Old Magic (22 page)

“What!” Jarrod hisses.

“An injustice was done to me many years ago by your father. He stole my lady, persuading her against me with cowardly lies and outrageous rumors. Bringing me your wife is recompense. What was once stolen will now be returned.” Here he glances pointedly at me, and a chilling smile spreads slowly across his face. “What a delightful addition you will make to Blacklands, Lady Katherine. Just like Eloise would have.”

“You have it wrong,” I try to tell him, dread settling tightly in my chest. “I’m not a replacement for Eloise.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he denies. “All is going as it should. I knew this day would come.”

“Katherine is not staying here!”

Jarrod is losing it, fast. I tug on his arm and whisper, “Don’t fall for it, he’s only goading you. He wants to test your powers.”

Rhauk laughs and says smugly, “Clever, Kate. But you’re only half right.”

I yank Jarrod backward, away from the raw energy emanating from Rhauk. “We’d better leave.”

Jarrod calms a little at this idea and nods.

But Rhauk hasn’t finished playing with us. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Why, I haven’t told you my plans yet. Isn’t this why you came?”

Just as he knew it would, his words stop our retreat. I breathe in deeply, my nerves rattling on a dangerous edge.

Once he’s sure of our attention Rhauk explains. “Jarrod’s fears for his family are certainly not unfounded. Right now, in the solar tower, I am preparing a frightful curse. Every seventh-born Thorntyne son will know its wrath from now to eternity. Fools they will be, born clumsy, while evil and misfortune will befall every member of their family.”

“So,” I try to gain a little more specific information. “This curse you speak of is not complete yet?”

He pauses, his eyes staring straight through me, like he’s deciding on his answer. Then he says, “Alas, it lacks but one ingredient. The sweet root of a winter-flowering herb.”

Since it’s late autumn we have only a little time to act. We’ll have to use it wisely, somehow find a way into the tower, destroy the brewing curse, then deal with Rhauk so that he won’t brew another curse. Just how hard this will be is anyone’s guess. At least now we have a starting point.

It’s time to leave.

Jarrod is just as keen. He takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth. Against the back of my palm he mumbles, “Let’s get out of here, fast.”

We make to move toward the spiraling staircase, but the look on Rhauk’s face stops us. His pupils have done a full dilation. I wonder what’s caused this stunned reaction. His unblinking eyes drift down to where Jarrod is still holding my hand.

“We’re leaving, Rhauk,” Jarrod says into the chilling silence.

Rhauk blinks and seems to regather his senses. “Oh, but you can’t leave without a parting gift.”

As he speaks a heavy wooden door slams shut the entrance to the stairwell, blocking our retreat. The thundering sound echoes through the empty corridors. Startled, we glance back at Rhauk, in time to see him throw a shimmering silver ball high into the air. The ball explodes, the entire area surrounding us fills with silver and light as thousands of tiny shards of sharply pointed, needlelike projectiles fall around us in an eerie shower. I try to protect my face with my arm, but the needles are plentiful and sharp.

They sting, piercing the skin, right through our garments. “Jarrod, do something!”

He screams back, “What, Kate! How do I fight this?”

I shield my eyes while trying to look up at him, pleading with him to realize his gift and use its powers. “You can stop this, Jarrod! Reach inside!”

He stares at me, openmouthed, his head shaking. “I don’t know how. . . .”

He can’t help. It’s what Rhauk wants, to see for himself, to measure Jarrod’s weakness.

I glance up quickly to see if there’s any end in sight to the silver rain. I try to tell myself it’s just magic, it’s just an illusion, but blood is now staining my long-sleeved tunic and my scalp is stinging from the needles lodged there. There is so much silver light the entire room is glowing with this strange unnatural energy. And in this moment of understanding I realize that Rhauk will stop at nothing to have his revenge. A revenge on his half-brother for stealing the girl he loved, and his deceased father for not acknowledging his rightful heritage. He will even resort to murder, if Jarrod or I stand in his way.

I hate him for this. And I can’t just stand here and do nothing, letting Rhauk get it all his own way. Jarrod may not be in a position to use his gift, but nothing is stopping me. So, not thinking of the risks I take exposing my knowledge of magic to this dangerous man, I straighten in the face of the shower of silver needles and lay my arms gently by my side. I concentrate deeply, slowing my breathing and trying to ignore the stinging pain. In my mind I see the silver projectiles change into harmless shapes, their pointed ends softening, curving, molding, floating.

