Awaken the Curse Read online

  “They’re spirits, milord. Phantoms.” Cade tossed his head in disgust, pushing back through the snow toward the tree line. “Children’s stories.”

  Katherine traced the descending symbols. “I can understand why the Imnada buried Lucan like a criminal upon his death. The man was a vicious monster with the blood of an entire race on his hands. But why erect such a lavish monument afterwards?”

  James’s attention shifted away from Cade, though she noticed a new tension stiffening his shoulders. “That I don’t know—yet.”

  “And what of the four disks? Does your research explain their importance?”

  “No, but I have a feeling the professor discovered the truth. If we find him, we find the answer.”

  She speared him with a cool look. “When, not if. When we find my father.”

  James’s expression revealed the truth she’d tried so hard to deny, but he simply nodded.

  “He’s not dead, James,” she asserted. “I’d feel it.”

  She started to walk away, but he grabbed her hand, his fingers threading with hers. “Our hearts can play us false, Katherine. We see what we want to see. I know that too well.”

  “He’s not dead. I—”

  “Sorry to break up your cozy chat, milord, but as we’re on the subject of the disk, I’d like you to be handing it over.”

  Katherine caught a quick flash of Cade’s aimed musket barrel and determined expression before James shoved her behind him, his hand falling to his pistol.

  “Don’t try it, milord. I don’t want to hurt you. Nor Miss Lacey neither. I just want the disk. That’s all.”

  James’s clenched hand fell to his side. “If I refuse?”

  Cade gave an annoyed shake of his head, a hard-jawed strain in his face as he motioned with the musket. “You end as the professor did when he didn’t heed my advice.”

  Katherine’s stomach twisted, her teeth chattering from more than the snow seeping through her heavy coat and damping her mittens. She threw herself toward Cade as if she might rip his head off. “No!”

  Cade fired, the bullet smashing into the obelisk above them, slivers of stone spraying like shrapnel. James shoved Katherine to the ground as he slid free his pistol, squeezing off his own shot.

  Cade lurched backward, blood spattering the snow. He tossed his musket aside, drawing a knife from his belt. “The disk, Duncallan,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Run, Katherine!” James shouted.

  She bolted from the obelisk’s shadow just as Cade lunged, his blade aimed low.

  Wrenching himself sideways, James avoided being gutted by a hairsbreadth, the blade slashing a jagged tear down his sleeve. He struck back, landing a fist to Cade’s jaw, another to his stomach. The two slipped, falling in a tangle of arms and legs as they struggled for possession of the knife.

  Hiking up her skirts, Katherine slogged through the snow to the pony. She rummaged through the bags for something—anything—to use as a weapon. The most dangerous item was James’s metal spyglass. Perhaps a strong whack over the head would distract Cade long enough for James to gain the upper hand.

  Hands shaking, she retraced her steps. By now James was a bloody mess, one eye swollen closed, a gash down his cheek. But it was Cade who froze her in place. His face seemed different somehow—his cheekbones more pronounced, his jaw longer, and his eyes burning with an iridescent light as he forced James’s arm back.

  She shook off her fear with her fancy as she gripped the spyglass. Sweat splashed across her back and up her legs and her heart thrashed against her ribs, but letting her fury take root, she drew in a steadying breath and hoisted the heavy tube over her head. Ready . . . aim . . .

  “Fool!” Cade whipped around, fangs glinting from bared lips.

  With a cry, Katherine recoiled. One step. Two. She stumbled. Her boots caught in her coat, dragging her down, the spyglass lost in the deep snow. At the same moment, James heaved himself up, knocking Cade off-balance. His fist slammed into the man’s face over and over, giving him no time to respond and no time to recover until he lay limp and bloody in the churned snow.

  For a long moment James remained on hands and knees, head lowered, sucking in deep ragged breaths. Blood dripped from his face into the snow, with more smeared across his cheeks like war paint.

  Katherine rushed to help him to his feet. “Are you hurt? Did he stab you?”

  Wincing, James straightened, a hand against his ribs. “I’ll survive—I think.”

  Shudders wracked her body and she turned her stricken gaze to Cade. “He had fangs, James. He’s one of them. A nightwalker.”

  “You’re imagining things, Katherine,” he wheezed.

