witches of cleopatra hill 06 - spellbound

by Pope, Christine

  Finally, though, the day was over, all the compositions left in a neat stack on her desktop. She’d have to grade them, of course, but she could put that task off for a day or so.

  If she even stuck around that long. Because what she planned to say to Robert when he came to see her today after school might change everything. She’d tell him the truth, and she’d tell him that Jeremiah Wilcox knew exactly who he was, and so the best thing for the both of them would be to get out of here. Back to the East Coast…back to the future…right then, Danica didn’t care one way or another. She just knew they needed to get away from the Wilcoxes.

  A tall shadow filled the doorway, and she smiled. A little early, but obviously Robert had gotten her note.

  Then the silhouetted figure stepped into the room, away from the sun that had backlit him, and Danica realized the man wasn’t Robert at all.

  He was Samuel Wilcox.

  She let out a gasp before she could prevent it from escaping her lips. But then she forced herself to give him as steady a gaze as she could manage and said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Wilcox. How can I help you? If it’s about that ‘D’ I gave Clay for his composition on Betsy Ross — ”

  “This isn’t about Clay,” he broke in, moving closer to her desk.

  No, of course it wasn’t. She’d known that even as she spoke. Only a desperate attempt to make his appearance here seem as if it was just part of the regular routine.

  Glad that her bulky skirts hid her quivering legs, she stood slowly and made a show of gathering up the stack of compositions and laying them in her basket. “Then what can I help you with, Mr. Wilcox? As you can see, I have a number of papers to grade when I get home.”

  He smiled then, a thin, unpleasant smile. Funny how she’d always thought of him as the least attractive of the Wilcox brothers, even though they were all physically very similar. It was probably just the disagreeable expressions he often wore which gave that impression. He said, “And here I thought you were planning to stay late and work so you’d have a chance to meet with your lover.”

  Shock coursed through her, and she took a step backward, nearly tripping over the bulky train of her gown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Wilcox.”

  “You don’t?” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a small folded square of paper. “This look familiar?”

  “Where’d you get that?” she demanded.

  “Tom Hopkins at the Hotel San Francisco is a friend of mine. He’s been keeping an eye on Mr. Rowe for me, so he let me know the new schoolteacher was leaving notes for him.”

  Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Danica’s instincts had been telling her that leaving the note was a bad idea, and yet she’d gone ahead and done it anyway. Desperation had made her stupid.

  “I’m afraid that who I leave notes for is none of your business, Mr. Wilcox,” she said icily. Could she tough her way out of this? Her gaze flickered over to the clock on the back wall. Not even a quarter ’til four yet.

  Please, Robert, come early so you can stop this madman from doing whatever he’s planning….

  Somehow she knew he wouldn’t, though. He wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into one of her students, or Mrs. Marshall. If Danica had said it was safe to come at four, then that was when he would come.

  “Is that a fact?” Samuel said. “Some might say it is my business. Leaving notes for men in hotels? That bespeaks a loose nature, Miss Prewitt, and I sure as heck don’t want someone like that teaching my children.”

  “Oh, but you’re just fine with having someone like that connected to your brother,” she shot back.

  He didn’t blink. “Well, that’s an entirely different proposition, isn’t it? Because if you’re attached to my brother, then you’re not associating with the likes of Robert Rowe. And I think that’ll be better for all of us.”

  A retort sprang to Danica’s lips, but she wasn’t allowed to speak, because in the next second Samuel was lunging for her, arms reaching out to seize her. With a shocking show of strength, he threw her over one shoulder, knocking the air from her lungs.

  Not all of it, though. She opened her mouth to scream — would anyone even hear her? — but in the next second the classroom seemed to spin around her like a crazy kaleidoscope, moving faster and faster, blurring, then giving way to darkness.

  * * *

  Slowly, Danica opened her eyes. She lay on a more or less soft surface; above her was a ceiling of peg-and-groove pine that looked oddly familiar. What the…?

