Two humans took nourishment and drank a dark, fermented liquid.
Delighted to discover he could skim their minds beyond the feeble ward, he found nothing of interest in the male. The female, however, had power—limited and rarely used. Her thoughts wandered far from the discussion with the male. Sadness and longing beat against her mind, as she replayed the recent visit with her daughter.
The demon growled and gnashed its teeth. The child had been here but was now gone. The chattered frenzy of underlings inside his head distracted and enraged Morago even more. With a thought, the horde within were rendered mute and paralyzed in agony.
He yearned to shred this house, and those within it—to destroy this city and all the insipid beings who strolled the night. But he did not possess enough power, and that realization infuriated the demon.
I loathe.
I hate.
I hunger.
Pain seized his chest, and when it ceased, Morago no longer inhabited a living host. His rage had burst the dog’s heart. He had been less than judicious with the new power and allowed fury to take hold.
A lesson learned, and now, an inconvenience.
Bereft of a host, Morago writhed in primordial serpent form inside the dead dog. He crawled through the animal and departed from the mouth onto the dirt under the bush. What had been a warm evening felt chilled against his scales. Morago coiled beside the dead beast, vulnerable and filled with rancor. Left with no choice, he slithered down the lawn to the street and curled beneath a flowering shrub near the sidewalk to wait.
Several people strolled this summer evening, but Morago needed a specific type of individual. A solitary human, healthy enough to walk some distance without attracting unwanted attention. Impatience became unbearable. Only couples meandered close enough, and none to his liking. He writhed with frustration.
At last, a single gentleman approached, and Morago shed his skin and rose as an oily vapor to blend with the evening mist from the river.
The man inhaled the rancid vapor as he strolled past the Prescott home. Four hours later, the man regained his senses near the edge of town, dehydrated and vomiting. A large crow cawed from a split rail fence then jumped into the air.
Morago headed west.
Chapter 21
Catherine Kline
The train blew a long whistle as the black engine led the cars into Dallas. Sam and Cat readied their belongings as the wheels came to a stop. The Texas and Pacific Railway station stood a quarter-mile from the Missouri, Kansas, and Texas station. An omnibus awaited the passengers for the predawn transfer.
Cat followed several travelers from the station to the bus. Her bag in one hand, her pillow and blanket over her other arm.
Why build train stations so far apart?
Irritated and sleepy, it seemed the height of poor planning to her. She enjoyed traveling by train, but line transfers were inconvenient.
Especially in the middle of the night and across town.
Sam followed with his own bag and bedding. Inside the coach, Sam found Cat a seat beside an elderly woman.
Cat smiled hello to the gray-haired traveler while she kept a sharp eye on the station door.
Where is Hunter?
She watched through the long bus windows as two porters pushed a luggage cart from the T&P station to the omnibus.
The thump and scrape of trunks loaded on the upper deck echoed through the carriage. Eight travelers, besides her and Sam, waited on the bus.
Sam checked the time on his pocket watch then returned it to his vest. Still standing, he turned to face the bus door.
Cat followed Sam’s gaze toward the T&P station.
He wonders about Hunter as well.
The coachman began to close the door just as Hunter rushed from the station with his travel bag and a vendor sack
Sam gripped the door. “One more.” He nodded toward Hunter.
“My apologies, monsieur.” Hunter removed his flat-top, wide-brimmed hat and climbed inside.
The woman beside Cat sniffed with distaste and turned away from the new arrival.
Cat raised an eyebrow at the woman’s behavior. When she glanced at Hunter, his gaze met hers. She grinned, despite herself, and looked down at her hands.
“I thought you might have taken another line.” Sam said to Hunter.
“No, mon ami. The MKT to Junction City is the fastest route north.”
His low voice, flavored by his peculiar mix of Cajun and French accents, sent chills across Cat’s neck. Her gaze returned to her brother and Hunter as the bus began to move. The men stood in the aisle, braced for the short ride to the MKT station.
