Belle Gone Bad (18 page)

M
ercy took a deep breath. He had to think what to do, but his mind was cloudy. He must be strong, no matter how his head pounded in pain. He put both hands on the edge of the bed and used the support to gain his feet. He swayed a moment, feeling the old weakness. But this time he was mad, not resigned to his fate.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He had to find a way to end Victoria's curse once and for all.

“She can't win.” Belle slid down the bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “But I suppose she can make our lives miserable.”

“I should have dealt with her before I came out here.”

“We won't feel as vulnerable if we're at least partially dressed.”

“Maybe you're right.”

He heard Belle get up and lifted his head to watch as she rummaged through their saddlebags. She came back, handed him a shirt, and slipped into an ankle-length floral nightgown. He put on his shirt and left the long tail hanging between his thighs. He didn't even try to button it.

Belle knelt between his feet and reached up.

He caught her hands. “I'm no good to you this way.”

She placed a soft, warm kiss on the palms of his hands. “You're good for me any way.”

He snorted in disbelief.

She leaned forward, planted a hot kiss on his lips, and began buttoning his shirt.

“Thanks.” He didn't say it, but he didn't think buttons would make much difference one way or another. Yet he liked her close to him.

When she was done, she sat back. “Now let's get to the bottom of this curse.”

“I told you that—”

“You told me the ending, but not the beginning.” She smiled in encouragement. “If you lose something, you must go back to the last time you remember having the object in order to find it.”

“That makes sense.”

“Do you trust me to help you?”

He stroked the long, beautiful tresses that cascaded over her shoulders. “I wish you'd always wear your hair down.”

“It's not practical.” She stilled his hand. “Trust?”

“Yes.” But his anger was giving way to sadness. “You'll never marry me if I can't get rid of Victoria, will you?”

“Put everything out of your mind except what I ask you. Will you do that?”

“Okay.” He had to trust Belle. He wanted to trust her. Yet his thoughts skittered around like cornered rats.

“Let's begin at the beginning.”

He nodded, letting his mind wander back.

“When and where did you meet Victoria?”

“Spiritualism camp meeting in the summer.”

“Where?”

“Massachusetts.”

“Is that state as tiny as it looks on a map?”

“It isn't when you're there, but out here it might appear that way.”

“So she wouldn't have had far to travel if she came from another part of the state?”

“No.” He thought back, almost transported in time. “She wasn't a regular. She just appeared looking . . . well, beautiful, seductive, secretive. I saw her right away. She went from group to group, talking, laughing, flirting, but she didn't settle anywhere. And another odd thing, now that I think of it, she kept moving up the power structure, although we didn't have much of one, as if she had an instinct for who could or would help her most.”

“And she ended up with you?”

“My parents were the organizers. I guess they had power in that others listened to them.”

“At that particular camp meeting, your parents would have been at the top of the pyramid.”

“If you put it that way, yes.”

“What did she want, or what did she say she wanted?”

“She'd been reading about Spiritualists and wanted to know more.”

“I suppose everyone would have encouraged her and drawn her into their circle.”

“That's another odd thing. They didn't.”

“No?”

“After they'd talk with her a bit, they'd pass her on to the next group. Nobody wanted her. Usually, we're a friendly bunch.”

“What did you think of her?”

“She'd heard I was an artist and wanted to show me her artwork.”

“What did your parents say?”

“I could tell they didn't think much of her.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “There was a dark undercurrent to her that was at odds with the Spiritualist ideal. Plus, she wanted something from us.”

“But it didn't matter to you?”

“No. Maybe I was cocky, jaded, or bored. But I wanted more of what she had to offer.”

“And was it good?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, remembering more than he wanted to recall, particularly around Belle. “She wasn't much of an artist, but she had a definite vision. Dark. Sensual. Erotic.”

“Did she seduce you that night?”

“Yes.” He hesitated, then continued. “I'd never met anyone like her. She was older and knew . . . no details. I couldn't get her to tell me much. She said that she'd been trained in the mystic arts and wanted to share her skills with Spiritualists. She needed the credentials to conduct séances.”