  Then it came to her. That was the ceiling of her family’s cabin, or something which looked exactly like it. Holding back a groan, she pushed herself to a sitting position.

  Samuel’s hateful voice said, “Careful. It takes a bit to recover from traveling that way.”

  She looked over at him. He was sitting in a rickety-looking chair of pine with a rush seat. As she glanced past him, she saw that the dimensions of the room were familiar, as well as the huge river-stone hearth. Yes, definitely the Wilcox family cabin, although without any of its twenty-first-century upgrades. The furniture, such as it was, all looked simple and plain, pieces the family wouldn’t have bothered to move to their shiny new houses on Park Street.

  “That’s your talent?” she asked, her voice sounding rusty and tired. “Traveling from place to place in the blink of an eye?” At least she wasn’t so out of it that she’d slipped and used the word “teleportation.” She was pretty sure the term didn’t exist back in 1884.

  Samuel looked very pleased with himself. “Yes, and a handy one, too.” His gaze sharpened, and he asked, “What’s yours?”

  “None of your business.”

  The self-satisfied smile he’d been wearing disappeared abruptly. “You have quite the mouth on you, Miss Prewitt. Well, that’ll be my brother’s problem.”

  “Does he know you’ve kidnapped me like this?”

  “No. Sometimes he gets a little squeamish over doing what needs to be done. But once I get rid of a certain obstacle, I’m pretty sure he won’t be too angry with me.”

  Who knew that this great-great-etc.-uncle of hers would turn out to be a full-blown sociopath? Blood feeling as if it was rapidly cooling to ice in her veins, Danica said, “‘Obstacle’? What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” Samuel went to one of the cabin’s front windows and twitched aside the curtain of faded cotton calico that hung there. Judging by the darkening landscape outside, Danica realized she must have been knocked out for longer than she’d thought. It must have been several hours ago that Robert would have arrived at the schoolhouse to speak with her, only to find her gone.

  He must be frantic, trying to figure out where she could have disappeared to. He’d be looking all over town….

  Oh, God.

  “It’s a trap, isn’t it?” she whispered, hoping against hope that her suspicions were wrong, that Samuel had only brought her here to force her to drop Robert and choose Jeremiah instead. Not that that particular scenario wasn’t all kinds of wrong, but….

  But the alternative was even worse.

  Another of those smiles that made her gut clench. “I guess you are pretty smart, Miss Prewitt. Yes, I’ll make sure that interfering fool doesn’t trouble any of us again.” His right hand went to rest on his hip, and for the first time Danica saw the pistol in its tooled leather holster that hung there.

  She didn’t even stop to think. One second she was on that threadbare sofa, and in the next she was launching herself at Samuel. In that moment, she didn’t care about her own safety. She just had to do whatever it took to keep him from shooting Robert.

  But she hadn’t counted on how much that teleportation journey had weakened her. It seemed as if her legs would barely support her weight, and Samuel dodged her attack easily, grabbing her by the bicep with an iron grip that kept her from tumbling to the floor.

  “Easy, there,” he said with a hateful chuckle. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

 
“Let go of me, you son of a bitch.”

  He only laughed again. “Like I said, you have got a mouth, Miss Prewitt. Or can I call you Eliza, since we’ll be family soon?”

  Danica wanted to spit back that she would never be a part of his family, but too late for that. She was already a Wilcox, even if this bastard straight out of hell didn’t know it.

  “Let go of me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He released her arm and she stumbled, thrown off balance. But at least she didn’t fall. Straightening, she moved away from him, toward the door.

  “Stay right there,” he warned her, following a few paces behind. “Not that I don’t want Mr. Rowe to see you when he arrives, but we need to do this properly.”

  “And you really think you’re going to get away with this?” she asked, hoping that by appealing to his instincts of self-preservation, he might abandon this insane plan.

