Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2)
Page 21
“You did not save her in time?”
“Oh, no, we saved her. The four of us fled the village, and we came to Haven, where the High Priestess agreed to take Maerwynn and Ellyn in. But the dungeon had forever changed Ellyn. She wasn’t herself any longer. The woods terrified her. She heard noises no one else did, saw things that made her scream and run in terror. We would often find her wandering the woods, unsure of where she was or how she got there. Her mind was no longer her own. One day she ran into the river and drowned.” Ulrich shuddered at the memory. “Maerwynn blames me, for she believes it was the dungeon that broke Ellyn’s mind.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“This is the truth, Ada. I swear.”
“If Maerwynn truly hated you, she wouldn’t have listened to you when you first came here. I know Maerwynn, and she doesn’t mess around with the safety of her witches. She would have killed you on sight.”
“And she very nearly did, remember? But Maerwynn is human, as much as she pretends to be made of stone. She hates me, but she also desires me. She wishes she had been accused in Ellyn’s place, so that she might have had pleasure so great that it can the mind. In the depths of her heart, she feels guilty for her sister’s death. She feels it should have been herself, instead of Ellyn, found face down in the water.”
“But … what about me?”
“I’ve been careful, ever since then.” Ulrich said. “I haven’t taken things as far as I did with Ellyn. I was young, then. I didn’t understand boundaries, hers or mine. I didn’t have rules in place to ensure Ellyn maintained control. That is why I did not deny it when Maerwynn accused me- because I feel responsible, Ada. I blame myself for what happened, and I promised that I would never allow it to happen again.”
“Ulrich, we need to move,” Tjard called out from the wagon.
“Yes, we do.” Ulrich’s eyes bore into mine. “That is the truth, Ada. I swear it. Now, will you come? Do you trust me?”
I searched his face, his hard eyes, his thin lips, trying to find some trace of the monster Maerwynn clearly saw there. I tried to put myself in her place, to see in those eyes a murderer, a man who had turned my beloved sister mad. But all I saw was Ulrich, my Ulrich. I saw a man who blamed himself for a woman’s suicide, a man who has been torn with guilt and anger over the life he had been born into, and who tried, over and over, to redeem himself into someone good.
“Of course,” I said, holding out my hand. “Let us go.”
Ulrich squeezed my hand tightly as he helped me into the wagon. As he settled me down in front of my aunts, he whispered in my ear, “Thank you.”
Ulrich
That night we camped in complete darkness. It was too dangerous to even light a small fire, for we didn’t want to alert and of Damon’s men that might be patrolling nearby. We ate stale bread Tjard found at the bottom of the wagon. The crust broke one of Bernadine’s teeth.
We sat in silence, staring up at the dark canopy of trees, each of us lost in his or her own dark thoughts. Ada crawled under my arm, pressing her tiny body against mine. I squeezed her back, my chest aching with relief that she was with me, that she was safe, and that she had not cast me aside after hearing about Ellyn. I had been so afraid that she would run back to Maerwynn that she would refuse to see me again after hearing of my part in Ellyn’s death. But now the secret was out, and Ada was still safe in my arms, I felt relieved.
“We need a plan,” Tjard said, his voice breaking the dreary silence. The moon above peeked through the criss-crossed branches, illuminating the faint outline of his form.
“There is no sense in hiding.” I said. “I think Clarissa is using my oath mark to trace me wherever we go. It would explain how she knew we had come to Maerwynn in the first place, while at the same time appearing in person at Lord Benedict’s court to set her plan in motion. When she says she ‘followed’ us, she meant she followed us with magic.”
I glanced over at Aubrey for confirmation that my suspicions were correct. Her silhouette nodded. “I think you are right. I think Clarissa could be a witch. It might also explain how her men beat you to Haven. If they knew where you were along the road, they would know where they had to go around you, and how fast they had to ride to overtake you.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Bernadine snapped. “Clarissa didn’t know you snuck into the castle, otherwise she would have warned Damon.”
“And why didn’t they come to the cabin to capture Ulrich?” Ada asked. “If they knew you were there alone?”
“The amulet.” Tjard replied, his voice wavering.
Suddenly, it hit me. Tjard had given me the second amulet just before we’d split up. We had figured out by now that the amulet denoted witch hunters who were loyal to Clarissa. He thought that if it helped me keep a disguise on the road, than I should have it. I’d tried to insist that he kept it, since I had foolishly buried mine with the girl, but Tjard couldn’t be bargained with on those matters. I wore an amulet when I entered the castle, and when I came to the cabin with Ada. And both those times, it was as if I was invisible to Clarissa.
