by Ann Gimpel
He stopped to clear his throat. “In the dark of the night, the coach began rattling and shaking something fierce. Woke us up and we saw right away Carolyn was missing. We sensed fell things and I kicked myself for not setting a watch.”
Abigail picked up the telling. “Luke and I raced out of there. First thing that happened was we stumbled on some black magick books and one of Carolyn’s trunks.” Abigail shook her head. “I packed two trunks in New York. The third one was locked and ready to go. It never occurred to me to check it, so I didn’t, and I’m sorry. Anyway, that trunk was spelled, which was why we didn’t know what was inside. We discovered later it was chockfull of books just as hideous as the ones we found.”
“So dark agents pulled the trunk off the coach,” Don leaned forward, his lips set into a thin line, “and made off with the books, or most of them.”
“Yes, sir,” Abigail said.
“What happened then?” Breana asked.
Luke started talking again. “I borrowed a couple of horses from a nearby farm and Abigail and I took off after the books, figuring whoever had them had your daughter too. By then, I’d put out a distress call for other enforcers.”
“Luke got quite a bit ahead of me,” Abigail said. “A mad wolf jumped me and shoved me out of the saddle. I killed it. By the time I got to my feet and called my horse, which had bolted, Carolyn walked out of the woods.” Abigail clasped her hands together so hard, her knuckles whitened. “Except by then, her body had been taken over by Goody Osborne.”
“Goddammit all to hell.” Don lurched to his feet and pounded his fist into the porch railing. It must have hurt like hell, but he didn’t even grunt. “That bitch has been after those books ever since we agreed to barricade them in our basement.”
“It’s actually a little worse than that,” Abigail forged ahead. “She told me she was The Promised and that she was gathering power.”
Don hissed and curved his fingers in the sigil against evil. “Keep talking,” he rasped.
A low, keening sound rose from Breana. She looked so distraught, Luke wanted to go to her, but didn’t. Comforting was her husband’s job, not his. He swallowed past a thickening at the back of his throat. “By then, I figured something must have happened to Abigail, so I doubled back. I came across Carolyn and her facing off. I’ll never know quite what tipped me off, but I stayed in the shadows, cloaked myself, and listened for long enough to figure out what was going on. When Goody said she was going to kill Abigail, I shot her, with silver and iron.”
“It would have been awful enough if that had been the end of it,” Abigail said in a low voice, “but Goody jumped ship at the last possible moment and possessed me.”
Don stalked in front of her and barked, “Stand up.”
Abigail got to her feet and faced him with her shoulders squared. Luke felt a truth spell drop around her.
“You must have let her in.” Don enunciated each word painfully clearly, his gaze never leaving Abigail’s face.
“No, I didn’t,” Abigail said, raising her voice just a little for emphasis. “She used compulsion on me, but I fought against it, even though my only other option was death. Somewhere in the midst of all that, Luke’s gun went off and the Salem witch, or The Promised, took matters into her own hands and slipped inside me. She blew past my wards like they weren’t even there. Right after that, a bunch of enforcers showed up. Not this crew, but half a dozen other ones, and they burned your daughter’s body with mage fire.” Abigail gritted her teeth. “I knew they didn’t have to do that, but I couldn’t tell them. Goody wouldn’t have let me.”
The spell frittered away. “Thank Christ you told me the truth.” Don’s voice shook. “If you’d lied, I’d have killed you myself.”
“Oh, Don.” Breana stumbled to her feet and moved to Abigail’s side. “Two wrongs wouldn’t have brought our baby back.” She focused her ice blue eyes on Abigail. “I don’t sense evil in you now. What happened?”
The four enforcers came close and told their story. At the end of it, Breana laid a hand on Abigail’s arm. “I’m grateful you’re still on our side and didn’t succumb to the dark.”
“If it was really The Promised you immolated in mage fire, it was a good day’s work,” Don growled, glancing from one enforcer to the next.
“I’m so sorry about your little girl.” Tears sheened Abigail’s hazel eyes.
