Goldenseal

by Gill McKnight

  “She is a recluse. She loves the valley and seldom leaves it. Not even for her own openings if she can avoid it.” Amy frowned. Marie had to know Virgil. Elicia had been returning her library books when they went into Lost Creek together.

  “And he was here in Little Dip this afternoon, hoping to visit her?” Marie asked.

  “He knows she’s ill. And I know he knows she’s not around. He made out he was real chummy with Connie, was some sort of puzzle pal, and he delivered a book he said she’d ordered. Only it’s a book she already has.”

  “What?”

  “A book she already—”

  “No. The puzzle pal bit. What do you mean?”

  “Well, a puzzle pal, I suppose. I don’t really know what to call it.” Amy was reluctant to reveal she knew there was a code hidden in the almanacs. She was pretty goddamn certain Virgil knew it, too. But whatever secret was in there, neither Marie nor Leone was going to share it with her. Until she found out what had really happened to Connie, Amy was going to be very select in what she told the Garouls, too. She looked Marie straight in the eye.

  “So what’s out there, Marie? What’s in the woods?

  “The forest is always dangerous, Amy. Occasionally bears come over the ridge or cougars down from the bluff. What can I say? I haven’t seen anything.”

  “Jori has. He’s seen the trees all torn up. And now Connie’s cabin looks the same. It has some really old marks on it, too.” Amy was upset at recalling the damage. “It must have been really scary for her.” Her eyes grew moist at the thought of Connie going through the same experience she had these past few days.

  “Amy, I’m going to get Claude to check out Connie’s cabin. I didn’t know it was being damaged. Honestly, I didn’t. She didn’t say a thing about it. Please believe me.” Marie reached for Amy’s hand. Her concern shone clearly through her words. “Tell me about Bloomsy. Why was he visiting if he knew Connie wasn’t there?”

  “I don’t know. Just a snoopy fan, I guess. Maybe he wanted to see her cabin while she was away, and it was safe to drop by with a made-up reason. He said he bird-watches in the valley and took the opportunity to pry.”

  “We’ll be on the lookout for him from now on, and send him on his way. We don’t want strangers wandering around.” Marie looked very displeased.

  Amy stood and wandered over to the bookcase idly scanning the book titles. The tea had de-stressed her. She suspected that had been Marie’s intention all along. It helped because it hadn’t clouded her judgment. She’d been able to ask what she wanted to know. It was just that the answers hadn’t been what she wanted to hear. Nothing was any clearer than it had been before.

  A pig in a wimple looked out at her from the spine of a book on Hieronymus Bosch. It was the same picture as on Claude’s key fob. Always with the ugly art, she mused, turning back to Marie.

  “I need to head back. Tell Claude to check the back of the cabin, especially around the studio. That’s where the latest mess is.” She gathered her jacket and bag. “I’ll have to see Connie soon, Marie. I need to, if only to reassure myself. Can’t I even phone her?” She rubbed her eyes. They hurt and her head felt thick. It had been a rough day.

  “I’ll try and organize something, Amy. I miss her, too.”

  The words were spoken quietly, but brimful of emotion. Amy knew Marie and Connie’s relationship was a truly loving one. She believed Marie when she said she knew nothing about the clawed-up cabin. Her distress at this news was apparent on her face. That much was true. But if Marie was using the town library, then she sure as hell knew Virgil Bloomsy.

  It took Amy more than a little while. The trail was not very clear, and she had to be careful not to get lost again. This was an area of the valley she was not familiar with, and nightfall was only a few hours away.

  Amy had left Marie’s cabin dissatisfied but determined to investigate further. There were too many things that did not ring true for her. Fortunately she had a good idea where to start—at the broken-down shack with barred windows.

  She managed to emerge a couple of hundred yards upstream from the little storage cabin. Even from a distance she could see that repairs had already been made. The smashed door and the broken porch railings had been replaced. The debris that had littered the way up to the steps had been tidied away. Amy faltered. She hadn’t expected this.