Before I’m even aware that my trick has worked, I hear Jarrod’s sharp intake of breath. Opening my eyes, I blink to clear my vision, put my hands out and watch, unable to stop a smile forming as, instead of the shower of silver needles, hundreds of white dove feathers drift around me, collecting in my open palms.

When I look up, I realize sickeningly that I’ve just made a fatal error. I’ve shown Rhauk something of my own powers. And now he will want me more than ever. The joy is written in his face. He starts clapping, ecstatically, both eyebrows rising half into his forehead.

When he stops clapping he walks over and stands directly in my space, grinning, his eyes sparkling. “We will make a formidable couple, you and I, Lady Katherine.”

I shake my head wordlessly and step backward, avoiding eye contact.

He simply laughs. “Yes. Imagine it—your power and mine! The world will be ours. Who would dare! No one could better us!”

From my side Jarrod flinches. “She’s not staying with you!”

Rhauk stares at Jarrod. “In the end she will choose. To be fair, Jarrod, Kate must have an understanding of what could be hers, of what I can give her. She must glimpse both worlds.” He shifts his focus back to me quickly, catching my eyes before I have a chance to look away. His voice is velvet again, hypnotic. “Will you stay, Lady Katherine? Kate? Here, with me, at Blacklands?”

Jarrod stares at me, a kind of shocked look on his face. He’s wondering why I haven’t answered yet. Why I haven’t given an abrupt “No” to Rhauk’s outrageous proposal. He doesn’t understand that when Rhauk’s hypnotic eyes bore into mine, when Rhauk’s overwhelming energy swamps my senses, I can’t easily break this hold. And right now the pressure is intense. I blink several times quickly, it helps to draw me away from him. Finally the spell of his hold releases me.

I glance up at Jarrod, mentally drained, and say softly, “Take me home.”

He grabs my elbow, supporting me. “You heard her decision, Rhauk. Let us out.”

As the heavy wooden door creaks open, the black crow squawks and flies straight between us so that we have to duck to the side, coming to rest on Rhauk’s extended elbow. It’s eerie how it seems to look at us with scorn. I don’t have time to think about this, I just want to get out. The darkened staircase is so close now, allowing us a route of escape. Just before we reach it, Rhauk’s voice washes through us, chillingly, “You leave me no choice, my lady . . .”

I make my feet keep moving, though nothing can stop his words, as they chase us down the staircase. “I will have to come for you.” My entire body starts shaking, his words an ominous warning. “Watch the darkness, for I will be the shadow, coming for you.” And then, in a hushed sort of whisper, “Sleep tight, my lady.”

Sure. Just the thought of staying in Blacklands overnight with Rhauk terrifies me. At last in the bailey, I can’t hear his words anymore, but the image of his eyes, small, black, and cold, remains vividly clear. I wonder if I will ever sleep again.

Jarrod

Dinner at Blacklands with Rhauk really unnerved Kate. We’re on our way back to Thorntyne Keep and she’s quiet and sullen, her eyes huge ovals. She’s trembling all over, hands clasped tightly together in an attempt to stop the shaking. It doesn’t.

Lord Richard greets us in the bailey and walks us to the tower room as the rest of the castle sleeps. After telling him a little of our evening with Rhauk, content that we survived intact, he bids us good night. The servants have prepared the room, giving us a warm glowing fire.

Kate looks numb. With mechanical movements she sits on the bed, lifts her nightgown to her face, unconsciously inhaling the smell of it. Her eyes lift to mine. “You know you’re going to have to fight him.”

I stare at her. She means Rhauk and she has to be joking. “Are you crazy?”

She sighs a kind of weary disappointment. “Well, I can’t see any other way.”

“Really? So how exactly am I supposed to do this?” She knows just how incapable I am of fighting anyone, let alone Rhauk with his tricky magic. I cringe remembering tonight’s display with the needles. “Had I known your plan I would have brought along a semiautomatic machine gun.”

“This is not a joke, Jarrod.”

Her comment stings. “I know.” But I’m annoyed with myself more than with Kate. After all, she’s here for my sake. And I realize that I disappoint her. “I just don’t know what you expect of me.”

