As they reached the stone wall separating the manicured lawn from the graveyard, Eveline paused and scanned the headstones. “I haven’t detected the presence of any ghosts whatsoever. At this point, I would settle for an angry ghost over none at all.”
Victor’s mouth turned down at the corners, and he squeezed his hand over Mercy’s forearm. But she couldn’t ease his worries or guarantee that they would find the stones on the estate.
“Don’t stare at me with that forlorn look,” she said, pulling away from his side. “What do you expect me to do? I can’t summon the ghost at will.”
She wasn’t a fortune-teller either. Despite her mother’s insistence that the stones were there, at least at one point in time, Mercy couldn’t predict when or if they’d find them. Still, there was hope, as her mother had a reliable source. Her trusted scrying bowl, the one Mercy had destroyed upon her mother’s death.
“My apologies, Mercy, if I’ve upset you,” he said, his eyebrows knitted. “You’re trying your best, and I’m grateful.”
Shaking off that uncomfortable encounter, Mercy walked through the black iron gates of the cemetery entrance. “Don’t fret, Victor,” she said over her shoulder. “We have time to find what we seek. And I’m certain of what I saw last night. Come along.”
She led the way, navigating through the maze of worn grass, seeking the tombstone she had spied from her room. The marker stood a head above the rest, so it wasn’t difficult to locate. As she neared, the silhouette of a ghost materialized.
Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t crazy. Here stood the evidence before her. He suddenly came into full view and tapped his forefinger against his lips. She swallowed and halted. That was a universal sign. He wished her to keep silent. And she ought not to ignore his wishes.
“Give me a moment alone before we attempt to communicate with the spirit,” Mercy said, turning her gaze on Eveline. “This is where he beckoned from last night.”
Eveline pressed her lips together and glanced away. What an odd reaction. Mercy turned to Victor, shocked to discover his stormy expression.
“What is the matter with both of you?” she asked, glancing quickly from one to the other.
“Mercy is a witch, Victor,” Eveline said, her voice even.
He breathed in deeply through his nose and out his mouth. “You’re right. But she deserves to know the truth of the matter.”
Mercy couldn’t keep up with their innuendos. “The truth about what?”
Eveline sighed before saying, “When a ghost beckons the living to the grave, it may forewarn of their imminent death. But I’m of the mind that witches may see what others cannot. As you said, this may be the ghost communicating with you because he is aware of your reason for being here.”
Eveline’s words sank in after a few moments, though they seemed fantastical. But what did Mercy know of spirits? She’d never seen one in her entire life, and this was not an everyday topic of discussion. Why would Victor even know about this?
Imminent death.
A flutter of fear rumbled in Mercy’s belly. Had he seen a ghost in a graveyard of late? He hadn’t gazed outside her bedroom window, and his chamber faced the courtyard. Where could he have seen a ghost in a graveyard?
Her head snapped up, and she met his gaze. “Emma’s funeral,” she whispered, bringing voice to her worst fears. “You saw a ghost at the funeral?”
He nodded, his expression bleak.
Her heart broke again, as it had every time her thoughts had lingered too long on the curse over the past several days. “We’ll find the stones. We have options. My mother used a scrying bowl often. We can try that as well.”
Victor kissed her palm. “With a medium and a witch at my disposal, I’m more hopeful than I’ve ever been before.”
She nodded, and said, “Wait here for a minute while I inspect the headstone.”
Mercy crept toward the headstone where the ghost waited patiently. He pointed to the stone and then at her. Did he want her to read the epitaph?
She squatted beside the stone. Rivulets of water ran down it. It must’ve rained hard through the morning, because streaks of dirt traveled the length of the stone. The inscription was etched deep into the granite.
1420 – 1447
Ambrose E. Blackburn
May he rest in eternal peace.
Beloved husband of Vivian.
Devoted father to Maxwell and Peter.
Betrayer of Elizabeth Thorne.
