Fascinated Page 11

  The blood drained from Hester’s cheeks. Alicia’s enchantment was broken? Impossible. She would have felt it. “You’re lying.”

  The Fae King’s hand settled onto the hilt of the golden sword he wore, and the light from his eyes seared Hester’s skin.

  “Just this once I will bear your insult, and only because it will be amusing to see your face when you learn the truth.” He sketched a sign upon the air.

  The night tore like cloth and Hester did see. She saw a dim apartment, and she saw Alicia in the arms of her betrothed Lord Carstairs. All at once, Alicia cried out in fear and pain, and, with her own hand, tore the amulet from her throat.

  “No,” whispered Hester. The white knight smiled and closed his fist. The vision vanished. Hester meant to call him out on his lie again, but she could not. Every fiber of her being told her she had been shown the truth.

  It took all her strength of will to rally her calm once more, but she lifted her head. This creature must not see her disconcerted.

  “Alicia is nothing to you. You lost hold of her. You have no more claim here.” Hester turned her back on the pale king.

  “But I do have a claim,” he said. “And you know it. You have unlawfully held on to what was mine.”

  Hester’s temper shattered. “Alicia was not yours!” she cried, striking the flagstones with her cane.

  It was a mistake and she knew it, because the king only laughed. “Oh, I was right. You are most amusing when you are confounded, dear Hester.” That laughter faded as swiftly as it had appeared. “Alicia came with me freely, and freely pledged me her loyalty.”

  “She was a child!”

  He shrugged. “She accepted my hospitality. She ate my food and drank from my cup and freely promised to stay with me. It was your sister and brother-in-law who took her without my consent, and you helped conceal her.”

  Hester stood silent. She remembered Constance kneeling at her feet, already dying of fever and starvation. She had walked far beyond her own limits, and drained her husband and herself to their bones to retrieve their daughter. That same daughter who was tied down to her bed, weeping and screaming like a mad thing.

  Please, Hester, cried Constance from memory. You must help her! I know I’ve done wrong. But she’s my daughter, Hester, your great-niece. She’s a Hartwell. Please.

  For just one moment, Hester had forgotten Constance was a traitor. She instead saw her niece as she had been before she met her seducer and forgot her duty to her family. Hester had weakened, and she’d agreed to try to save the child.

  And here was the price of that fleeting weakness.

  “The law is with me,” said the king, his voice cold and remorseless. “You must return her, or I may take my lawful vengeance on the house that holds her. Unless…” He smiled, and it was as sharp as the edge of a butcher’s knife. “You will provide another forfeit to me? Perhaps you would even enjoy that, Hester?”

  Emotion assailed her, burning joy, bright, aching need. If she went with the Fae King, she would be made young, whole and beautiful. She would have all the love and laughter and beauty that mortal flesh could possibly desire. With a single touch, he could bring to life the longings she had suppressed for so many years, and then satisfy them all. The promise battered at Hester’s thoughts and tried to set its hooks into her heart even through the amulet’s shield.

  Hester swayed on her feet, and took one step forward, and held. “Never,” she croaked.

  “Then you must return Alicia to me,” said the king. “It is your choice. But I am owed a Hartwell life, and I am not in a mood to be kept waiting.”

  In an eyeblink he was gone. Slowly, thankful there was none to see, Hester turned. Her hands had gone cold and she could not feel her feet anymore. Leaning heavily on her cane, she limped through the darkened garden back to the house.

  By the time she returned to her rooms, Hester had regained her composure. She was also sure what had happened.

  The maid answered the bell promptly when Hester rang.

  “Fetch my sisters.”

  The girl left and Hester sat down before the fire banked in her hearth. Methodically, she uncovered the coals and poked up the flames. She lit the oil lamp with a spill from the crock on the mantel. Her movements were unhurried and precise; her face remained blank and still.