She groans, tugging the nightshirt up to her face again, this time completely burying her nose in it and taking a deep exhilarating breath. She does this sort of thing all the time, with the heavy drapes, or a tapestry on a wall, even the candleholders. This morning I saw her inhaling the scent of a washing bowl! She loves this era and she loves being here. I think it’s more than just the opportunity to live history. Maybe it’s because she has no history herself. Not knowing her mother, not even knowing who her father is.

Lowering the nightgown, Kate traces adoring fingers gently over the hand-stitched embroidery. “You have to acknowledge your gift.” Her eyes find mine across the room and her voice hardens. “Because you have to use your powers to defeat him!”

“Kate . . . Don’t start . . .”

She tosses the nightgown to the bed angrily. “How can you not believe in yourself after all we’ve been through? Look at where we are! A real-life castle in medieval Britain! Doesn’t that tell you something? You have to admit now that Jillian can perform magic and yes, there is a curse on you. You just spent the evening with the man who created it!” She pauses while I absorb this. “Stop and think, Jarrod. Let yourself believe. I’ve been right so far, all the way. Just maybe I’m right about your gift, too!”

I try to do what she says, let myself believe. But it’s just so hard. My life has been one hard knock after another, how can I suddenly start believing that I’m endowed with incredible magical powers? The idea is beyond me.

“Look,” she tries again. “It could be possible that you have inherited Rhauk’s own powers.”

I glance at her earnestly. What is she saying?

“That could make you at least as powerful, if not more so. The possibility is there.”

“Why Rhauk?”

She looks exasperated. “Remember your father’s heritage book. You are directly descended from these people. If Rhauk did kidnap Lionel’s young bride and seduced or raped her, and you descended from that union . . .” She lets the rest fade.

It’s enough though to make me see what she means. There is sorcery in my ancestry. I saw it tonight with my own eyes. “God, you could be right.”

She smiles, motions for me to turn around. While I do. I hear her changing into her nightgown. When I turn around she’s climbed into bed. The fire is dying and the air is getting chilly. I change briskly and climb in beside her.

This time something’s different. She doesn’t cringe or anything, neither does she roll toward the farthest side of the bed. I don’t think she wants to be alone tonight. Rhauk really shook her up. And if it’s just company she’s after, someone to comfort her when the fire dies and the shadows lengthen, then that’s fine with me.

So we sit with our backs against the magnificently carved timber headpiece, quietly aware of each other but in a comfortable way. “If I do have these powers, how would I, um, tap into them?”

She lifts my hand between both of hers. Her fingers are warm. “All you have to do is concentrate.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

Kate’s lips curve downward. “Well, it’s not really. It takes time and a lot of practice. You have to train. Hard.”

This makes sense, only I wonder just how much time do we have?

I feel her probe, gently at first, inside my head. She’s trying to sense my feelings. It will be easy to feel the doubts and fears. Her probe deepens. I reach a point where I want to block her, and this realization suddenly hits me—I’ve blocked her before, and Jillian said that most people can’t even tell Kate is in their heads. I can, and I can block her if I want to. Is this proof that I have abilities beyond the norm?

I look into her eyes and feel her probe deepen. She doesn’t look away, and the moment becomes intense. It’s an amazing feeling, having Kate in my head, sensing my emotions while maintaining eye contact. It’s like we’re naked or something, our emotional secrets lying bare to each other’s observation. Wordlessly we continue to share our feelings. And the intensity increases.

Finally she speaks, and her voice is croaky. “You’d better kiss me.”

I nod and swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

We kiss and slide down the pillows and keep kissing, forgetting everything—where we are, when we are, what we’re supposed to be doing here. Kate feels fantastic. I acknowledge on some higher level that we are made for each other.

“Jarrod,” she murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“I’m afraid.”

Her words make me stop. For starters, they’re so out of character. Kate is always in control, even when she’s upset or angry. She never loses her head. I understand she’s really worried. She’s thinking of Rhauk’s parting words. I wish there was something I could say to make her feel better, safer. I glance up into her face. Her beautiful crystalline eyes look large and frightened. She reminds me of a newborn foal, all wobbly legs and unsure of itself. Her pale skin is even paler than usual, almost translucent in the dying light of the fire. I lightly brush my lips across her eyelids, her cheeks, overwhelmed with a fierce feeling of wanting to protect.