Prophecy (Soul of the Witch Book 2)

by C. Marie Bowen

  Alyse’s throat closed and she simply held on to her mother while she cried.

  “Is your husband home, sissy? Are you alone?” Bernard circled his sister and niece as Margaret gained control of her emotions. “There are matters most urgent. We need to speak with you and Amylia.”

  Margaret pushed Alyse to arms’ length and ran her gaze over her daughter. “You’re so like your sister.” She brushed strands of hair from Alyse’s damp face.

  “Mags...” Bern cautioned again.

  Margaret turned to Bayard and embraced him, ignoring Bernard. “Bay, you haven't aged a bit. How I've missed you.” Then she turned to Bernard and smiled. “You old stick in the mud. Always business with you. Give your sissy a hug.” They embraced, and Margaret kissed the side of his face.

  “Come into the parlor, where we can sit.” Margaret led them through an arched opening into a seating area. Long windows faced the street and filled the room with light. Even as she sat, Margaret never took her gaze from her daughter’s face.

  Alyse smiled through her tears and consigned everything about her mother to memory. An inch shorter than Alyse, Margaret carried more weight in her hips than either Alyse or Chantal. Her mother had dark eyes, like the rest of the family and wore her brown-gray hair up, just like Mémé, in a loose bun.

  Why does my mother look older than my uncles?

  Alyse cast a quick glance at her uncles as she took a seat beside her mother.

  I’ll have to ask.

  Margaret took Alyse’s hand. “Robert's not here. He's at the warehouse. I don't expect him back until late this evening, so we have time to talk.” Margaret tore her gaze from Alyse and looked from Bayard to Bernard. “Tell me, why are you here? Where’s Mum?”

  “Mum stayed at the farm.” Bernard’s tone was low and cautious. “She said she couldn't travel so far or as fast as our need. It’s urgent. We believe she’s buying us time. We must speak with Amylia.”

  “Amy?” Margaret’s voice rose as she spoke. “I thought the whole reason for separating my girls was to keep them safe from Mum's prophecy.”

  “She tried to stop them from twyning—like Bay and I do—but it didn't work.” Bernard shook his head in frustration. “They twyned anyway, despite the distance.”

  Bayard reached out and touched his sister’s arm. “Maggie, the Prophecy is happening. Now. It’s too late to keep your girls apart. They need to learn to work together.”

  Bernard rose after his brother spoke and paced around the couch.

  “How can this be?” Margaret turned to her daughter, her voice soft. “You twyned with Amy?”

  Alyse felt her face heat as she nodded. “I didn't mean to, but she needed me. I didn't know I had a sister until I was with her and twyned. Can I see her?”

  Margaret’s eyes filled with sadness, and she shook her head. “Amy isn't here, darling. She married a banker’s son two years ago, a young man named Jason Harris. They moved to Denver last year to help Jason’s uncle with his cattle ranch.” Margaret dropped her gaze to their clasped hands. “She writes, but I still miss her so.”

  “Amy's not here?” Alyse questioned.

  Margaret’s head came up. “No, she's not.” She looked at her brothers, then back to Alyse.

  “Amy lives in Denver?” Bern asked as he paced behind the settee.

  “Yes. I have her address.” Margaret turned from Bernard and looked again at Alyse.

  “If you could give that to us, we’ll need to be on our way,” Bernard said.

  “That’s what I thought.” Margaret pressed her lips and wiped at her face with one hand. She kept a firm hold on Alyse with the other.

  “We can stay for a bit.” Alyse corrected her uncle.

  Bernard stopped pacing and looked crossly at his niece, but held his tongue.

  “Mémé sent you a present... Mother. It’s in my trunk. Uncle Bern, could you get the package, please? It’s addressed to Margaret.” Alyse cast a trembling smile of thanks at her uncle, then turned back to her mother.

  Bayard sat forward and reached for Margaret's other hand. “It’s wonderful to see you Maggie. Are you doing well? Are you happy?” Bayard grinned and winked at Alyse. “Does your husband treat you as he should? We can take care of him if he doesn't. You know we can.”