“Did you help her?”

“No. There wasn't time, but I'd never have done it. I suspected she'd cause more harm than good and hurt the reputation of the Spiritualist movement.” He hesitated, hating to explain more. “She wanted money and power.”

“And she knew how to get it?”

“Yes. I was a fool, but not as big a one as she thought.”

“What do you mean?”

He bowed his head, taking a deep breath to hold back his emotions. “This is hard for me to tell you.”

“Take your time.”

“We were going to Oregon, my parents and I. A large group of Spiritualists were moving with us.” He gestured around the room. “They would have loved Wildcat Falls. They intended to build a utopia where they wouldn't be maligned or misrepresented or limited.”

“Are your parents there now?”

“No.” He clenched his fists and blinked back tears. “I buried them in Massachusetts, wrote ‘G.T.T.' on our front door, and took off for Texas.”

“Oh, Mercy, what happened?” She squeezed his hands.

“Victoria had been in my bed, or more likely I'd been in hers, for a month. She'd been at me to get permission from my parents to go with me. She said she wanted to build a life with me.”

“Did you believe her?”

“At that point, I didn't trust her.” He knew he had to continue now, or he'd never get the words out. “Victoria was getting more frustrated and angry with me all the time.” He swallowed hard, grasping Belle's hands but no longer seeing her.

“What happened?”

“There was a final camp meeting in a big tent before we were to leave the next day for Oregon. I went to it. I'd already said good-bye to Victoria. Plenty of Spiritualists were staying behind. She was considered part of that group, so she wouldn't be left alone.”

“And?”

“She arrived that night dressed to lure. She begged me to leave the tent with her so she could give me a parting gift. I didn't think I should go. I didn't want to go. But eventually I did go. Maybe I felt guilty for leaving her behind. Maybe . . . I don't know anymore. She led me around the lake to an isolated cove where she'd stashed blankets and a picnic.”

He abruptly stood up and paced across the room, unable to contain his emotions any longer. He turned back to look at Belle sitting so demurely, yet sensually, on the floor in her cotton nightgown. If he had a chance of building a life with her, he had to tell her everything, the bad as well as the good.

“She seduced you again?”

“Yes.” He balled his hands into fists. “I'll never forgive myself. I'm guilty as hell.”

“But why? You weren't taking her to Oregon.”

“While I spilled my life-giving seed into her, my parents spilled their lifeblood in a burning tent.”

“Oh, no!”

“If I'd been at the tent where I belonged, I could have saved them.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do.” He stalked back and stood above Belle. “We'll never know if the tent accidentally caught fire or somebody set it. We do know that everyone was out safely when my mother heard a baby cry inside the burning tent.”

“Please, no.”

“She ran inside. My father followed to bring her back. Neither made it out alive.”

“I'm so sorry.” Belle stood up and wrapped her arms around him.

He held her back so he could look into her eyes. “There was no baby in that tent or at that meeting. Yet everyone heard the cry.”

Belle shook her head with tears in her eyes. “Do you think Victoria got rid of them so you would take her to Oregon?”

“I don't know. I'll never know. But it's suspicious.”

“Did the Spiritualists go on to Oregon?”

“I hope so. On the chance Victoria could cause that type of death and destruction, I knew I had to get out of there and draw her attention away from them.”

“Dangerous.”

He nodded in agreement. “When I finally saw the fire that night, I leaped up. She told me that if I left her, she'd curse me. I would experience a wasting illness that would destroy my life and never let me lie with another woman.”

“She's vicious. How did you manage to stay alive?”

“I was dying.” He kissed Belle's lips as he pushed back her hair to hold her face in the palms of his hands. “Until you.”

“O
h, Mercy, I feel the same way.”

“Say you love me.”

“How can I be sure? I've loved Hackett for so long.”

“He's gone.” Mercy pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I'm here. I love you.”