  Carefully she approached, tallying the repairs and changes since her last visit, especially the sturdy new door with the heavy padlock. The clearing the cabin stood in was very silent, as if even the trees were holding their breath. Nothing moved, no breeze stirred the branches, no birds sang, no small creatures rustled in the undergrowth. It was deathly still, except for the crunch of her boots and the quiet gurgle of the river.

  Rather than mount the steps, she wandered around to the side. The window curtains were pulled tight. She could still see the candy sitting on the sill, same as last time. The woodpile had been added to as well. It was now twice its size. She supposed if hunters used the cabin, they would use the wood for cooking and heat. Still, it was a hell of a lot of wood for a few overnight visits.

  She cocked her head. Was that a noise from inside? She could have sworn she heard shuffling. Standing still, she concentrated. There it was again, a little tap, the creak of a floorboard. Someone was inside.

  “Hello?” Amy said in a wobbly voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Anybody there?”

  She was answered with a soft moan, so gentle she almost didn’t believe her ears. The whimper was almost mournful.

  “Who’s there?” she gasped, only to be greeted with silence.

  “Hello?” She moved around to the front door. It was heavy and locked and wasn’t going to budge an inch. Again, there was nothing but silence on the other side of it. After several seconds Amy began to wonder if she’d imagined it all.

  “Come away.”

  A furious Leone strode across the clearing toward her.

  “Where the hell have you been all day—and I’m not coming away. There’s something in there.” Amy stood her ground, relieved to see Leone, then immediately uptight. Leone was striding toward her at top speed, shaking her head in exasperation. It was obvious she had no time for this.

  “It’s a locked-up storage cabin.”

  “I heard something move. It moaned.”

  “It’s an old cabin. The wind pours through and it creaks a lot.”

  “Do you have a key for the lock?” Amy already knew the answer but had to ask.

  “No. Come on. Claude told you this area was being hunted. You’re not allowed here.”

  “Why is it you’re all out hunting, yet none of you have rifles?”

  “People have guns.” Leone looked more and more determined to move her away. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  Still Amy wouldn’t budge. There was nothing but silence from the cabin and she was beginning to feel a little foolish. But her stubborn streak had set in, and she was not going to go anywhere soon without a fight, or a damn good reason.

  Leone’s shoulders tensed. Then she sighed. “Please, Amy.”

  Amy considered this, and decided an apology would do, too. It was better than a fight, but not as useful as a damn good reason. There was nothing to be gained here. However, a walk and talk with Leone might reveal other things. Besides, she had missed Leone, and could see in the soft glow of Leone’s eyes she had been missed, too.

  “Okay. But only because you said please so nicely.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When they reached Connie’s cabin, Amy walked straight to the back to show Leone the mauled studio walls. Leone stood dumbfounded. Her face paled at the ferocity of the damage. Amy watched her carefully. Like Jori, she seemed to absorb something else from the scene; she looked genuinely shocked.

  “We need to move you into Marie’s,” she said. Amy shook her head.

  “No. I need to be near the studio so I can work night and day as necessary.”

  “You’
ve got to—”

  “I’ve got to get my work done to help Connie. That’s all I’ve got to do.”

  “For God’s sake, Amy. Look at it. You’ve got to move.”

  “No. You look at it. You sort it out. I’m staying here to work.” Amy had more than enough Garoul intervention today. “From the start you told me it was nothing. You even ridiculed me. Well, I think we both know it’s not ‘nothing’ anymore. You want to help me, Leone? To be my big, bad protector? Well, you better do a better job than you did with Connie.”

  Anger and accusation poured off her. She was sick and tired of it all. Tired of the evasions, the secrets, of always being on the outside of this family. She wasn’t really part of them at all. It was just a silly notion she still held of home. Amy felt tears well up and almost panicked that Leone would see just how weak and scared she was. How close she was to giving up. She had very little resolve left. Quickly, she turned and walked around to the cabin’s door, leaving Leone behind.