Those final words had been carved in the stone by hand. They were larger, more prominent than the rest. Had Elizabeth painstakingly engraved those words in her anger?
“You’re Ambrose,” she whispered, staring at the ghost.
He nodded, gesturing once again to the headstone.
Ambrose had been only twenty-seven when he died. Such a young age. Especially with two children and a wife. What did it mean that the Blackburn males were cursed to die at the age of twenty-seven? There must be a reason, although Mercy could not imagine what that might be.
She studied the tombstone and shook her head, unable to reason out why the epitaph was important but desperate to solve the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”
Ambrose pointed to his name inscribed across the top. And this time she noticed his name was written in decorative black stones. What could he mean by directing her attention to them? She leaned in close and rubbed her hand along the first letter. A layer of dirt smeared across her fingers, revealing blood-red rubies.
She snatched her hand back, and adrenaline thrummed through her veins. Oh, goodness. Could it be that Elizabeth had hidden the stones on the headstone?
“Victor, come here,” she said, waving him toward her. “Do you have a handkerchief? I think I’ve found something.”
He rushed to her side and procured a white cotton handkerchief. “What is it?”
She grabbed the cloth and began to meticulously wipe away hundreds of years of grime and dirt from the precious stones forming Ambrose’s name, her work made somewhat easier by the recent and continual rain. Ruby after ruby was revealed. When she reached the period after his middle initial, she shouted with joy.
“An amber stone,” she said, throwing her arms around Victor’s neck. “Elizabeth hid one of the amber stones in Ambrose’s headstone.”
Victor twirled her around, kissing her hard on the mouth. Rain pelted her cheeks, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was Victor and his hungry lips, devouring her whole. Heat spread through her body as she met his tongue stroke for stroke, swept away in the glorious moment of their triumph.
Eveline laughed, and Victor pulled away, his smile sheepish but joyous. Her insides glowed warm, and she hugged him tightly.
He scrubbed away the dirt covering the rest of the letters, but the second stone was not there among the rubies.
“Have faith,” she said. “We’ll find the second stone together, and then I’ll break the curse.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A sharp knock sounded on Victor’s bedroom door, pulling his muddled thoughts away from the vial of fertility serum cradled in his palm. After finding the first amber stone earlier that day, he should have been happy, but he was not. Instead, he was troubled by the impossible decision looming before him.
“Enter,” he said, squaring his shoulders.
Dominick strolled into the room and glanced around. “So this is where you laid your head each night as a child.” He peered through the French doors outside and shook his head. “Still can’t believe you uncovered the first stone already. That’s excellent news. At this rate, you’ll be free of the curse by the end of the week.”
Maybe, maybe not. It all hinged on whether or not Mercy fell out of love with him before the curse was broken. Today, while in the cemetery, there was a moment when she’d behaved strangely. What do you expect me to do? I can’t summon the ghost at will. Was it a sign the effectiveness of the potion was waning? Maybe not. Everyone was contrary from time to time ...
Victor licked his lips, shoving his hands into his pockets. Should he confide in his friend and seek his advice? If he didn’t decide his next course of action soon, he might go mad.
“I guess it depends,” Victor said.
Dominick lifted his brow. “On what?”
“On whether or not the love potion lasts long enough.” He met his friend’s steady gaze. “Mercy told me last night that she never sells a full dose of love potion, so it isn’t permanent.”
“Damnation. You can’t catch a break. Well, use another dose.”
“I can’t. There isn’t another dose in her box of potions. I’ve already looked. But there’s this.” He handed over the fertility serum. “We spoke of it while on the ship. Apparently, the stuff packs quite a punch. If I wish for a son after we make love, the sex is guaranteed.”
His friend snorted and pocketed the vial. “When do you want me to slip it into her drink?”
Victor shrugged and opened the French doors, walking onto the balcony. Dusk was upon them, and the burnt-orange sun was fading fast. So beautiful, like his Mercy. He breathed the cold, fall air and sighed.
