Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (19 page)

He looked at her expectantly, and Brighid cursed the promise she made in haste. “Take me with you.”

His open expression hardened. “You need to rest. It’s not safe.”

“I’ll be safer with you.” Brighid quickly countered, shamelessly choosing words to appeal to his male pride.

She didn’t want to stay behind, cooped up. She needed to help with the case and guard Wyatt’s back against the Watcher. “You’re going to confront Giselle. Taking me with you could push her to reveal clues that she might not otherwise. You said it yourself, she hates me.”

To her surprise, Wyatt didn’t immediately deny her request. He walked over and opened the door to the right. “I had you moved into the adjoining suite, but feel free to continue to make use of this one for as long as you’d like.” He smiled a bit devilishly. “If you want to come along, be ready in an hour. I want that plate cleaned first.”

He vanished out the door without waiting for her reply. She sputtered a protest at his high-handedness in moving her to a different room without conferring with her first, and it only served to irritate her more when he disappeared without giving her a chance to argue with him.

Then what he said registered.

He was taking her with him.

She was scarfing down the meal as fast as she could when Trudy silently entered the room. Brighid saw the girl’s pale face and felt a stab of remorse for deceiving her. They were two outsiders in the house of gentry. She hoped her foolishness hadn’t ruined their friendship. “Trudy…”

“Lady Castelline.” She bobbed a curtsy.

Brighid sighed at the lack of warmth. “I am sorry. I lost track of time. When I tried to leave, I couldn’t manage the door.”

“Someone locked it on you.” She turned away, fussing with the room.

An instant denial sprang to Brighid’s lips, and she cursed her promise to keep Angelica’s involvement secret. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“His lordship disagrees.” Trudy straightened and stared at her in suspicion. “How can you be so calm when you know someone is trying to kill you? Aren’t you scared he’ll try again?”

“Yes, and I just have to be smarter and find whomever this is first.” Brighid fiddled with the food, mangling the eggs into an unappealing yellow mess. She stopped when Trudy continued to bustle around the room, adroitly avoiding meeting her gaze. “Why don’t you help me dress for the day?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Trudy.” She waited for the girl to face her. “Please call me Brighid. We both know I am no lady.”

“You were always a lady. Now that you’re married to his lordship, everyone else will know it, too.” The vehement response startled both of them.

“We both know that I’ll never be what he needs.” Brighid entered the adjoining room and stopped short, unnerved by the luxury. “Just look at this room. It’s too grand for the likes of me.”

“But you will be the perfect lady.” Trudy stepped forward, her face emphatic. “My mother said being a lady isn’t an accident of birth, but how one conducts oneself. You might not have been born a lady, but you are one through and through and everyone knows it. Thanks to the marriage, they will have to treat you like one now, too.”

She was so adamant, Brighid blinked. “But you must have guessed the marriage is a sham.”

Trudy studied the room and the bed…or more precisely, the one she woke up in that morning. “It looks real enough to me.”

Brighid raised a hand in protest. “But you were there.”

Trudy pulled out one of the beautiful dresses Brighid had managed not to destroy…only because she hadn’t worn it yet. The skirt was black and would help hide the consequences of any trouble that she might find. The red jacket molded to her form, and she marveled at the smart outfit.

“I know what I saw,” Trudy persisted

A spark of hope lifted her spirits at Trudy’s denial. She bit her lip, waving a hand to encompass the room. “My life is so different from this.”

“What was it like?” Trudy paused slightly while trying to brush Brighid’s hair into some semblance of order.

Something in her tone said they were no longer discussing the same thing.

“You wanted to know why I’m so calm, even knowing someone wants to kill me. It’s because this isn’t the first time someone has tried.”

“What?” Trudy’s eyes widened. “How did you survive?”

“I ran. There are some fights you can’t win on your own.”

“But…he’s still out there.” Trudy sniffled. “How can you live like that? Never knowing when—”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Brighid reached out, awkwardly patting Trudy’s hand, unsure how to offer comfort. “Everything will be fine.”

Trudy violently shook her head. “You don’t know.”

“Then tell me.”

“He took me.” Her voice came out muffled, a whispered confession.

“Who?” But Brighid already knew…Wyatt’s stalker. She lifted the girl’s chin, the anguish in her eyes a physical thing. “Who, Trudy?”

“I don’t know.” Trudy’s cry echoed in the room, her voice a harsh rasp as she continued. “It was dark. I couldn’t see him.”

Rage flared bright and hard under Brighid’s skin. “Did he hurt you?”

Trudy ducked her head, shaking her head a tiny bit. “I escaped.”

“You were very brave. Good for you. Not many would muster enough courage to even try.”

Trudy’s head jerked up, and she studied Brighid’s face intently. After a moment, she gave a tentative smile. “He left me alone for a few minutes. The door was open, and I ran.” Trudy wiped away her tears. “I don’t know if it was an accident or not. Why would he let me go?”

“To instill fear in the villagers.” Even as she said it, it made sense.

Trudy’s eyes shone with hope. “You don’t think it was me? Something I did?”

Brighid clasped Trudy’s hands tightly in her own. “Of course not. I think this man picked you out beforehand to force your father to obey. He wanted to use him to cause an accident at the factory.” Instead, he forced a poor little boy to do it, and her heart ached for the child. “Wyatt is searching for this man. He’ll find him, don’t worry.”

And Brighid intended to be there when he did so she could exact her own revenge.

Trudy threw her arms around her and squeezed. Brighid froze in surprise, awkwardly hugging the young girl back. She’d been running for so long, she did it more by instinct now than any plan. Maybe it was time to stop.

No more living in fear.

“We’ll make sure he can never harm you again.”

“Thank you!”