Belle hugged him tight. He felt hot, too hot. He had the wasting fever again. She had to save him. She couldn't imagine life without him. If that meant love, maybe she could love again. Hackett had held her heart strings for so long, though, she didn't know how she could cut him loose.

She had to think, but she couldn't do it so close to Mercy. She stepped away. She paced back and forth, mind whirling, before she faced him again. She touched the Soleil Wheel over her heart and felt the power thrum, connecting her to Spider Grandmother's mystic web.

“You have my deepest sympathy for your loss.” She drew calmness around her like a shield. She must control her emotions to help him.

“Belle?” Mercy held out a hand, then dropped it. “I understand if you blame me for my parents' deaths. I already blame myself. And if other people were hurt, I take that blame, too. If I hadn't gotten involved with Victoria, she would have left us all alone.”

“And fed on someone else?”

“Maybe.”

“Victoria is a black widow spider. She mates. She kills. She eats.”

Mercy nodded.

“In your case, she mated, she killed, and she is still eating.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Let me explain.” She didn't want to alarm him, so she carefully chose her words. “First, I assure you that Victoria will reap what she has sown.”

“I doubt anybody can stop her.”

“I did before.”

“But she's back.”

“That is
your
doing. Not mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are connected to her by guilt. You are connected to her by the love you hold for your parents.”

“I left Victoria behind.”

“You brought her with you just as surely as if she'd ridden by your side every moment since you scrawled ‘G.T.T.' on your door.”

“Belle, that makes no sense. I hate her.”

“Guilt and hate are powerful connections.”

“Not as powerful as love.”

“Maybe more powerful.”

“No.”

“Love is pleasure. Hate is pain. Paired, they form an almost unbreakable bond.”

“I never loved her.”

“She gave you great pleasure. And great pain.”

“I can't deny that, but still—”

“Did she have the power or the ability to curse you?”

“Yes. I'm living proof of that.”

“Or did you accept her curse as penance for your guilt?”

He slowly nodded as he narrowed his eyes and searched her from head to toe. “If that's the case, did you accept a lonely, loveless life as penance for not being there to save Tex and Hackett?”

She gasped, feeling her heart constrict in pain. Tears stung her eyes as the truth of what he said sank deep into her soul.

“We're a fine pair.” He quickly crossed the room, took her in his arms, and held her close.

“You're right,” she whispered. “Guilt is eating me alive, too.”

“I'll do whatever I can to help you. I've given you my love. You hold my life in your hands. Whatever else you want of me, you have it.”

She clasped his face in the palms of her hands, looked into his crystal-gray eyes, and kissed his lips. “I think I could love you.”

“Could?”

“I might love you.”

He kissed her hard. “How can I help you make up your mind?”

“First, we must win.”

“Win?” He appeared puzzled.

“We're going to lay the ghosts of our past to rest.”

“Suits me, but it's not something for a Colt .44.”

“Diana and the pacer are here. Our six-shooters may come in handy.”

“But Victoria is out of reach.”

“So she'd like to think.” Belle took a deep breath. “We're going to send that curse back to her threefold.”

“Threefold?”

“The laws of the unseen are as unforgiving as the laws of the seen. Whatever you send out belongs to you and can return to you at any time. When your wishes for good or ill return, they come back threefold, or three times as strong.”

“If that's true, it means—”

“When her curse returns to her, she will be consumed by her wasting disease.”

“She'll die?”

“In time. Yet she's strong. She's fed on your guilt for a long time. But she hasn't fed in days, so she'll be weaker now, but hungrier, too.”

“How will you send her curse back?”

“I won't.” She clasped his shoulders to encourage him. “You will.”

He shook his head. “I've done a lot of things, but nothing like this.”

“You believe in the powers of the unseen and as an artist you can visualize. That is more than enough.”

“But I'm not at my best.”

“Trust me, she isn't, either.”

“I do trust you, but—”

She clasped his hands. “Mercy, we don't know what's waiting for us once we leave this room, but it's going to require your full strength.”

He squeezed her hands. “You're right. Tell me what to do and I'll do it.”

“Let's get comfortable on the bed.”

