Prophecy (Soul of the Witch Book 2)

by C. Marie Bowen

  I will not cry.

  “I had no idea what they intended. They acted before I could stop them.”

  “So, you weren't going to let them send me away? You only used that threat as leverage to force me to marry Kevin.”

  Jason nodded, his face scarlet beneath his fair hair. “Renata and Kevin wanted the marriage.” He glanced up at Nichole then back to the table. “I never agreed to participate. I warned Renata if you refused to marry Kevin, I wouldn't force you.”

  “How noble of you.” Anger throbbed in her head. She tossed her fork onto her plate, placed her hands on the table and leaned toward her cousin as her voice rose. “And how unfortunate you failed to mention that small detail to me.”

  Jason's jaw clenched. “You’re mistaken. I never intended—”

  She pounded her fist on the table. “Then why didn't you stop them?” Tears filled her eyes.

  “Renata blackmailed me,” Jason whispered.

  “What could Renata possibly know that’s worth all of this?” Nichole looked at Jim and Amy, then back to Jason.

  Jason sighed and shook his head. “All right. I'll tell you everything. If you want a full confession, and a list of all my sins, then you'll get it.” He looked around the table. “You're all aware of the bank failures?”

  “Weren't they caused by the fire?” Amy's voice softened as she stared at her husband.

  “Not entirely, but both the Boston and Chicago fires played a role in the downward economy. The Boston fire is where everything began for me.” Jason and Amy exchanged glances, then Jason turned back to the group at the table. “There were many factors—Grant's Coinage Act, the railroad failures, reconstruction, and inflation, among others. They all contributed to my personal economic collapse.”

  “Now you've lost me.” Nichole lowered herself to her chair and pushed her half-eaten dinner to the center of the table.

  “A brief explanation then.” Jason sat back and looked around the table. “President Grant moved the States from a silver and gold standard for valuing our currency, to a pure gold standard in '73. My investments in three silver mines proved a substantial loss.

  “Until two years ago, railroad bonds seemed a sure investment, but their value had been over-inflated. Railway expansion appeared a foregone conclusion, until Grant raised interest rates to slow inflation.” Jason shook his head. “Banks with large debt, especially those with investments in railroads, went bust. Over fifty railroads failed. They're just gone. Sixty more have filed bankruptcy since the stock market’s ten-day close, two years ago.

  “Unemployment is above eight percent. New construction is down, except for this area of the country. Real estate values have plummeted, to say nothing of corporate profits. The country—” Jason spread his arms wide, “—the world is in a great depression, and all my personal investments have failed.”

  No one spoke as everyone in the room considered Jason's words.

  Nichole shifted in her seat and folded her hands on the table. “You lost a lot of money.”

  “All of it, and more.” Jason shot a quick look at Amy. “I borrowed capital from an investment firm, Pierce & Peabody, to reinvest—in an attempt to mitigate so many losses.”

  “Let me guess.” Nichole rolled her eyes. “They had a few 'just can't lose’ opportunities for you.”

  “Yes.” Jason nodded. “But those failed as well.”

  “How much do you owe them?” Nichole asked.

  “Twenty thousand dollars, before interest,” Jason admitted. He cast another brief glance at Amy.

  Jim let out a low whistle.

  Merril shook his head and muttered, “Twenty thousand dollars?”

  Amy gasped. “Jason, how could you?”

  “It gets worse,” Jason said when the exclamations quieted. “P&P put pressure on me to do unethical things for them in Boston. If I worked for them, they would pay down a portion of the interest I owed.

  “I didn't know what to do, and then I received an invitation from Uncle Quincy to come West and help with The Highlands’ bookkeeping. I jumped at the opportunity.” Jason's voice trailed off, and the room fell silent. After a moment, he shook his head and continued.

  “P&P followed me here, or their letters and threats did. They demanded payment, but implied they would reduce the interest rate if I provided them with certain... information on potential investments out west.” He shrugged and looked around. “All I knew about running a ranch I learned from Uncle Quincy. I'm ashamed to say, I sent P&P information on both the Shilo and Highlands’ ranches.”

