The Cursed One

by Ronda Thompson

  He played with her hair and she drifted into sleep. Gabriel should rest, as well. Now that he’d made love to her, the pain in his leg returned. It was bad enough to raise bile in his throat. A moment later the first stomach pain shot through him. It was so sharp it took his breath away and made his body jerk.

  “What is wrong?” Amelia mumbled sleepily.

  “Nothing,” he managed. “I need to go outside for a moment.”

  She didn’t protest when he slipped from her arms. Gabriel managed to pull on his trousers despite the pain in his leg and the sick feeling rising up from his stomach. He grabbed his boots and limped through the cottage. He thought the cooler air outside might clear his head, but he barely made it outside before another sharp pain in his stomach doubled him over. He dropped his boots by the door and stumbled farther from the cottage, thinking he was going to be sick.

  On hands and knees now, he waited for the bile to come up in his throat. Then he noticed his hands. Fur covered them and claws jutted from his fingertips. Sweat coated his brow and he shook his head, blinked, hoping when he looked again he wouldn’t see what he thought he saw. But he did see it. Another pain sent him to the ground. Gabriel pulled his legs up against his chest. His very bones hurt. He glanced up at the sky, where a full moon bathed the countryside in bright light. It was happening. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew it was too late for him.

  God help him. God help Amelia. She had just lain with a monster. Now was not the time, dammit! Never would there be a good time for this. As his body began to convulse, to change its shape, Gabriel howled out in pain and frustration. Good God, what would he do to her? He tried frantically to hold on to human thought. Had he closed the door behind him? Yes, he was sure he had. Would he get in anyway? What was getting ready to happen to him? Or worse, to her?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Amelia chanced a glance outside the cottage window. It was one of many chances she’d taken since dawn first streaked the morning sky. She’d awakened in the middle of the night to find Gabriel gone. Although she knew he meant to free Mora under cover of darkness, Amelia couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t woken her before he left. She was supposed to gather clothes for Mora to change into, gather what food she could find, and make a small pack, and she had done both, but what if Gabriel and Mora had returned, frantic to make their escape, and she’d still been sleeping?

  It didn’t make sense. Certainly she had been exhausted, not only from making love with a man who had no business making love, but also from being on the run since she’d left Collingsworth Manor. Still, she had trouble believing Gabriel hadn’t woken her to do as he’d instructed and be ready lest he and Mora return a short time later. Amelia wondered if she’d talked in her sleep to him, made him think she was awake when she hadn’t been. Either way, the fact that neither Gabriel nor Mora had returned made Amelia sick to her stomach.

  Had he been captured? Killed? No, she couldn’t believe that, but yet the possibility kept torturing her. She’d nearly worn a path in the floor from pacing these long hours past. Once, she’d heard a wolf howl in the distance and she was certain the creatures were coming for her. She’d hidden for over an hour in the place beneath the floor, but no wolf had come. No men breaking down the door. Where was Gabriel? And how long should she wait for him before she took action and discovered on her own why he hadn’t returned?

  Amelia couldn’t wait any longer. Better to do something constructive than continue to make herself ill with thoughts of what might or might not have happened to Gabriel. If he’d been taken prisoner, she must help him escape. How, she did not know. There were no weapons in the house. Both she and Gabriel had checked and double-checked. The blacksmith and his family had even taken the kitchen knives, if they seemed to have left most everything else behind.

  Perhaps she could formulate a plan on the way to the village, she decided, and rushed to the door, unbolting it and stepping outside. The first thing she spotted was Gabriel’s boots. They were sitting outside and in a place she hadn’t been able to see from looking out the window. The hairs on her arms prickled.

  She saw no signs of struggle; otherwise, she might believe he’d been pounced upon and taken as soon as he walked outside. And if that were the case, the creatures would have come inside and probably killed her in her sleep. A hundred scenarios ran through her mind as she moved carefully from the safety of the cottage. She didn’t get far before she spotted him, lying on the ground naked, shivering uncontrollably.