He tweaked the tip of her nose. “I'll never say no to that.”

“Me, either.”

She walked over and fluffed the pillows. When he lay down, she covered him with the sheet and bedspread because he'd get cold later. She sat beside him and leaned back against the headboard. As she touched the Soleil Wheel over her heart, she took a deep breath to relax.

“Now, Mercy, I want you to let the sound of my voice soothe and relax you. I want you to visualize everything that I ask you. And I want you to see through the mists that separate the seen from the unseen. Are you ready?”

He gave her a quick nod.

“Please close your eyes.”

She would make this journey with him, although she didn't want to know what another woman had meant to him. She clasped his hand and closed her eyes.

“Mercy, go ahead and imagine that you're looking at your body from above. You are hovering steadily and peering down. You see your body quite clearly. You know what looks normal and what looks abnormal. Please focus on what looks abnormal and tell me what you see.”

He hesitated a long moment and then cleared his throat. “I see a long, silvery cord or rope, smooth like a snake.”

“It does not belong?”

“No! I hate it.”

“What is it doing?”

“I don't know.”

“Where is it?”

“You're not going to like this. I sure don't.”

“Please tell me.”

“It's attached to me.”

“Where?”

He hesitated, took a deep breath, and moved restlessly on the bed.

“It doesn't matter to me where it's attached, but I need to know.”

“Under my cock. At the base.”

“How does it feel?”

“Hot and itchy.”

“Where is the other end?”

“I don't know.”

“Please look.”

“It disappears into the distance.”

“Is anything about the cord familiar?”

“Yes,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Why?”

He sat up and pounded the bed with his fists. “Victoria!”

“I've no doubt.”

He looked at her, fury, anguish, and fear in his stormy gray eyes. “She's feeding through that tube?”

“Yes.”

“Since the night of the fire?”

“Most likely.”

“Hell! How do I get rid of that blasted female?”

“You can cut the cord.”

“That's a relief to know.”

“Yet she may still reattach through your anger and guilt, the emotions that tie you to her, so you must heal those emotions, too.”

“Tarnation! We don't have time for this malarkey.” He glanced around the room. “We've got to find Diana before it's too late.”

“I agree. Let's cut the cord, and most likely it will burn her so badly she will never come back at you.”

“Okay.” He flopped back on the bed.

She squeezed his hand again. “Please close your eyes and breathe deeply. Imagine you are above and looking down on your body.”

“Okay.”

“You see the cord?”

“Yes.”

“Visualize a knife or dagger, silver or steel. The blade gleams sharp and ready for use.”

“I've got a grip on it.”

“Good. Now you want to cut the cord where it meets your skin. Once you do that, imagine that you burn out the roots and cauterize the wound with fire.”

He groaned and writhed on the bed. “I'm having trouble cutting the cord. It's wiggling away.”

“Grasp it firmly with one hand. Make the cut clean and fast. Hang on to the cord.”

“Done,” he said in a strained voice.

“Now set the end of the cord on fire and send it back to the one who created it. Watch it burn into the distance.”

“Done.”

“Watch the burning cord until you can no longer see it.”

“It's gone.”

“Perfect. Please take several deep breaths and rest a moment.” He squeezed her hand.

“How do you feel?” She glanced over at him. He looked proud and pleased and more the man she'd come to know. She would have preferred that he take the battle directly to Victoria, but hopefully this would be enough. She wanted to save their strength for the physical battles to come in Wildcat Falls.

“I feel like I've run a race, but my strength is back.”

“Good.”

“I wish I'd known to do that before.”

“I'd hoped she'd leave you be.”

“Forget her.” He smiled with a silvery glint in his eyes. “Let's pick up where we left off.”

“What about the town?”

“I can be quick.”

She chuckled.

“I want you.” He glanced down. “Look what you do to me.”

She followed the direction of his gaze. Indeed, he was raising the covers with his rapidly hardening shaft. They'd obviously dealt Victoria a severe blow by returning her curse threefold.

“I bet we've got time.” And Belle reached for him.