“What car are you on?” Sam inquired. He pulled their tickets from his vest.
Hunter glanced at Cat, then his eyes cut back to Sam and he smiled. “The third car.”
Sam read the tickets. “Cat and I are in the second.” He returned the tickets to his pocket.
As the bus slowed to a stop, Cat glanced up and caught Hunter watching her.
He grinned and settled his hat back on his head. When the door opened, he winked one dark blue eye at her, stepped from the bus, and disappeared.
She rose and hurried past Sam to the exit, but Hunter had vanished down the platform into the night.
Cat followed Sam as he escorted the elderly woman to the porter at the first passenger car.
“Thank you, young man.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” Sam tipped his hat and they continued toward their car.
“The air feels different.” Cat observed when they reached their car.
“It’s drier than at home. Wait until you feel the arid Denver air; then, you will know the meaning of dry.” Sam chuckled. “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted. I could sleep for a week.”
A porter helped Cat up the steps to the car.
“The second area, there—on the left,” Sam directed as he followed her inside.
Cat slid her bag beneath the seat and tossed the pillow against the window.
Sam folded down the overhead sleeping berth and attached the ladder. “Do you want to lie down?”
“I do.” She removed her boots and climbed into the sleeper.
“I’ll wake you for breakfast.” Sam handed her a blanket and pillow, and drew the curtain.
Cat fell asleep before the train pulled from the station. She dreamed of Hunter’s unusual blue eyes, laughing at something she said. She leaned forward and ran her finger along his scar, tracing the imperfection down his skin to his jaw. Her gaze followed her finger to his lips—full, and well defined. They parted as she leaned closer.
Three sharp taps on the underside of her bed evaporated her dream. She gave an exasperated grunt and slid the privacy curtain aside to glare at her brother.
“Time to get up. Hunter stopped by. I told him to come back in twenty minutes. He has blueberry muffins for breakfast. I thought you might want to...” Sam waved his fingers at his head, “...freshen up before we eat.”
Cat rubbed her eyes and felt her hair. Her fine, straight, auburn locks defied curling irons and pins, yet tangled each night even when braided. Without comment, she crawled from the compartment and found her shoes and bag under the seat. She pulled the hairbrush, several hairpins and a washcloth from her bag.
“Where’s the privy?” Cat’s sleepy gaze rose to her brother.
“The conductor said there’s a ladies’ room in the car behind us.”
“I must see this.” Cat came to her feet. “I’ll be right back.” She flashed a rushed smile and hurried down the aisle toward next car.
She found the lady’s room at the end of the next car, past the men’s room and a small passenger section. Once inside, she stepped to the vanity and stared with discouragement into the mirror.
What a bedraggled mess.
The single braid she had twisted into a bun yesterday had frayed and slipped overnight.
Well, what did you expect?
Worse, she discovered
a red mark on her cheek where she had slept against her hand. Pulling the few pins that remained from her hair, she ran her fingers through the tangled braid.
Two women entered the room, nodded to her in the mirror, then seated themselves at the vanity behind Cat.
Cat brushed the tangles, twisted wavy strands into a chignon at the base of her head, and secured it with several hairpins.
Better.
A ceramic bowl with a pump lever provided water for her washcloth. She held the damp cloth to her face, as the conversation behind her caught her attention.
“He smiled at me, I’m sure of it.”
“Which one, the tall blond or the devil with the scar?”
“Heavens, no! Not the marked one. I would have died of fright.”
Cat lowered the cloth and studied the women’s reflection in the mirror.
The dark-haired woman nodded. “His face is terrifying. I swear, I shall have nightmares.”
Cat shook her head and wrung her cloth. She forced a smile when she nodded to the women and left the room. No stranger to female gossip, she’d heard enough whispers about her handsome brother while at school.
Do some women ever grow up?