  A cry of alarm left her lips and she ran to where he lay. Amelia bent beside him and touched his forehead. He was burning up. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “Gabriel,” she croaked.

  Amelia wasn’t certain what to do. Get him inside, she knew, but how? He was twice her size. She cradled his head in her lap.

  “Gabriel, can you hear me?”

  He moaned softly but didn’t respond.

  She tried again. “Gabriel, open your eyes. Look at me.”

  His long lashes fluttered. He opened his eyes, but they were bloodshot and glassy. “Amelia?”

  A sob of relief left her lips to hear him respond. “We have to get you inside.”

  “What happened?”

  Amelia shook her head. “I don’t know. You were gone this morning. Can’t you remember leaving the cottage last night?”

  His damp brow wrinkled. “No … yes.” When he glanced up at her again, she saw something in his eyes besides confusion. She saw fear.

  “You must leave,” he whispered. “You aren’t safe with me. You aren’t safe here.”

  She ignored his worries. How could she leave him? He was sick, might even be dying. “I’ll go,” she lied. “But only after we get you into the cottage and into bed.”

  “You must go now,” he said, and his voice was stronger. “Now, Amelia!”

  “No,” she argued. “When I know you are safely in the cottage. Then I’ll go. I promise, Gabriel.”

  His body still shook, but he at least stirred, as if he wanted to gain his feet and go back to the cottage. Amelia grabbed him from beneath his arms, and together they managed to get him to his feet. She then draped his arm around her shoulder.

  “Lean on me,” she instructed. “I’ll help you walk.”

  He did, but not fully, she knew. Amelia couldn’t support his weight, but her promise to leave obviously gave him strength he should not possess. It was slow, but luckily he hadn’t ventured far from the cottage before he’d collapsed last night.

  They made it to the cottage, then through the door and into the bedchamber. Amelia helped him into bed and pulled the scratchy wool blanket over him.

  “Now go,” he rasped.

  She’d gotten him where she wanted him; there was no need to carry on the pretense that she would leave him to fare as he might. “I’ m not leaving you,” she said. “Not like this. Not ever,” she added softly. “I love you.”

  For a moment she thought his eyes filled with tears, but she couldn’t be certain because he blinked and looked away from her. “You don’t,” he said. “You can’t. I’m not who or what you think I am. Please go, Amelia. I want you to be safe. I want you to have the future you deserve. Go east. Stay to the woods. You should reach Wulfglen at the most in two days’ time. You’ll be safe there.”

  She didn’t know if she had a future, but she did know that if she did, she wanted Gabriel Wulf to be a part of it. “Close your eyes; rest,” she coaxed. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had some sleep.” Amelia rose and fetched some water and a clean cloth. She tried to bathe his face, but he grabbed her wrist, surprisingly strong for a man knocking at death’s door.

  “I won’t feel better!” he growled. “Not until I know you have gone! You can’t stay here with me. It’s suicide.”

  He was clearly out of his head. She couldn’t help him. He needed someone who could. “All right,” she said. “I’ll go. I’ll go now.”

  Gabriel released her wrist, and it was if all th
e strength had drained from him. She had to go to the village. She had to rescue Mora, and together they had to find someone to help Gabriel. She started to rise, then leaned over him. “Do you love me, Gabriel?”

  He opened his eyes, but she saw that it took effort. She thought he wouldn’t answer, maybe did not have the strength; then he said, “It seems as if I must.”

  Then he closed his eyes and she knew he’d fallen into unconsciousness. She didn’t think beyond saving him, beyond saving Mora. Amelia rose and quickly riffled through the clothes left in the wardrobe. She found a baggy coat and a man’s cap. The lad’s boots were a bit too large, but she found a pair of thick wool socks that would help. With a glance over her shoulder, she ran through the cottage and out the door.

