Temple of Indra's Witch (Time Traveling Bibliophile Book 4)

by Rachael Stapleton

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Who We Once Were

  Cullen walked into my dressing room and smiled. "Ye didn’t eat much at dinner, Aeval, are you still upset?"

  "I’m just not all that hungry. Your grandmother tends to have that effect on me." I grinned and unbuttoned my jeans, slipping them off one leg at a time. I was ready to trade them in for something soft.

  "Do ye want to talk about it?" he asked.

  "Maybe tomorrow, tonight I just want to forget myself in a good cozy mystery." I disappeared around the corner to brush my teeth and came back out in a short blue nightgown with lace trim at the bust.

  Cullen groaned. "Ye’re trying to torture me, then? Ye wanna read so ye put on somethin’ short and silky?"

  "As long as you don’t take all night, I have time for other things, too—I just don’t want to dwell on the past or your grandmother’s delusions.”

  He reached out and put his arms around me, slowly running his hands across the thin material of my dress. "That works for me.”

  I raised my lips to his eagerly. “Do you really have to go away again this week?"

  “‘Fraid so. I need to make a ton of decisions before we start construction."

  "Okay," I murmured, trying not to think about next week. "Why don't we move into the bedroom?" I ran my tongue gently along the line of his jaw and nipped his ear.

  His hands slipped to the bottom of my nightie. Expertly he slid it up and over my shoulders and head, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor behind me.

  I wriggled away from him and stepped back so he could take in the full view. "I'll turn down the bed."

  He was undoing his shirt, his eyes on my breasts. I walked past him into the bedroom and turned off the light.

  He followed me and switched it back on. "I wanna see ye properly, Aeval."

  On the notepad by the lamp was a page of whorls and faces and doodles and strange shapes and in the center of them all, framed with Gothic decoration, a familiar passage.

  Cullen picked up the pad and stared at it.

  "What made you write this?"

  "What?" I slid onto the bed beside him and lay down, my arms above my head.

  "Dracula’s Castle?"

  I sat up. "I don’t know. I think it was from the regression. I’m starting to have some memories come back."

  "And they involve Dracula? Strange." Cullen's voice was suddenly quiet and reflective. He pushed me back, leaning over me, his face filled with love. "Ye said a man’s name that day when you were under. It almost sounded like mine. Could ye hear me while it was happenin’?"

  For a moment I contemplated the day’s events, something I’d been trying hard not to do. My brain was moving like lightning as I remembered, re-living the captivity, the humiliation and the pain of it all.

  "I don’t think so. I’ve heard the Doctor’s voice before, during the session, but I couldn’t hear you until I opened my eyes and even then, not at first. I saw your lips moving before I heard anything," I said softly. I smiled, reaching up to kiss him, winding my arms around his neck. "You’re right though, now that I think about it, there was a young man and he did remind me of you. I could be mixing things up now. It’s not important—I’m never going back there again."

  "Do ye think I was there? Like with Viktor and the Princess?" Unmoving, he stared down at me and for a fleeting moment I felt a pang of curiosity.

  "Maybe—why?" I grabbed the knit blanket from the bottom of the bed and pulled it over myself but Cullen tugged it away.

  "I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t be pryin’ into yer brain like this. We’re done talking about this—at least until tomorrow."

  Without a word he leaned down and kissed me, groping for the zipper of his pants. Underneath him I lay in anticipation, admiring the view. "Cullen, please don't leave me this week."

  He stopped and looked at me seriously. "If ye need me to stay, then I will."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  A Fate to Die For

  Cullen thought his heart would give when he saw the dark hair and blue tunic thrashing in the river. He braced his feet on the grassy bank of the river.

  “Sophia!”

  He’d called to her but anyone could see she was struggling to stay afloat. What was she doing in the middle of the river? The water was cold and she was fully clothed, not to mention she could barely swim. He jumped in the boat and pushed off shore so fast he stumbled, nearly tipping it over. Then he focused himself and rowed faster. Thank goodness the river wasn’t very large. His heart hammered. And what if he hadn’t left his boat there? He shuddered at the thought.

  Her dark hair bobbed, and she disappeared. Then, finally, her face broke the surface again.

  She seemed disoriented and she was losing strength fast. He leaned over and attempted to heave her out of the water, into the boat but her dress was sopping wet and heavy. Cursing, he found a knife sheathed at his right hip and cut away the overgown. He’d cut it all away if he had too. There was no way that he was going to let her drowned. He pulled her forward, careful not to tip the boat and propped her against the side. She wasn’t moving or helping. She’d fallen unconscious.

  “Please, Sophia, just open your eyes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Brewing up Trouble

  I woke up with a killer headache – and a slightly intangible feeling of foreboding. I couldn’t decide if it was because of the fight with Alana or my dread over Sandra and the regression situation. It was probably a combination of both.

  Cullen was moaning beside me. I debated waking him but I’d heard it was bad to wake a person from a nightmare—or was that night terrors?

  Shaking, I got up and shuffled across the floor avoiding certain boards that I knew would creak. I could make out a dim glow that was coming from the hall. It was past midnight, so why would Alana still be up?

