Her Muse, Her Magic

by Jane Charles

  “Why is this garden so special?” Thorn asked.

  “Brighid has protected it so that Braden’s great-grandmother won’t know what is being said or done.”

  “Does that mean she does know how to bring Callie back?” Braden asked, a bit calmer than he had been moments earlier.

  Thorn came to his feet. “How?”

  Blake quickly explained what Brighid believed needed to be done. “We will need everyone who arrived with Braden. They helped disturb the spirits, especially Braden’s great-grandmother.” He turned to his friend. “You and your brother must be there because you’re the link.”

  “Blood of the castle,” Braden nodded. “I’ll tell the others.” He turned to go.

  “You can’t discuss this outside of the garden.”

  Braden narrowed his eyes on Blake as though he was being difficult. “Then drag them all out here, Chetwey.”

  “It is too suspicious.” Blake shook his head. “The two of you should take the others into town, away from here, so as not to be overheard.”

  “I am not leaving Marisdùn. Not while Callie is missing somewhere here.”

  “I’ll go. I’ll take them,” Thorn offered.

  “Thank you.” Blake didn’t want to go either. He would if necessary, but he would rather be by Brighid’s side. Then he turned to Braden. “And she needs a personal item of your great- grandmother’s if it is to be found. Lock of hair, comb, broach, anything.”

  “Where the devil would I find something like that?” Braden scrubbed a hand across his cheek.

  Why did they expect him to have all the answers? “Ask Mrs. Small.” He turned and marched toward the castle. “I need to get back to Miss Glace.”

  Brighid gazed into the crystal, but it was filled with nothing but a whitish lavender fog, moving and shifting but allowing no shape or vision to emerge. She should have placed the crystal out as soon as the moon had risen on Saturday so that it could be charged with the power. The sun was of no assistance, which is why she had brought the crystal into the herbarium, hoping the pictures would be clearer in not such a bright light. It had sat out last night, but the moon wasn’t yet full and she feared one night was not enough to give it the energy that was needed.

  The color did change, but that was all.

  This would never do. She needed a vision. She needed to see that Callie was still with them. What if she had moved on? What if Mrs. Routledge had done something once she had her and it wouldn’t matter if they got rid of the woman, they still wouldn’t get Callie back?

  “Stop it!” she chastised herself. Such thinking would bring about failure.

  “Stop what?” Blake asked from behind her. He had been sitting on a stool beneath the window. Normally she would hate to have someone with her all of the time, but Blake’s presence brought security and comfort.

  “Just chasing away negative thoughts.”

  He rose from his seat and came forward, wrapping his arms around her. “You will do what is needed. I have every faith in you and whatever power you possess.”

  Her skin tingled where he touched her, even through the clothing, and she drew on his strength and stared back into the crystal. The lavender disappeared and red hues began to emerge.

  She sucked in her breath. Please let it mean passion and not danger. “Step away from me.”

  His arms dropped and he did as she said.

  The colors faded to pink and then lavender before shifting to yellow and then grey, not quite reaching black before the clouds shifted back to yellow and lavender. Black was worse of course, but yellow spoke of betrayal and the lavender of enlightenment. The more she looked the less she could see. Brighid sat back and pulled the black cloth over the crystal. “As soon as the moon has risen, I need to return the crystal to the garden to gather strength.”

  “Here you are,” Anna announced brightly as she stepped into the herbarium. Her cousin, Lily Southward, followed her into the room.

  Brighid blew out a breath, thankful her friend had come so quickly. She had sent Lord Quentin for Anna less than an hour ago.

  Blake pulled away. “I shall leave you with your friends.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Send word if you need me.” Blake nodded to Anna and Lily as he left. Anna sent her a speculative look, which Brighid chose to ignore.

  “When you summon me, please do send that handsome gentleman again.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she moved further into the room. Brighid wished she could laugh with her friend. Surely Anna was aware that Callie was missing.