  “What kind of information?” Merril asked and sat forward.

  “The number of head, wages, expenses and income on The Highlands. Rough estimates of the same for The Shilo. I’ve no idea why they valued this information. It isn’t as though your ranches had stock options with curbstone brokers or the Boston Stock Exchange.” He shook his head. “Their interest is unimportant now. What does matter is Renata learned of my correspondence with P&P. She threatened to expose me as a spy. That alone wouldn't have been enough, but she knew more.”

  He didn't look up when he paused, and the room remained silent. With a quick inhale, he raised an apologetic gaze to Nichole. “After Uncle Quincy died, I reinvested a large portion of The Highlands’ assets, to diversify our portfolio.”

  “You'll explain how my ranch, is now our portfolio,” Nichole replied sarcastically.

  “All right then, your portfolio. After what happened in '73, I knew it to be the height of foolishness to have all of your money tied up in one asset. I even spoke to you about it, but I doubt you remember.”

  “Oh, I remember,” Nichole replied. “But I didn't understand what it meant, and you knew I didn't.”

  “You're right.” Jason hesitated. “I—didn't put the new investments in The Highlands’ name. I hold those in my name alone.”

  “You what?” Anger brought Nichole to her feet. “My father trusted you. I trusted you. You're a liar and a thief.”

  “Embezzler is the actual term and, in my defense, I did speak to you about my objectives. Uncle Quincy and I discussed which investments he favored before his accident.” Jason rose and faced Nichole across the table. “Both of you were aware of my goal, and I have every intention of paying The Highlands back, plus interest.”

  “Your good intentions turn to shit, Jason, in case you haven't noticed.”

  Jason's jaw flexed, and he balled his fist. “Mind your language.”

  Nichole’s lip curled. “Kiss my ass.”

  Merril's chair scraped back as he came to his feet. “Jason, sit down before you do something you'll regret.” Merril turned to Nichole. “This isn't the best time to have this conversation. It's been a rough day for everyone.”

  Jason resumed his seat, but Nichole remained standing. If she sat, she might not get back up. Fatigue heightened her emotions, and she only wanted to curl up beside Merril and fall asleep.

  She heaved a sigh and spoke down at Jason. “You'll transfer everything back to The Highlands’ name.” Nichole paused until he nodded, then continued. “You'll no longer have unrestricted access to The Highlands’ accounts. Every transaction will require my signature.”

  “You're not putting me out?”

  “I should, but I won't.” A yawn caught her by surprise and she covered her mouth. “Oh, excuse me. If you have more confessions, they’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I can't stay awake any longer.” Nichole circled the table toward the stairs and held out her hand to Merril.

  “What rooms will you be in?” Amy asked. “We've more people than beds.”

  “We'll be in the far back bedroom. The one I changed in.” Nichole grasped Merril's hand and followed him up the stairs.

  “Nichole, you can't share a room with Merril. You're unwed.” Jason came to his feet and tossed his napkin on the table.

  Nichole turned and looked at Jason from the bottom step. “Are you serious?” She released Merril's hand and stepped down onto the floor.


  “Let it go, Nic. I can sleep down here.” Merril offered.

  “No,” she said softly to Merril, then turned to Jason. “You have no authority over me. I can, and I will, do as I please.”

  “He's concerned for your reputation.” Amy stood and looked from her husband to Nichole.

  “My reputation?” Nichole matched Jason glare for glare. “He should have had more care for his own.” She turned to Amy and her face softened. “For you, I'll offer him this.”

  Nichole reached back and took Merrill’s hand, then cast her gaze around the room. “Merril and I were married the night we spent with the Cheyenne. Gifts were exchanged, and I was given my Indian name by their shaman, White Eagle. You may address me as Lost Wind, wife of Dark Moon.” She narrowed her eyes at Jason as she performed a slight curtsy, and then turned her back and mounted the stairs.

  “Legally, I don’t believe that counts,” Jason called.

