“You did it!” he repeated, not sure if he should be awed or concerned.
She sat up straight and scooted to the edge of the love seat. “Let me try it again,” she said, excitement coating her voice. She formed claws with her hands and was about to thrust them in the direction of the remaining cut glass vase on the mantle when Alexander stopped her.
“Let’s try something a little less expensive, shall we?” He pointed to a nearby plant.
She nodded. “Here goes.” She thrust her hands at the plant, but nothing happened. A look of concern washed over her. “It’s not working.”
He put a comforting hand on her back. “It’s okay. Try again.”
She did so, but still nothing happened. “Why isn’t it working?”
“Let’s think through this. What was going through your mind when you obliterated the piece of pottery?”
“I was angry.” Color seeped into her face. “I was thinking how I would like to wring your treacherous neck for putting me through all of the hurt and pain.”
He rubbed his neck. “Yes, that’s what I thought,” he said dryly.
She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
A slow smile stole across his face. “Your magic is tied to your passion … to the one person who elicits the strongest feelings within you.”
Her eyes went wide as realization dawned. “You,” she spat. “My magic is tied to you.”
He nodded, a pleased look on his face. “See, I told you that we are irrevocably intertwined … for better or worse. There’s no getting rid of me this time.”
She swore under her breath. “This is Merek’s doing. I might’ve known.”
His eyes twinkled. He could’ve hugged the old man’s neck, if he’d been here. “It would seem that the two of us will be spending a lot of time together.”
“So it would seem,” she smirked.
They heard a loud thump directly above their heads.
Wisteria caught hold of Alexander’s arm. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” He jumped up.
“Do you think it’s Ruben?” She shuddered. “Or Griselda? We’re not ready to face her,” she whispered.
The panicked look on her face mirrored his own feelings, but as the man, he needed to take charge and handle the situation. He took her hand and led her into his master bedroom closet where he retrieved a pistol from the safe hidden behind a rack of hanging clothes.
“A gun won’t do us any good against Griselda,” she said impatiently.
His jaw went hard. “No, but it will certainly help with Ruben.”
“Listen.”
There was the faint sound of another thud. Stealthily, they made their way up the stairs and down the hall. Another noise. This time, it sounded like a struggle was taking place. Wisteria pointed. “In there.”
Alexander’s heart nearly stopped when he realized it was coming from Edward’s room. The door was closed. He cocked the pistol and held it up, his muscles taut. He turned the handle and pushed open the door. He pointed the gun around the room, looking for the intruder. Edward’s computer chair was toppled over, and there were papers strewn across the floor.
“By the bed,” Wisteria said.
He looked down to where Edward was writhing on the floor, battling with an unseen opponent. Alexander put the gun on safety and tucked it into the band of his pants. Before he could get to Edward, Wisteria stopped him.
“There’s something here.”
He froze, his senses going on hyper-alert. “What do you mean?”
“A slow, tenuous evil. Blackness.” She closed her eyes, and he could tell that she was concentrating. “It’s here … all around us. I can feel the walls oozing with it.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t feel a thing.” He knelt down beside Edward and reached for his arm.
Edward fought off his attempt to touch him by slapping at his arms.
“Son!” he ordered. “Son!” He grabbed both arms and pinned him down. Edward was thrashing wildly underneath him. “Edward!” he yelled, but Edward was oblivious. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he slapped him hard across the jaw. Edward went still, and then he blinked. He looked at Alexander as if seeing him for the first time.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
A sob tore through Edward’s throat. “It was terrible.”
Alexander gathered him in his arms and cradled Edward’s head to his chest, letting him sob. He looked at Wisteria who’d knelt down beside them, hoping that she would have some insight into what in the heck was going on, but she only shook her head. Finally, when the sobbing stopped, Alexander pulled back and looked at Edward who looked embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” Edward sniffed.
“It’s okay,” Alexander said. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Edward sat back against the wall. He drew his legs up to his chest, hugging them tightly.
Alexander scooted beside him. “Whatever it is … you can tell me,” he prompted.
Edward took a breath and let it out slowly. His arms were shaking. “I was working on my science homework when something slithered around me. It was like it was choking off my air.” He gave Alexander a pleading look. “I know it sounds crazy …” His voice trailed off.
Wisteria shot Alexander a concerned look. Alexander looked at Edward. “What happened next?”
He shook his head. “I don’t really know how to explain it. One minute, I was in my room, trying to fight off whatever that was … trying to breathe, and the next, I was in a different place … or time … or something.” He pressed his hands to his temples. “I know it sounds crazy.”
“Not as crazy as you think,” Wisteria piped in. She sat down on the other side of Edward and put a gentle hand on his arm. “Tell us what happened next. No matter how crazy it sounds, we’ll believe you. Won’t we, Alexander?” She gave him a warning look, daring him to disagree.
“Of course,” he inserted quickly.
Edward searched Alexander’s face. “Really?”
“Really … absolutely!”
His eyes took on a faraway look as he gathered his thoughts. “I was in the courtyard of a castle, and I was young. I was fighting with …” He shook his head, not wanting to continue.