  Hester’s life was bound by duty. She had sacrificed all other feeling to it. She, along with Eugenia and weak, foolish Mary, were the chosen protectors of the Hartwell line. This responsibility had been laid down for them more than a hundred years ago. Each child born to the Hartwell line had to be examined at birth for magical potential. Each infant who exhibited such potential had to be wiped clean, lest they draw the fear of men and the attention of the Fae down upon the family. Only three members of each generation were allowed to keep possession of their magical powers. Each of those three was given an amulet to help and hide them. Hester was the Sorceress of her generation. Constance, who was her niece and Alicia’s mother, had been destined to be her heir. Hester had raised and trained the girl herself, and in the end had been lightly and carelessly betrayed.

  Hester remembered the day Constance eloped. The stupid girl left a letter behind, declaring she would marry whom she chose, and raise her children “free” to understand the gifts of their true natures. Mother had read it out loud as Hester, Eugenia and Mary huddled in front of the hearth in her room. Hester had wanted to curse Constance down, but Mother had raised her hand against it. Constance would find her own curse, she said. She threw the letter in the fire, and Constance’s name had never been mentioned again.

  Mother had been wise. Constance had come crawling back, howling that the man she called her husband was dead. The Fae had taken little Alicia as one of their playthings, as they did with human children from time to time, especially human children who had a talent for magic. The man had died helping to reclaim the child. Now Constance had Alicia back, but Alicia was stark, raving mad, and she too was dying.

  Constance had begged the ones she had betrayed for help, begged on her knees. It was to save Alicia’s sanity as much as to hide her from the Fae that Hester and Eugenia had bound her with the strongest of the family’s amulets.

  Hester’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the glowing coals. It seemed that Constance was not the only traitor among the Hartwells.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Enter.” Hester set down the poker and picked up her cane.

  Eugenia came first. Her beady gaze darted this way and that, as if searching for an intruder in the shadows. Mary, of course, was a disaster, with damp eyes, a trembling mouth and her smelling salts wrapped in the lace kerchief she was forever clutching.

  “Hester, dear.” Mary’s voice quivered as badly as her sagging chin. “Wh-what is the matter?”

  “Alicia’s binding has broken.” Hester leveled her gaze directly on Mary.

  “You’re certain?” asked Eugenia. Mary just pressed the damp handkerchief to her mouth.

  “Whatever is the matter, Mary?” Hester asked evenly. “Weren’t you expecting it so soon?”

  “I? Expecting this? Hester, how can you say such a thing?”

  Another person might have shouted at this point, but Hester dropped her voice down to a whisper. “How long did you think you could lie to me?”

  “But I never!” whimpered Mary. “Hester, you know me! I’m such a ninny! Even if the thought entered into my head, I’ve never been able to lie to you.”

  “So I thought. That’s why I didn’t quiz you about your foreseeing when we had to determine if it was safe to let Alicia live. Use the amulet. That will keep her and the family safe.” Hester sneered. “That was what you told us, I believe? I should have seen that for the lie it was. Not your usual style at all. Far too direct.”

  “Are you saying you made a mistake, Hester?” inquired Eugenia, and Hester was sure she did not imagine the hint of relish in her sister’s voice.

  “Yes. I was deceived.” Hester rose to her feet, tow
ering over Mary, who squeaked again and shrank back in her chair. “You’re a liar and a traitor to your family, Mary Hartwell.”

  “No, Hester. Never that. I only…” But she clamped her fat, damp lips shut around the words.

  “You only what?”

  She thought her sister would try lying again, but to Hester’s surprise, Mary grasped hold of her smelling salts, and what little courage her fat frame held, with both hands. “Hester, it’s not right. Times have changed. It’s not right that we’re wounding the whole family.”

  “You think times have changed, do you?” snapped Hester. “Perhaps you think we’re all safe? What’s happening now, after all? The Fae are only preparing for invasion, and that man who now calls himself Captain Smith has only sent his agent into our home to ferret out our secrets, which you, you stupid thing, have handed over to him!” Hester felt her voice rise and she pulled back, fighting for calm. No good would come of a display. It was undignified and unnecessary. “What was the true prophecy regarding Alicia?” Hester’s demanded. “What did you really see?”