  Lila Southward’s face was drawn with barely a hit of color to her cheeks. Brighid’s heart went out to the young woman. Callie was her dearest friend and she must be worried beyond measure.

  Brighid gestured for them to take a seat and explained what she believed needed to happen to get Callie back. By the time she was done, even Anna was pale.

  “What do you need from me?” Anna asked.

  “I need you to make a poppet from cloth and clay and paint the face of Mrs. Routledge upon it. Lord Bradenham is getting a personal item of his great-grandmothers’ so we can put it into the doll.”

  Anna blinked at her. “I don’t even know what the woman looked like.”

  “There is a portrait of her in the gallery.”

  Her friend sucked in a breath. “You want me to walk through the castle, go to the portrait room and begin painting?” She glanced around “What if I am seen by her.”

  Brighid bit her lip in thought. They must use deception in order to succeed. “I know, simply announce that you thought to view the portraits during your visit. The staff and ghosts are already used to your presence in the gardens while you sketch and study the statues. Then you can come back and paint. Will that work?”

  “It should.” She turned to Lila. “You will come with me, won’t you?”

  Lila’s eyes grew wide and she visibly swallowed. “Of course. But let’s do be quick.”

  Brighid opened her eyes and glanced about. The moon was high and the crystal refused to offer an image. There was not much else she could do. She knew the spell, prepared her mind, and the time was upon them. She needed to empty her mind and prepare what was to come. Blake had left her here hours ago to do his duty to help out their hosts in keeping the guests entertained. So many had already arrived for the planned Samhain party, but she couldn’t be concerned with them. Now Blake waited for her at the edge of the garden. Two people stood in the shadows just behind him. She could not make out their faces but one was a woman.

  “Are you ready?” he asked with concern.

  She took a deep shuddering breath and nodded. “What time is it?”

  “We are to meet in thirty minutes,” Blake answered.

  It was enough time to gather the incense and place the poppet. The likeness of Mrs. Routledge that Anna had painted onto the doll was unnerving. Lord Bradenham had brought her hair from a brush stored away in the attic and it had been shoved inside of the poppet. Brighid didn’t like having it in the herbarium but soon it would be in the dungeon waiting to be destroyed.

  As Blake came forward, the two from the shadows did as well and entered her garden. For the first time in hours her heart leapt with hope. “Lord Patrick, I am so glad you and your wife are here. When did you arrive?”

  He drew his wife to his side. “Laura and I arrived a few hours ago.” He glanced at Blake. “I’ve heard Marisdùn was haunted, but there are ghosts everywhere.”

  “You can see them?” Brighid asked hopefully.

  “Just shadows and mists. I’ve seen more ghosts here than I did when I was a ghost myself. In fact, I didn’t see any before.” He chuckled before he grew serious. “Blake took Laura and me into town and explained everything.”

  “I hope you can help.”

  “What do you need, though I am not sure what I can do?”

  “You are my connection to the spirit world.” She sighed. “Even though it has been eight months since you were a ghost, you can still sense them and I
may need you to tell me when Mrs. Routledge is in the circle if I can’t see her.”

  “Will you need me as well?” Laura asked.

  “No,” Lord Patrick said before Brighid could answer. “It is too dangerous. In fact, I would prefer you return to Torrington Abbey until this is over.”

  Laura frowned at her husband.

  “I do need her.”

  “It is too dangerous for my wife,” he warned.

  “I need a female balance. Your wife, Mrs. Small and I will be a triangle of feminine power, which will only strengthen the circle.” She looked at Laura. “Furthermore, she saw you when nobody else could. I need her power to feed yours.”

  “I don’t like it,” he grumbled.

  “You don’t need to,” Laura insisted.

  “We should go.” Blake held his arm out for Brighid.

  They entered the castle and went into the herbarium where she gathered the items needed and put them in a black sack that Blake then stashed inside of his coat, causing it to bulge. “It is time.”

  Blake led the way through the kitchens. “This castle has a history more fascinating than Torrington. Remember how we played below?”