“Thank you. I think I’ll go inside now.” Breana turned and walked unsteadily up the porch steps.
“Feel free to stay,” Don said hoarsely. “My wife needs me.”
“Oh no, I don’t,” Breana said just before the door closed behind her.
“Would you like me to cook something?” Abigail asked Don.
“Sure. That would be nice. Don’t think I’ll ever feel like eating again, but I’ve got to find my way past this.” His voice trembled and he plodded after his wife.
“Let’s take a walk,” Joshua suggested.
“Good idea,” Sam agreed. “That was pretty intense and I’d like to clear my head.”
“I’ll unhook the team from the wagon and get them settled in the barn with water and some feed,” Luke said. “I’ll find you once I’m done.”
“Do you need help?” Abigail looked almost as ravaged as the Girauds. Luke wanted to hold her, but there’d be time for that later. They’d gotten past this first hurdle with the Girauds, but had yet to settle which side they were really on. It was becoming clearer Breana wanted nothing to do with Don. The question was why.
Luke walked to Abigail and kissed her forehead. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he stepped back far enough to look at her and said, “It’s pretty much a one man job. Why don’t you go with the boys? Moving around will help chase those I should have done more demons out of that pretty head of yours.”
— •●• —
Abigail pumped water at the sink to cool off the cauldron she’d dragged over from the woodstove and rinsed her cook pot and the dishes they’d used. Luke and the other three men were out on the front porch. The low hum of their voices reached her from time to time. Neither Giraud had emerged from their upstairs bedroom. When supper, a venison stew with vegetables from the garden out back, was ready, she’d sent Luke to knock on their door. He’d been gone for a long while. When he returned, he’d shaken his head and said, “Maybe tomorrow. Don made a sleeping draught for Breana.”
She’d had her doubts about the enforcers’ plan to omit some of what had happened, but now she was grateful they’d been able to spare the Girauds even more gritty details about what their daughter had turned into. The tale they’d told was bad enough. Reliving it chilled her blood and made her glad for the warmth of the cook stove.
Maybe Don and Breana would be better able to talk and make some decisions in the morning. Abigail hoped he’d had the good sense to take a little of whatever he’d mixed up for his wife. Not having a body, or a grave, would underscore their loss, but there was nothing to be done about that other than accept it.
Abigail dumped her dirty water down the sink and switched from washing to drying. Like she’d told Don, they could have spared Carolyn’s body from mage fire, but none of them knew it at the time except her and she hadn’t been in a position to tell. If she’d tried, Goody would have silenced her. Abigail remembered Carolyn’s outraged squawks when she’d finally truly understood the Salem witch could murder her and walk away without the slightest remorse.
That poor child. What a horrible way to spend her last moments…
Abigail hung her dishtowel on a hook and sat at the table, resting her chin on an upraised hand. She pulled the pins from her hair, shaking it out once it was loose and reaching under it to massage places the pins had left sore spots. She couldn’t think of anything else that needed doing, but she wasn’t ready to face the men quite yet.
Joshua’s earlier suggestion for them to take a walk had been wise. They’d each said what they needed to about Carolyn’s loss and how it might impact the Gira
uds’ ability to continue in a key role in the Coven. They’d also touched on the necessity of determining if the couple had been turned. One thing was certain: they couldn’t leave the Girauds alone. In their current state, they’d be prime targets for an attack from the other side. If they were already part of that side, whatever warped loyalty kept them from turning their magic against the Coven might disintegrate in the face of their daughter’s death. Don would bristle at the idea he needed protection, but Luke, Joshua, Chris, and Sam weren’t going to take go away for an answer.
She’d never realized the true scope of enforcer powers. They could make decisions independent of Coven government. If a quorum, which happened to be four, all agreed, it was as if the thing were carved into stone tablets.
Her thoughts turned to Luke. Though he’d been unobtrusive, she’d felt him watching her throughout the long evening, his gaze earnest and kindhearted. She knew he was worried about her. Normally, that kind of overarching concern grated, but she welcomed it from him. Abigail stood. If she was thinking about Luke, maybe it was time to hunt him down. She reached for a shawl Breana kept draped over a peg near the door. It had to be past midnight and it was cold outside.