  She nearly missed the book sitting on the porch chair. She lifted it. It was heavy and very old. With growing curiosity, she admired the beautifully tooled black leather cover. It was decorated in a repeat pattern with a series of moon phases. All along the outer edge the eternal moon cycle of wax and wane was beautifully rendered in gilt, from new, to crescent, to full, and back to waning. The center panel was very strange. It portrayed an old passkey, with the body of a naked man bent double, hanging halfway through the round of the key’s bow. Amy leafed through the thick, yellowing pages. It was a dictionary for a language she was unfamiliar with. It looked like an older version of modern French, but she couldn’t be sure. The Garouls still used French, but an old langue d’oc dialect. This must be one of Connie’s books being returned. But why leave it out here when the door was always open?

  The crunch of Leone’s returning footsteps coming up behind her made Amy hurry inside. Without another thought she set the book aside.

  Leone followed her in.

  “If you won’t go to Marie’s, then I’ll stay here,” she said.

  Amy snorted. Leone was annexing her life, just like before. When would she ever learn that this Amy Fortune was not the one Leone remembered?

  “Like you protected me from the snake? What are you going to do, Leone? Fuck me safe?”

  Leone jolted as if slapped. Amy left her and locked herself in the bathroom to prepare for bed. As far as she was concerned, the matter was closed.

  Leone was gone when she returned. It didn’t surprise her. There was a thin line inside Amy, garrote thin, and the moment she got anywhere near crossing it to the side of her that allowed Leone into her heart, Amy felt as if she were slowly cutting her own throat. Just one night she had spent with Leone, and less than twenty-four hours later she was at a loss with her life.

  She had uncovered secrets and lies, and now Leone was trying to herd her out of her studio and bury her deeper in the mystery. Once she moved to Marie’s, Amy knew Connie’s place would be locked up tighter than that storage cabin, and she’d never be allowed back in. She’d never be able to access Connie or her home again. Amy would rather wait here alone with the Ruger than lose that.

  The pillow was cool against her fevered thoughts. In the dark of night they spun and swirled and clamored in her head until she thought her brain would burst. Slowly, Amy tried to map them all out. Looking for links. Looking for something that made sense.

  She was certain neither Leone nor Marie knew of the attacks on Connie’s cabin. They had not abandoned her to this torture, and for that Amy was grateful. But for some reason Connie had kept the damage from them. Why? Like Amy, had she not trusted the Garouls? Amy sighed. There were too many locked doors in this valley.

  A quiet click came from the room below. Amy’s eyes flew open.

  Instantly alert, she raised her head cautiously from the pillow. She had heard the door latch open. Footsteps padded quietly across the living room to the foot of her bedroom ladder.

  Slowly, Amy rose to a kneeling position, scrabbling with a free hand for her makeshift snake thumper—a hockey stick, kept by her bed. The ladder creaked under the weight of her night visitor. Quietly, a rung at a time, one, two, three…coming closer. She counted each tread with rising fear. Her grip tightened. She raised the stick as a dark head slid into view. Coal black eyes looked directly up at her.

  “For God’s sake, Leone. I nearly decapitated you. Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again.”

  Trembling with anger and relief, she dropped her weapon and sank onto the bed. Leone mounted the final rung and stood before her totally nude.

  “Where have you been? Have you been outside naked?” Amy was astounded.

  Leone shrugged.

  “I’ve been looking around. I left my clothes downstairs.” With that she lifted the blankets and slid in beside Amy.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m staying here tonight.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.” Leone’s eyes glittered fiercely. Amy puffed and spluttered and threw back the covers.

  “Fine. Do what you damn well want. I’m sleeping on the couch.” She swung her legs out of the bed, but before she could rise Leone’s arm coiled around her waist and easily hauled her back. She was spooned against Leone. Hot breath blew past her ear.

  “Don’t you ever leave our bed in anger.” Leone growled, then roughly tongued the rim of Amy’s ear, pulling the lobe into her mouth, nipping it gently.

  “Ow. How dare—” Amy’s words were drowned by the rip of fabric as her T-shirt was hoisted over off her body and flung away like wrapping paper. Leone dragged Amy closer, pushing her curls aside to nuzzle a sensitive spot right behind her ear. Her hands came around to cradle Amy’s breasts and begin a sensuous, squeezing massage. Amy tried to twist away, but she was pinned tight.

