Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws (23 page)

An image of Cinderella flooded through his mind. He let go of Jack’s hair. “Too late, for I have already lost her,” he said flatly. “I need to think about this.” He stepped back.

“Take all the time ye need. Anything to keep ye from chopping my head off. I may not have the most handsome face in the kingdom, but since I am kind of attached to it …” He touched his neck and looked at his fingers. “See, here! I am bleeding! Ye rotten swine, ye nicked my neck.”

The dizziness had returned. Rushton felt like he had rotten cheese churning in his gut. He doubled over and vomited on the ground.

Jack scooted back, holding his nose. “Ew, not on my boot!”

A moment later, Rushton sat on the ground and put his head in his hands. “My head!” He groaned. “It feels like ‘tis splitting in two.” Stars were exploding around him and he couldn’t get a good breath. “I cannot breathe,” he gasped. “Help me.” He clutched his neck.

Jack paused long enough for Rushton to fear that he might leave him here, choking to death. “Here, drink this.” He held a flask to Rushton’s lips. “Drink!”

Rushton took a gulp and then began coughing profusely. “Breathe,” Jack ordered, pounding him on the back. “Breathe!”

He downed nearly the entire flask of water. It took a concerted effort to breathe in deeply, but it was starting to help him feel more normal. The potion. He had inhaled too much of it when Erik pushed him.

Jack sat down beside him. An uneasy silence settled between them.

“About what happened,” Rushton began.

“Do not mention it,” Jack countered with a bite in his voice, “ye only tried to kill me … nothing too drastic.”

“I am indeed sorry. I know not what came over me.”

Jack looked sideways at Rushton. “Aye, ye know. I saw the change come over thee, and so did Erik. Ye snapped his arm so easily that it might have been a twig.” He touched his own arm and shuddered. “Thine eyes became ice blue, and they had a strange glow about them. I could feel the energy building in thee.”

Rushton shook his head. “I was only supposed to inhale a tiny amount. If only that lug-head had not pushed me—”

“Where did ye get it?” Jack said and then proceeded to answer his own question. “Thy mother gave it to thee when she came to the dungeon.”

“She was trying to help.”

Jack gave Rushton a speculative look. “Like she tried to help thee win the love of the peasant princess?”

“She is not a peasant!” Rushton said hotly, and you know not of which you speak.

Jack held up a hand. “Nay, do not speak on it more. It mattereth not. At least one good thing came out of it. Erik is gone.”

“We do not know that for certain. He could be hiding out, waiting to ambush us.”

“With a broken arm?” He shook his head. “Methinks not. ‘Tis a pity ye no longer have any more of the happy juice. It might have proven useful—seeing as how we are on the run from Prince Edward, with the entire kingdom hot on our trail.”

Rushton’s face fell. Every bit of it had spilled out when Erik pushed him to the ground. He clenched his fist and pounded it against his leg.

Jack slapped him on the back. “No need to get thy tights in a jumble, lad, ye succeeded in putting the fear into Erik, ‘tis for sure.” He chuckled. “Never thought I would see the day when the mighty Erik Duncan would take off running like a wee lamb. If I were a betting man, I would wager that he is already halfway back to the castle by now.” He glanced at the setting sun. “We are losing daylight, and I, for one, do not relish the thought of being out here in the open when the darkness comes.” He looked Rushton in the eye. “In case Erik finds some of that courage ye so aptly stripped him of and decides to come back for retribution.”

“You are correct.” Rushton stood and stumbled slightly. Jack gave him a concerned look.

“Are you ill?”

“I will be fine.” He walked a few steps and then cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

Jack paused, listening. “Water?”

Rushton nodded. “This way.”

When they reached the river, Jack went to the edge and dipped in his flask. Rushton walked to the side and bent down. He cupped his hands into the clear water and began drinking greedily. After his thirst was quenched, he scoped the landscape, looking for the telltale maker that would let him know if he’d led them in the right direction. He pointed to the fork in the river. “There. The bent tree. We follow the water upstream to the mouth. To the waterfall. The cave is hidden behind it. Come. If we hurry, we can just make it before sunset.”

