by Ann Gimpel
Luke tightened his hold on Abigail and carried her outside, away from the sickly taint inside the stationhouse. Mage fire wouldn’t destroy anything except the Salem witch, but the stench of her evil was thick and cloying. He closed his mind to the possibility that after all they’d done, Abigail would die anyway. Fate couldn’t be that cruel.
Oh yes it could. Remember Tamra? an inner voice mocked.
Luke kept moving until he was in an open spot next to the creek bank. He sat on some dry grass and cradled Abigail against him. It took a few minutes before he could force himself to lay a finger alongside her neck to check for a pulse.
“How is she?” Sam asked.
Luke looked up to see the other three enforcers ringed near him. He’d been so locked into his own misery, he hadn’t noticed them come close. “Still alive,” he gritted. “Barely.”
“Have you figured out what’s wrong?” Joshua hunkered next to them.
“Didn’t get that far.”
“Mind if I look?”
Luke clung to Abigail, loath to turn her over to anyone else.
“I have some healing ability,” Joshua said, voice soft. “If Sam is right and she’s tore up inside…” His words trailed off.
“All right.” Luke spread Abigail tenderly in the grass and moved off to one side.
Joshua started at her head and let his hands travel the length of her body, but a few inches above it. His expression turned so grim, Luke’s heart splintered. “What’d you find?”
Chris shook his head, dark eyes serious, and said, “Let him work. If he has to talk to you, it will distract him.”
Luke felt the air thicken, saw it shimmer as Joshua summoned magic. A canopy of multi-hued air formed around Abigail’s body. For the first time since Tamra’s death, Luke prayed. He had no idea who he called out to, but he begged any deity who might be listening to a poor sod like him to spare Abigail.
Sam sat next to him. Chris hovered off to one side. Magic flowed from him, augmenting Joshua’s healing efforts. Luke lost track of time, but the sun had nearly reached mid-heaven when Sam dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Look!” His voice held an excited note. “Her color’s better.” He exhaled noisily. “I swear, up until just now I thought she was a goner for sure.”
Luke’s gaze had never left Abigail, but he sharpened his focus. Sam was right. Pale pink washed both her cheeks, and the rise and fall of her chest was visible, truly visible, not a product of him wanting her to be stronger. His throat thickened, but he swallowed back strong emotion. Enforcers were hard men, men who’d moved beyond the need for tears. No need to shame himself.
“You care about her,” Sam said softly.
“More than that,” Luke said. “I think I’m falling in love.” Heat rose to his face, as if admitting any feeling were a weakness. He shook his head. “Sorry, not sure quite where that came from.”
“No wonder you didn’t want to just kill her and have done with things. The boys and me, we wondered about that.”
“You talked about it telepathically without me?” Luke felt taken aback.
“Had to.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “You’d have done the same. Not that I didn’t believe your story, but we made a field decision early this morning. Needed to be as certain as we could you weren’t part of a trap.”
“Thanks for trusting me.” Luke looked at his hands. He’d thought the other enforcers might reject his plea to save Abigail, but it never occurred to him they’d see him as part of a possible plot to lure them to disaster.
“No problem. You owe me.”
Luke bit back a grim laugh. “Anytime.”
“She’s coming around,” Chris said.
Luke scooted to where Abigail lay. As soon as Joshua’s magic dissipated, he gathered her into his arms and rocked her against him. “It will be all right,” he murmured. “You’re safe now.”
Her eyes fluttered open. She gazed at him, and then at the other enforcers ringed round her. “What happened?” She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled weakly. “My God! She’s gone. What’d you do to get rid of her? Last thing I remember is when she commandeered my body to attack you.”
“It’s a long story. The important thing is you’re still with us,” Luke said. He was grinning like an idiot, but couldn’t stop himself.
Abigail struggled against him and Luke loosened his hold. “Would you like to get up?”
“Not sure I can.” She closed her teeth over her lower lip. “Answer me this. Did you kill her?” She winced. “That was a stupid question because she’s long since dead. My mind is fuzzy.”