  “Let me go.”

  The heat pouring from Leone’s body was overwhelming. Her mouth teased and sucked at just the right places on Amy’s neck. Amy couldn’t stop herself; she was instantly turned on, as if programmed to respond. Leone knew her far too well. She’d loved to be cradled like this when they were first together. To be spooned from behind while Leone played with her body until she became a puddle.

  Young and inexperienced, they had fumbled along until they found a way that felt all their own. Leone had been the initiator then as well as now, her stronger sex drive carrying them through hot afternoons and sweaty nights of breathless exploration. Those strong arms again curved around Amy, cupping her breasts, pressing them into the heart of Leone’s palms, against the mounts of Venus and Luna, the lines of life and fate.

  The slow massage flamed down to her groin. Amy moaned and pushed her buttocks back into crisp, scratchy curls. She gripped her pillow, her other hand digging into Leone’s hip, pinning her closer. Leone’s rumbling growls deepened in response to her touch. Amy knew the power of her own hands on Leone’s flesh, too.

  Leone’s teeth clamped on her nape in a sucking kiss she found incredibly erotic. Her hand strayed over the curve of Amy’s belly. Amy moaned as their hips undulated in a luxurious rhythm. Leone carefully circled her clitoris, stroking with tender pressure. It was a knowing touch. Amy pushed into the hand. Their hips danced in sweaty harmony, the air thick with whispered breaths and sighs and that deep rolling hum that reverberated in Leone’s throat when she was totally blissed.

  Leone carefully increased the pressure, gliding through the silky wetness, cresting the tiny, super-sensitized organ, and matched Amy’s excited hip sway. Thoroughly in control, she reveled in texture, scent, and sound. Amy’s body sang for her with deep moans of pleasure. Amy pulsed against her, rolling along the length of her body.

  Time fell away for Leone, as if all the long years of waiting no longer mattered, had never even existed. This was where Amy was meant to be. This was natural and right. Leone held her with hands and thighs and teeth, biting her shoulder, arm, the nape of her neck. Tasting, owning, ma
rking. Letting the world know Amy was hers.

  Amy rolled against the lean body spooning her. Leone had always been the perfect lover for her. Even as nervous teenagers their rhythm fit, their chemistry so complementary, so complete. She felt her clitoris swell under Leone’s touch, her breasts full and heavy, tingling at the warm and addictive pleasure pouring through her.

  “Mmmm, so good,” she moaned, trying to twist onto her back. She needed to touch Leone, too. Needed to see her, to connect with her. Leone growled and held her in place.

  “I want to see you. I want to watch your face,” Amy whispered and tried to turn again.

  Instead Leone rolled her onto her belly. The dry warmth of Leone’s skin flowed across Amy’s back like desert sand; her long hair trailed silken shivers across her heated flesh.

  Leone dropped delicious licks and nips down her spine, slowly kissing toward the flare of her hips. There she stopped, resting a cool face on the curve of Amy’s buttocks. Her arm snaked in under Amy’s waist, holding her tight. Amy raised her head to try to face her. The grip on her waist tightened pinning her in place. She lay totally still, her entire body goosefleshed as hot breath caressed her bottom, and listened to the deep breaths of Leone inhaling the intimate curve of her flesh. This is different…this is very, very different. I’m not sure about this…

  Amy was experienced. She’d had many lovers. After all, she was a healthy, young woman. But she was shy about this. Uncertain. There had only ever been the one time, with one lover. An act of sensual discovery. That lover was lying with her again tonight.

  A low, hungry growl reverberated against her cheek as if to confirm the memory. Leone had always led the way, could never get enough. When she was younger Amy used to think Leone’s passion would swallow her whole. Now it pinned her to the bed in turmoil.

  Gingerly, she tried to move but found herself trapped by Leone’s strength and weight.

  “Leone?” she said quietly, then expelled a sharp gasp as her ass was roughly snuffled and nipped.