by Robb, J. D.
“Drop!” Eve shouted to the kids, and sprang forward. She led with her left, plowing her fist into Maj’s face, pivoted, grabbed the knife hand, twisting it as Maj slammed the wall and slid, shuddering, to the floor.
“Suspect’s down! Suspect’s down. Move in!” Eve kicked the knife away, put a boot on the now unconscious woman’s back. And turning, saw Roarke had both kids, one tucked under each arm as he crouched to their level.
“How bad’s she cut?”
“It’s just a scratch. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You’re all safe and sound now.”
Gala pressed her face into Roarke’s shoulder, wrapped her arm tight around her brother.
“I’ll take them up and out of here, all right with that?”
“Yeah. Tell Peabody to contact their parents.”
Eve started to reach for her restraints, but Baxter moved in.
“We’ll clean this up, boss.” He bent over Maj, pulled her arms back to cuff, saw the bloody teeth marks in both forearms. “Jesus, what, did you bite her?”
“Not me, them.” She nodded toward the kids as Roarke hefted Gala into his arms, held out a hand for Henry’s.
“Good for them. Damn good for them.”
“Have her transported to Central, then go get some sleep—you and Trueheart. You, too,” she said to Peabody as her partner came in.
“I really hear that.”
“Reineke, you and Jenkinson take her through Booking once she’s conscious. Make sure she’s Mirandized as soon as she’s lucid. I’ll be in to interview her.”
“I can go in with you, Dallas,” Peabody said.
“I can handle it. Go hit the sheets. You can call in the sweepers before you do. Let’s get this place processed. Everything neat and tidy.”
She looked around first, as men moved in, moved out. The tiny, windowless room with its open closet of a bathroom. Bright toys, the table full of sugary crumbs.
Not like the room in Dallas, she thought, but the same purpose. Terrorize, torture, and confine.
She walked out of it, walked away from it—and wondered how long nightmares would plague the two children who’d been taken and trapped.
She saw them in the stillness and cold, in the murk before day dawned, huddled beside Roarke in blankets some cop had pulled out of a trunk.
She started to speak to one of the officers, but caught Henry’s eye, watched him break away from Roarke and walk to her.
“Is she dead?”
“No, but she can’t hurt you anymore. She’ll be locked up now. How’s that arm?”
“Gala fixed it for me.” He held out a hand, and though they hadn’t spoken, though his sister had her face pressed to Roarke’s chest, she stepped away, went to Henry. And taking his hand, looked up at Eve.
“You’re the good witch,” Gala said.
“Kid, I’m a cop.”
“You saved us.”
“You did a lot of that yourselves. You were really smart—smarter than her. And really tough.”
Henry pressed his lips together where they trembled. “Who did she pick? Who did Mommy pick?”
“She didn’t. I lied.” Was this the bigger fear? Eve wondered. Even bigger and deeper than any blade? She crouched down again. “I lied to make her think of something else. Your mother didn’t choose, and she never would.”
“You’re not supposed to lie.” But Henry smiled. His eyes filled, but he smiled, and Eve thought: That’s courage. The real deal. “But it’s okay that you did. I’m Henry, and this is Gala.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m Dallas.”
“You’re the Good Witch Dallas.”
Henry let out a little sound, a sob choked off, then shocked Eve to her toes by flinging himself at her, wrapping his trembling body around her. Then Gala did the same.
“Okay, okay.” She wasn’t sure if she should pat them, or where. “It’s all over now. We’ll get you home, get you something to eat.”
“We don’t want cookies.” Gala’s voice was muffled against Eve’s shoulder.
“Yeah, no cookies for you.” She tried to stand again, but the little girl gripped her around the neck so she ended up lifting her while Henry clung to her leg.
“Ah . . .” She looked toward Roarke for help, but he just smiled, shook his head.
A car screamed up. Before it fully stopped, Tosha shoved out of one door, Ross the other.
