Blood Curse (Branded Trilogy Book 2) (14 page)

Pril woke with a start. She opened her eyes and gasped. The butt end of a musket pressed into her cheek, squishing her face. The leader of the Renoldi clan stood over her.

“Hello, Pias,” she said.

She shoved the gun from her, reached for the boy and pulled him close. She glanced at her quiver a few feet to her right.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Kade grumbled from across the fire.

“Nice to see you again, Niece,” Pias said and motioned with his gun for her to stand.

Pias married her mother’s sister, but she refused to see him as anything other than a conniving bastard. She positioned herself in front of her bow and quiver, covering it with her skirt.

Bavol and Cato, Pias’s guards pulled Kade to his feet, each holding onto one of his arms. She held the boy tight to her and watched as Kade struggled against their grips. Together the men were stronger and held him still.

“Cease, Mr. Walker, or I will be forced to make it so,” Pias growled.

Kade spat onto the ground. “Go to hell.”

Pias laughed and walked toward Kade. He threw the handle of his musket into Kade’s stomach once, twice, and Pril thought he’d hit him a third time, but he stopped and turned toward her.

“Tell your friend to stand down, or I will kill him.”

She knew he would. Her family had been Renoldis for many years until Vadoma’s curse. Pias had been their leader and challenged Vadoma for all her wrongdoings. He ruled his people with a strong hand.

“Kade, please do as he says.”

“Are you well, Gypsy?” he asked his eyes searched her face.

“I am.” She prayed he would give her a distraction so she could grab her bow.

He relaxed, but his stature didn’t last long. He flung his arms out, tossing Bavol to the ground and turned in time to connect his fist with Cato’s chin. He lunged, and jumping on top of the Renoldi, he drove his fists into Cato’s sides and face.

She leaped for the bow, and wasting no time she loaded the arrow. On her knees she twisted ready to fire when it was knocked from her hand by Pias. He threw his boot into her ribs, and she fell to the ground. Her ribs were still mending, and she grit her teeth together as the bone ached.

Pias went to the trees and tossed the bow among them, leaving the quiver where it was.

She went to the boy. Her side ached but it was the least of her worries. Kade was still on top of Cato, and Bavol had jumped onto his back. She cringed at the sound of flesh pounding on flesh. The thud of knuckles as they crunched against bone sickened her. She grabbed the boy’s shoulders and turned him toward her.

“You must run,” she whispered.

He shook his head.

He’d understood her. He knew what she’d said. He peered up at her, onyx circles surrounded by the brightest shade of brown she’d ever seen. He’d been playing her and Kade all along. A loud crack spun her around in time to see Pias drive the end of his gun into Kade’s head knocking him out.

“Tie his hands and then gather their things,” Pias said.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To fetch you, my dear.”

She crossed her arms.

“I am in need of counsel with you.” He glanced at Kade, unconscious on the ground. “And your friend.”

“Did you kill Milosh?” She needed to know if the clan leader had hung her brother.

“Of course not.”

“I do not believe you.”

“I do not care.” He went to her and ran the tip of his finger down the side of her face. “I never liked Milosh, but kill him I did not.”

“Do you know who did?”

Pias gazed at her, and the corner of his mouth lifted before he turned and walked toward his horse.

“Let us have council within the clan walls.”

“No.”

“No?”

“We can speak here.” She stood tall, not willing to be taken by her enemy.

“I believe it is I who gives the orders, hmmm?” He nodded toward Bavol The other man hoisted Kade over his shoulder and tossed him onto Goliath, his feet and head dangling over either side.

“Come, Pril of the Peddlers.” He held out his hand.

She didn’t trust him and rightly so. He was a devious devil by nature. She refused to be taken by him and his men.

“No,” she said again.

Cato and Bavol mounted their horses and waited for Pias’s direction.

“Where did the boy come from?” he asked, acknowledging the child for the first time since they’d arrived.

“He is a slave. We came upon him in one of the villages we passed through.”

Pias went to the child. He looked him up and down before he reached out to flip his long black hair with his finger. The boy flinched and cowered into Pril’s side.

“Leave him be, Pias.”

He turned his attention toward her and smiled. His long features curved upward making his face appear lopsided.

“You are very demanding for someone who has been in hiding for the last four years.”

“And you, Pias, haven’t changed a bit. You are still the same coward I used to know.”

He dropped his head back and laughed, a low devious sound. His head snapped up, and the back of his hand shot out, catching the side of her face.

Pain shot across her cheek, and she dropped her head. His ring had caught her lip, ripping the skin. The flesh pulsated, but she refused to wipe the blood as it seeped from the wound. Determined to stay put, and not be taken by the ruthless bastard, she lifted narrowed eyes toward him wishing she had the power within her to kill him.

“You are not Vadoma,” he said reading her mind.

“You are lucky I am not.”

“Hmmm.”

“What is it you want, Pias?”

“If I remember correctly you’ve been blessed with the counting of spells.”

She didn’t answer.

“Amara and Emine have been blessed with a similar gift.”

She remembered Pias’s daughters—her cousins. Both had been given the ability to cast spells, a gift from their mother who could do the same. It was the Chuvani that held the most magick. The lineage lay within Pril’s mother Imelda and passed through her onto Vadoma and so on to Tsura. Pril remained the same, blessed with the magick of a spell, and even then she was limited.

“Get on your horse, and take the brat with you.”

“No,” she growled.