  Lord Patrick laughed. “Does it have a dungeon as well?”

  “Let me show you,” Mrs. Small announced. “I know the castle well.”

  They went ahead of Brighid and she glanced about, hoping the ruse worked. Mrs. Routledge wasn’t stupid, but perhaps she would be curious enough to follow as more and more people made their way below.

  Blake gently grasped her elbow. “Shall we?”

  She took a deep steadying breath and allowed him to lead her to the doorway at the top of the stairs leading to the dungeon. Brighid stopped and turned toward him.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked.

  Without answering, she grasped his shoulder, went up on her toes and placed her lips against his. Blake pulled her tight, deepening the kiss, molding his mouth against hers as if they were to be parted forever. Warmth built inside, blood pulsed through her veins, energy like she had never experienced filled her body. She was renewed and more alive than she had ever been in her life. Stumbling back, dizzy from his kiss, she smiled. “Not any longer.”

  Brighid might not be frightened, but Blake was terrified. It wasn’t every day one went to a portal to the other world in hopes of attracting an evil spirit and sending them away forever. One such as Mrs. Routledge was not likely to go away easily.

  Once they reached the center, beside the hearth, he withdrew the sack from inside his coat and handed it to Brighid. He looked down into it, wondering how many fires had burned there and if they were for heating the room, or the metal to torture prisoners.

  A shiver went down his spine and he stepped away to watch his love place and light candles at five different points in the room. Between each, she set incense to burn. She had not told him what was in the mixture but the aroma of basil, yarrow, clove, and garlic began to fill the room.

  The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he glanced about the dungeon, waiting for Mrs. Routledge to pop out at them.

  The others began to arrive and Brighid placed them in the circle where the strength could be harnessed the best. Directly across from her was Patrick. She was the witch and his friend the connection to the spirit world. On the other sides of the circle, directly across from each other were Braden and his brother – the blood of the castle. Forming the three points of the triangle were Laura, Mrs. Small and Brighid. He stood at Brighid’s right and Thorn to her left. He would have preferred Thorn at the other end of the room, but Wolf and Garrick filled in the remaining spots.

  She took the poppet Miss Anna had made and held it before her. “All that I do to this figure, I do to Mrs. Mary Routledge.” She then placed it before her at the edge of the stone hearth.

  They held their places in silence and at the stroke of midnight; Brighid straightened, lifted her chin and began to summon Mrs. Mary Rutledge. She spoke in a language unfamiliar to his ear, but Blake at least recognized the name.

  Blake glanced about the room. Nothing happened.

  Brighid’s voice grew louder, firmer, more demanding. Wind swept through the dungeon, the candles flickered. Some went out but relit on their own, the smell of garlic and basil grew heavy in the air.

  “Now!” Patrick shouted from the other side of the circle. As instructed, they all clasped hands. Though he couldn’t see her, Mrs. Routledge was in their presence and if they were successful, locked within the circle.

  Brighid continued to chant, yelling out the words nobody could possibly understand. The winds became fierce, pushing back against them. It was more of a gale, pressing them away, but each person held their spot, hands held so tightly their knuckles grew white. The ground shook, almost knocking them to the floor, but each held on for dear life. The circle could not be broken, but Blake feared how much more they could endure or if the castle would crash in on them before it was over.

  Without warning, Brighid yanked her hand from his, picked up the poppet and threw it into the hearth. A ball of flame shot toward the ceiling only to fall and disappear. She swept her hand over the opening. “Be sealed.”

  In an instant, the room grew silent, still and the flames no longer danced. He turned to Brighid. “Did it work?”

  His heart lodged in his throat. She lay on the floor, unconscious and deathly pale.

  Brighid blinked and opened her eyes. The room was dark with only a hint of light coming from the lamp. There was no window in the room so she had no idea of the time. Was it still dark? What had happened?