“I’m not sure I’ll use it,” he said. “We’ve grown close in the past week. She saw the scars on my back and knows of the letters I wrote to my mother but didn’t post. I truly believe she no longer blames me for killing her mother, that she understands I was only a child. Her Aunt Cecelia has begged her for years to honor her mother’s wishes and break the curse.
“Based on our conversations, I’m almost certain she was starting to have a change of heart on the ship when you slipped her the love potion. There is a high probability she’ll forgive me when she comes out of its influence. So, I’m inclined to do nothing.” He glanced at Dominick. “I have a chance at happiness with Mercy if I don’t muck this up. We’ve shared a genuine attraction from the moment we met, and we enjoy each other’s company. What more can I ask for in a marriage? I want a family, Dominick. She’ll not forgive me if I impregnate her. But if I trust in her love, if I believe in us, maybe we have a chance.”
Dominick clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to say this, but she doesn’t love you. It’s only the effect of the potion, mate. On that first day on the ship, I witnessed the hatred burning in her eyes when she vowed never to break the Blackburn curse. That kind of animosity does not fade into the abyss. Believe you me, I know.”
The words were like a knife lodged in Victor’s back, and he heaved in a painful gulp of air. She’d harbored a deep hatred for him her whole life, as evidenced by the tally counting the days to his death on her bedroom wall. Was he delusional for believing Mercy would forgive him? Surely, his instincts couldn’t be that far gone.
“You forgave your mother,” Victor said, running a hand through his hair. “All it took was a little more than a month in Eveline’s company.”
Dominick shook his head. “You can’t compare the two situations. Eveline’s love and presence in my life made my mother’s treachery and deceit moot. Where is Mercy’s motivation to forgive you? You’re the source of her anger—you can’t be the cure.”
With a growl of frustration, Victor gripped the railing of the balcony and closed his eyes. He did not want to use the fertility serum. Mercy was happy and vibrant, and lovely in every way. If she recalled all that had happened before the love potion while under its influence, it stood to reason that after its effects wore off, she would remember these events, too. Their sweet kisses, dreaming of a family together, and the many shared laughs. But most of all, the forgiveness in her heart.
I can’t hold against you anything that happened under his watch.
Would she still feel that way without the love potion coloring her thoughts? His heart said yes.
“Don’t chance it, Victor.”
He glanced up at his friend. “I think I must. My conscience can’t abide the alternative. She would never forgive me for planting a babe in her belly and wishing for a son. I’d be sentencing our child to a certain death.”
“No,” Dominick said, folding his arms over his chest. “She’ll break the curse.”
“We haven’t found the second stone,” Victor reminded him.
“But you will. And if Mercy doesn’t forgive you when the love potion fades, you’ll be forced to take the necessary measures to plant your seed, which would be quite distasteful. You have no choice but to use the fertility serum before the love potion wears off, while the joining is still pleasurable for both of you.”
How could he enjoy making love to Mercy when all the while he knew himself to be a lying bastard? The whole idea made him sick to his stomach. But Dominick raised a valid point. Rape was not an option. And if she couldn’t forgive him, he risked not only his own life but his nephew’s.
How would he ever decide?
“Let me think on it awhile longer,” he said. “With any luck, we’ll discover the second stone tomorrow, and we can put the curse behind us.”
Dominick nodded, and they walked in silence to the parlor, where their entire party was gathered for a celebratory drink. The festivities were already well under way, and his father pulled him into his embrace.
“I can’t breathe,” Victor croaked under the mounting pressure of his father’s hug.
“Do you wish to upset his stomach after dinner?” his mother admonished, though she smiled.
His father slapped him on the back and grinned before taking a seat on the sofa next to Mother. Tears still shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away as she patted her cheeks with a handkerchief.
Mercy had made more progress in the past eight hours than his parents had achieved in more than a decade. But they still needed to find the second stone. It was a huge disappointment that it hadn’t been among the other headstones within the graveyard.