  Cullen moaned my name and I glanced across the bedroom to see him startle awake just as a sharp pain ran through my head.

  “Sophia!” Cullen called from the bed. “Where are ye?”

  I tried to respond, but the blood rushed to my brain and the room spun. Cullen jumped from the bed and caught me before I hit the floor.

  “Ye havin’ a nightmare?” Cullen asked.

  “No.”

  Cullen sighed. “I think that regression rubbed off on me. I dreamt ye drowned. Only ye were much younger and dressed funny. Too many pints before bed—so what’s the matter then?”

  “I have a splitting headache. I know this feeling. I think someone’s using the book,” I whispered. I looked around as if I could sense from where. “Magic.” I gasped out. “A whole lot of it. That might be why you’re able to remember the past.”

  “No, it was just a bad dream.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  An explosion went off in my head—a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations racing past me at lightning speed. I couldn’t process it all. A scream tore from my lips as I fell to my knees. It just kept coming, wave after wave of piercing agony.

  The earth shook hard and something leaked from my nose. Every one of my senses shut down. Cullen might have still been standing close to me, but I didn’t have any way of knowing.

  The shaking stopped almost as fast as it started. I forced myself to remain calm. The magic had passed. My body just needed a moment to recover. A few more deep breaths and I cracked my eyes open. There was blood on my hands.

  A wet cloth touched my nose and I jerked back. A strong hand gripped my shoulder.

  “Hold still.” It was Cullen’s voice. At least my hearing had returned.

  “What happened?” I croaked out.

  He dabbed at my face again, concentrating on my nose.

  “Ye warned me something was comin’ and then ye fell to the floor just before the earthquake hit.”

  This time when I lifted my lids, I could see. Cullen knelt directly in front of me.

  “You felt that too?”

  “Of course.”
r />   “That was no earthquake,” I said, my voice coming out a little stronger. “Or at least not a natural one—someone caused it.” I’d never experienced anything like that before and yet somehow instinctively I knew it was what happened when someone abused the books power.

  “I don’t understand. How can someone cause an earthquake?” he said.

  Now that I thought about it, I realized that the earthquake had been happening constantly for the past few months. The migraines, the nausea, the tremors. I wasn’t going crazy—Alana had been dabbling with the book, just as Sandra had predicted.

  “It was an explosion of magic.” I rubbed my head. “You check on Alana and I’ll check for the book.”

  Cullen frowned and raced into her room.

  I worked past the migraine, slowly climbing to my feet, and went downstairs where I’d left the book in my purse by the front door.

  Next thing I knew Cullen was right next to me.

  “She’s gone.” He said.

  “The books gone too.” Sandra Brun had been right. Alana saw me put it in here at the store. I can’t believe I was duped like that and after I wrote her that letter. How could I have been so wrong?

  “Any idea where she might be?”

  I shook my head.

  “Can ye move?”

  “Not yet. She hasn’t been gone that long. You should go look for her. She’s not in the house. Maybe you’ll catch her on the road. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”

  “I can carry ye to the car.”

  “I’ll just slow you down,” I muttered. “Go! I’ll call Leslie and get her to come get me. We’ll be right behind you. Just make sure the book is closed and…Cullen, be careful. She may be more like Liam than we ever dreamed.”

  He put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “She’s just mixed up. I’ll not let anything else happen to either of ye.”

  I wanted to believe him so badly.

  I waited five minutes until I could stand again and made my way back into my bedroom to my cell phone by the bed. It was silently lighting up.

  An uneasy feeling crept into my stomach. Missed call. It was from a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. O’Kelley. Ye’re to do exactly as I say.”

  My heart twisted. “Hannah? What’s going on?”

  “Ye’re to do exactly as instructed, ye here me?”

  “Are you okay? Who told you to say that?”

  A menacing laugh came from the background and chilled my blood.

  “Hannah? Are you there?”

  “Please, Mrs. O’Kelley, if ye wanna see Alana again, ye’re to come alone. Móraí’s chapel. She says ye’ll know where that is. Down the winding steps … and come alone.”

  Móraí. Damn that woman! What was she up to?! My fingers clutched the phone tightly.

  She was going to rue the day she messed with this Mama Bear.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Killer Sweet Tooth

  I thrust the ornately carved wooden doors of the chapel wide open. The biblical scenes that had once sparkled in the sunlight and projected a multitude of colors onto the stone floor looked dark and foreboding.

  “Móraí.” I growled, locking eyes with the grey-haired woman. Back as straight as a rod, she stood on the dais in front of an open trap door.

  “This way, dear,” she said, stepping down.

  I knew where that trapdoor led. I’d been taken down that long and winding flight of stone steps seventeen years before.

  I wished for Cullen, but he’d raced from the house without his phone. Thank goodness I’d called Leslie on the way and asked her to find him.

  “Where’s my daughter?”

  Móraí pointed down at the stairs that were hidden beneath the trap door. As I crossed over the very place where my brother-in-law—my nemesis, Liam—had once plunged to his death, I remembered my vow: that I would never set foot in this evil chapel again. I’d almost broken that vow once when Sam had kidnapped Leslie, but thankfully we’d found her in Móraí’s house. I really hated this place.