  Margaret laughed through her tears. “Of course, I'm happy. Robert is a good man and a good father.” She looked back to Alyse as more tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry you never got to know him. Oh! I have a photograph.” She stood and crossed to the mantel. When she returned, she brought a photograph of herself, her husband, and a young Amy. She handed the frame to Alyse.

  Alyse looked at the photo of the family she should have been a part of. It was several years old. Amy wore calf-length skirts and braided hair—but the face? She saw it every morning when she glanced in her mirror.

  “Does he ... does my father know about me?” Alyse looked from the picture to her mother.

  Margaret shook her head. “No. Robert doesn't know both our daughters survived their birth. He knows nothing of The Prophecy, or of our family's—peculiar skills.”

  Bern came in the front door with the brown paper package in time to hear Margaret’s last comment.

  “You never trained Amy in her skills?” Bern handed his mother’s package to Margaret.

  “I taught her to scry with water. She has only two elements, Water and Earth,” Margaret explained

  “I have Fire and Air.” Alyse looked at all the faces around her.

  Margaret raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “How curious. Do you have precognition as well?”

  Alyse shook her head. “No, but I can truth-read people—when I try.”

  “Amy has precognition? That’s unexpected.” Bayard looked from his sister to his brother.

  Margaret nodded as she took her seat and began to untie the knotted string around the package. “As is the ability to truth-read. I have very talented children, it seems.” She smiled at Alyse as a knot came free. “Amy’s visions began at a young age. The poor girl didn't understand at first, and they frightened her.” She glanced at her brothers. “What was I to do? I worked with her to glean the important things from ordinary. Aside from scrying, I also taught her herb lore. She always had the earth-sight, but could never heal, though Lord knows she never stopped trying.”

  Margaret released the string from the package and pulled back the paper. “I taught her what was safe for her to know.” Folded inside the paper package lay a finely knitted shawl, white across the top, the shawl grew progressively darker until at the very bottom of the 'V' the yarn was black.

  Margaret gasped in delight as she picked it up. From inside the wrap fell another package and a letter. She retrieved them from the floor and unfolded the letter. She scanned it, then read it aloud.

  Margaret, my beloved daughter,

  How I wish I could see you again. Please know I have loved you and thought of you each and every day we have been apart. You are always in my heart.

  The thing we tried to prevent has come to pass. Your girls have twyned. The Prophecy is set in motion and will end only with the defeat of the demon.

  Inside this package is my gift to you. The wrap has been crocheted with an element of protection. Please wear it whenever you feel uneasy, it will help calm and protect you.

  I have also enclosed a protection satchel. Keep this close to your heart. And lastly, I have included a satchel for Robert. Tell him it is a scent you love and put it in his coat pocket.

  This is all I can do to keep you both safe.

  All my love, Mum

  Margaret swallowed and held the shawl under her nose for a moment and inhaled, then opened the smaller package. She withdrew a satchel on a long chain. The protection amulet looked similar to the one Chantal had given Alyse. Margaret hung the talisman around her neck and tucked the satchel inside her blouse. She looked at her brothers and her daughter.

  “And so it begins.” Margaret’s voice shook with emoti
on.

  “It began when your girls were born,” Bayard said.

  “It began with The Prophecy,” Alyse corrected. “But now we have the chance to end it. And when it’s over, I want to come back and visit with you and my father. Would that be possible?”

  Margaret took Alyse's hand and smiled. “Of course, my dear. We will find a way to explain this to Robert when you come back.”

  Margaret hugged Alyse one more time then stood and walked to a writing desk. She handed Bernard several of Amy's letters.

  Bernard wrote down the address on a slip of paper and placed the note in his vest pocket. He returned the letters to his sister. “Thank you, Mags.”

  Alyse and Bayard rose and followed Bern and Margaret to the door.

  Margaret reached for her daughter and hugged her tight.

  Bayard wrapped an arm around Alyse. “We must go, Alyse.”

  She nodded but couldn’t stop her tears. She paused inside the door and looked back.