  With a gasp, she sat up in the bed. She had summoned Mrs. Routledge and in the last moments Brighid looked into the hate-filled face of the ghost. It was so frightening she nearly stumbled. Had Blake not been holding her hand, she might have very well run from the room after such a frightening sight. Instead, Brighid had grabbed the poppet and tossed it into the hearth. Mrs. Routledge screamed in anguish as the flames devoured her spirit and pulled her down into the dark hearth. She remembered nothing else.

  Frantically, she glanced about the room. She was in the sleeping chamber off of the herbarium. Where was everyone and how did she get in here? Pushing the blankets aside, she jumped from the bed and rushed out into the kitchens. Cook and the maids were busily preparing a meal. They were smiling and humming. A few nodded in greeting. The room even seemed brighter. Brighid glanced to the window. The sun was high in the sky. How long had she slept and where was Blake? Had something happened to him?

  Heart hammering in her chest, she rushed into corridor and stopped. Most of the doors were open and there were people everywhere. Brighid grasped her throat and stumbled backwards. Everyone was here for the masquerade. Were they still going to have a party tonight? Had Callie come back? Why couldn’t she see anyone she knew or at least recognized from last night?

  Oh, she hoped it was last night and not two nights ago. Unless Callie was safe, then it wouldn’t matter. But where were they?

  A door opened further down the corridor. “I’ll check on Brighid.”

  That was Blake. Relief swept through her as she hurried toward the sound of his voice.

  “Did it work?” she cried when she came within sight of him.

  “Brighid,” he uttered with surprise. “I was wondering if you would ever wake.”

  “What happened?”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead before escorting her into a room that appeared to be a library. They were all there. Everyone who had been in the dungeon, with the exception of Mrs. Small was there. Also in the room were Lila Southward and Callie’s brother, Sir Cyrus, as well as Daphne Alcott and her brother.

  Dr. Alcott lounged against the wall beside a window. “See, Chetwey, I told you she would awaken. Spells do tend to take a lot out of a person, especially if they are not accustomed to harnessing their magic.”

  Brighid blinked at him in surprise. He merely chuckled. “I’ve always known, as did my father, Mi
ss Glace. My father said that your mother once slept for an entire twenty-four hours.”

  Daphne smiled and shrugged. Had she known too?

  Brighid gasped, remembering what she was about. “What time is it? What day is it?”

  “Shush,” Blake insisted, though it did little to calm her panic. “It is October thirty-first and it is barely two in the afternoon.”

  She blew out a breath and then glanced about the room again. Nobody looked as if they wished to celebrate. In fact, Lord Bradenham seemed even grimmer than before. Not that she had seen all the much of him. “What happened?”

  “The servants claim that you did rid the castle of my great-grandmother,” Lord Bradenham answered.

  Laura poured a cup of tea and pressed it into her hand after Blake led her to a vacant seat.

  “What of Callie?” She held her breath, already knowing the answer; if she had been found, Lord Bradenham wouldn’t seem so defeated, nor Lila pale or Sir Cyrus stern.

  “She hasn’t emerged,” Blake confirmed.

  “It is still the thirty-first?” she asked, needing assurance again.

  “Yes,” Blake answered.

  “Then we have time.”

  “What do you now suggest, Miss Glace?” Lord Bradenham stood. “Mrs. Small assures me that if Callie is not back by midnight, all is lost.”

  Goodness, he was rather frightening, but she couldn’t really blame the man for being upset. Callie had gone missing on his property and he was to have a party. This wasn’t a convenient situation for him at all.

  She placed her tea on the table. “First, it does not have to be exactly at midnight, but before the sun rises tomorrow. However, the closer to midnight is better.” Brighid stood. “Lila, Daphne and Sir Cyrus, you should come with me.”

  The three shared confused looks. “Where to?” Lila asked.

  “Why?” Sir Cyrus demanded.

  “You are closest to Callie. You might help me find her.”

  Sir Cyrus focused on Lord Bradenham. “He is the one you need.”

  Brighid frowned. Lord Bradenham was needed to get rid of his great-grandmother, not find a miss from Ravenglass. Did they even know one another?