“I knew what you meant,” Luke said. “Yes, I engulfed what was left of her in mage fire. She won’t bother anyone again.”
Tears welled, but she didn’t brush them away. “You’ll have to tell me how you did it, but maybe not just now.”
“You planning to introduce me?” Sam jabbed him with an elbow.
“Next thing I know, you’ll be dropping A Handbook of Etiquette for Gentlemen into my saddlebags.” Luke snorted.
“Now that you mention it…” Joshua laughed long and loud.
The sound was so robust, it reminded Luke of everything he was grateful for. “Let’s see. This blond-haired fellow is Sam, one of my closest friends.”
“I know Chris and Joshua,” she interrupted. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sam.”
Joshua knelt next to her and took her hand. “I healed you. Goody did a lot of damage on her way out.”
Abigail grimaced. “I’m not surprised.” She shook herself free of Luke and Joshua and stood unsteadily. “Good that all of you are here. I— Well, that is, I need to be honest and this is as good a place as any to start.”
Luke’s gut tensed. Had she invited the Salem witch into her body? If Abigail had done that, no matter how he felt about her, he’d have to cut his losses. He got to his feet and moved so he faced her. “Go ahead.” He motioned with two fingers. “We’re listening.”
“Remember when we went after the books the first time?” When he nodded, she went on, “You were way ahead of me. A mad wolf knocked me out of the saddle. I killed it, but when I called my horse back, Goody—except she was still in Carolyn’s body then—accosted me. She told me I was surrounded by mad wolves and wraiths and that she’d kill me if I didn’t let her bind me with a blood oath. I was trying to buy myself time, but the ugly truth is I came within a hairsbreadth of succumbing to her compulsion spell to play host to her.” Abigail squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “You showed up then and shot her. Somewhere in-between that and Carolyn dying, Goody jumped ship. I still have no idea how she whooshed through my defenses. She was inside me so fast, it took me a while to figure out what happened.
“At first I thought I could control her.” Abigail’s mouth curled into a bitter expression. “Figured out damn fast that I wasn’t strong enough. After we attacked you, once you’d killed the men and mad wolves, I tried to kill myself.” She swallowed hard. “It was the only way to rid myself of her and I didn’t want to live with her inside me. That’s how I got all these cuts and scrapes that I guess you worked on since they’re healing. Thank you.”
Abigail swayed from side to side and planted her feet more widely to balance herself. “I understand you’ll have to let the Girauds know, and the rest of Coven government too.”
“None of them will hold it against you.” Sam stepped forward.
“What you told us was unvarnished truth,” Joshua added. “I was checking.”
“You’re not the first witch who was snared by the dark.” Chris smiled warmly.
The rigid set of her shoulders softened and Abigail made her way to the steps leading into the stationhouse. She settled on the bottom riser and raked her fingers through her hair.
Luke walked over to her. “You need food and rest.” Protectiveness swelled within him, but he also censured himself. If he hadn’t ridden ahead after the books that night, maybe he’d have been able to save her from the hell she�
��d just lived through.
“I’ll get us a meal together,” Sam offered.
“With what?” Joshua countered.
“With whatever you and I can catch,” Chris said. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t scare up a rabbit or two, or a raccoon.”
“I vote for venison,” Sam called after their retreating forms, but they didn’t even turn around.
“Thank you,” Abigail glanced from Sam to Luke. “The words seem inadequate somehow, but if it wasn’t for you two, and Chris and Joshua, I’d be dead.”
“Aw shucks, ma’am, t’weren’t nothing.” Sam winked broadly.
Luke elbowed him. “About that etiquette book, does it include a grammar section?”
“Wouldn’t know. Never laid eyes on one. I’m going to make certain that fire’s out.” Sam trudged up the steps and pulled the door open. A putrid stench wafted out.
“Whew!” Abigail wrinkled her nose. “Guess we won’t be eating in there. I could smell it some before he opened the door, but that’s pretty awful.”
