Dangerous Magic (12 page)

She heard a noise in the corner and turned suddenly. A cat-shaped shadow floated across the wall.

"Shade!" she said quietly, and the cat came to her and leapt into her arms. The cat's body rumbled with its purrs. She buried her face in the black fur, grateful that he was a good hunter. He was as fat as ever.

Suddenly the cat stopped purring and growled. His green eyes were fixed on a point out the window and Lark ducked into the corner. There were people moving down the path towards her cottage.

"Sssh," she said to Shade, and the cat fell quiet, although its tail beat against her as she held him and they walked up the path. It didn't take long for her to realize that the tall, hefty figure and the stopped skinny one were no other than Lester and Gertrude Hatch.

She felt a surge of fear, for at first she was sure they'd somehow seen her leave the jail and had followed her. But then she realized that Lester was carrying a shovel.

"I don't know why we have to do this now," Lester was grumbling to his mother. "Why don't we just wait until after I marry her. Then she'll tell us where it's buried."

Gertrude rounded on her son and hit him in the chest with a sack. "Because I'm not sure anymore that she's going to marry you! You were hardly convincing today, Lester! There was no conviction in your voice when you told the preacher how that witch seduced ye!"

"It's only because it won't true!" he whined.

"Do not say that aloud!" Gertrude hissed. "She did, and you will swear to it before God and man on the morrow. There is too much at stake for you to ruin this. Do you want to be as stupid as your father who left us with so little money?"

"Father left us the shop," Lester said, and it was the first time Lark had ever heard anything akin to anger expressed at his domineering mother.

"Ha!" Gertrude countered. "A meat shop in a poor village affords enough money to get by on and nothing more. We deserve better, Lester. We deserve fine clothes and furnishings that will make us the envy of the village. We deserve a carriage and white horses. Oh, to have that...I would ride by and glance at Millicent Pence with the smallest of smiles, and let my hand dangle on the edge of the carriage so she could see my lace gloves or rings." She paused. "And you, you would have any woman in the village."

Lester's dull faced suddenly looked even duller. "Wait. I thought I was to marry Lark."

"You are," she said. "But a witch is a witch. Later after she's given us a child to play with and we find another suitable woman, we will go back to the church and tell them that she's not renounced her ways and they'll remove her. We'll keep her long enough to get some work and breeding out of her."

Lester smiled. "A bit like a horse! But of course, this would be after we extract the truth from her about where the treasure is buried. However, on the chance things don't go as planned we must look for the treasure. If she is vindicated that would be awful; she'd be back home by sunset and would cast her wicked spells to protect the place anew. The treasure is here. It is rumored to be in the garden, probably protected by magic but without her that magic must be weaker. The treasure must be close. But where?"

Lark's eyes widened. Treasure? They were looking for buried gold? She almost laughed. She'd heard the rumors over the years herself, and weren't sure how they'd begun. Her grandparents had been frugal but they'd never been wealthy. Lark could only assume that the mystique that swirled around the family had somehow incorporated a tale of hidden monies.

Her mind began to work. She now had proof of motive for why Gertrude and Lester Hatch would expose her as a witch. They sought access to her lands. Colin had warned her that some neighbors to the north were accusing women and even men of property of witchcraft just to seize their holdings. It was hard to prove, but now it seemed proof had been offered up. But how could she convince Maximillian Fervor? It angered her that he seemed determined to find her guilty even if evidence was presented to the contrary.

Lark worried her lower lip with her teeth and thought on the matter. If she fled and abandoned her house, Gertrude and Lester would bide their time and eventually pilfer her belongings, unearth her herbs and flowers and destroy her property in their vain search. The satisfaction she would feel knowing they had failed would not be enough to forgive them for destroying her beloved plants.

She had to make a decision. She had to decide whether to flee or take what she knew to Colin.

"Dig faster!" Lester was sinking his shovel into the soil by the well at his mother's sniping instruction. "There are peculiar marks on this stone here. It may mark the spot!"

"I'm digging! I'm digging!" Lester said. "Just let me work!"