The scornful remarks about Hunter brought her blood to a boil. Those women where blind—and stupid.
She entered her car and saw the objects of the ladies’ room conversation sat across from each other, heads close in conversation.
“Good morning,” Cat greeted Hunter as she slid her brush and damp cloth inside her bag.
The men sat back, and Sam moved closer to the window, affording Cat a place to sit.
“Bonjour, Miss Kline. Would you care for a muffin?” Hunter held open the vendor bag from last night.
“Thank you.” Cat took a pastry, pinched a portion from the top and popped it into her mouth.
“Do you know where you’re going to stay in Denver?” Sam asked.
Hunter shook his head and set the bag aside. “No, not yet. I’ve never been there, and I’m not sure where I’ll find—” his eyes shifted to Cat, then back to Sam “—my associates.”
Sam nodded. “We’ll take rooms at an inn I know, spend the night, and wash the travel dust from our hides. I have an address to check in town, but I suspect we’ll need to travel to the informant’s cattle ranch, east of town.”
The men were so cautious with what they said in front of her. Cat nibbled on the muffin and nodded as though she hadn’t overheard their conversation the other night. It occurred to her to ask Sam if he would allow her to remain at the inn, instead of traveling with him to the cattle ranch.
A suggestion best made to Sam in private.
“If it is agreeable with you, mon ami, I shall take a room at the same place. Where I begin my search will not matter.”
Cat faced the back of the railcar and saw the two women enter. She smiled and nodded as they approached. Her grin widened as the dark-haired woman raised her head and passed by, stone-faced. Cat’s chuckle caught both of her companions’ attention.
“Do you know them?” Hunter asked.
Cat turned her head and saw they had moved on to the first car. “I know their type.” She turned back to Hunter and her brother. “They were in the ladies’ room. They think you’re handsome, Sam.” She popped another bite of muffin into her mouth and grinned at her brother.
Hunter’s laughter warmed her. “All the ladies find your brother très beau.”
Sam’s face went cold as he stared at Hunter. “Enough.”
Surprised at her brother’s tone, Cat stared at Sam.
What’s wrong with him?
Since when did Sam care what women thought of his looks? She and Sam had joked about her foolish friends at school before. When had he become so testy?
Hunter ignored her brother’s anger and pulled a newspaper from the vendor bag. “For you, Sam. I read it last night.” He rose and nodded to Cat. “Perhaps I will see you both later.”
Cat watched Hunter move through the car and exit, without turning to look back at her. She switched to the seat across from Sam. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” He asked as he opened the Dallas Daily Herald. He flipped through the pages, then returned to the front page and began to read.
“You snapped at him. We were only teasing you.” Cat propped her elbow on the windowsill and gazed out, her chin in her hand.
“And I’d had enough. Now, let me read.”
There was more here Cat didn’t understand, but questioning Sam would get her nowhere. They were all tired of traveling—maybe that was Sam’s problem.
Outside, the landscape had changed again. Shorter trees with dark twisted branches covered the low hillsides. “What kind of trees are those?”
Sam looked up from his paper. “Mesquite.”
The train picked up speed as they moved north. Their last train had slowed to pick up mail and parcels every few miles. This train appeared determined to reach its destination as quickly as possible.
“Why is the train moving so fast?” Cat asked.
“We’re crossing Indian Territory.” Sam cast a quick glance at Cat and returned to the newspaper. “Less chance of an incident if we stay at full speed.”
Cat looked out the window again with renewed curiosity.
I’ve never seen an Indian.
But as the morning passed, she grew restless and bored. “I need to visit the ladies’ room, Sam.”
He nodded and turned to the last page, then set the newspaper aside and pulled his hat over his eyes. “That’s fine. I’m going to take a nap. Don’t get lost.”
Cat chuckled. “Don’t worry.” When she stepped outside, the rush of wind caught her breath and tugged at her skirt. The air tasted different. She inhaled a deep breath, then crossed to the next platform and went inside.
