I dinnae see her as I have all the other women, nay that she believed me when I told her that.”
“Considering how long that list is, I can see why she would doubt your word.”
“I havenae lied to her and she kens it.”
“Tormand, a lass can trust a mon’s word in everything except about his past and his reasons for trying to get her into bed. Unless ye wed with her, she will have doubts about every attempt to bed her. Are ye meaning to wed her?”
“I dinnae ken.” Tormand smiled tightly at the look of surprise on Simon’s face. “She is different from the others and I think I am a wee bit different now, too. I just dinnae ken how to make her believe that.”
“Weel, ye could begin by trying to woo her instead of just trying to seduce her. Ye do recall how to woo a lass, dinnae ye?”
Tormand was about to respond angrily that of course he did, when he realized he could bring forth no memory of a time when he had. Usually all he needed to get a woman into his bed were a few flatteries, a pretty gift, and a kiss or two. None of that could be considered wooing. It was a bit more like hunting. In an attempt to hide his sudden consternation from Simon, he stared at the cat that still watched him closely.
For a brief moment he wondered if he should even try to woo Morainn. With a woman like her wooing would imply he wanted her for his own and intended to be all hers, with a strong possibility of marriage to follow. Oddly enough the idea of marrying Morainn did not frighten him or make him want to flee for the hills. He had seen their children in his last dream and a part of him was anxious to see if those images were true. Even the thought of being faithful to just one woman did not trouble him as he thought it should.
Inwardly shrugging, he decided he would go awooing. “Aye,” he said, “I think I can muster a reasonable wooing. If naught else, I want her to ken that she isnae just another woman on a list. So, aye, I will go awooing. How hard can it be?” he muttered as he strode away.
Simon moved to scratch the cat behind the ears, smiling faintly at the loud rumbling purr that came from the animal. “There goes a fool, William. I believe he has a hard road ahead of him and it will do him some good. But he is right about one thing. Morainn Ross isnae just another lass on his list. I begin to think Harcourt kens what he is talking about and isnae that frightening.”
Chapter 10
“Are ye certain ye wish to do this?”
Morainn stared up into the surprisingly soft gray eyes of Simon Innes. She was more accustomed to seeing the cold steel gray of a man used to being in command or the slightly murky gray of a man lost in his thoughts as he tried to figure out some puzzle. This look of concern made her realize that Simon Innes was a very handsome man, far more handsome than she had first judged him to be. The fact that he cared about what happened to her, was actually willing to give up a chance to find these monsters even sooner than he might on his own just to save her pain, touched her deeply.
“Aye,” she replied. “I am better prepared this time for what I might see and feel. I but pray that I will see something that can be useful to you.”
She spoke only the truth, but it was one mixed with a strong dose of hope. She knew just one touch of the hairpin could send her plunging back into that dark world of blood, pain, and madness the killers lived in. There was no doubt in her mind that, if she had a vision, it would horrify her, but she was determined that it would not terrify her this time. This time she would keep her wits about her and closely study all the images that swirled through her mind. The truth had to be there and she was determined to find it and see those monsters hanged.
There was a slight movement behind her and Morainn did not need to turn around to know that it was Tormand. She knew his scent as well as she knew her own, despite their short acquaintance. She was still furious with him, hurt and jealousy still pounding at her heart, but she could not deny that his presence gave her strength. The temptation to thrust her elbow back as hard as she could and damage that part of him that he had shared so freely with countless women was a little hard to resist, but she did so. No matter what she thought or felt about the man, at this moment she needed the courage he silently gave her. Later, she would think about how he could do that without a word or a touch.
Ignoring the way the rest of the Murrays sat at the table in the great hall watching her, Morainn held out her hand. “Let us get this over with.”
“I found this one at…” Simon began.
“Nay, dinnae tell me. Such knowledge could easily muddle up the vision or taint how I see whatever it decides to show me. I need to go into the vision totally ignorant.”
Simon nodded and placed the hairpin in her hand. Morainn immediately tensed, but quickly forced herself to relax. She would not fight this vision, but let it take her where it chose to. In doing so she hoped to fend off the worst of the effects she had suffered the last time she had held one of the hairpins. Fighting it and allowing the emotions within it to become too great a part of her could be why she was not gaining more of the information they needed.
Minutes passed and Morainn began to think there would be no vision at all this time. She could tell by the frowns growing on the faces of the men that they thought the same. Then it slammed into her mind so hard and fast she gasped, leaving her feeling as if she had just suffered a hard blow to her body. Morainn felt two strong hands grasp her by the shoulders and her strength returned. She faced the vision sweeping over her without quailing before the evil it revealed.
