Boadicea's Legacy
Page 33
When they parted, Emma nodded at the wheel. “Even when it’s not spinning there’s something so constant about it. Reliable, I suppose. I always feel like the world is right when I see it.”
Gage’s voice took on an edge of concern, and he ran his hands up her arms. “Anythin’ wrong?”
“Sarah’s left already. I wanted to wish her luck.”
“Can’t fool me. You’re pry more nervous than she is.”
“I do wish I could take the test for her. Although I’d fail miserably.” She laughed.
“Gotta let go, Em. Sarah’s a grown woman.” Gage blessed her with the half-grin she loved so much. “This is a big day, and you’re entitled to some worry for her.” He spoke in his hushed scrape, his voice resembling a creaking cog. He had trouble talking, another way Jared Perkins reached out from the past. He’d tried to kill this man, but all and glanced over her shoulder. Saw no one around. Still, she felt something … wrong. She shuddered.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m anxious for Sarah. And the boarding today. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
A shard of light breached the horizon. Sarah’s heart sank practically to her toes. Toby’s silhouette glowed in morning-shadow lavender. He sat with his back to her, his huddled shoulders and defeated posture reminding Sarah of the defenseless, fragile, frightened boy he’d once been.
She didn’t want to startle him, considering he sat with his legs hanging over a cliff. She thought this very scenario through a hundred times on the way here, had to do this right. No room for error. She waited until she caught her breath.
“Toby?” she asked softly.
An almost imperceptible flinch revealed he heard.
Sarah hated heights, and being this high absolutely terrified her. Especially when her sweet brother sat with his legs dangling over the precipice. She approached, willing him to stay steady, not lean forward too far. The way he hunched over, only one small movement would send him careening over the cliff.
Please God, don’t disappear.
She crept as close as she dared, sat down and slid forward, her heart in her throat. Some survival instinct pushed against her, cautioning her not to get too close; if she did, he might take her over the edge with him. She did her best to ignore the warning. He was her brother, and here because of his constant struggle. Tobias insisted on bearing the sins of Jared Perkins.
She scooted all the way to the edge and dropped her legs over. Fear crawled up them and numbed her, all the way to her lips. Gads, she hated heights! Focus, she reminded herself. She would not let fear get the best of her. Toby’s life depended on it, and they were in this together now. If Tobias Perkins was intent on ending his life here, he’d have to take her with him.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” she whispered.
“Enjoying the view,” he answered in the quiet and slightly wavering voice of a boy on the cusp of becoming an adult. The older he got, the more he looked like Jared. Instead of a hard, handsome, and powerful persona, Toby moved quietly through the world, slight, almost frail. His face, always gentle. Kind. He wore his engaging looks like a wistful echo, didn’t wield his charm like their father had, casting it out like a net and dragging in victims.
Although at seventeen Toby was actually a young man, she’d always see him as her baby brother, an image made easy as he grasped his childhood toy.
If Jared Perkins weren’t dead already, she would have killed him for this.
During their nightmare of a childhood, Sarah took care of Toby. She took her charge seriously, sharing her strength and courage, and finding refuge in caring for his fragile, battered soul. Part of the passages of growing up were the taunts of other children, spears of meanness thrown their way. Sarah protected them both, fighting, brawling, backing others down.
Not an easy life, growing up as the child of a murderer.
She kept anger out of her voice. “Difficult day for us.”
“Yeah.” This time his answer sounded stronger.
“Why don’t you come away from the edge?”
“I told you. View.” He held his gaze steady on the river rushing by, its power diminished from this great height. Up so far, Sarah felt removed from the realities of life, a spectator.
She understood why this place drew Tobias. Called to him. He’d grown up keeping to himself mostly, as if he deserved to exist only on the fringes of life. Like a moth flitting around the edge of light, hardly noticeable. Every so often he flew close, allowed himself his feelings, those buried so deep. By acknowledging them he risked destruction. Like now.
He sat balanced at the point where desperate, saddened people, believing the world would be better off without them, ended their lives. One of the most haunted places on the river, and now, thanks to their father, the Perkins name wove into the tales of ghosts and despair.
“Toby, come back to the boat with me.”