She pushed the door open to a chorus of, “There she is.”
“I was about to go inside and see if you needed any help.” Luke held his arms out and she sat in his lap, welcoming the warmth of his embrace.
“I finished a little bit ago,” she said. “Since then, I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table, thinking.”
“What about?” Sam asked.
She shrugged. “A little of this and a little of that. Mostly, I just feel so bad for Breana and Don. They didn’t deserve to have something this rotten happen to them.”
“That’s usually the way of it,” Chris rumbled. He tipped a whiskey bottle to his mouth, leaned across the table, and handed it to her.
Abigail drank. The spirits burned a track down her throat all the way to her stomach. It hurt, but it felt good too, and served as a reminder she was still alive. “Thanks.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and Sam took the bottle from her.
“Guess we could all bunk down for the night,” Joshua said.
“Good idea.” Sam stretched his arms over his head and rotated his torso. “Little enough night left as it is. Who wants first watch? I figure we’ll do two hour stints.”
“I’ll go first,” Joshua said and winked at Luke and Abigail. “I’m not very sleepy, and I suspect those two might want a little time together.”
Abigail’s face heated, but it was dark enough no one probably saw her blush. “Um, any idea where we can sleep?” she asked.
“I scouted us out a nice hay rick in the barn,” Luke said. “We’ll be up in the loft. These three sapskulls picked downstairs.”
“Sapskulls?” Sam slugged him in the arm. “So that’s how it is now?”
“Aw, hell.” Luke slugged him back. “We’re all ninnies from time to time.”
“Speak for yourself.” Abigail laughed. “I think you’re all amazing—daring and strong and courageous.”
Joshua snorted. “Stop. These other three will become insufferable.”
“And you won’t?” Sam arched a brow, but Joshua just laughed.
Luke tilted her to her feet and got to his. He fired his mage light, tucked her hand beneath his arm, and led the way across a broad yard and into the barn. It was warm from horses, two cows, and a few goats, and it smelled sweet, like the hay that was stacked in bales off to one side. Luke pointed to a ladder and she climbed into the loft. It was a cozy space tucked under the eaves, but there wasn’t space to stand, so she crawled to a place he’d obviously opened a hay bale and arranged clothing and blankets over it to make them a bed.
He hovered, balanced on one of the ladder’s upper rungs, mage light bobbing to one side. “Will this be all right for you?”
She cocked her head to one side. “No, but it might be all right for us.” She unlaced her boots and tugged them off, never taking her eyes off him.
His solemn face lit with a smile. “I didn’t want to presume anything.” He slithered up the rest of the rungs, worked his way over to her, and opened his arms. She snuggled against him and he drew a blanket over the top of them. His breath was warm against her hair, his hands sure where he rubbed her shoulders and back.
“That feels really good,” she murmured against his chest. “I knew I was exhausted, but I didn’t realize how tense I was.”
“You have every reason to be both. Telling a person someone they love won’t ever put their arms around them again has got to be one of the hardest things to do. You want to be sensitive and compassionate, but you need to get the job done too.”
She nodded. “I did a lot of midwifing with Gran. Sometimes the babies didn’t make it. Sometimes the women didn’t. The worst was when we saved the babe, but the woman died. Mostly the men were in such bad shape over losing their wife, last thing they wanted was a little one.”
“I’ll bet not.” Luke stroked her hair. “Most of us don’t have the first idea of how to take care of babies.”
He kissed her forehead and strung kisses down the side of her face. Abigail turned her head, her mouth seeking his. Luke kissed her, soft and tender at first, but with increasing intensity as she flung her leg over his hip and wound her arms around him.
She opened her mouth, welcoming his tongue. Her heart slammed into a heady rhythm with wanting him and her nipples pebbled where they pressed against his chest. He groaned and thrust his tongue deeper into her mouth, and then withdrew and nibbled her lower lip with little nipping kisses. His cock swelled and pressed into her belly. Abigail reached between them and curved her fingers around him.