  She knew which direction to take to Hempshire. Amelia stayed to the trees until the option was no longer available. She bent and rubbed her hands with dirt, then her face. Pulling the cap from her pocket, she twisted her hair up and shoved the cap on her head. It was too large, which was good, since it covered most of her face.

  Her heart pounded so loud she heard it in her ears, but she would not go back. She’d spent most of her life thinking only of herself. Now Gabriel needed her. Mora needed her, and she would not let them down. Only a woman as strong as Gabriel Wulf would ever make him happy. And she intended to be that woman.

  The village was nearly deserted, but she noted that a few stood around, and she also had to assume the few who did were probably not normal country folk. They were watching, they were waiting, but they were waiting for a tall blond man and a woman. Amelia kept her head ducked and she walked along the road into Hempshire. She hoped she resembled a ragged orphan, which wasn’t an unfamiliar sight in England. Her heart pounded louder as she moved toward the tavern. There were two men out front. Amelia kept her head ducked and moved past them.

  “Hey, you, lad,” one of the men called. “What’s your business in Hempshire?”

  Her pounding heart now rose in her throat. Amelia kept her head ducked and tried to recall the many cockney accents she’d heard all of her life among the lower staff who worked for her parents.

  “Got no business, sir,” she said, making her voice gruff. “Just passing through. Is there some scraps I could have from the tavern?”

  She peeked from beneath her lashes at the men. They were rough-looking sorts. One shrugged. “Go around the back and into the kitchen. Some scraps left from our breakfast.”

  Nodding, she hurried to do as he instructed. What luck to be given access to the tavern. She was sure there were guards inside, and how she would get past them to find Mora, she hadn’t a clue. One step at a time, although time was important. She dared not leave Gabriel alone for long in his condition.

  The back door to the tavern stood open, she imagined to let out the heat from the stove. Amelia stepped inside. Kettles of water boiled on the stove. On a crude table were the leavings from breakfast. She grabbed a hard scone and stuffed it into her mouth. A burly man walked in and she nearly choked.

  “What are you doing in here, lad?” he demanded.

  Swallowing the scone with a loud gulp, Amelia ducked her head. “The men out front said I could have leavings from breakfast,” she rasped. “I’ve got no money and I’m starving. On my way to London to find work.”

  Although she didn’t dare glance up at the man, she felt him studying her. “Want to make a coin or two before you go?”

  It would be odd if she didn’t, so Amelia nodded, the cap bobbing on her head.

  “Take these kettles to the first room at the top of the stairs. Fill the tub.”

  Her luck was holding. She assumed they kept Mora a prisoner upstairs, and now she had an excuse to go up and look for her. Amelia wondered if she could even lift the heavy kettles. She had to; that was all there was to it. Another opportunity like this one wouldn’t come along again.

  “Get to it,” the man snapped. “You can eat when you’re done.”

  Already plotting how she might get Mora out of the tavern, and worried that guards would be posted upstairs, Amelia walked to the stove. She grabbed a thick towel and wrapped it around the kettle handle, having learned her lesson at Collingsworth Manor. The man grunted and walked into the outer room. The kettle was big and heavy and it took both hands for Amelia to carry it. As she lumbered through the tavern room, she saw the man who’d instructed her talking to two other men who each had a tankard and sat sprawled at a scarred table.

  “Found someone to do your work, I see,” one man remarked to the burly man, and all three laughed.

  Amelia kept her head down and shuffled along. When she reached the stairs, she wondered how she’d ever make it up them with the heavy kettle. She had to. For Gabriel. For Mora. Setting her mind to the task, Amelia gathered her strength and started up the stairway. The men in the common room talked quietly among themselves and paid her little heed. Were they men at all? She had to assume they were not. It chilled her to the bone to know she was in the company of such creatures. It frightened her more to think about how she might free Mora without being taken prisoner herself.

  She wouldn’t be able to help Gabriel. She certainly wouldn’t be able to tell her captors about his condition or his whereabouts, not unless she wanted to seal his fate. The stairs were not so tall to climb, but they seemed like it.