  “’Course I am.” He shifted his weight to one booted foot, hand returning to rest on the butt of his pistol. “Maybe you don’t understand the way things work around here, Miss Prewitt. Sure, Mr. Ayer owns the mill, but the Wilcoxes own miles of land all around town. Do you think Sheriff O’Neill does anything without our say-so? If Mr. Rowe goes missing, there won’t be any inquiry at all. He’ll just…disappear.”

  To an unmarked grave in a clearing about a half-mile from where she and Samuel now stood. Meaning…what? That you couldn’t change the past? Or something even worse?

  Growing even colder with horror, Danica wondered if she was the one who’d ended up causing Robert’s death. If she’d never come to 1884, then he wouldn’t have had any reason to get into an open confrontation with Samuel Wilcox.

  This was all her fault. But no, Robert had been shot even before she’d intervened. Unless the timeline had changed the second she intervened…God, this whole time-travel thing was making her crazy.

  As she stared at Samuel in horror, she heard the sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats. He nodded in satisfaction, then came to her and grasped her around the bicep with his free hand.

  “Let’s go on outside, Miss Prewitt.”

  How she wished she could resist him. But, as her abortive attack had proved, she didn’t have her full strength back. And she had no idea how fast he was with that pistol. His fingers were tapping on the ivory handle, nervous, eager. If she provoked him too much, he might be tempted to shoot her in the leg or something, just to incapacitate her. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t get her patched up right away again, since his sister Emma was a healer.

  “Jeremiah Wilcox!” Robert’s voice, strong, carrying.

  “Looks like your lover’s here, right on schedule. Come along.”

  He opened the door and marched her out onto the porch. Immediately facing them was Robert, who sat on the back of a bright bay horse. It was blowing heavily, its sides sheened with sweat. He must have ridden it at a punishing pace to get up here as quickly as he could, once he realized where Danica had been taken.

  “I’m afraid you have the wrong Wilcox, Mr. Rowe,” Samuel said.

  Robert’s eyes were full of anguish, but he dismounted with easy grace and took a step toward them. “Let her go.”

  “Now, why would I want to go and do a thing like that?”

  A pause as Robert took a quick glance at Danica, as if assuring himself that she was more or less unharmed. “As far as I know, kidnapping is still illegal, even out here in the territories.”

  “Oh, you a lawman now, Mr. Rowe?” Samuel sneered. “Well, I like to think that possession is nine-tenths of the law. Besides, trespassing is also illegal, and that’s what you’re doing now. I’ll thank you to get off my family’s land.”

  “Gladly. Just hand over Miss Prewitt, and I’ll leave.”

  “Why would I go and do a thing like that after I went to all the trouble of getting her in the first place?” Samuel had ceased his nervous tapping on the butt of his gun; now his hand rested there, relaxed for the moment but ready to strike, like a rattlesnake waiting on a dusty path.

  Robert obviously noticed it, too, because he went very still then. Danica couldn’t see a gun anywhere on him, but the day was rapidly failing, the only true illumination the yellow rectangle of lamplight from the open cabin door behind them. He could have a pistol hidden under his long black coat. But could he get to it in time?

  Then Danica wanted to sigh in relief, because she heard another set of horse’s hooves approaching. In the next few seconds, a large black stallion came galloping into the cleared area in front of the cabin, Jeremiah Wilcox astride. He barely waited for the horse to skid to a stop before he dismounted and began to advance on his brother.

  “Samuel! What kind of foolishness is this!”

  “No foolishness at all, Jeremiah. Just making sure you get what’s rightfully yours.”

  Jeremiah’s dark eyes, strained with worry, flickered toward Danica. He gave her the smallest shake of his head, as if to tell her that he had nothing to do with his brother’s insane plots.

  She believed him. There had been regret and sadness in their parting the night before, but he had known enough to let her go. He would never have sanctioned Samuel’s actions.

  “She’s not mine, Samuel,” Jeremiah said then. “She never could be. I know that now. Let her go.”

  “It’s not like you to admit defeat, brother. Once Rowe is out of the way — ”

  “I said, let her go.”