She pulled the door closed and stepped past the men’s room. The few seats between the salons were almost empty of passengers. To her left, a man slept across the seat, and in the second berth to her right, she spotted Hunter.
Hunter appeared to sleep as well. He reclined, his back to the window, and his hat pulled down to shadow his face. His long legs, stretched to the aisle, were crossed at the ankles.
Cat stopped beside Hunter's bench. She let her gaze travel up from his black boots and muscular legs to his dark vest and jacket. His white shirt stood in stark contrast to his tanned skin and suit. Both of her men needed a shave, she noted, then blinked in surprise to find his alert eyes gazed at her from beneath the brim of his hat.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Kline.” He smiled and pushed his hat from his face as he pulled in his legs.
“Oh, Mr. Hunter. I thought you were asleep.” Cat felt her face heat.
“So I gathered.” Hunter chuckled and gestured to the seat across from him. “Would you care to join me?”
“Thank you.” She indicated the ladies’ room as she arranged her skirts. “I came through earlier but didn’t see you.”
“I may have been in the men’s room.” Hunter shrugged and smiled, his attention focused on her face.
Heat flared on her cheeks and Cat cleared her throat. “Are there more passenger cars besides ours?”
“Yes, there are,” Hunter confirmed. “There are five altogether, one in front of yours and two more behind this one.”
“Have you been the other way?” Cat pointed past the ladies’ room.
“No, I haven't. Would you like to explore?” Hunter looked past her shoulder, then returned his attention to her.
“Yes, I would.” Cat stood and proceeded past the room to the exit. She glanced back and found Hunter right behind her. She turned the latch and Hunter’s arm push the door open above her head.
When the door closed after them, Cat paused as the air swirled around them. The low hills and misshapen trees expanded to the horizon on both sides. She didn't continue to the next car. Instead she stared into the distance, summoning her courage.
“Did you wish to cros
s to the next car?” Hunter asked and stepped toward the gangway.
Cat turned to face him. “I have a confession and a request.” She ran her hand down her skirt and looked away. “I’ve considered how best to proceed with both.”
“You intrigue me, mademoiselle. What would you confess to me?” Hunter’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and leaned against the door.
Cat took a deep breath and watched her knuckles turn white from her grip on the railing.
Just say it.
“As to the confession, I admit I’ve never kissed a boy before—or a man, for that matter.” The wind felt cool on her face.
I must be as red as a beet.
“I’m not altogether sure how to go about it.” She chanced a quick glance at his face and looked away. “I imagine it to be quite different than kissing the girls at school.”
“You’ve kissed girls?” Hunter stood away from the door.
Cat nodded. “Most of the girls tried it. Some enjoyed it more than others, of course. The idea began as a way to practice for when we would someday kiss a boy.” Cat ran a hand across her forehead. “This has gotten off topic, I’m afraid.”
“Did you—like to kiss girls?” Hunter stepped closer, clearly intrigued by her confession.
“No! I mean, not really.” Cat glanced up at him. “That is, however, where my request comes in.” She blew out her breath and gripped skirt. “Mr. Hunter, would you kiss me?” Cat raised her gaze and looked into his eyes. “I am afraid kissing—well, anyone—would not be to my liking.” She took a quick breath, unable to stop talking. “The girls at school seemed to enjoy it very much, but I never did. So you see, my curiosity has blossomed to such an extent—” She licked her bottom lip. “—I thought kissing you might be much more enjoyable.” Her chatter ran to an end as he stepped so close she felt the heat of his body.
“You’ve thought about kissing me?” Hunter asked. He slipped an arm behind her back and drew Cat tight to his side.
“In all honesty, I dream about it,” she whispered, unable to look away from his eyes.
“And... do you think you might like it?” The breath from his whisper was warm against her skin as he lowered his face.
Prophecy (Soul of the Witch Book 2) Page 15