  Mary’s watery eyes slid sideways to Eugenia, but there would be no help there. Eugenia took no risks and knew no real loyalty. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone with her books and her letters. Because Eugenia did as she was told, Hester was happy to oblige.

  Seeing Eugenia remain stone-faced, Mary dropped her gaze to her hands where they clutched the bottle and the kerchief.

  “I won’t.”

  “What was that, Mary?” Hester took a step forward. “Hold your head up. I did not hear you.”

  Mary lifted her head. Her chin quivered again, and Hester was forced to conceal her surprise. For in Mary’s moist blue eyes waited something she had never seen there before: defiance.

  “I won’t tell you,” Mary said, her words soft but steady. “I know I’m only a fat old fool, and I know the reason you haven’t done for me like you have the rest of the family is that I’m the only Seer to been born to us in the last fifty years. But you’re wrong, Hester. This isn’t the hanging times. We don’t have to wipe the magic out of the children. They could be their own protectors and find their own destinies. They would be strong enough if we taught them properly.”

  Anger crackled through Hester. She stalked forward. Mary cringed backward so far, she lost her balance and plopped into the wooden chair with another squeak.

  “You will stop that horrid noise!” thundered Hester, which only made Mary try to duck behind her hanky-wrapped bottle. Patience finally gone, Hester struck the ridiculous object from her hands, sending the bottle spinning and spraying violet water across the room.

  “What. Did. You. See? What is Alicia’s true prophecy?”

  Mary clenched her eyes and mouth shut and shook her head.

  “Eugenia.” Hester held out her hand.

  “Eugenia, you can’t do this,” Mary babbled. “Please. Not this.”

  But Eugenia shrugged and laid her hand into Hester’s palm. “You’ve brought it on yourself, Mary.”

  Magic rushed into Hester’s veins, quickening her tired heart and renewing her understanding of her power and purpose. Mary sobbed freely now, and she actually tried to dart between them, but Hester grabbed the collar of her nightdress and hauled her back into the chair. She wrapped her bony hand around Mary’s plump neck and forced her chin up, catching and holding Mary’s pitiful weeping gaze.

  Intent formed in Hester’s mind. She knew exactly what to do. Hester took the magic Eugenia funneled toward her and shaped its power into a knife blade. She stabbed that blade deep into Mary’s weak mind to split it open. Then she stepped inside.

  Mary’s mind was a pathetic place. Her tiny thoughts fluttered about like moths caught in a whirlwind—vain loves, silly hopes, childish distractions. Hester caught them one by one, examining each before tossing it away. At last, back in the dark, she found what she was looking for. Hester caught up the trembling thought, forced it open, and looked close.

  Mary was looking down into the silver waters of a scrying bowl. Hester saw herself leaning over Mary’s shoulder. From Mary’s point of view, the candlelight gave her face a gargoyle’s shape.

  “Well?” As Mary heard it, Hester’s voice was harsh as any crow’s. “What do you see? If Alicia lives, do I…Do the Hartwells remain safe?”

  Mary was strangely calm. She liked the seeing. It was the only time she felt whole, the only time she understood who she was.

  This one thing I will do, Mary was thinking. It may be the last thing I ever do, but at least I will have tried.

  “Well?” Hester heard herself croak as if from a great distance. “If she lives, are we still safe?”

  But that was not the question Mary formed with her power.

  How do I free Alicia? Mary shaped the words of intent and of power. How do I free us?

  And there it was. Constance’s betrayal had infected Mary. Mary, like Constance, had abandoned her duty to the family safety. Mary had taken up this fool’s dream of freedom. As if anyone with the curse of magic in their blood could ever be free. They would always be in danger, from the Fae or from men like Smith, who wanted to make use of their power. For them, there was only vigilance, only the constant work of keeping the family safe from those who would use them, and destroy them.

  The silver waters in Mary’s bowl swirled and trembled, although no hand touched them. A thousand images, a thousand voices, invaded Hester’s mind. Her consciousness shuddered and shrank back under the assault. She saw Alicia, but it was as if all the moments of her life were piled on top of each other. She was a girl, a maiden, a mother, an ancient woman, but not just once; a hundred times. A thousand. It was too much and too fast. But Mary held. This was what Mary’s power as Seeress allowed her to not just withstand but also comprehend.