"Don't take a tone with me, boy!" Gertrude said, hitting him in the head with the bag. Lester cried out in protest as he continued to dig and Lark, from the corner of her house, whispered secret words in Shade's ears and let him down. She watched from her vantage point then as the cat stole outside and up the holly tree whose thick braches reached out over the well. When he was just above Lester and his mother he released a blood-curdling cry.

Lester cried out, dropped the shovel and began to run. His mother followed and then screamed. She'd fallen into the hole her son had dug in her rush and now bawled in pain. Lester walked over and pulled her up by her bony shoulders. She screamed louder as he tried to set her on her feet. Lark put her hand over her mouth as she watched the older woman collapse.

"My hip! My hip!" she cried. "Oh, it hurts!"

Lester looked around, panicking. "I'll go get help."

"No!" she responded, clutching her son's leg. "Don't leave me. It's the enchantments, don't you see? It's the evil enchantments what's the cause of this! It's the work of that witch! You can't leave me!"

"Well what do you expect me to do! Carry you back in this state?"

Lark did not want to feel pity, but she could not help it. Had it been anyone else, she would have rushed to their aid. But she believed in following her instincts, and hers told her that Gertrude Hatch would not only spurn her offers of help but likely use the offer to make things worse. So she sat listening to the old woman's screams, knowing such pain could only come from a broken bone.

Gertrude was babbling and moaning as her son lifted her up and carried her back down the path. Lark waited long moments until the sounds of the old woman's cries were out of sight. Then she walked over to where they'd dug the hole. The shovel and bag were still there. So was Gertrude's shoe. Evidence. She could use this against them.

But how. But before she could consider it further, a hand clamped over her mouth. Lark twisted her body left and right, trying to evade the strong grip as she was drug back into her own house. She heard the door shut behind her, felt herself released. She reeled back, sputtering in fear and anger and then stopped. Colin was standing there looking at her.

"What were you thinking?" he asked.

"Did you see?" was her only reply. "Did you hear them? They were digging up my yard. They think I have treasure. It was why they exposed me as a witch! This is all about taking my property! Did you know that?"

"Yes I did," he said. "I saw and heard everything you did."

"Then why didn't you do anything?"

"For the same reason you didn't," he replied. "But we'll discuss the Hatch's sins later. At the moment, I'm going to deal with yours, Lark Willoughby. You were reckless to run, even if the cell door was left open. If anyone other than I had found you, it would be assumed that you ran because you are guilty. I told you not to try and escape again and again you have disobeyed me. For that, you're about to get the spanking of your life."

Chapter Ten

Lark did not try to reason with Colin as he pulled her along after him along the moonlit path. She knew there was no reasoning with him now. He was taking her to his cabin and once there she'd try to talk to him. He could say what he liked; she'd been right to escape. Had she not done so she'd have never found out the truth

She could not believe that Gertrude had accused her of witchcraft as a plot to get her to marry her son so they could gain access to riches she did not even possess. She'd heard tales of fairy gold in her youth and when Lark was bored her grandmother suggest she go dig in the garden and look for it. But real gold? If it had been there Lark would have known about it. And she'd have used it to help the village, unlike the Pratts who thought only of themselves.

It was hard to pity Gertrude, who'd injured herself falling into the hole Lester had dug in her yard. It gave her some satisfaction to imagine the mean-spirited woman explaining to the physician exactly how she'd end up covered in dirt and injured in the middle of the night. They physician's wife as big a gossip as Gertrude. It'd be all over town come next nightfall.

And where would she be? She tripped along after Colin, whose grip on her wasn't getting any less restrictive. She'd never get out of his sight now, not with the law after her.

"Slow down. You're hurting me!" She stopped and tried to jerk away. Colin turned to her.

"Not yet I'm not," he said. "But I'm going to. Lark, don't you even realize you've made yourself look guilty by escaping?"

"Made myself look guilty?" she asked indignantly. "For your information, the magistrate left the door open. And if I'd not come out here I'd have never known why Lester and his mother had these charges leveled against me. Now I do, and..."