  Bernard spoke quietly with his sister. “Mum thinks the demon will go to the farm first. We all believed Amy still lived in Boston. Mags. The demon will know we came here. It will follow us.”

  Margaret’s face paled. She looked from Bernard to her daughter and Bay, who stood inside the door. She closed her eyes and nodded. “Mum knew too, hence the gifts.”

  Bernard wrapped his arms around his sister. “I know you don't practice the craft like we did growing up, but take what precautions you can. I don't want to see you hurt.” He kissed her head and followed Bay and Alyse out the door and down the street to the wagon.

  At the train station, they reviewed the departure schedule, stops and lines they would need to use to get to Denver. The Central Pacific would take them all the way to Cheyenne, then they would change lines and head south to Denver on the Colorado Central Railroad.

  Bernard purchased the tickets for the train and the transfers at the counter, and they turned their luggage over to the porter to be loaded into the baggage car. The train would depart at 6:45 that evening.

  Alyse watched Bernard purchase hot pies from a vendor in the station and carry them back to their seats.

  “Four days to Denver. I didn't get a Pullman car, just the standard seats.” He handed each a hot pie. “I want to save Mum's cash if we can. We may need it.”

  Chapter 17

  Catherine Kline

  Catherine Kline left her brother reading yesterday’s Daily Picayune in their open compartment. She couldn’t bear to watch him read another minute.

  Going somewhere besides New Orleans, and the novelty of traveling by train, filled her with a constant hum of excitement. She could not sit quietly as the world pass by her window.

  Cat made her way to the front of the car, and tipped her head to the elderly couple seated near the forward door. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder at her brother and slipped onto the small observation platform between cars.

  Her breath caught as an exhilarating rush of air swirled by her. The trees the train passed were no longer draped moss. They had made the line transfer in Jackson and were now headed west toward Shreveport. A new scent, as unfamiliar as the trees, swirled around her and she inhaled the crisp fragrance.

  The small platform boasted a safety rail on each side, but was open to the platform on the next car. She stepped across the opening above the linkage and entered the adjoining car.

  Catherine passed forward through three cars before she encountered a locked door with a sign that stated, “NO ADMITTANCE”. Unwilling to return to her seat, she stood on the platform in the fresh air and felt the rumble of the wheels beneath her feet.

  It wasn’t long until her stomach rumbled as well, a reminder breakfast waited with Sam.

  I should go back. Sam will wonder where I’ve gone.

  She retraced her steps through the cars and caught sight of a familiar face.

  His back would have been to her when she passed through on her way forward. Now, he stared out the window, as though deep in thought. His reflection in the glass showed the long scar, from his eye to his chin. The side of his face turned toward her—tanned and unblemished—beautiful. An unfamiliar tingle assailed her stomach and her heart fluttered.

  Curious.

  His chin wore a day’s worth of stubble. His thick, black hair had been brushed back and secured with a leather tie at his nape. Shorter hairs escaped the binding and feathered along his face, softening the sharp angle of his jaw. He had a perilous and mysterious air about him that drew her. Sam had a dangerous feel about him as well, so that proved no impediment. However, the mystery seated before her filled her stomach with nervous flutters.

  Cat smoothed her windblown hair and gripped her skirt. With an easy smile, she stepped to the empty bench across from her brother’s friend and seated herself.

  Inquiring blue eyes, deep set and lined by thick, dark lashes, turned from the window to her.

  Cat felt her smile falter, but only for a moment; then, she held out her gloved hand. “I’m afraid my brother failed to introduce us the other night. My name is Catherine Kline, but my friends call me Cat.”

  His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. He sat forward and took her hand in his. “Well, you are quite a surprise this morning, Miss Kline. Are we friends then? Should I call you Cat?”

  Cat’s grin grew wide as the warmth of his large hand penetrated her glove “We might be friends, if I knew your name. Are you and Sam good friends?”