R
ush cast
a sidelong glance at Jack who’d been sullen and withdrawn ever since he’d picked him up from his trailer earlier in the afternoon. Not that Rush blamed him. He had no idea how rough Jack’s living conditions were. When Rush arrived to pick him up, he heard yelling and cursing from inside the trailer. He tentatively knocked on the door, and Jack’s dad threw it open, nearly knocking Rush in the face. He was drunk and slimy, like he’d not showered in a week. He reeked of booze, cigarettes, and body odor. Rush caught a glimpse inside the trailer, which looked a thousand times worse than the dilapidated exterior. The dingy curtains were only half hanging over the windows, and stuffing was spilling out of the ripped couch. Dirty dishes, caked with dry food, were piled a mile high in the sink, and the kitchen chairs were toppled onto their sides. Empty beer cans and clothing littered the ragged carpet. Jack’s dad let out a string of expletives. His speech was slurred as he stumbled backwards. “Jack! Get out here! Now! One of your rich buddies is here to pick you up.” He leaned into Rush and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “You got a twenty I could borrow?”

“Sorry, man, I don’t have any cash on me,” Rush said, averting his nose.

He grabbed Rush by the shirt and shoved him. Thankfully, Rush caught himself from falling down the steps by grabbing onto the handrail.

“You lousy, good-for-nothing, loser! How dare you come to my house and refuse to give me money!”

Rush held up his hands and began backing the rest of the way down the steps. Tangling with Jack’s dad would be about as foolish as trying to take on a grizzly bear. Whereas Jack was tall and lanky, his dad was burly and muscular—and there was a ruthlessness about him that suggested he was the kind of man who knew his way around a bar fight and was accustomed to bullying others into submission.

Just as he’d made it to the bottom of the steps, Jack came hurrying to the door. The rims of his eyes were red, and there was an ugly bruise spreading across his left cheek. Humiliation burned in his eyes when he realized what was going on. “I’m sorry, man,” he said quietly to Rush, glaring at his dad who, by this time, was leaning over the handrail and puking his guts up.

Rush pointed. “Do we need to get him help … or something?”

A look of disgust came over Jack’s face as he shook his head. “No, he’s like this all of the time. He’ll sleep it off.” He pushed past him and bounded down the steps. “Let’s go,” he barked.

That had happened over an hour ago, and they’d hardly spoken since. They were standing in the music store, looking for a new set of drumsticks for Jack. Supposedly, Jack had accidentally cracked his, but after witnessing the scene of destruction at the trailer, Rush wondered if his dad had purposefully destroyed them. He was also starting to wonder if Jack were being abused. He’d always attributed Jack’s raw-bone skinniness to his body type, but now he feared he might be going hungry. Jack had too much pride to let on that things weren’t right at home. He wondered if he should tell someone. Would Jack feel like he was a traitor who’d ratted him out? He shook off the thoughts and concentrated on the twenty-something-year-old, tattooed sales clerk who kept pointing out the higher priced drumsticks that came in packs of twenty-four. The man was relentless in his sales pitch, but Jack kept stubbornly going back to the cheaper ones. Finally, Rush stepped up beside him. “Don’t worry, I can help pay for them.”

“I don’t need your charity,” Jack muttered, swiping at his hair.

He kept his voice light and conversational. “It’s not charity but rather practicality. You break another drumstick, and I have to use my gas to take you to buy more. If you have extra …” He spread his hands. “Well, then it ends up saving me money in the end.”

Jack made a face that suggested he knew exactly what Rush was up to, but a slight smile escaped his lips. “Sure it does,” he quipped sarcastically.

“He’ll take the set of twenty-four,” Rush said to the clerk.

“Smart decision,” the man beamed.

When they were walking out of the store, Rush casually pointed to Jack’s face. “You okay?”

Jack nodded. “Yep, I’m kind of used to it.”

“If you need anything.” He gave him a meaningful look. “If there’s ever a time you need a place to crash or someone to talk to … I’m here.”

“Thanks.” He paused. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anything to Rae about this.”

Rush lifted an eyebrow. “Rae?”

“Yeah, she worries enough about me as it is.”

“All of that hell you’re living in, and you’re worried about Rae worrying about you?”

Jack winced and scratched his head. “Yeah, something like that.”

He looked at Jack through new eyes. He’d been so caught up in Elle that he’d not realized what had been right in front of his face the entire time. Jack and Rae had a thing for one another. He noticed that Jack was watching him, waiting for an answer. “All right. My lips are sealed. I won’t say a word to anyone … especially Rae.” His eyes met his. “But if you need anything …”

“Yeah … I’ll call you, man, I promise.”