As had happened the last time, the emotions battered her mind first. Pain, fear, hatred, insanity, and an evil pleasure in it all. The emotions were so strong she could almost taste them and she wanted to gag. But this time the vision itself was far more detailed, not just random glimpses of quickly moving images, and Morainn kept her mind’s eye fixed firmly on it.
The pain and the fear from the woman staked to a dirt floor of some hovel was just gaining strength, just beginning to infect Morainn despite her efforts to shield herself from it, when it abruptly faded away. The woman was dead. A sense of it being too soon rippled through the fog of evil that swirled around the three figures in the vision. Then anger swelled, a rage so great it made Morainn tremble. The glint of a knife came and went again and again. There was no control, no cold precision in the strikes. The massive dark form that had been crouched on one side of the victim moved to grab the knife. A scream of fury sliced its way through Morainn’s head. The pain that caused only grew worse as harsh words pounded into her mind and she fought to cling to each one in case it was important.
“They must all pay!”
“They will, m’lady. They will.”
&n
bsp; Then, suddenly, a woman, her gown splattered with the blood of her victim, looked right at Morainn.
“And ye, witch, will suffer most of all!”
Morainn was so shocked she threw the hairpin away from her. Her whole body shook from the strength of her fear. The killer had spoken to her, looked right at her. That had never happened before. There had been the whispers in her mind, but nothing like this. This tasted far too personal, as though the woman knew she was there.
She took a long drink of cider in an attempt to calm herself and put some order into her chaotic thoughts. She could deal with the weakness weighting down her body later. Now, while the vision was still so fresh in her mind, she had to hunt for some of the answers Simon needed to find this murderous couple.
“Did ye find this hairpin before or after ye met me?” she finally asked Simon.
“Before,” he replied. “There have been no killings since we first met with ye, only the attack on you.”
“True,” agreed Tormand, “we didnae ask for her help until after the last killing, but we met her before it. At the Redmonds’. And they have been watching us, havenae they?”
Tormand knew Morainn was still upset with him, but he was pleased that she was not shrugging him aside right now. There was little he could do to help or protect her during one of her visions, but he could at least aid in easing the pain and the fear that came afterward. She was pale and shaking, but this time she had not collapsed or been violently ill. Tormand hated to think she was becoming hardened to what she saw. For that alone he badly wanted to stop this, but he knew she needed to do this. She needed to use the gift she had been given to help find these killers. He lightly rubbed her shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that still held her in its grip.
“And that hairpin is from the place where the last woman was killed?” Morainn asked.
“Aye,” Simon replied and flicked a cautious look toward Tormand. “Lady Marie Campbell was killed there.”
Morainn heard Tormand softly curse and wondered if he had actually liked the woman. She hastily shook aside the sharp jealousy that thought brought her. The woman had been cruelly murdered because of some twisted jealousy felt by a madwoman. Morainn did not want to taint the woman’s passing with even more ill-feeling. It was her duty to find the monsters committing these murders, not to pass judgment on the victims. Considering how easily Tormand had nearly seduced her, Morainn doubted all of the women he had bedded were true sinners, just a little weak as she was.
“Then, as we now ken, the killers had already seen me. They had seen the incident with the crowd and Tormand’s defense of me and decided I should be their next victim. That explains what I saw.” The woman’s threat whispered through Morainn’s mind again, the icy voice carrying a chill that made Morainn shiver.
“What did ye see?”
“The vision began in the same way the other one did,” she replied. “There was a wave of verra dark emotion. Pain, fear, hatred, insanity, and a chilling, evil pleasure. I think the last is the worst of the lot. They enjoy what they do.”
“Jesu,” muttered Harcourt. “They truly are monsters.”
“Och, aye, that is what I would call them.” Morainn sighed. “The pain and the fear came from the poor woman they tortured of course, but this time it was ended verra quickly. At first I thought it was because the vision had something else it needed to show me, but, nay, the woman ceased to feel any pain or fear. Whatever wounds she suffered, weel, I would wager most were inflicted after she died.” Morainn frowned as she thought hard on that moment in the vision when the pain and fear had so abruptly disappeared and then nodded. “The woman had a weak heart, I think. She kenned weel what was to happen to her, had heard what had happened to the other women, and her fear was great enough that her weak heart couldnae bear the burden of it. It stopped.”
After a long moment of silence, Simon said quietly, “I think a letter to her husband telling him of that might ease a little of his grief.”
“I will see to it,” Tormand said. “I have no doubt that he will believe it for he has long believed in such gifts as Morainn has. And ye are right. It will ease his pain a little. The thought of how Marie must have suffered before she died was tormenting him.”
“Once that happened,” Morainn continued, “there was anger, a hot searing rage. I saw the knife flash by again and again. It was the woman doing it and the mon finally stopped her. I realized that before there had been a cold precision to the movement of that knife. This time there was only rage. The woman was screaming so many things it is difficult to sort anything useful from the rantings.”