“We can air it out so it’s habitable again.” Luke followed Sam up the stairs and propped the front door open. He held his breath against the reek of evil and walked from window to window, tugging them open. Once he’d done all he could, he went back to check on Abigail. She was leaned back against the steps with her eyes closed, dozing. Exhaustion scored her face and made him heartsick he hadn’t been able to rescue her sooner. Luke reminded himself that his feelings for her might be one-sided. They hadn’t really had much time together without Goody as an unwelcome third.
I’ll just take things nice and slow, he promised himself, and then knew he was lying. He wanted to stake his claim to the woman asleep on the steps. It would practically kill him if she wasn’t interested.
Chapter Eight
Abigail leaned against the stagecoach seat and adjusted the magic she paid out to the gears. Dust drifted in through the open window. They’d be in Salt Lake soon, probably within the hour. Three days had elapsed since the men rescued her from Goody, and she was starting to feel more like herself. Her magic, which had taken the most time to recover, was strong enough to use again so they were making good time with just four horses.
The first day they’d remained close to the Overland Stage Station, once it had thoroughly aired out. She’d dozed off and on, waking to share food and the bottle of spirits with the men. The relief driver had shown up early the next morning and disclosed the sad news that he’d found the stationmaster with his throat torn out about ten miles up the road.
They’d driven through the second day and night, switching teams and drivers at intervals. By this morning, she’d been able to help power the coach. Abigail moved to the bank of seats on the opposite side to stretch out her stiff muscles. It was closing on dusk again, and she’d be relieved to have the meeting with the Girauds behind her. Whenever she thought about them, the fine hairs on the back of her neck trilled a warning.
All four enforcers were traveling with the stagecoach. If she quested outward with her magic, she could feel each of them, comforting and solid. She blew out a small sigh. Luke was a special man, but maybe she only felt that way because he’d stuck by her, even after he knew she housed the Salem witch. She’d caught him watching her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, though, his gaze warm and tender.
“Probably doesn’t mean a thing,” she murmured. “Good looking fellow like that, bet he’s got women waiting for him in lots of cities.” He hadn’t suggested dinner again, or really much of anything. Maybe he was afraid she’d sustained residual damage from Goody’s presence. Hell, she was worried about the same thing: that some taint remained, which would show up at an inconvenient time to sabotage her.
When she’d insisted on knowing exactly how the enforcers had ousted Goody, he’d described what they’d done with enough tact and delicacy she hadn’t felt uncomfortable, at least not very. It wasn’t as if any of the men had actually done anything sexual to her body, beyond Chris nuzzling her neck and Sam keeping his hands on her bottom. Chris had to have physical contact to secure his spell, and Sam to divert Goody so she wouldn’t pay too much attention to what Chris was doing.
Abigail blew out a breath. Sam and Chris had taken a huge risk. Because they were actually touching her, Goody could have killed them instantly—if she’d figured out what they were up to. Fortunately, the Salem witch had been extremely narcissistic and desperate for male attention. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that the three enforcers were engaged in anything beyond a courtship ritual, one she didn’t fully grasp since she was from an earlier time.
Funny she believed them when she went to such great lengths to remind me not to trust a word that came out of her.
Abigail took a steadying breath. Even when she dug deep, she still couldn’t dredge up even one memory between when Goody forced her to launch herself at Luke and waking up in the grass near the riverbank. Probably a good thing, but the blank area in her mind bothered her and left her feeling not-quite-whole.
Abigail wondered what she was going to do after today. It depended on how the Girauds took her news and if they blamed her for their daughter’s death, as they well might. If they booted her from the Coven, she supposed she’d go back to Gran’s and live with her. San Francisco had grown; surely she could find some application for her witchy talents in a city that size.