  He tipped his head, as if to consider the question. “No. Not really. We’ve worked together—twice, I believe.” He shrugged and placed his other hand on top of Cat's. “No one calls me by my given name, ma chère. Both friends and acquaintances call me Hunter.”

  Cat glanced at her trapped hand, then back to Hunter's amused eyes and dimpled her cheek with a half-smile. “My brother is a hunter of sorts, as well, sir. Since Hunter is not your given name, I shall venture to guess it is something of a title, not unlike doctor, or conductor.” She shook her head and leaned closer, resting her other hand upon his. “If we are to be friends, sir, and I were to allow you to address me as Cat, I would need more from you than your title.” Cat lifted her chin and smiled a challenge.

  Hunter gave her hands a gentle squeeze, released them, and leaned back in his seat. “Is your brother on board, Miss Kline?” His eyes sparkled, and the smile on his face met her challenge.

  “He is. Our compartment is three cars back. We travel to Denver. And you?”

  “Denver, ma chère? I travel there as well.” His eyes narrowed, and his white teeth flashed a grin. “Perhaps it is more than coincidence I ran into you and your brother on the riverboat.”

  Cat waved her hand in annoyance. “Sam likes to gamble, Mr. Hunter. He visits the riverboat whenever he’s in town.” The way he watched her made her neck and stomach tingle. “I must say I found watching the card games disappointing. Perhaps, if I had played a hand and placed a wager, it would have kept me better entertained.”

  Hunter rubbed his hand across his mouth and cleared his throat. “You are an adventurous woman, Miss Kline. Are you from N’Orleans?”

  “I am, sir. And you?”

  “Oui. I grew up in the city.” He sat forward and studied her face. “May I ask what takes you and your brother to Denver?”

  Cat looked around the railcar. No one sat nearby. She leaned toward Hunter, her voice low. “You know of my brother's work, Mr. Hunter?” She waited for him to nod. “He’s going to Denver regarding an investment firm. He’s always rather vague about his work.” Cat sat back and arranged her skirt. “For my part, I refused his offer to attend a finishing school. I have set my mind toward discovering the world.” She gestured at the countryside passing beyond the window. “Isn't this exciting?”

  * * *

  Hunter

  Hunter glanced out the window, then back to the young woman seated across from him. Mademoiselle Kline’s beautiful face radiated excitement, and held his interest far more than the view out
side his window—much more than her brother would find acceptable. “Is this your first trip away from home?”

  Two gentlemen came to a stop beside Hunter’s compartment. “Excuse me, miss, but these are our seats.”

  Without hesitation, Cat moved from the bench across from Hunter to the seat beside him.

  Hunter could no longer hide his smile. He found Catherine Kline delightfully forward, yet completely unaware of it.

  Natural innocence.

  When her brother came to find her—and he would—Sam would be irate to discover his younger sister practically seated in Hunter's lap. Hunter laid his arm along the back of the seat behind Cat and turned toward her.

  With two strangers seated across from them, Cat lowered her voice and leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against his. “Why, yes, it is my first trip outside of New Orleans, although I always imagined I would travel to New York. However, I’m not disappointed with Denver as my first destination.” Her gaze rose from her gloved hands to his face, and she smiled.

  He waited for the flinch at the sight of his scar, but it never came.

  Remarkable.

  “Nor am I, Miss Kline.” He caught curious glances from the men across from them and drew his head back—away from her inviting smile. “I’m concerned, however, that your brother will become anxious as to your whereabouts.” Hunter found Cat a dangerous combination of innocence and aggressive curiosity. A mix he would like to explore more thoroughly. Sam, however, would undoubtedly put an end to their blossoming acquaintance.

  Cat came gracefully to her feet and tipped her head. “You are correct, Mr. Hunter. I don’t want to worry Sam. It has been my pleasure to see you again, sir.”

  Hunter rose when she stood, as did the men sitting across from them. Cat smiled, nodded to them all, and turned to continue through the passenger car.

  * * *

  Catherine Kline

  Cat closed the door at the front of her passenger car just as Sam threw down his newspaper and stood. She nodded to the elderly couple again, and advanced to her seat.