"...and what?" Colin asked, turning and pulling her down the path again as he talked. "You'll just explain what you saw after you escaped from jail and that'll magically fix everything?"

"You saw it too!" she said.

"Yeah, and as the man who plans to marry you my word will have all kinds of weight, won't it. And it'll be no match for Gertrude who will claim you injured her through magic. You know how she twists things, Lark! And then there's that reverend, ready to believe anything if it will condemn you."

Lark fell silent. She could not argue with that. For Reverend Fervor, finding her guilty of witchcraft had become some sort of personal mission. She knew why. Every other woman he'd accused had no doubt thrown herself on his mercy, begging and pleading with him to spare her whatever fate he decided would be appropriate for her alleged sins. But Lark was not like that; she'd not fed this man's need to feel power over others. She'd defied him, even mocked him.

They were approaching Colin's hut now. Lark gave one last, futile effort to pull away from her protector as he pulled her inside. He guided her to a chair and forced her to sit, pointing a finger in her face as he did.

"You," he said. "Don't move."

She sat there, glaring at him. She could completely defy anyone except for Colin. There was something about him that she could not help but respect. In many ways he'd been like a big brother to her growing up. He'd always understood her, always tried to watch out for her. He knew she was different and did not care because he carried the same magical history in his blood, even if he did not practice. But her respect for him came mainly from knowing he really cared. He cared about her not because she was beautiful or glowed with an air of unattainability. He cared because he liked her. Now those feelings had grown into something more for both of them. But Lark was determined that if she were going to be with a man, he'd see her as an equal.

He'd lit the lanterns and was rolling up his sleeves in preparation to make good on his threat to spank her.

"You can't be serious," she said in disbelief. "After what I've been through."

"Oh, I'm deadly serious, lass," he replied, placing his hands on his hips. "I told you there'd be consequences for disobeying me."

"You say you want to be with me, Colin, but mark me on this. I will not be with a man who treats me as a child. I'd rather burn."

He reached forward and lifted her up. "As long as I draw breath, the only part of you that will burn is your pretty bottom whenever you disobey me. We will be together, Lark. I love you and I know you love me. And you need my guidance, lass. Don't go lying and say you don't."

He sat down in the chair she'd just vacated and pulled her over his lap. Lark was too angry to fight and decided she would just lay there, stoic, while he spanked her. If he wanted to treat her like a child, fine. Let him see how he liked it when he she not only refused to react, but refused to speak to him afterwards.

But being stoic was easier said than done. She nearly cried out when he lifted the hem of her skirt and bared her bottom. Then she nearly cried out again when the first heavy-handed smack fell. And then, when he began to spank her in earnest Lark realized she'd have to come up with some other plan. Colin was determined to make his point, and to her abject humiliation she was quickly reduced to tears in spite of herself.

"Stop! Stop!" she cried, trying to shield herself from the disciplinary assault. But Colin caught her hands and continued to spank without missing a beat. His punishing hand seemed to fall everywhere, from the crest of her upturned cheeks to the soft undercurve of her bottom where buttock meets thigh. He was especially determined when spanking her there, even tipping her forward to better target the tender skin.

Lark was sobbing now, unable to stop the spanking. Her bottom felt like it was on fire and she knew it would be days before she was able to sit without pain. For good measure, he finished the punishment off with a few hard spanks to the back of each thigh.

Her face was flushed and tear-stained when he raised her to standing.

"Oh no you don't, he said when she instinctively tried to rub her injured backside. "You'll get no comfort from me, and offer yourself none. I told you, Lark, you had to be careful. Now I'm going to have to figure out how to get you out of this mess without getting killed."

She wanted to tell him she could figure it out on her own, but despite the fact that her bottom felt sore and scalded in turns, she knew it would be a lie. Things were more complicated now.

"Sit," he said, taking her to a footstool by the fire and forcing her down on it. She yelped as her punished bum met the hard wood of the seat. "Think about what you did."