“Fighting with whom?” Alexander gave him a nod of encouragement.
Edward turned to Wisteria. “I know this may sound hard to believe, but I was fighting with Rush …” he scrunched his face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said “… but his name was Rushton.” He looked at Alexander. “You were there.” His face paled.
“And then what happened?”
Uncertainty crept into his voice. He bit down on his lower lip to stop the trembling. “Um … I can’t remember.”
A look passed between Wisteria and Alexander. “It was a shadow crawler,” she said.
Edward jerked around to face her, his eyes crazed. “How did you know?”
Wisteria caught his arm. “Was this the first time it attacked you?”
He began shaking his head back and forth slowly. “No, it attacked one other time in the canyon. I was up there with Elle.”
“I knew it!” Wisteria jumped to her feet and began pacing back and forth. “We are not safe, Alexander! Griselda has amassed enough power to send out her crawlers, there’s no telling what else she can do. This is bad … really bad!”
Alexander shook his head. “But it makes no sense. Where is she getting this power? Merek said that he would be able to keep her under control. Why did he not warn me about this?”
“Since when is Merek omniscient? You always give him more credit than he deserves. Even Merek makes mistakes!”
Edward’s eyes turned to round balls as he looked back and forth between Alexander and Wisteria. “Who is Merek? And how did you know about the shadow crawlers? What is going on here?”
Alexander stood. “There’s too much to explain right now, Son!”
“Well, somebod
y had better explain something!” he yelled, angry tears brimming in his eyes. His voice went hoarse as he continued. “Because I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my freaking mind!” He balled his fist and pounded it on his leg.
“He’s still in shock.” Wisteria motioned. “Let’s help him get up on the bed.”
“I don’t want to get on the bed! I want to know what’s going on! And I want to know now!” Edward roared.
Alexander leaned over and locked eyes with him. “I’ll explain everything. I promise. But you’ve got to hold it together. Can you do that for me?”
Time seemed to stand still as Edward considered the question. Finally, he nodded.
Alexander offered a hand, heaving him to his feet. “Now, let’s get you on the bed.”
Wisteria sat down beside Edward. “The shadow crawlers are deplorable creatures that feed on fear, and when you are most vulnerable, they gather information.”
Edward’s face drained, and his lower lip began to quiver uncontrollably.
Alexander feared that he might pass out. “Take it easy on him,” he warned. “This is all new for him.”
She gave him an annoyed look. “Yes, I’m aware of that, but we need to know what information the shadow crawler gathered from him.”
A look of horror came over Edward’s face. “Gathered? You mean that thing was inside of me? Gathering information? For what?”
Wisteria angled herself so that she could look directly at him. “Now, this is very important. In that dark vision you saw, you were tormented by someone or something, what was it?”
Edward’s jaw began to work as he shook his head. “Um … I can’t really say for sure. What I mean is that I don’t know if it was an actual thing or person,” he hedged. “It was more like an overall black feeling.”
Wisteria’s eyes narrowed. “Tell us the truth, Edward.” Her voice sliced like a whip through the room. “Who was it?”
A look of hatred twisted over Edward’s face, and the words seemed to rip out of his throat. “It was Rush!”
The accusation hung heavy in the air as Wisteria put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my gosh!”
Alexander went to her side. “What?” The anguish in her eyes made him go weak in the knees. “What is it?” he demanded. “Tell me.”
“The shadow crawler probed Edward to ascertain our weak spot, although I’m sure Griselda already knew what it was, but she takes a fiendish delight in toying with her prey before the kill.” Her voice broke. “Don’t you see, Alexander?” She put a hand over her heart. “It’s been right in front of us the entire time, only we couldn’t see it. Our weak spot is Rush!”
Chapter Eighteen
Jack
“Are you certain this will work?” Rushton whispered. He stole a glance at the guard, walking a few paces behind him and Jack, his sword pointed at their backs. They’d traveled on horseback for a day until they reached the foothills of the mountains where they’d been forced to dismount and continue on foot.
“We are about to find out,” Jack countered, a sly look in his eyes.
“Cease talking!” the man behind them ordered. “I know ye are up to no good, and unless ye want me to split you in half, ye had better have my gold.”
Jack let out a mirthless chuckle. “Oh ye of little faith. Almost there.” He glanced at Rushton. “Right?”
Rushton took in the scope of the jagged mountain that was looming larger by the moment. “Aye, not much farther.” He hoped.
The man grunted. “I don’t trust either of ye, and if we don’t come upon this cave before the sun sets, I am going to gut ye like hogs and leave ye for the wolves.”
A shiver ran down Rushton’s spine. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun’s rays were beginning to fade. The man meant business, and considering the sheer size of him, he certainly had the brawn to back up his threats. His eyes were a cold gray, and he had a thin scar running along the edge of his jaw—a battle wound no doubt from one of the many wars he’d fought. He’d heard the other guards address him as Sir Erik Duncan, and they all did so with deference. He was the master of the dungeon, and most lived and died by his word. That’s why Rushton was surprised when Jack told him that it would be Erik helping them escape.