Tjard had come to the same conclusion, and he explained to the others how we came by the amulets in Stuttgart, and how he had given me his one to wear.
“You have the amulet now?” Aubrey asked.
I dug into the collar of my tunic to pull out the leather thong, but as I did I noticed my collar had been torn. The thong came out in my hands, but the leather had snapped. The amulet was gone.
“It was torn from me in the battle of Haven,” I said. “I am sorry.”
“There was another one,” Tjard said. “Ulrich lost it in the dungeon. Probably his father has it.”
“No, that’s not where I lost it,” I said, remembering the woman on the road. “While Tjard and I waited to enter Stuttgart, I saw one of the scharfrichters march by with a long line of prisoners. A woman fell, and his men beat her to death and left her body to rot in the ditch. I couldn’t stand it, so I buried the body, and I placed the amulet with her. I did not know of its power, it just seemed the right thing to do, to leave her with something.”
“Well, that was idiotic.” Bernadine said.
“Thanks for your very helpful input,” Tjard shot back.
“That amulet could have kept our movements invisible from Clarissa.” Bernadine snapped.
“If she's a witch, couldn’t she just scry for us?” Ada asked.
“Scrying doesn’t work on other witches. Surely your benevolent teacher Maerwynn should have taught you that. We can make a charm to protect Tjard and Ulrich from a scrying attempt, but she will still be able to track Ulrich through his oath mark.”
“There were dead soldiers back at Haven,” Ada said. “They would wear the amulets, too. We could go back and—”
“That’s a stupid idea. The valley will be crawling with Clarissa’s men. There are only five of us. We need to put as much distance between us and them as possible.”
“Well, could we find the body of the women again?” Aubrey asked. “We could dig it up and retrieve the amulet?”
As her words registered, my anger flared. “Maybe you merrily go around digging up the dead like wretched grave robbers, but I do not.”
“Oh no. Far better to be the one driving them mad and placing them in the grave in the first place.” Bernadine shot back.
Anger flared inside me. “I am trying to save your life, woman—”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
“Stop it, both of you.” Aubrey said, gently, but firmly. “We’re all on the same side here. Arguing doesn’t help matters. Now, Ulrich, you could find the grave of this woman again, if you had to?”
“Yes, I marked it was a cairn, but I can’t agree to this. It’s sacrilege. It’s wrong.”
“You’ve never cared about what is sacred before,” Ada turned to me. “This woman has no need of the amulet, Ulrich, but we do. You did the right thing, and gave her a good, Christian burial. I think she would
forgive us this one indiscretion.”
“You can’t be serious.” I couldn’t believe Ada was siding with her aunts.
“It’s our only hope,” she said simply, squeezing my hand.
I sighed. I hated it, but I couldn’t think of any other way, and the fact that neither Aubrey or Bernadine suggested an alternative made it clear that they couldn’t think of one, either. “Fine. We will travel to Stuttgart to collect the amulet, and then when our movements are invisible to Clarissa and my father, what will we do then?”
“Then,” Aubrey said, her voice thick with resolve. “We go to Rotstrom castle to free all the witches.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Coming soon … Curse
FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT …
… when Ulrich, Ada and the aunts come face-to-face with their ultimate enemy, and learn a dark secret that could undo them all.
Curse, the third and final book in the Witches of the Woods series, will be released in mid-2016. Keep up-to-date with all Steffanie Holmes' releases, find out when Curse goes on sale, and get access to bonus material and behind-the-scenes fun by joining her author newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bRg-2D
Excerpt from The Man in Black
Love so fierce it transcends even death.
When Elinor Baxter arrives at the dilapidated Marshell House to settle the estate of her law firm's oldest client, she can't help but feel a little spooked. The creaking gothic mansion is a far cry from her life as an adventurous party girl back in London.
Then she meets Eric Marshell, a man dressed entirely in black with a wicked smile and the ability to float through walls. Eric was the violinist in popular rock band Ghost Symphony until a hit-and-run accident claimed his life. Now he's trapped inside his mother's house for all eternity, and the only one who can see or hear him is Elinor.