“Henry! Gala!”
The girl all but leaped down, and the boy raced toward his parents, his blanket flying back like a cape.
Eve let out a heartfelt sigh of relief, but didn’t object when Roarke stepped over, slid an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s a pretty sight on a cold morning,” he murmured.
It was, the four of them tangled together to form one unit.
“They’re going to be all right,” Eve decided. “She had them for what, about thirty hours, and it feels like a lifetime, but they’re going to be okay. And they had each other, the kids, through the worst of it. I think . . . I think they can talk to each other, without, you know, talking.”
“Perhaps. The twin bond, and a little magic—of the good kind, thrown in.”
Teasdale crossed to her. “Slattery and I will meet you at Central. We’ll let the brass wrangle where she lives out the rest of her life, but we’ll make sure—the three of us—we wrap her tight.”
“That works for me.”
Teasdale glanced back at the family. “A pretty picture. The kind that can help get you through the long, troubling nights. Good work, all of us.”
With a satisfied nod, Teasdale moved off. Eve started to turn to Roarke, then paused when the family walked to her. Ross held his son, Tosha her daughter.
“This is the Good Witch Dallas,” Henry began.
“Lieutenant.”
“Lieutenant Good Witch Dallas.”
And he smiled, so sweetly, Eve let it go.
“Thank you. Thank you for our children,” Ross said in a voice thick and shaky. “We’ll never forget. We can never repay. . .”
“Vanquishing the bad is the job of cops and good witches, isn’t it, Henry?” Roarke asked.
Tosha leaned forward, left Eve no choice but to accept the light kiss on each cheek. “Every day, for the rest of my life, I’ll say a prayer for your safety, and for your happiness. Every day, when I look in my children’s eyes, I’ll remember you. All of you.”
Eve slipped her hands in her pockets as they walked away. Together, Henry and Gala lifted their heads, smiled at her over their parents’ shoulders, and waved in unison.
“Oh yeah, they’ve got some internal conversation going. Weird. Anyway.” She blew out a breath. “I need to go in and nail this bitch in hard and tight.” Energized by the prospect, Eve rolled her shoulders. “And you need to get back to universal financial domination.”
“It should be a fine day for it. You’ll be making a stop before you go in. I’ll go with you, then be on my way.”
She blew out a breath. “Are we having an internal conversation?”
“I know how you think, what you feel. It comes to the same on some things. I’ll drive you there, then get my own transpo back.”
“Okay.” She touched her fingertips to his. “Thanks.”
SO HE STOOD WITH HER IN THE CHILLY AIR IN THE MORGUE, over the body of Darcia Jordan.
“I barely had time to do more than look at her, have her bagged and tagged. It doesn’t sit well.”
“You couldn’t save her, but you stood for her, Eve, by standing for the children, by working to get them back.”
“It’s what we had to do.”
“Say what you need to say to her.”
It felt strange, even with him, but she had to get it out, get it said. “The kids are safe, they’re home. I’m going to do everything I can—and I’ve got plenty of backing—to see the bitch lives out her crazy life in a cage. Off-planet, if we can work it. The farther away the better. I didn’t forget you. I just had to put them first. So . .
. that’s it.”
She looked at Roarke, shrugged. “That’s it.”
“Then go do that.” He took her hand to lead her out of the room, down the long white tunnel. “Go see she lives out her crazy life in a cage.”
She stepped outside where the sun had risen to lighten the sky, and the stillness had lifted with the faintest wind that smelled ever so lightly of snow.
She took a deep breath of New York. “You know, you’re right. It looks like it’s going to be a fine day.”
Since no one was around, and what the hell, she’d earned it, she leaned into him for a quick kiss. “See you around, pal.”
“Take care of my cop—Lieutenant Good Witch.”
Laughing—yeah, a pretty fine day—she climbed into her car to finish the job.