If I do that, I’ll never see Luke again… The thought both tugged at her heartstrings and confused her. She’d always been self-sufficient. Even when she’d had the occasional dalliance, usually during one of the festivals like Beltane, she’d never yearned for a man before, but Luke was different. It was a rare moment he wasn’t either in her mind, or close enough he may as well be. He’d taken up residence in her dreams too. Her cheeks warmed. Some of those dreams had been so steamy, and so real, she’d woken to climaxes thrumming through her. At least the stagecoach afforded some level of privacy. She hoped she hadn’t screamed, or writhed, or done anything to embarrass herself while they’d all still been at the Overland Stage Station and her exhausted body kept drifting off.
The driver yelled at the horses to slow down; she reeled in her magic and peered out the window. They weren’t in Salt Lake quite yet. Why were they stopping? The coach rolled to a halt off to the side of a well-rutted roadway. She unlatched a door and navigated the steps, glancing about uncertainly. Maybe there was some sort of trouble, but she didn’t sense anything amiss.
Luke got off his horse, tethered it to the rear of the coach, and walked to her side. “Mind if I ride the rest of the way in with you? There’re things we need to talk about, things the boys and I got straight back on the road.”
“It would be nice to have company.” She turned and ducked back inside the stagecoach, trying to hide how pleased she felt. No need to make him uncomfortable by gushing over him. Besides, he hadn’t exactly sounded romantic. Things we need to talk about smacked of business, not anything personal.
He waited until the coach was moving again and she’d settled the gears into a rhythm to assist the horses. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugged and pressed her lips together. “Nervous. I’ve been trying to come up with options in case they kick me out of the Coven.”
“They might insist you return to New York for a trial.”
Breath whooshed out of her. “What? Why would they do that? It isn’t as if I killed her.”
“Grieving parents aren’t always rational.” A corner of his mouth turned downward. “You didn’t kill her. I did, and that’s what we’re going to tell the Girauds. The truth, or most of it, anyway.”
“It would have to be damn near everything. They won’t be so grief-stricken they’ll forget to set a truth spell in play, once they realize Carolyn’s dead.”
“We thought of that,” Luke went on. “The only part you’re going to alter is when you realized their daughter was possessed. We’re going to leave out our earlier suspicions and we’re not going to tell
them about Carolyn running off into the desert half-cocked and us hunting for her for hours. Or her pinching you, or disclosing she was Goody as soon as she did.” He tapped an index finger toward her. “None of that.”
Understanding threaded through her. In a spontaneous gesture that embarrassment caught up to later, she reached across the coach and laid a hand over Luke’s. “You’re going to spare them the unpleasantness of what their daughter turned into.”
“That’s about the size of it. Nothing to be gained by giving them every single, grisly detail. Better to focus on you being possessed. Carolyn was already dead then, so there wouldn’t have been a thing you could have done for her.”
Abigail snatched her hand back. “Sorry. That was forward of me.”
He gazed at her, green eyes sparking with tenderness. “Don’t apologize. I was enjoying you touching me.”
She felt flustered, pleased, but uncertain. To avoid admitting she’d enjoyed touching him too, she retreated to safer ground. “Back to Carolyn. When did we figure out something was wrong?”
“When they came after the third trunk in the middle of the night. Didn’t know about the books until then, either, mind you. We woke up, realized Carolyn was gone right along with the ungodly thumping that had woken us, and took off after her. We found a couple of the books and the spelled chest just outside the stagecoach, and put two and two together. The rest of things are just the way they happened, except you didn’t suspect a thing about Goody until after you killed the mad wolf and Carolyn stalked out of the woods.”
Abigail rolled it around in her mind. “I think it’ll work. Carolyn serving as a vehicle for that abomination for a very short time will be a whole lot more palatable for her parents than thinking Goody had her claws into their child for months, if not years.”
“It could have been years,” Luke agreed. “Sam and I kicked that around. Depends just how long the Girauds had those books.”
Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Goody did say they’d belonged to her originally. It makes sense she’d have tracked them, found the weak link in the Giraud chain, and wormed her way in.” She exhaled wearily and shook her head. “I haven’t let myself think much about it, but my escape was way too close for comfort. I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to delude myself I could control something that wicked.”