“I am growing tired of your insistence to stay…I will not ask you again.”

“I am not leaving.”

His hand was quick, a snake attacking its prey. He grabbed her around the throat and walked her backward into the tree.

“Do not test me any longer,” he yelled as spittle spewed from his lips onto her face.

The trunk of the tree pressed into her back. The uneven wood pushed through her thin blouse and into her skin. Pias squeezed the muscles on her neck together, cutting off her air. She gasped. Her mouth worked as she tried frantically to draw in air. Black dots flashed before her, and she searched for the boy. Cato held him upside down in the air. The boy cried out, kicking his leg and arms in the air trying to fight off the bigger man.

She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him. With no other choice she nodded her co-operation. Pias released her, and she fell to the ground coughing. On her knees, she wheezed and gasped for air as she strained to inflate her lungs. Her throat ached, and she rubbed her palm across the burning flesh.

He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward Athos, shoving her into the animal.

“Get on your horse.”

She knocked Pias’s arm from her and faced Cato. “I will kill you for touching that child,” she hissed.

The other man laughed, showing rotten teeth, and she shuddered.

Pias nudged her.

She spun and spat into his face. Her spittle dribbled from his lip and chin. Not prepared for his reaction, she didn’t shield herself when he brought his fist up and slammed it into the side of her face. She blinked, her vision blurred, the earth spun, the trees melded together, and she turned toward Kade and the boy before she passed out.

Kade opened his eyes and squinted against the dull ache at the back of his head. His hands and feet were tied to a chair made of woven branches. He inspected the elaborate detail. He’d never seen anything like it and presumed the gypsy clan had made them. He pulled on the twine that bound him to the chair. The wood whined, but did not move.

He clenched his jaw and scanned the area. His chair had been propped in between two log structures. All around him were wagons, a few small homes, and behind those were tall Oaks, Pine and Elm trees. The Renoldi quarters were intimidating. The massive trees acted as a wall and secluded the gypsy camp from any intruders. It was a fortress. He searched the forest around them and wasn’t surprised when he saw men on small platforms high up in the trees surrounding the village.

Torches burned lighting the night, and he saw the fire in the center of the camp. His dagger gone, he had no way to protect himself. There was no sign of Pril or the boy, and he wondered what the gypsies had done with them.

He watched as three men, the same ones who’d attacked them earlier, walked toward him. The Renoldi leader, Pias was in the middle. He wanted to smash the gypsy’s face in, ambushed and tied in the middle of nowhere would be his first reason, the knock to the head the second.

“Mr. Walker, we’ve been waiting for you to wake,” Pias said as they came closer.

He yanked on the twine, cringing when the rope sliced through the skin on his wrist.

“You will not break free. It is the strongest rope ever made.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk with you of course.”

“Bullshit. Where are Pril and the boy?”

“They are fine.”

“Where are they?”

“That is no concern of yours.”

As he struggled against the rope, the desire to run his boot into Pias’s face overwhelmed him.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“Shall we play a game then?”

“I do not play games with scheming bastards. Where the hell are Pril and the boy?”

“I will bring you to my niece and the slave if you answer my questions.”

He wasn’t sure he could trust him, but with no other choice, he nodded.

“Very good.” Pias smiled. His black hair hung in uneven lengths around his high cheekbones and wide mouth.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you with Pril?”

“To help find her child.”

“The girl?”

He didn’t answer. Pril, and her brothers, had dressed the girls as boys, and he didn’t know if Pias was aware of their deception.

“You’ve traveled with her to search for the girl is that correct?”

He remained silent.

Pias’s eyes lit, and he snickered.

“Do you think me not wise enough to know the child is a girl?”

He flexed his jaw.

“Mr. Walker, I am ten times smarter than you give me credit for.”

“Good for you.”

“You have no other reason as to why you’ve helped her?”

“No. I do not.” He met the leader’s green eyes and glared.

Pias motioned to Cato, the wide shouldered man to his left. The bruises on his face were still bright and swollen from Kade’s fists.

Cato handed Pias a piece of rolled up cloth.

“I will ask you one more time. Why are you with Pril?”

“And I believe I’ve answered your question already.”

“Hmmm.”

Kade watched as Pias very carefully unraveled the cloth to reveal a finger. Cut at the first knuckle, the limb was swollen and blue. He lifted the finger to show Kade. A sapphire ring was attached to it and spotted with blood.

He bent forward, the rope pressed into his chest, and bile climbed the length to his throat. He tasted the vomit on his tongue and spat. He wasn’t prepared—hadn’t even thought the clan leader would have such a thing.

He groaned.

The anguish, torment and guilt rushed through him, depleting his strength. He blinked back tears. His soul cried out, burning his chest and branding his heart. He hung his head and closed his eyes.
Sam.
It was Sam’s ring.

“Where did you get it?” he growled, every muscle in his body tense.

“I believe you know the answer.”

“I do not, and I will only ask you one more time. Where did you find the finger?”

Pias gave a dramatic sigh.

“We stumbled upon a slave three days ago. What was his name?”

“You bastard.”

“Right.” Pias snapped his fingers. “It was Malachi, and he was looking for you, Mr. Walker.”

Kade shook the chair. Sam needed him, and because he’d wasted too much time, his best friend had suffered. Misery compressed his chest, and with each beat of his heart the pain intensified. He needed to see Sam—to save him. Girl or no girl, he was going to Jamestown. He’d kill Silas Monroe for what he’d done.