IF WISHES WERE HORSES
MARY BLAYNEY
For Tom Langan
PROLOGUE
CRAIG'S HILL CASTLE
DERBYSHIRE
MAY 1816
“This stupid coin is worthless.” Martha Stepp tossed the coin to Ellen. The younger maid caught it in pure self-defense.
“But, Martha,” Ellen said, as she rubbed her rounding stomach, “its magic worked for me and Johnny. We have a babe coming.”
“Dear girl, I do not think the origin of your much-hoped-for babe had anything to do with magic.”
Ellen blushed and Martha patted her arm. “The coin is magical,” Martha admitted. “I misspoke. I’ve seen it work. Once, a man and woman’s minds switched bodies so that the man had to live as a woman and the woman was husband. And I saw a boy cured of a dreadful fever. Both happened with a wish on this very coin.”
Ellen shook her head in amazement. “If it had not worked for us I would think you mad.”
“The truth is that I am upset because it has never worked for me.” Martha picked up the coin from the table where Ellen had placed it.
Its black face and gold rim with foreign writing was unlike any coin she had ever seen.
“It’s not worthless, even without its magic quality,” Ellen ventured. “It has the number ten on its face. So it’s worth ten of something somewhere.”
They had finished dusting the books at least a quarter hour ago and, at Martha’s insistence, had tried out the chairs nearest the fireplace to see if they were as comfortable as the ones in the green salon.
Ellen had balked at Martha’s temerity but Martha knew her friend tired easily these days and so would not actually refuse the chance to rest.
“Yes, it is worth ten of something somewhere, but not at any market in this country. So, for me, at least, it’s worthless.”
“Unless you find out where it’s from and try to go there.” Ellen made a face even as she suggested it.
“I’ve thought of that. I’ve always wanted a bit of adventure. But, Ellen, even if the coin is worth as much as ten guineas, that would not be enough to establish myself in some foreign place where it seems they do not even speak English. I want a bit of adventure, not a boatload.”
“It’s never turned gold and bright for you the way it did for me when I made my wish?”
“No, never.” Martha sighed. “I can give it to people and invite them to wish and it always seems to work.”
Ellen nodded as though she had heard this before.
“You know I’ve even tried to leave it behind,” Martha went on. “I’ve tried twice. But it’s always been back in my pocket by evening.”
“I doubt you can abandon it. I expect you must find the right person to pass it on to.”
“Do you think so?” Martha asked as though the idea had never occurred to her.
Ellen answered with an unconvincing shrug.
They both stared at the coin for a bit.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Martha thought. You have work to do, a roof over your head, and food to eat. Embrace that and stop wanting more.
“So what do you think of these chairs?” Martha asked.
“They are comfortable enough.” Ellen wiggled a little deeper into the seat as she spoke.
“But not perfect,” Martha decided. “They need a higher back to catch the warmth from the fire.” That placed them significantly lower in comfort than the chairs in the green salon but much higher than the chairs in the servants’ gathering room. Martha was convinced that those chairs, long ago rejects from the grander rooms, were the least comfortable in the entire castle.
Before Ellen could do more than nod, the bell announcing supper sounded.
“You go on, Ellen, and I’ll finish here. Can you take these three books that need repair to the housekeeper?” Martha gathered the cleaning cloths as she spoke.
The dust tickled her nose and Martha pressed her finger between her eyebrows to stop the sneeze that gathering the dirty cloths had instigated.
Ellen did not bother to stifle her sneeze, but then hers was a delicate sound and not at all embarrassing.
“Go on now,” Martha urged. “I know you’ve not seen your man all morning. You take the books and I’ll take the basket to the laundry and be at the table in five minutes. Save some of that Cotswold cheddar for me, will you?”
With a nod and a smile Ellen hurried out.
Martha glanced at the coin on the table. She grabbed it, holding the coin in the palm of the hand that also held the basket handle. It wasn’t that her wish was unrealistic, Martha was sure of that. The coin did not deem anything impossible. She pulled the door open with the basket resting on her hip, and wondered what was so impossible about finding love with a man who would take her away from the servant’s life and share his bed and his world with her forever.