Morainn lightly rubbed her forehead. Trying to wade through the cacophony of curses and threats to find anything that might help them find these murderers was making her head ache even more than it usually did after a vision. When Tormand lightly brushed her hand aside and began to rub her temples gently, she did not stop him. It felt too good and helped her think more clearly, something she badly needed to do now.
“Can ye remember any of what she said?”
“Aye, most of it, but it will take me a wee while to sort it all out. A lot of it was cursing and bloodcurdling threats against all those who had destroyed her life. She blames everyone else for her misery, as if she was naught but a poor, innocent victim. She doesnae have the soul of a victim,” Morainn said quietly. “I think she was born filled with a rage that just needed a little push to be unleashed.”
“And Tormand pushed?” asked Uilliam. “Nay, I cannae believe that. Tormand doesnae hurt women.”
Morainn was not about to argue that. She knew the young man meant physically and she suspected Tormand also had a kindness in him that would not allow him knowingly to be cruel to a woman. The sad thing was he did not even have to know, did not have to realize in even the smallest way, that something he was doing was hurting someone. In truth, Morainn did not really believe this woman’s feelings were hurt, only her pride. She had wanted Tormand and she had not gotten him. Since she appeared to be incapable of blaming herself for anything, she would naturally see the other women and Tormand as the ones at fault. It could be as simple and as twisted as that.
“He didnae e’en have to ken who this woman was,” Morainn said, after carefully thinking over her words. “The woman is mad. Tormand may never have e’en met her.”
“She loved him from afar?”
There was such a tone of cynical disbelief in Uilliam’s voice that Morainn almost smiled. “There is no love there. There is pride and possession. She decided he was to be hers. The women were the ones standing in her way.”
“Then why does she want Tormand to suffer so?”
“Because he allowed those women to stand in her way; he proved he was naught but a weak mon who thought with what was in his braies and not with what was in his head.” She ignored Tormand’s muttered annoyance and the wide grins of the other men as she took another drink of cider. Visions always left her thirsty and in need of something sweet. “Remember, this is what I feel, what I draw from the wild swirl of emotions within the vision. Nay more.”
Simon nodded. “It makes sense, however. Weel, as much as one can make sense of such madness. It is interesting to ken how the mind of such a killer might work, but I was really hoping for something we could use to find these two ere they kill again.”
“I understand,” said Morainn. “I feel the same need, but sometimes it takes awhile to pick one’s way through all the images to see the truth. These are the first visions where I have e’er heard the voices so clearly.”
“Why did ye ask when we found this hairpin?”
“Because of what happened at the end of the vision. Somehow, the woman kenned I was there, watching her. She spoke to me as she has before. Yet another threat of death. But this time she looked right at me as she said it; it wasnae just a whisper in my head.”
“Ye saw her face?”
“In a way. I cannae say for certain, but I think she has dark eyes. Her head
was covered by a fancy headdress, but there was the hint of dark hair. And she had perfect eyebrows.” She had to smile at the looks the men all gave her, looks that said that was a useless piece of information. “They are dark and are perfect arcs over her eyes. Either she was blessed with them at birth or she does something to make them look so precise.”
“Then she is of high birth. Some of them are the only ones I have e’er kenned of who shape their brows,” said Tormand.
And ye would ken it, wouldnae ye, Morainn thought a little nastily and then shook aside the jealousy she knew would linger in her heart for a while yet. “I think her husband is dead. Aye, and I think she killed him. I fear she didnae call him by name, only referred to him as that fat swine. Aye, she killed him with her own hands. With a knife.”
Simon frowned. “I havenae been told of any highborn mon being stabbed to death.”
“That is because no one has found him yet,” Morainn said.
Little by little the things that had been said were beginning to sort themselves out in her mind, but it was making her head ache even more than it had before. They were all so ugly. Morainn knew she was going to have to take a respite from it all soon. She felt as if all the strength had been bled from her body and, despite Tormand’s soothing touch, her head was beginning to ache too much for her to continue to think clearly.
“Ye need to rest,” said Simon. “’Tis evident that such visions take a lot of your strength e’en though ye withstood this one better than ye did the last.”
“Aye, I fear ye are right. All I heard is slowly sorting itself out in my mind, but my head aches so badly I fear I cannae grasp anything too clearly yet. A good night’s sleep may weel end that confusion.”
Morainn stood up and felt herself sway. Before she could steady herself, Tormand wrapped his arms around her to help her. She was about to pull away from him when a racket came from the front hall. She could hear voices she recognized arguing with Walter. A moment later three people pushed their way through the doorway. A cross-looking Walter followed Nora and her betrothed into the great hall.
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