  Danica had heard that note of command in Jeremiah’s voice before. He’d used it on Samuel back in the churchyard. But back then they’d been surrounded by townspeople, and even the younger Wilcox brother wasn’t so crazy as to think he could get away with attacking Robert Rowe in such a public place.

  Here, though, out in the middle of nowhere….

  During this exchange, Robert had remained standing where he was, eyes flickering as he watched the back-and-forth between the two brothers. Now, though, he stepped forward again, face pale but resolute. “Your brother is right, Samuel. Eliza Prewitt isn’t his. She isn’t mine, either. She’s her own self, not something to be fought over like a war prize. Just let us both go, and we’ll leave. We’ll never speak of this to anyone else. You have my word.”

  “Your word?” Samuel sneered. His fingers had begun tapping on the butt of his pistol again, and Danica held herself rigid, worrying that the wrong move might be enough to set him off. “Your word doesn’t count for nothing, Mr. Rowe. We took the measure of those like you and your sanctimonious clan back in New England. Far’s I’m concerned, you can go straight to hell.”

  He moved so quickly that Danica didn’t even have time to blink. The gun was in his hand, and her ears screamed at the bang that followed…and then there was Robert, just like in that vision or visitation or whatever it was, a dark hole appearing in his chest, a hole that immediately began to stain his striped shirt red.

  For a second he stood there, eyes staring, while the report from the shot seemed to echo through the woods, ringing on and on, like the tolling of a church bell. Then he slumped to the ground.

  Danica screamed, wrenching her arm from Samuel’s grasp so she could run down the porch steps to sink to her knees in the dry grass where the man she loved had fallen. No, no…this couldn’t be happening. She’d come here to stop this from happening.

  As she wrapped her arms around Robert, pulling him close, she heard Jeremiah’s voice, shaking with fury. “What have you done, Samuel? You stupid fool!”

  A low chuckle. “I did what you didn’t have the balls to do.”

  Danica wasn’t looking at either of them, had her head bent over Robert. He was breathing still, but in short, harsh gasps. His eyelids fluttered and his mouth moved, but no sound came out. It wasn’t hard to figure out why; the bullet had hit him in the chest, piercing a lung. She could hear a horrible wheezing noise with each labored breath.

  And the blood. God, the blood. She had to try to stop the bleeding somehow.

  Right. All these damned skirts.
Might as well put that fabric to some use.

  She grabbed the apron overskirt of her cotton gown and tore it away from her waist, then laid it on Robert’s chest. Enough pressure to try to slow the blood and keep the air from escaping, but not so much that she would bear down painfully on his punctured lung.

  Jeremiah again, not shouting, but every word delivered with such force it might as well have been a physical blow. “You go fetch Emma now. We’ve got to put this right.”

  “It’ll be right in a few minutes. But not because of Emma’s help.”

  “Samuel, I’m warning you — ”

  “Warn away. Won’t change anything.”

  A sharp sound, almost like the noise a cork made when it was drawn from a wine bottle. Danica looked up then and saw that Samuel had gone. Used his teleportation talent to get away, now that his work was done. And Danica somehow doubted he’d left to go fetch his sister Emma, the healer.

  Cursing under his breath, Jeremiah turned away from the cabin and moved swiftly to be at Danica’s side. She was holding the ruin of her skirt against Robert’s wound, not because she thought it would help, but because she didn’t know what else to do.

  Take him home, her mind told her. The cabin is only fifteen minutes from the hospital. You can save him.

  Of course. She thought of the cabin, but in its current-day guise, with the extra windows added and her Land Rover parked in the driveway. Almost at once, the scene around her began to dissolve…

  …Robert along with it. She couldn’t feel him, could see him turning transparent.

  No. No. She couldn’t go back to the present day and leave him to die in 1884. With all her will, she forced herself back to the horrible scene she’d just left, with Jeremiah crouched in the dry grass on the other side of her fallen lover, the darkness of encroaching night almost concealing the blood that stained his shirt.

  “What…?” Jeremiah began, then shook his hand. “You began to disappear. Where did you go?”