He broke their kiss and moved back enough to look at her. His green gaze was intense; heat flickered in the depths of his eyes, along with yearning. “Are you sure?”
She smiled. “I’ve never been surer of anything. We’re both well past exhausted, but I want you to make love to me. It will help me move past the filth Goody spread inside me.”
“You’re so beautiful.” He wound a strand of her hair around one of his fingers. “Maybe instead of that dinner, we could ask Don to marry us. Or Sam, since he’s got preacher credentials, and something about Don doesn’t feel quite right. Not that we couldn’t go out to celebrate afterward.” He grinned and it made him look young and carefree.
Abigail laughed. “Why don’t we get past the bedding part before we make any long-range commitments?”
“Spoken like a true modern woman.” He pressed his cock deeper into her hand. “Ready whenever you are, love.”
Chapter Ten
Luke’s soul took flight. Abigail wanted him, as desperately as he wanted her from the looks of things. His cock jumped against her probing fingers, aching for release. He wanted to free himself, push her skirts out of the way, and take her, but he wanted to gaze at her body too, drink in her loveliness. If he was patient, he could have it all. Reluctantly, he uncurled her hand from around his erection. She mewled in protest and made another grab for him.
“I love it that you can’t wait. It’s hard for me too, but let me make this a little nicer for us. I can use magic to create walls and heat so we can actually take our clothes off.” Even as he spoke, he summoned a casting and wove the air currents around them together until they were dense enough to hold warmth. Before he got around to the next part of the spell, the air heated around them. He’d never taken his gaze from Abigail’s lovely face, but now he quirked a brow.
A corner of her mouth turned down in a wry grin. “You didn’t say I couldn’t help. Besides, we already know our magic works well together.” She propped herself on an elbow and tugged at the laces holding his leather shirt closed. “What happened to the ammo belts?”
“Left ’em with my guns. Don’t worry. They’re close by, just the other side of our bed.”
She tried to pull his shirt off, but didn’t have the angle right. “Sit up so I
can get this off you. Um, if your guns were close, you were planning to sleep here all along.”
“Not necessarily. If you hadn’t wanted me, I’d have slept over there.” He jerked his chin toward the right. “There’s another, smaller hay nest I put together.”
She slipped his shirt off and ran her hands down his chest. Her touch was electric and took his breath away. “Ready for anything, huh?” she teased just before tilting her head and licking one of his nipples.
He grunted with pleasure. “All part of those years of enforcer training. They teach us to have plans and backup plans.” It was hard to talk with her hot mouth and wicked tongue moving from nipple to nipple. Goosebumps raised along his arms and his cock was so hard he was afraid he’d come before it got anywhere near her pussy.
Luke took hold of her arms and pulled her gently away from him and into a sit so he could unbutton her dress. Sliding his hands under the fabric, he found a silky chemise, but no stays. He was just thinking what the best way to get her dress off would be when she tugged it out from under her and whipped it over her head. Her skin gleamed alabaster in the glow from his mage light, with her erect nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of her undergarment.
He had to remind himself to breathe. She was so lovely with her dark red hair falling around her strongly muscled shoulders and her cat-like hazel eyes. With hands that only shook a little, he tugged the ends of her chemise out of her petticoats and lifted the delicate garment over her head. If breathing had been a problem before, it was doubly so now. She had the most beautiful breasts. Full and tipped with copper-colored nipples, they rode high on her sculpted ribcage.
Abigail laughed low, almost like a throaty growl. “You can touch,” she said. “I won’t shatter.”
The sound of her voice broke into his trance. He found he could move, pushed her gently onto her back, and closed his mouth over one of her nipples. He twirled and teased the other one with his fingers. Abigail arched her back under him and moaned softly when he moved from one breast to the other, trading mouth for fingers and back again. She thrust her hips upward in obvious invitation, so he wriggled a hand under her petticoats and came across drawers with what felt like a drawstring.