  Nichole would have turned back, but Merril didn't release her hand. “Let it go, sweetheart. You can fight with your cousin tomorrow. I have other things in mind for tonight.”

  Chapter 8

  Hunter

  Hunter left the River Queen soon after the riverboat docked. Instead of his usual quick stroll up the street to the boarding house, he crossed the gangway and leaned against the rail. He lit a cheroot and nodded farewell to acquaintances while he waited for Sam Kline to exit the boat. Hunter had spotted the tall blond man when he boarded, but Sam had managed to avoid Hunter all night.

  Hunter had met U.S. Marshal Samuel Kline nigh on ten years ago. They had a working relationship that bordered on friendship, until three years ago. Sam remained pleasant when they encountered each other at the boarding house or livery stable, but their friendship appeared to have ended.

  He’s been like this since that Christmas in Beaumont.

  The last time Sam had acted like himself, Hunter thought they would ride back from Texas with that little spitfire redhead Sam had been so taken with.

  I wonder what happened to Nell?

  Sam never spoke of her, and Hunter knew better than to ask.

  Because of Sam's behavior since Beaumont, it surprised Hunter to see him with a female companion this evening. A beautiful young woman with auburn hair and dark blue eyes. Although she seemed familiar, Hunter felt positive he would remember such a beautiful woman. Curious, and happy for Sam, Hunter hoped they could resume their relationship. He hadn't realized how much Sam's friendship had meant to him, until it was gone.

  Hunter stood away from the rail and crushed out his cheroot as Sam stepped from the riverboat exit to the gangway. The mystery woman held his arm, and Sam laughed as she whispered in his ear. They followed a large group past Hunter, and he stepped up beside Sam as the couple walked by.

  “Bonsoir, mon ami. I hope you had a pleasant evening.” At six-foot-one, Hunter stood only an inch taller than Sam. When their gaze met, he could tell Sam's smile did not extend to his eyes.

  “Good evening, Hunter. Another profitable night for you, I imagine?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I consider it a good night when I break even. And you?”

  “Down a bit, but overall, an enjoyable time.” Sam continued up the street, past the line of carriages, toward the boarding house. He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around his companion's shoulders.

  Hunter matched their slower pace and walked beside Sam.

  We're all going the same way, after all.

  He glanced at the woman on Sam's arm and found her studying him with curiosity. Unaccountably pleased the scar along his cheek faced away from the young woman, Hunter tipped his head and smiled.

  She returned the nod then turned her attention to the street ahead.

  Hunter had forgotten about the minister, and his job offer, until the man stepped out of the shadows near the porch beside the boarding house.

  “The Lord has blessed me with patience, Mr. Hunter. I have waited here this long night. I've a bounty for you, if you would accept it. Evil has shown its face to the world, and the Lord hath shared with me a glorious purpose.”

  Hunter and the couple beside him stopped and regarded the emaciated man.

  His torn and filthy robe smelled of the swamp and unwashed flesh. He rolled his hands together, as though unable to hold them still. His hair, thin and oily, hung to his shoulders and exposed his dirty scalp.

  Hunter exchanged a quick glance with Sam, then gave Tremble a nod. “Yes, of course, and we shall speak of your purpose, as soon as you permit my friends to pass.”

  The man stepped to the side and allowed the couple to reach the boarding house entrance.

  Hunter touched his hat to Sam and the woman on his arm. “Good night.”

  “Good night.” The woman looked back and smiled as Sam held the door.

  Sam narrowed his eyes at Hunter, tipped his head, and walked through the door. His failure to introduce the young woman appeared a deliberate omission on Sam's part.

  C'est la vie!

  Hunter stepped onto the porch and perched on the rail, one foot to the ground. He pulled a cheroot from his jacket and struck a match.

  The minister watched Hunter light the small cigar and shook his head. “You're a Godless man, Mr. Hunter. God's will is cloaked in mystery, and not for one such as I to understand.”

  “Nor I.” Hunter blew out smoke and watched it float beyond the porch. “So, Minister Tremble, wasn’t it? Tell me more about your intentions, and please be brief. As you say, it has been a long night.”