Eric and Elinor fight their attraction for each other as they dig into the mystery of Eric's death. But when they uncover a dark and sinister plot that threatens Elinor's life, their bond draws them into a world neither of them understands. Can their love transcend the boundary between life and death?
The Man in Black is a steamy gothic romance by USA Today bestselling author Steffanie Holmes, Set in the English village of Crookshollow, it's a standalone novel of love, redemption, and second chances. If you love clever BBW heroines, crumbling gothic mansions, and brooding rockstars who know what they want, then this book will have you shivering all over.
* * *
Elinor moved her hand, so her palm lay flat against mine. It was so odd to see her fingers nestled right inside my body, and even odder to feel them there, not as fingers usually feel, but as a hot ball of energy, emanating heat to a steady rhythm.
It took me a few moments to realise the rhythm was Elinor’s heartbeat.
I stepped forward, my hand shifting against hers, her fingers dancing inside mine. I pressed my other hand against her back, my palm sinking into her flesh. If I were alive at this moment, I would push Elinor against my body, and relish the warmth of her, the shape of her, against me. But I couldn’t do that, so instead I folded myself in closer to her. The front of my jacket brushed against her chest, sending waves of pulsing heat through my whole torso.
“This is amazing,” Elinor breathed, her bow-shaped lips parting slightly. I didn’t trust myself to reply, so I smiled back at her. I started to sway, pushing my right hip forward, moving the warmth through her leg. Elinor sensed the movement through her skin, and she moved backward, turning her body with me. I stepped again, and again we slid across the floor, our bodies sweeping and dipping with the music.
With my next step, I pushed myself closer, bowing my head slightly, so that my face hovered inches above hers. My eyes locked on those bow lips, ripe and delicious like the first berries of spring. God, I want this woman—
“I like the music,” Elinor said. Her voice wavered. She sounded nervous. I wondered if she was speaking because she sensed what I wanted to do, and she was trying to fill the space between us, to stop me from doing something I couldn’t take back.
“Mmmm,” I shifted my fingers in her hand. The heat flickered, thrumming through my body with a quickened pace. She was nervous. Interesting.
“I love the … distortion. The way it crackles right through my whole body.” Elinor breathed. “It’s almost as if the music is mirroring the sensation when we touch.”
“This piece is originally written by the composer Niccolò Paganini, a Greek violinist in the early nineteenth century.” I murmured. If she wanted to talk, I could at least impress her. “He was known for making liberal use of the diabolus en musica, the devil’s tritone, which creates that haunting dissonance you hear in the piece. Of course, Paganini’s composition has been sped up and updated, and accompanied by the electric guitar, bass guitar, double bass, and drums, it’s quite the feat of modern gothic rock.”
“Who is playing the violin in this piece?” Elinor asked, her lips barely moving, struggling to form the words.
“I am, on Isolde. Ghost Symphony is my band.”
“Eric …” Elinor’s face turned up to me.
I leaned closer, I could practically taste the sweetness of those berry-red lips, feel the warmth of her mouth against mine. The air between us crackled with electricity. Elinor shifted her weight against mine, falling into me as she leaned forward, her lips pursed, waiting.
I brushed my lips against hers. It was like no other kiss I’d ever experienced before. The heat leapt through my body, twisting from my mouth right through my core. I felt as though I’d swallowed a hot coal, and though it burned me deeply, it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I leaned forward, my weightless body pressed against hers, my lips parting to devour her heat as our bodies hummed with pulsing energy.
READ NOW from Amazon: The Man in Black
About the Author
Steffanie Holmes is a USA Today bestselling author of steamy paranormal and gothic romance. Her books feature clever, witty heroines, wild shifters, cunning witches and alpha males who get what they want.
Before becoming a writer, Steffanie worked as an archaeologist and museum curator. She loves to explore historical settings and ancient conceptions of love and possession. From Dark Age Europe to crumbling gothic estates, Steffanie is fascinated with how love can blossom between the most unlikely characters.
Steffanie lives in New Zealand with her husband and a horde of cantankerous cats.
Stay up-to-date with Steffanie:
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Other Books By Steffanie Holmes
Crookshollow Foxes
Art of Cunning - READ NOW
Art of the Hunt - READ NOW
Art of Temptation - READ NOW
Crookshollow Ghosts
The Man in Black - READ NOW
Witches of the Woods
Witch Hunter - READ NOW
Coven - READ NOW
Curse (coming in 2016)
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