  “We both know I’m not going down there. Now call Alana out before I push your bony ass down that flight of steps.”

  Móraí shook her head and took her hand from behind her back. A gun. How the hell had she gotten a gun?

  “You won’t shoot me,” I whispered defiantly.

  She clicked what I knew to be the safety off. “You killed my grandson.”

  Clearly I didn’t know what Móraí was capable of.

  I breathed deeply as she guided me down the stairs into the cave-like room where I’d once been held captive. The room felt like it was closing in on me. Instinctively, I pulled back.

  “Keep going,” Móraí said, shoving me down the last step.

  I took another deep breath, and nodded.

  “I’m claustrophobic, remember, and this room doesn’t bring back the best of memories.”

  “We’re not staying here.” She pushed on the wall at the opposite end and it moved. Great, more passages. I thought to myself.

  The tunnel opened up to a scarred wooden table.

  Black mirrors hung on each of the five walls. A multitude of charms dangled from the ceiling—mostly silk bags hanging on braided cords—and symbols were drawn in a red, black, and ochre border at the top of the walls. Shallow shelves were adorned with stones. The room carried a powerful scent of sage, and flaming torches surrounded us.

  “Sit down,” Móraí rasped. “Our hostess will be right out.”

  I looked around the table at two more faces I recognized, Hannah Walsh and her mother, Shona.

  “They kidnapped you too?” I whispered.

  Shona looked down but Hannah looked proud as a peacock.

  “They’re part of our coven.” A voice emerged from the darkness.

  ‘Our hostess’ was none other than Madame Brun, her eyes rimmed heavily with thick black liner and her lips as red as rubies.

  My jaw dropped.

  “Sandra, what’s going on here?”

  She wore a black robe with a hood lined with red velvet. Whatever she was dressed for, it didn’t look like she was up to any good. It sure didn’t look like she planned to reunite me with Alana anytime soon.

  “Please, call me by my true name, Alexandra.”

  “Alexandra…what…where’s my daughter…? Alana?!” I screamed.

  “Be quiet!” Sandra commanded, in a deep, liquid voice. “You’ll do as I say, or you’ll never see her again.”

  My eyes darted for Móraí’s. She would never let anyone harm Alana…would she? Doubt crept in like an ugly little black spider.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Who is stopping you?”

  “My name doesn’t sound familiar to you?” She paused while I racked my brain. “It doesn’t matter; you don’t need to remember—you only need to open the portal.”

  Panic seared my insides. “No. I’m not going back. No way... Alana, where’s Alana,” I screamed. Please God, let her be all right. Tears streamed down my face.

  “Be quiet! Your daughter is fine. Not that she deserves to be. She ruined my life without a care.”

  “How could a girl ruin your life?”

  “She wasn’t always a girl.”

  I frowned, feeling more confused than ever.

  “What do you want?”

  “Móraí wants her grandson, Liam, back. She’s been teaching Alana to use the book; unfortunately Alana is only a shadow of her former self. She won’t be strong enough to power the time portal for another couple of years and Móraí doesn’t have that kind of time.”

  “They found a tumor in my brain. I must see Liam again before I go.”

  I turned to Móraí, letting my hostility show. I was putting it all together now. Connecting the dots—she had been the one to steal the book. She’d been trying to make me crazy so Alana would live with her and she could use her powers to bring back
Liam. I didn’t understand how Sandra Brun had come to be in contact with Móraí, but it didn’t really matter which one of them reached out to the other. They were both traitors and dead to me. I pushed my feelings aside.

  “I…we can make things right,” Móraí added.

  I turned away, unable to look at her any longer.

  “What’s in it for you, Sandra? Why would opening the portal to save Liam benefit you?”

  Then it hit me: she had said she wanted to go home. “You came from another time?”

  Sandra clapped her hands together. “There you are. I knew you could do it. Yes, my home is in another time and place—a time you know quite well.”

  “Monaco?” I whispered curling my hands into fists. “Did I wrong you on my trip into 1859? Were you in cahoots with Nico?”

  “Your way off base, it was 15th century Romania and it was your daughter who wronged me but that no longer matters.”

  “It does matter. If you want my help then I need to know,” I retorted.

  “Suit yourself.” Sandra cleared her throat and began to pace. “It all started with a love spell I borrowed from my mother.” She pointed to Móraí. “She practiced witchcraft in secret back then.”

  “Móraí was your mother?”

  Sandra nodded. “I used the love spell on Vilhem Cuza and we were married. Unfortunately, there are consequences to magic and after fourteen years, I had only ten miscarriages to show for it. I begged my Great-Aunt—the High Priestess —to use her spell book to help me deliver a healthy child. She refused, stating magic was not to be toyed with, instead she sent Elena Maria Catargiu-Obrenović, claiming she was a great healer who would help me keep my baby.”

  I recognized the name from my regression. “The woman hanged beside me, my mother,” I whispered.

  “Yes, you do remember.” Sandra smiled. “I became pregnant once again, but instead of helping me, that witch, Elena, used her magic to end my pregnancy and stole my husband’s attention in the process.”