He stared out over the river.
“This doesn’t do anyone any good. Mother is waiting for us. The Spirit leaves this afternoon. Please.”
Still no response. Time for another tact.
“Toby, please. I don’t have time for this, not today. I’m a wreck as it is.”
Now he did look at her, his watery blue eyes filled with pain so naked, she flinched. Then his expression changed.
“Oh, criminy, Sarah, I forgot. Today is your pilot’s test!” He jumped to his feet and she shrieked.
Then everything happened, fast yet slow, all at once. Still gripping Monkey Bear, he lost his balance and wavered. She grabbed his arm with both hands, threw herself back, and he tumbled down and rolled over her to safety.
They both lay a moment, stunned at what almost happened.
He laughed. Giggled.
Everything, all the tension, the fright, the shadow of their father, all of it blew away with the sound. Sarah sat part way up and scooted back until the tingles of fear stopped racing across her skin. She flopped down, allowing all her strength to drain into the cool ground. Overhead, thin clouds like smears of milk streaked the sky, their edges lit with gold morning light.
“Runt, you are such an idiot.”
He sat up. “Yeah, I know.”
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“I won’t. Cripes, this might have been serious. I almost lost my teddy bear.” He held Monkey Bear up and wiggled it.
Despite the teasing nature of his words, the look in his eyes conflicted with his fading smile and told her his promise might be one he couldn’t keep.
I bide my time. I do this well. Years of waiting in the past, only living as a memory. Soon, I will become real. I will have a body. Hands. A face.
The Offspring fights me, does not want me to come out. And yet I always win. The child is weak. Stares in the mirror, attempting to push me down into nothing more than a flicker. I cannot believe the Offspring is of my loins, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.
Spirit of my spirit.
Yet here we are. Bound together by blood.
How many parents are saddened, embarrassed, disappointed by their children? When babies come into this world, wriggling and screaming, they have every possibility. They are fresh, pliable things that need to be molded. Some, though, stay soft. Never find the spine, the metal that will forge a human being fitting of fortitude. A person who matters.
No, instead, some burrow into the coward’s way.
How did the father of Jack McCall feel on hearing his son murdered the hero and lawman Wild Bill Hickock by shooting him in the back? Or the pathetic case of Angela Cooper, who poisoned her infirm grandmother slowly with cups of tea, so she and her mother would inherit money enough to leave sooner rather than later. How proud was her mother when she learned of her daughter’s deed and had no choice other than to go to the authorities and give her over to the hangman’s waiting noose? Or Jebediah Bailey, hiding in a barn while his family was murdered in their beds a few yards away. He held a shotgun in his hands, could have used it
to save those he professed to love. Instead, he hunkered down and shivered in the hay.
Did Judas’ parents realize he gave over the Son of God with a coward’s kiss?
Thus it is with the Offspring. Cowardice claims my own. The saving grace is me.
My thunder booms in the Offspring’s ears, aggressive, angry. Its fear whimpers beneath the pulse of my strength. Soon, I will quell its fright with my anger, my fortitude. My body is gone, yet my will burns strong. I will become its heart and courage.
The Spirit of the River. Indeed. They have done this to me. Rent my soul from me. Destroyed my body. Stolen my life, my memory. Soon, I will have all back again.
They will not realize I am here. Until I wish them to see.
I will give them a hint. It is only sporting.
And I, at least, am not a coward.
It is 1192. Celestia Montehue is the odd-eyed misfit in a family of flame-haired goddesses descended from notorious Queen Boadicea. While her sisters are tall and beautiful, she, the eldest, is blond and petite, with one green and one blue eye. The only thing she has in common with the family legend is her magical healing ability. Constantly fighting for her place among her siblings, she refuses to settle for less than her due. Coming to accept no one will ever be able to love her for who she is, she vows never to marry.
Nicholas Le Blanc is a haunted man. Though trained as a knight under the Baron Peregrine’s name, his childhood in a monastery has convinced him he is a bastard. Then, on crusade, his caravan is ambushed; all men are lost and the sacred relic they carried is stolen. Nicholas is captured and suffers a year of torture, ultimately escaping … but only after being forced to kill a woman to win his freedom. Guilt poisons him as surely as the hidden wounds in his soul.