As they got back on the bike, Rush glanced at his phone. “We’re running late.”

Jack chuckled. “Yep, better get to band practice before Rae blows her cork. You know how those redheads can get.”

Rush made a face. “Blondes aren’t much better.”

Jack slapped him on the back with a laugh. “No, they’re not, man.”

Rush put on his helmet and revved up the engine. “Let’s do it.”

“
A
re
ye certain this is it?” Jack looked upward, his gaze taking in the tall expanse of the waterfall. They were standing so close that he could feel the mist coming up from the rushing water as it plunged into the pool. It was a magnificent sight, but Jack had no appreciation for it. All he could think about was that he’d never been comfortable around water, and the thoughts of somehow slipping into the dark pool unnerved him. He suppressed a shiver.

“Aye, ‘tis the place,” Rushton said. “You cannot see it from here, but the entrance of the cave is just behind the falls.”

“How do we get back there?”

He began removing his boots. “We swim.”

“Swim?” Jack’s pulse bumped up a notch. “Can we not walk around there somehow?”

“Do you see a place to walk?” Rushton pointed to the slick wall of rocks, jutting up fifty feet or more. “The only way to get back there is to swim.”

“Of course, the cave would be behind the waterfall,” Jack mumbled, removing his boots and plunking them on the ground. “First, ye go lunatic and nearly kill me and now this!” He ran a hand through his hair. “Methinks I should have left thee in the dungeon.”

“Not afraid of a little water, are you?” Rushton gave him a teasing smile. “Do not fret, for there are no giants in there, ‘tis but water.”

Jack smirked. “Laugh if you will, pheasant brain, but I do not see you going in there.” He made a flourish with his hand. “I will go after you.”

“So be it.” He dove in headfirst.

Jack cursed. He didn’t let out a breath until he saw Rushton’s head surface.

“Come,” Rushton yelled impatiently.

“Hold on, ye smelly goat, I am coming! Bless me.” Jack looked at the sky while making a crossing motion over his chest. He took a deep breath, pinched his nose, and plunged in. The water felt like ice. He kept his eyes closed while fighting his way to the surface. It seemed to take forever to get to the top, and he felt like his lungs would burst before he could get there. When his head broke through the water, he took in a big gulp of air and then inadvertently swallowed water. He began coughing and beating against the water. To his horror, he began to sink. “Help me,” he squeaked, straining to keep his mouth above water. “Help!” He went down.

Not a moment too soon, Rushton grabbed him. Jack threw his arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

Rushton started to sink. “You’re choking me!” He tried to extricate himself from Jack’s grip. “Let go or you will drown us both!”

“I cannot,” he wailed, holding on tighter. “I cannot swim!”

“I noticed,” Rushton said dryly. “When we get back on dry land, I am going to beat the fool out of you for not telling me that you cannot swim! But right now—” The words got cut off in his attempt to keep from being pushed under. “Calm down, for the love of the king! I am going to turn you around so I can swim and get us to the cave. I will not let go of thee. You have my word.” He made a motion to remove Jack’s hands.

“Nay!” Jack struggled against Rushton with all the strength he had left. Rushton was talking to him, but the words seemed to be coming at him from a long distance away. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. The water tightening around him was a cold mouth, sucking him to the bottom. The death that awaited him was inescapable.

The punch came so swiftly that he didn’t know which came first: the loud pop or the searing pain radiating through his jawbone. He thought he saw stars falling from the sky. “Father,” he said, “is that you? Father,” he sighed, and then went limp.

“
W
here am I
?” Jack sat up, dazed. “Am I dead?”

“Unfortunately not,” Rushton said.

Jack rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Ouch! That hurts! Was hitting me really necessary?”

“You are lucky that is the worst you got, you scum-sucking swine. You nearly killed us out there!”

“Well, that makes us even because ye nearly killed me earlier today.”

“Why did you not tell me you couldn’t swim?”