If she could not have that, then she wished someone else would be named the coin’s keeper and free her from a hope that plagued her whenever she looked at it. The coin bit into her hand and she let it fall on the carpet. No doubt the coin would find its way back into her pocket. Martha Stepp pulled the door closed behind her and hurried toward the back stairs.
In the library, resting on the fine old rug where Martha had dropped it, the coin turned gold and for the briefest of moments lit the room with a glow of promise. Then it disappeared.
CHAPTER ONE
CRAIG'S HILL CASTLE
DERBYSHIRE
ONE WEEK LATER
“Martha, you cannot keep on doing this!”
Martha Stepp gathered the blanket from her bed and moved to the door of the tiny attic bedchamber.
“Wanda, I’ve been doing this for months without anyone noticing. This place has dozens of bedchambers and I am going to sleep in each bed until I find the most comfortable.”
“But why?” Wanda wailed as if Martha was venturing into some foreign country without money or papers.
“Because this room is too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. I’m looking for a room that is just right.”
“Then what will you do?”
“Sleep there whenever I can. And start looking for the best of something else. Did you know I discovered the chairs in the west attic rooms are the most comfortable in the house? It’s where I am going to start spending my half day. I even bought a candle so I can read there if I wish.”
“You could fall asleep and start a fire.”
That was Wanda. Always worried about what horror could befall them. The last time they walked to the village for the countess’s maid Wanda was sure they would be attacked by a wolf. Never mind that Derbyshire had no wolves. As a matter of fact, there were no wolves in all of England.
Martha felt guilty but Wanda was one of the few of her friends to whom she had never offered the magic coin for fear that Wanda would have her named a witch and have her dismissed. Martha patted her pocket where the coin settled, feeling much heavier than its slight size should warrant.
“Good night, Wanda,” Martha said firmly.
“Do not forget your prayers, Martha!” Wanda called after her.
Her prayers? Martha slipped down the stairs, smiling at the thought that her p
rayers were heard by God. How could He make sense of the millions of people sending prayers to Him, some of them far more urgent than the health and happiness of her friends and family? But yes, she would pray, and hope that someday her needs would move to the front of the queue.
For now she had more amusing concerns. She was going to sleep in the room she liked the best, though that was no guarantee that the bed would be the softest or firmest or whatever a bed needed to be for perfection.
It belonged to the countess’s youngest son, the one who had gone off to fight Napoleon. The war was over so he should be coming home. But he had been wounded at Quatre Bras just before Waterloo and his recovery had slowed his return. Still, rumors ran rife now that Napoleon was a prisoner once again, the major was on his way, and would arrive any day now.
Then again the war had been over before and Napoleon imprisoned before and all had started up anew when old Boney had escaped.
Just in case the major was truly on his way home, Mrs. Belweather had insisted that Martha and a chosen few others ready his room for whenever he should arrive, freshening it every other day. There was no doubt that the housekeeper was right to have the room as perfectly prepared as possible. For her part Martha would believe Major Craig was home when she heard his boots hit the floor.
Martha made her way along the darkened passage. When she had first come to Craig’s Hill, she had avoided walking the house at night. Surely the old castle was filled with ghosts and the darkened passages seemed like their natural milieu. After six months and no night visitors, Martha decided that she was not the type to whom ghosts appeared. Which was just as well since the magic coin was quite enough for one woman to handle.
The castle was square, with an open center courtyard, which made for good light during the day and when the moon was full. Tonight was such a night and Martha had no trouble finding her way along the third-level passage and into Major Craig’s room.
It was not too big but that made it all the more appealing. Two tall windows looked out on the kitchen garden, outbuildings, and beyond to the parkland at the back of the castle. For now the curtains were drawn closed to protect the rugs from too much of the strong afternoon sun.