Warmth spread through Brighid. A tiny spark of hope lit within her, showing her a different future than she’d ever imagined for herself.

A chance to stop running and build a real marriage with Wyatt.

* * *

“
W
hen was she found
?” Wyatt halted outside Giselle’s cottage. A pall had fallen over the small house, as if it couldn’t contain the violent murder that had taken place within. Overgrown weeds ran rampant, while an air of neglect clung to the rundown building.

Aaron cast Brighid a measured glance before turning to answer his question. “This morning. She never showed up for work. One of the men went to fetch her and found this.”

Aaron opened the door and stepped aside.

The stench hit Wyatt first. He swallowed convulsively to keep from gagging, and covered his nose in a futile attempt to block the smell of rot and decay that saturated the room. He turned toward Brighid, quickly angling his body to spare her the gruesome sight. “It was a mistake to bring you here. Please wait for us by the horses.”

Brighid raised a brow, making no move to leave. “I do have some medical training that could prove invaluable.”

Wyatt was already shaking his head. “Aaron and I can manage.”

Brighid conspicuously glanced around then leaned toward him, her green eyes alight with mischief. “What if the killer is still nearby? Are you sure you want to leave me all alone?”

A growl rumbled in his chest at the blatant manipulation, but she made an excellent point. He reluctantly allowed her entrance.

Droplets of blood were splattered across the room. In the center of the floor sprawled the crumpled form of a woman, and he crouched to examine the body. The back of her skull had been shattered by repeated blows, nearly destroying the head in the process. Her hair was matted in a snarled mess of dried blood and lumps of tissue that had already congealed into a puddle of gore.

His gut clenched at the excessive brutality.

He glanced up to note Brighid seemed to be holding her own, studying the scene carefully, her face impassive. She expertly lifted her skirts, adroitly avoiding the pool of blood.

When he glanced back down at the body, the scene changed.

The hair lightened, turned red, only the once-vibrant color was now dulled, the vitality spilled across the floor in senseless rage.

He blinked and Brighid’s image faded, but the sight of what would happen if he didn’t act remained imprinted on his soul.

Wyatt stepped around the pool of viscous blood. This was the first body where the killer had committed the murder without using someone else to achieve his aim. That means there would be clues. But the longer Wyatt searched, the more his hopes dwindled.

“Any witnesses?” Wyatt asked, struggling to keep his thin veneer of civilization intact. This was personal and struck too close to home for him to remain objective.

Aaron shook his head. “Everyone else adhered to your orders. From the deterioration of the body and the cold fireplace, my guess is she died the same day you issued your edict.”

“It stands to reason, if she was his partner.” Brighid didn’t bother glancing up as she continued observing the body and the surroundings.

Wyatt crouched down, curious at what he had missed. “Why do you say that?”

“I think she was his informant. When you altered the rules at the factory, you changed the game. He no longer had any use for her, so she became a liability.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes. “What facts do you have to support your claim?”

Brighid wondered if it was a test. “The latch on the door is intact. She knew him, let him inside of her own free will. This place is neat.” She twisted, inspecting every nook and crevice of the small cottage. “No sign of a struggle.”

Neither of the men bothered to glance that the latch.

They already knew.

“And her hand?” Wyatt picked up a wooden spoon, slipped it under the woman’s wrists and lifted her arm. Only a blackened skeleton remained. The scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air, the charred smell easily detected over the decay.

Brighid tightened her lips. “He tortured her, then watched while she struggled toward the door. He allowed her to hope that she could escape. Then he took it away. The pleasure in her anguish had ended, or possibly rage took over, and he bludgeoned her repeatedly.”

The lack of emotion in her voice chilled Wyatt. It was as though she spoke from the experience of one frequently hunted. He stood and removed the blanket from the bed, covering the woman’s still form, wishing to spare Brighid what little he could. He looked around the room. “Hit her with what?”

Without prompting, they turned as one to hunt for the weapon but admitted defeat after they turned the cottage inside out and came up empty.

Brighid blew a strand of hair from her face, surveying the room. The murder was brutal, but she’d seen her share of bodies over the years while investigating. After spending the past few months on the run, humanity’s darker nature no longer surprised her. “Either he brought the weapon with the intent to kill her, or it was a weapon of opportunity, and he took it with him when he left. There is nothing else to learn here.”

“Agreed.” Wyatt guided her out of the cottage. He greedily sucked in fresh air, but the smell clung to them as tenaciously as Angelica on the hunt. “I’ll have the men bury her and burn the cottage. I cannot imagine anyone would want to live here now.”

Brighid distractedly laid her hand on his arm, staring at the cottage as if puzzling something out. “Wyatt, how much did you pay her?”

“Giselle?” Wyatt captured her hand, marveling at the way her mind worked, and her stubborn refusal to back down from a challenge. “Only marginally more than the other women. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Brighid turned and blinked up at him distractedly, a charming blush along her cheeks. Much to his disappointment, she didn’t take the bait. “Then you didn’t notice how much more luxurious her surroundings were compared to the other cottages?”

His amusement faded.

Aaron paused, then finished locking up the cottage, giving Brighid a grudging nod of respect. “She’s right. Someone was paying Giselle to spy and possiblyikill your wife.”

“We need to figure out what Giselle told him. It might help us stop the next attack.” Wyatt guided Brighid away from the scene of death, his stride determined. “Why don’t you gather the horses? Aaron and I will be there shortly.”

Brighid gave him a knowing glance, but allowed him to get away with maneuvering her. Aaron stood by his side, and they both watched her stride away.

“The key to the chapel. Did you—”

Wyatt crossed his arms, wanting to shake Brighid into sharing what she knew. “Found later the same day, pushed under the carpet in the hall.”