  The man nodded. “She spoke a prophecy, about the ones born on the Witch’s Sabbath, under a full moon.” He stepped closer to Hunter. “I want you to hunt and kill them. They plan to call a demon to fight against my Lord.”

  “Uh-huh.” Hunter eyed Tremble and blew another puff of smoke into the night. “Who is she?”

  “She is a witch, gifted with sight and prophecy. A succubus of temptation, she is made for sin, and simmers with evil.” Passion raised his voice and moved the minister forward. He shifted from one foot to the other, and rubbed his hands together.

  “Mon ami, you've been in the swamp far too long.” Hunter tapped the ash over the rail.

  “I can pay half now, and half when the deed is done.” Minister Tremble reached into his robe and pulled out a roll of bills.

  Hunter chuckled in disbelief and ran a hand over his face. “Minister Tremble, if I take your contract and kill for you, it would be murder. Do you understand?”

  The minister nodded. “A most splendid sacrifice, in our Lord’s name.”

  “Mon Dieu!” Hunter muttered. “If I don't take this contract, you will find someone else who will?” He clarified and crushed the tip of his cigar against the rail.

  Minister Tremble nodded, bright eyed, and rubbing his hands. “The Lord's work must be done. He put you in my path when I needed a hunter; however, if you decline to fulfill his holy task, I shall be forced to recruit another such as yourself.”

  “I see.” Hunter considered the man for a moment. “How much will you pay?”

  “I have seventy-five dollar notes here. There will be another seventy-five for you when the evil ones have been slain.”

  “I'll need two hundred fifty up front and the same when I'm done.”

  “This is outrageous.” The minister exclaimed and stepped back, eyes bulging.

  “You have asked me to murder someone for you. More than one, in fact. I don't negotiate. Take it or leave it.” Hunter stood from his half-seated stance by the rail and stepped around the man.

  “I’ll pay your price. May the good Lord forgive your thievery.” Tremble hesitated and gnawed his lip. “I don't have all you require with me. I shall have to return to my home.”

  Hunter crossed the porch. “Bring the money, the names of your witches, and their last known location. I can start in the morning.”

  “I do not know their names, Mr. Hunter. Nor their location.” The minister shoved the notes back into his pocket.
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br />   Hunter turned and considered the small man again and scratched the back of his head. “You don't know who or where they are?”

  “The prophecy did not provide those details.”

  “What about your succubus of temptation? Does she have this information?”

  “Surely not. She has perished by the will of our Lord and passed from this earth.”

  Hunter stared at the minister, eyebrows raised. “You killed her?” He ran his hand through his hair and broke the tie that held it back.

  “I did no such thing. She spoke the prophecy and expired. It’s how I know she spoke a true foretelling.” The minister nodded with self-righteous knowledge, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

  “Uh-huh.” Hunter remained silent for several minutes while he considered the minister.

  Swamp worms have eaten his brain. The man is insane.

  Hunter would have walked away from the lunatic and his bounty except for two things. Lives were at stake—if they even existed—and this maniac would pay two hundred fifty dollars up front.

  “Do you know where the body of your succubus is now?”

  The man smiled and nodded. “She is at my home.”

  “You have a dead body in your home?”

  The lunatic nodded and grinned.

  “Sacrebleu!” Hunter whispered and ran a hand over his face. “Perhaps you could take me to your house in the morning and pay the first fee. Oh, and one more thing; I will need to see the body of the woman.”

  “Why would you need to see a corpse?” the minister snapped.

  “If I must explain myself to you, mon ami, the fee will double.”

  “I see, yes, I see.” Minister Tremble nodded and rolled his hands. “I will be here in the morning. I have a canoe we will use to reach my house. Once you have seen the woman and taken your money, I’ll return you here.” He paused, fidgeting with his hands, and considered the scar on Hunter's face. “Is that satisfactory?”

  “Tout à fait. I’ll see you in the morning.” Hunter entered the boarding house and left the minister on the porch.