An arranged marriage does not bode happiness for the two tortured souls. Nor does Celestia’s new home, a broken down keep—haunted by the ghost of Nicholas’ mother, a suicide—and a stagnant green moat. Then a maid is murdered and a curse revealed. Worse, Celestia has fallen in love with her tormented husband. Will they both be doomed? Or is there healing, indeed, in Love’s Magic?
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Galiana Montehue is beautiful, hallowed, and adored. Envied by her rivals and coveted by her suitors, this privileged lady of the manor enjoys the attention and esteem bestowed only on young women blessed with physical perfection. What more could a late-twelfth-century Welsh heroine need to shine at court?
Lord Rourke Wallis suffers a head injury at Galiana’s hands, rendering him blind and dependent. He never sees the beauty she curses with vehemence. Defending her twin brothers from Rourke’s drawn sword, she must live with the horrible debilitating consequences of her attack as she nurses the honorable knight. For the first time, she experiences a man’s sincere affection and genuine integrity.
In his dark and depressing internal prison, Rourke discovers a depth of passion impossible to find in the superficial realm of medieval fashion and visual charms. The gentle touch of her warm, delicate hands and the arousing lavender scent of her vibrant body awaken in Rourke a fervor he cannot deny. Galiana entices him like no other, drawing him into a tactile, sensual haven.
Yet the fulfillment of his desire must wait until the completion of his mission. Stolen from King William’s treasures, the magical Breath of Merlin must be recovered. This mysterious stone from antiquity contains supernatural power that royalty will fight to possess. Together they must unlock the secret to this dangerous, mystical gem, or face a future without the love they so recently discovered.
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Lady Leanna is a flame-haired beauty loved by her betrothed, Prince Emric, desired by his loathsome brother, Prince Bran. Although in love with Emric, Leanna has still not made her peace with the knowledge that this arrangement was forced upon her.
Prince Emric, noble and courageous, rides to war, ignorant of his brother’s dark treachery.
In a net of betrayal and violence, the young lovers must preserve their faith, and Leanna must keep Emric alive with her love and the magical powers she herself does not fully understand …
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Nico d’Or was a kind and gentle man who lived in the age of dragons. Through a simple twist of fate, Nico married the lovely Princess Elisia, and the couple were blessed with a beautiful daughter, Marina. Would they live happily ever after?
Well, not quite. The neighbor’s wife, Geovana, was neither sweet nor lovely, but a devious sorceress who spent her time casting dreadful spells, devising vile tricks, and mixing powerful potions with eye of newt and the horn of a toad.
Geovana used one of her favorite spells—strategically hurling rocks through windows to smash into the heads of her victims—tragically killing both Nico and Elisia, and leaving the beautiful Marina all alone. To make matters worse, Geovana became Marina’s guardian and, greedy for power, arranged a marriage between Marina and her own evil son, Carlo Baristo.
But Marina was in love with someone else. And as Christmas Day approached, Marina was faced with a terrible choice: save her land and her people, or follow her heart and believe in the magic of Christmas and true love.
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The Road Through Wonderland is Dawn Schiller’s chilling account of the childhood that molded her so perfectly to fall for the seduction of “the king of porn,” John Holmes, and the bizarre twist of fate that brought them together. With painstaking honesty, Dawn uncovers the truth of her relationship with John, her father figure-turned-forbidden lover who hid her away from his porn movie world and welcomed her into his family along with his wife.
Within these pages, Dawn reveals the perilous road John led her down—from drugs and addiction to beatings, arrests, forced prostitution, and being sold to the drug underworld. Surviving the horrific Wonderland murders, this young innocent entered protective custody, ran from the FBI, endured a heart-wrenching escape from John, and ultimately turned him in to the police.
This is the true story of one of the most infamous of public figures and a young girl’s struggle to survive unthinkable abuse. Readers will be left shaken but clutching to real hope at the end of this dark journey on The Road Through Wonderland.
Also check out the movie Wonderland (Lions Gate Entertainment, 2003) for a look into the past of Dawn Schiller and the Wonderland Murders.
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