Jack had purposely waited until the dead of night to outline his plan, and even then, he’d spoken in hushed tones for fear that someone would overhear. Erik, he learned, often took large bribes from the prisoners on the promise that he would help them escape. “The bag of coins only buys me an audience with Erik,” Jack explained. “If he agrees to help us then he will require more.”
“How do you know this Erik can be trusted?”
“I don’t,” Jack said.
“Well, that’s just splendid! Your entire plan hinges on the integrity of that pea-brained brute that has been strutting around here like a peacock.” He punched his fist in the air, causing the chain to rattle, then he kicked his bucket across the room.
“Shh,” Jack hissed. “Are ye trying to awaken the palace?”
Why was he even listening to this derelict? He was obviously insane. And he’d allowed himself to get sucked into the delusion of escape. “I am not at all interested in hearing any more of your ridiculous plan.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face. “Oh, and I suppose that ye have more pressing matters that are commanding thine attention?”
Rushton kicked the dungeon wall, ignoring the pain that shot through his toes. “Anything is better than listening to the likes of thee!” He was locked away in a dungeon with a madman, and yes, Jack was right. There was nothing he could do—nothing except stand here and listen to some insane plan. He let out a humorless laugh. “Let us pretend for a moment that we can trust Erik. You said that if he helps us then he will require more.”
Jack nodded.
“Where do you plan on getting more? I am not exactly made of money and from the looks of thee …” He made a point of running his eyes over Jack’s ragged clothes. “I believe you have faired more poorly than I.”
Rather than shrinking back from the inspection, Jack met his gaze full on. “Mock me if ye will, but I, for one, have no intention of rotting in this dungeon. Your trial is set to commence in three days time, and the whisper down here is that ye do not have a prayer of being found innocent. They will execute thee for sure.”
A dark coldness settled over Rushton. Everything Jack was saying was true. He knew it already, but somehow, hearing it spoken out loud made it worse.
“Now, if ye want to stay in that cell and wait for death then that is your business, but I am offering thee a chance for freedom.” His eyes burned with determination. “I need your help.”
Their eyes locked, each of them sizing up the other.
“I may know of a way to get my hands on some gold,” Rushton finally said.
Jack gave him an appraising look. “’Tis more like it. Do tell … quickly. The guards will want to know my answer when they bring the morning meal at first light.”
Rushton then told him about the cave and the gold that was hidden in a cavity there. He and Edward had discovered the cave on one of their many explorations. It was Edward’s idea to hide the gold. He wanted a stash somewhere away from the kingdom in case he ever needed it. Edward was the ultimate strategist and was always trying to protect himself against every contingency. The gold was a safeguard in the event of an extreme situation. As far as Rushton was concerned, this qualified, although Edward would most certainly disagree. Thinking of the last time he saw Edward, standing over him aloof and pompous, made his blood boil. It was hard to believe they had once been as close as brothers. He turned his thoughts from Edward and focused on the problem at hand. It had been at least a year since Rushton had been to the cave, and while he knew its approximate location, he was worried that he might not be able to find it quickly enough to appease Erik. The other thing that was bothering him was Jack. While Erik had been going on about his lack of trust in them, all Rushton c
ould think about was how little he knew about Jack. When Jack had first confronted him about the escape plan, he’d had his doubts as to whether or not Jack could actually pull it off. The fact that they were standing here, out in the open and away from the castle, was a testament of that; however, they were far from free. For all he knew, Jack and Erik were planning to join forces and slit his throat the moment they got their hands on the gold. Rushton had told Jack that there were twenty-one pieces of gold in the sack, while in reality there were closer to two hundred. Erik was demanding fifteen pieces as payment for their freedom, and Jack had insisted that they share the remainder. The trick was how to give Erik the fifteen pieces and Jack his share without showing them the rest. One hundred and eighty pieces of gold would set him up for life. He would never want for anything again. He could disappear and start anew. Possibly buy a manor somewhere far outside of the kingdom boundaries. Far enough to be removed from Edward’s grasp. He would have a nice home, horses, servants … everything a man could want. A wrenching ache settled over him. Nay, he would not have everything. The truth was, he would never have the one thing he wanted the most—Cinderella.
He could hear the faint sound of rushing water. His pulse quickened. They’d broached the first stream when the sun was high in the sky. At first, he’d thought that was it, but there was no marker, and he remembered that the water had been swifter. Still, he followed the stream for some time, just to be sure. To his disappointment, the stream took a sudden turn underground, vanishing completely. They’d wasted a good portion of the day following the wrong stream. If this one weren’t it … He wouldn’t let himself finish the thought. It had to be it. He halted in his tracks and listened, trying to hear the water. He pulled the small vial from underneath his tunic. He wore it around his neck, held by a thin, leather strip. His mother had managed to smuggle it to him during her visit to the dungeon. “For when you need it most,” she said.
“But how will I know when to use it?”
“You will know,” she said, pressing her hands around his. “Inhale a couple of drops. No more.”
Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws Page 22