“I still can’t believe the amber stones have been here all these years,” his mother said for the fifth time that evening. “We never considered the cemetery. What an odd hiding place.”
Eveline placed her cup of tea on the side table and joined Dominick near the fireplace. “Actually, it makes perfect sense. Ambrose betrayed Elizabeth’s love, and the stone symbolizes that betrayal. She bound it to him for all eternity.”
“Spiteful bitch,” Hatchet mumbled, tossing back the last of his brandy. “I’ve suffered as much as the next man and understand the lure of revenge, but cursing an entire family line? It’s barbaric.”
Victor lifted his brow and shared a smug smile with Dominick. Only Hatchet dared speak his mind so openly in front of the lord and lady of the house.
“Yes, it is that,” Eveline said, narrowing her gaze on Hatchet in reproof. “But Mercy can and will bring this sad business to an end.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Victor said, rubbing his chin. “We haven’t located the second stone yet. And you’re certain you’ve searched the entire castle? Any other suggestions where we might look?”
His mother shook her head, turning to Father for answers.
“You won’t like where my head is,” he said, pouring glasses of wine for everyone at the sideboard.
Dominick reached for the carafe. “Allow me, while you continue your thoughts.”
Father relinquished the task and turned to Victor. “What if Elizabeth buried the second stone in the casket along with Ambrose’s body? We must exhume his remains. As disturbing as that prospect is, it is our best course of action.”
Victor shuddered at his father’s suggestion while Mercy stared out the parlor window, oddly detached from the conversation. What occupied her mind so thoroughly that she ignored the group and their discussion?
“What say you, Eveline?” Victor asked. “Should we exhume the remains? That seems a rather extreme action, and I’m loath to do it.”
Eveline accepted a glass of wine and sipped, lost in thought for a moment. “That ought to be a last resort. If Elizabeth wished to hide both of the stones with Ambrose, then why not simply put both of them in his headstone?”
Father scowled and snorted, “Because she wanted to make our lives difficult! The stone is hidden within his casket, I tell you.”
Victor stared at his father, uncertain what his next move should be. On the one hand, he didn’t want to offend his father, as he’d been the most outspoken in offering a potential solution. But at the same time, he couldn’t fathom exhuming his ancestor’s remains; may he rest in peace.
Victor turned to the remainder of the party. “Any other suggestions, Cora? You’ve lived here many years as well.”
“I haven’t a clue,” she said, rubbing her chest absently. “Why didn’t you probe Ambrose’s spirit for answers, Eveline? That was your original intent, was it not?”
“He appeared as an apparition to Mercy first, so she followed him to the headstone. Why risk scaring the ghost away when he was reaching out to Mercy? When we realized the second stone wasn’t in any of the headstones, he vanished before I could question him.”
His father scrutinized Mercy with an odd look. “You must have an opinion on the matter, Mercy, and yet you stare blankly out the window, without offering a single suggestion. You walked straight to the first stone. Was it outlined in that book of spells Victor has told us about? You know where the second stone is, don’t you? Tell us.”
“Father, back off,” Victor said, placing himself protectively in front of Mercy.
The thought had never crossed his mind. What cheek that his father had given voice to it. And yet a small part of him also wondered at Mercy’s silence. Had the love potion already worn off and she was playing him for a fool? Perhaps she was biding her time while at the castle, stringing him along. The thought sent a chill through his body.
“No, I don’t know the location,” she said, finally turning to face the room. She held her shoulders straight. “But I do know Elizabeth confiscated the stones after Ambrose’s death. The Blackburn curse originated in 1450—three years after his burial—and she used the stones to strengthen the curse. Why exhume his body to bury the second stone with him? No, even after everything that had happened, I believe Elizabeth loved Ambrose. She wouldn’t desecrate his body that way.”
Blackburn Castle (Tortured Souls Book 2) Page 16