  Finally, she reached the top. There were five rooms; she knew that from her short stay there. All the doors were closed except that of the room closest to her, the one where she was to fill the tub. Amelia approached it cautiously, struggling with the steaming kettle.

  At first glance, she didn’t see anyone in the room. She stepped inside. There, next to the window that looked out on the street below, stood Mora. Amelia was so happy to see her she nearly cried out. She bit her lip to keep from doing so and set the kettle on the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Fill the tub, lad,” Mora said. “I assume that is what you were sent to do.”

  Her tone was a bit confusing, as if she were allowed to give orders, but Amelia couldn’t see past her own happiness at discovering Mora alive and obviously well. The young woman wore her glorious hair loose around her and a silky robe that, upon further inspection, Amelia realized had once been part of her trousseau. Where did Mora get it? Most likely from the creatures that had ransacked Collingsworth Manor once they had forced them all to flee for their lives.

  “Mora,” Amelia called softly. “I have come to rescue you.”

  Mora’s head snapped in her direction, sending her long hair floating around her. She looked a bit like an angel there by the window, the sun streaming in to illuminate her pretty features. “Amelia,” she breathed.

  Placing a finger to her lips, Amelia cautioned her to be quiet. Amelia glanced meaningfully over her shoulder. “There are three of them in the common’s room and two posted out front. I don’t know how we will make it past them.”

  “Where is Gabriel?” Mora asked, keeping her voice to a whisper.

  Amelia’s eyes filled with tears, but she quickly blinked them back. She must keep her wits about her. “He’s sick. Very sick. He needs a doctor, Mora. I came to help you escape, and I thought together we might find someone to help him. I fear he might die if we don’t. The leg is still infected and now he has a fever.”

  “Where did you leave him?” Mora asked, moving toward her. “I hope not somewhere he can be easily discovered.”

  “Of course not,” Amelia assured her. “We’ve been hiding in a cottage just a ways outside the village. The blacksmith and his family once lived there.”

  “You stayed because he could not go on?” Mora asked.

  The fact that Mora wanted to question her regarding Gabriel when the two should be discussing how they might escape tried Amelia’s patience. Her nerves were already stretched to the limit. She shook her head.

  “No. We could have pushed on, but I didn’t want to leave you behind. I talked Gabriel into staying long enough to see if he could fi
nd you.”

  Mora stared at the floor for a moment. “I told them you would stay for me,” she said. “They said you wouldn’t. I almost wish I had been wrong.”

  Mora’s admission confused Amelia. “We have no time for this,” she whispered. “We need to figure out how we can escape. We have to find help for Gabriel.”

  Suddenly Mora moved past her to the door. She stood blocking Amelia’s way. “I can leave any time I wish,” she said. “It is you who must stay.”

  A horrible suspicion began to dawn upon Amelia. She took a step back. “What are you saying?”

  Mora did not answer, but her eyes began to glitter. Amelia gasped and retreated farther into the room. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You are one of them.”

  The woman flinched as if Amelia’s fear wounded her. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped. “As if I am not human. As if you find me repulsive.”

  Amelia could only shake her head in denial of the truth. She hadn’t seen this coming. “Why?” she managed to croak. “Why have you deceived us?”

  Mora’s glittering eyes now hardened. “Because it was my duty,” she answered bitterly. “The duty that I’ve known would someday be mine since I was a little girl. I am part of the plan, a plan for the betterment of all my people. My life has never been about what I might want, but what is expected of me.”

  Amelia was still reeling from the shock of Mora’s deception. She felt no sympathy for the woman. “You accept a duty to deceive and murder those who befriend you?”

  Mora flinched again. “Murder is not part of our plan,” she defended. “At least it wasn’t until Gabriel Wulf intruded. And I suppose, to be fair, until Vincent could not play his part as was taught him. For some, the beast is stronger than the person. Vincent did not have control of it. It had control of him.”