Jack shrugged. “Ye never asked.” He stood and looked around the cave. From what he could tell, it was one large room with the only entrance being the opening behind the waterfall. He took a whiff of the stale air and looked at the walls that were wet and slimy.
A likely place to die
. He wondered how many other creatures had died in this very cave. If he looked close enough, he was sure to see bones heaped in the corner. He cocked his head, listening. For all he knew there could be something alive in the cave—a thought that was more terrifying than dead things. The impulse to flee was overwhelming, but the only way out of this wretched death chamber was through the water. He felt his throat close. He couldn’t endure that again!
Do not think about it
, he told himself.
One single step at a time
. He hugged his arms and fought off a shiver. “Where is the gold?”

Rushton blew out a breath. He wanted nothing more than to wring Jack’s skinny neck, but fighting him was useless. It was getting dark, and Erik was on the loose. He could be out there, waiting to ambush them after they got the gold. “There.” He walked toward the large stone in the darkest corner of the cave. “‘Tis under here.”

“Marvelous!” Jack let out an incredulous laugh. “I will step right up and move it with my wee finger.”

“Thy wise cracks are not helping.”

“Oh, and I suppose that ye know of a way to move the stone? Ten of the king’s strongest men couldn’t budge it, and ye think the two of us can? I know ye think ye are invincible, but in case ye have not noticed, we no longer have any of thy mother’s strong-man potion.”

Rushton looked around. “We left it somewhere …” He began walking to the other side of the cave.

“What are ye doing? Have ye gone completely mad?”

He leaned over. “Right where we left it. Shut thy mouth, fool, and come over here and help me.” With some effort, he lifted one end of a log.

Jack hurried over and lifted the other end.

“This is what we used to pry the stone away before.”

They took the log over to the stone and wedged one end underneath it. “You push the stone while I work the log. On the count of three, push with all of thy might.” Jack nodded. “One … two … three!”

The heavy stone didn’t budge.

“Again!” Rushton yelled.

On their second attempt, the stone moved slightly. Both of them were sweating despite the fact that they were wet and cold.

“Again!”

This time, the stone moved enough to reveal the edge of a black bag made of cloth. Rushton strained with all of his might to keep the stone from rolling back. “Get the bag!” he yelled.

Jack let go of the stone, grabbed the bag, and pulled it out just as the heavy stone rolled back into place, cracking the log. Rushton leaned against the stone, gasping for breath. “Give me the bag,” he ordered as soon as he could speak.

Begrudgingly, Jack handed it over. “Remember, ye promised me three pieces of gold.”

“I remember.” He opened the bag, reached in, and pulled something out. “What treachery is this?” He reached for more. “All rocks!”

“We came all this way for rocks?”

Rushton threw the bag to the ground. “This is some foul trick!” He let out a humorless laugh. “We came all this way for rocks!” He kicked the stone and swore.

They heard movement behind them. “Looking for these?”

They turned to see Edward and his guards standing in the entrance of the cave. Edward was holding gold pieces in his hand.

Rushton’s eyes narrowed. “I should have known. Taking Cinderella was not enough. You had to come for the gold too.”

“Quite the contrary,” Edward said, his voice dangerously calm, “I came for you.”

Rushton had left his sword on the bank with his boots, but he had his dagger. Instinctively, he drew it out and crouched into striking position.

Edward laughed and motioned at Jack. “Do you really think that you and that skinny fleabag can take on me and all eight of my guards?”

“Skinny fleabag? A lovely description, your lordship. Glad to see ye find sport in mocking the poor peasant that has been chained in thy dungeon and fed a diet of mice droppings and rotten pork. That ye even noticed my lowly existence has given me hope for a brighter tomorrow. The clouds have parted, sending a ray of sunlight shining down on this poor, humble soul.”

Edward made a face. “Who is this idiot?”

Jack offered a low, exaggerated bow. “Jack Swift of Landerburg Township. Humble Jack Swift.”

“Sorry, never heard of you.” He turned his attention to Rushton. “Let us finish this.”

Rushton scoffed. “You arrogant knave! You stand there with eight guards at thy back. Aye, you are quite the man, prince!”

“How dare you,” Edward seethed. “Men have died for less.”

“At least I will die a man, fighting my own battles.”

Edward threw down the gold and drew his sword. “I trusted you. You were like a brother to me.” A guard stepped forward, but Edward stopped him. “Nay, he is mine.”

The guard looked confused. “My Lord, are ye certain? Ye have nothing to prove to this scoundrel. Ye are the crown prince. We have sworn to protect thee.”