  A voice lifted up above the cacophony. It was Mary’s voice, but not the weak, cringing whine that Hester knew. This was Mary as she might have been, calm and confident.

  Let her be kept from sight. Let her be lost to herself until she finds her match with the scion of the Carstairs land. If their love shall prove true, then the children of Hartwell will be freed.

  “Well?” Hester heard herself croak again. She felt her own breath oddly cold on the back of Mary’s neck. “Are we safe if we let her live?”

  “It…it says we should use the amulet,” answered Mary slowly, because she was trying to think of the best way to form her lie. “It says that will keep her and the family safe. It says…it says she can even be safely married.”

  Hester drew herself back out of Mary’s mind until she was fully returned to her own body and her own room. Mary had not weathered the opening of her mind well. Her head lolled sideways and plump hands dangled at her sides as she struggled to catch her breath. Her lips twitched restlessly.

  “You were right, Mary,” said Hester. “It will be the last thing you ever do.” She raised her hand.

  But to her surprise, Eugenia spoke. “You’ll leave us without a Seer.”

  Of course, as Catalyst, Eugenia had felt Hester’s intent take shape and had shared her visions. “We can do well enough without Mary’s lies. One of the children will be brought up to serve.”

  “By whom, Hester? Mary was right about one thing. There hasn’t been a Seer born to us for fifty years. You and I could well be dead before the next one arrives.”

  Slowly, Hester lowered her hand. Just as slowly, she turned to face her other sister. “Are you questioning my judgment now, Eugenia?”

  Eugenia pulled herself up straighter, but Hester did not miss the fear underlying that small gesture. “Certainly not.”

  “Good, because Mary did not think to conceal the next Catalyst from me. Verity will come fully into her gift in another year. We have only ever needed one Catalyst.”

  Eugenia made no reply and Hester turned her attention back to Mary. She drew the magic from Eugenia, but this time instead of shaping it into a knife blade, she twisted it into a rope.

  “C
urse you, Mary Hartwell,” Hester whispered, winding her noose around her sister’s spirit. “Curse you for your treachery. Curse you for your foolishness. Fire take you for each lie you told, for each false prophecy you gave. Fire take you and burn you slow.”

  Hester knotted the magic, and pulled it tight.

  Ten

  Edward opened his eyes to darkness and a sense of contentment. A warm, soft weight shifted beside him, and memory came flooding back. Carefully, he extricated his arm from around Alicia. She stirred and stretched beneath the covers, but did not wake.

  A sliver of moonlight seeped around the room’s heavy draperies. It glinted on the dark gold curls tumbling across Alicia’s cheeks and around her shoulders. As Carstairs’s eyes adjusted to the faint illumination, he saw how sleep smoothed and softened her features. She retained only a hint of a smile about her full lips, as if her dreams were sweet ones.

  So I hope they may be. Edward sat himself up and rested his forearms on his knees. Just looking at her brought the memory of their tempestuous lovemaking to the front of his mind, allowing him to savor again the feel of her mouth, her lush curves, her willingness to be carried along by her desire. A new lover was always a delight, but Alicia had been more than that. She’d followed him unafraid into the new world of erotic desire. She’d trusted him with her body and her freshly discovered passions.

  The problem was, neither of them knew who “she” really was. He’d gone to bed with strangers before, but never like this. Alicia had never known her own deepest spirit, not even in the common way of a girl growing up. She’d never felt the joy and the ache that were the heritage of the human heart, let alone the boundless possibilities of desire. Those were all yet to be explored by her, and Edward found the idea both intriguing and a little frightening.

  He had to admit he enjoyed discovering this Alicia Hartwell far more than the virago who had thrown things at him and jabbed him with a hat pin. Although, if he stopped to consider it, that Alicia was admirable in her own way. She’d kept her head and made an excellent attempt at escape. If she hadn’t been so at war with herself, she might even have succeeded.