“I am most certain!”

The guard leaned into Edward and spoke in low tones. “But his skill with the sword is legendary. Ye have nothing to prove.”

Edward’s face grew a shade darker. “Give him a sword,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes never leaving Rushton’s face.

Rushton raised an eyebrow. “There might be a sliver of honor in thee after all, your highness.” The guard reluctantly handed him the sword. He sheathed his dagger and flashed a grim smile. “Like old times.”

“Nothing like old times,” Edward said flatly.

Rushton expertly cut the sword through the air several times to get a feel for it in his hand. “Just so I understand what is going on here … We fight, and when I win,” he paused long enough to note the fury in Edward’s eyes, “the guards will finish me off. Does that about sum it up?”

A thickset guard stepped forward. “How about I finish ye off right now.”

“Enough!” Edward held up his arm. “No one is to touch Rushton. Is that understood?”

Jack waved a hand. “Your majesty, kingly highness, sir, might I request that I be added under that command ye gave about not touching anyone—”

“Silence, fool!” Rushton yelled over his shoulder.

Still standing his ground, the guard stood, feet shoulder-width apart, glaring at Rushton. He looked like he might attack at any moment.

“I said, back down,” Edward hissed. “Clifton! ‘Tis an order.”

For a moment, the guard looked like he might defy Edward, but then his shoulders slumped, and he stepped back in line with the other guards. “Aye, your majesty.”

Rushton shook his head in disgust. “How quickly he obeys thine orders. Poor Edward, you will never know if it is the crown they respect or you.”

“You speak of that which you do not know,” Edward said indignantly.

“You are most correct. I do not know what it is like to be a prince. I have had to work hard and earn every privilege I have ever received, including the love of a woman who wanted me for me and not because I was some sanctimonious prince.”

A furious expression crossed Edward’s features. “You cast a love spell over her and you know it! She loves me!”

“Have you asked her?”

Hesitation crept into Edward’s eyes. “I do not need to ask her. She is going to marry me!”

“What choice did you give her?” Rushton cocked his head. “Let me see—death or marriage. Some choice, noble prince. You will go throughout your entire, miserable life not knowing for sure who thy true friends are. Oh, they will coddle thee, flatter thee, for you are the prince. They have to obey you … and so does she.”

Edward lunged at Rushton, but a lifetime of training took hold, and Rushton neatly sidestepped the assault. Both seasoned fighters, they knew this dance well. They had trained side by side—had learned everything together.

“You have never been my friend!” Edward said. “I hate you for what you have done to her … to me.”

“That first day you saw her ... at the Parade of Maidens. Did you ever stop and think why she was there? She was there because of me. That day in the marketplace, did you stop to consider why she was wearing a daisy in her hair?” His voice rose. “Did you question what that daisy meant?”

“I will not stand here and listen to these lies!” He raised his sword and struck, but Rushton blocked it and then went for a strike. They kept hitting back and forth, making loud clanking sounds that reverberated around the walls of the cave.

“She was on an errand for my mother that day in the marketplace. The first day I met her, I offered her a daisy as a peace offering. The daisy became a symbol of our love for one other.”

Edward smirked. “Or a symbol that she simply likes daisies.” They moved around the cave with whip-like speed, metal meeting metal, each of them trying to get the upper hand, trying to find the right moment to go in for the kill. “Put down thy sword. We need to talk.”

Rushton looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “You want me to put down my sword so you can run me through, is that it?”

“Nay, I want thee to put down thy sword, so we can talk! See, here. I will put mine down first.” He backed away from Rushton and put down his sword, raising both arms. “See, I am unarmed.”

Rushton eyed him for a moment, trying to determine if this were a trick. The guards seemed just as surprised by the strange turn of events.

“Kill him now,” Jack urged.

Rushton lowered his sword. “I am listening.”

“We will fight a fair fight, befitting of the squire you once were and the prince I am. If you win, I will let thee go.”

“You will let me go, just like that?”

“Aye. If you win, which I highly doubt.”

Rushton smirked. “And if you win?”

“You will tell me once and for all whether or not you cast a love spell over her.”

Rushton mulled this over. “If I tell thee that I did not cast a spell over her then you will have her killed.” His eyes went hard. “Sorry, prince. No deal. I will not be the cause of her death.” He lifted his sword.