  But she barely heard him over the roaring in her ears, her temples throbbing in time to the thrashing of her heart. “Enid was right. The nightwalkers killed Father. Cade is one of them.” She kicked Cade’s unconscious body. “Bastard! Murderer! Filthy son of a bitch! Why? What did he ever do to you?” She kicked him again, her voice shrill and frightened. “Answer me!” She lashed out with fists and boots, her fury consuming her, tears burning her eyes. “Answer me, damn you! What have you done with him?”

  Hands grabbed her. A voice spoke to her from beyond the crackling buzz in her head. “Katie, love. Easy.”

  “Let go of me. Let go!” She struggled to free herself, but the arms tightened, the quiet voice a constant refrain pulling her back from the chasm of her despair.

  “Stop, Katherine. It won’t bring him back.”

  As quickly as the rage took her over, it faded away, leaving her limp, muscles as shaky and sore as if she’d run a mile.

  James pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her, the scents of sandalwood and leather and pine all caught in the folds of the heavy wool of his overcoat, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”

  She looked up to see sorrow and sympathy mingled in his stare. “Father’s dead, James. It’s true. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true.”

  “We’ll truss Cade to a tree for now. On our way home, we can stop in at the Hall. One of Monsieur d’Espe’s men can come collect Cade and hold him there until a constable can be sent for.”

  Katherine eyed the man’s limp form, his face swollen and bloodied but without any hint of the changes she was sure she’d seen. Had she imagined it? Had her rage conjured fanged monsters where none existed? “Father was no threat to anyone. Why would he kill him? None of it makes sense.”

  “Perhaps a search of his pockets will give us some answers.” He rummaged through Cade’s coat. “Here, now, what’s this?” He pulled free a small notched glass disk. “Interesting.”

  “It’s like yours.” She felt her eyes drawn once more to the forbidding starkness of the obelisk, the empty holes where the four disks were meant to fit.

  “Aye, but this one doesn’t have the runes.” He closed his eyes as if concentrating. “And it feels different—almost as if there’s a sentient aura woven within the glass.”

  “The thing’s alive?”

  James opened his eyes as he pocketed the disk. “I’ve no idea, but I’d wager Cade can tell us when he comes to. It’ll be one of a very long list of questions.”

  * * *

  James glanced at the stunted elm with something approaching loathing; its crooked branches heavy with snow, a bird’s abandoned nest in an upper bough. He hated every bloody inch of it.

  “We passed that tree three times already. We’re lost,” Katherine said, giving voice to James’s worry. “And the snow is getting heavier.”

  An understatement. Already it billowed and swirled in an icy wind that covered their tracks almost as soon as they made them. If they didn’t find the road for the Hall, they’d lose what little light remained. And if they thought wandering the mountain now was bad, doing it in the dark during a blizzard would be damned impossible.

  “We’ll backtrack to the last trail,” he encouraged. “It’s sure to head east toward
the ford.”

  But even as they guided the weary pony back the way they’d come, a silver-laced mist rose up to mingle with the flying snow until he had to squint to see even a few measly paces ahead. The wind sliced through his heavy coat, chilling the sweat dampening his shirt to his back. It moaned over the crags to merge with the rush of a nearby river on its way downstream. The pony sidled and tossed its head on the narrow track. Stones clattered into the ravine on their right, while the mountainside on their left rose in a sheer granite wall. One wrong step and they’d plunge over the edge.

  Katherine looked back, her face white against the black night, eyes hollowed with fatigue and loss.

  “A little farther,” James called. “We’re almost to the bottom.” I hope, he added silently.

  She nodded and continued the infuriatingly slow shuffle that had served them this far. After what seemed an eternity, they rounded a bend leading into a deep ravine. The wind dropped in the shelter of the high surrounding hills, the river emerging in a frothy torrent from a cleft in the rock face. They paused to draw a breath, say a prayer, and draw their coats tighter about their shoulders.

  That’s when the howl cut through the silence like a knife.

  The pony reared at the end of its lead, its eyes rolling white in terror.

  “Easy, boy,” James soothed.

  The howl came again. A low, mournful sound lifting the hairs at the back of James’s neck and freezing the blood in his veins. In a blind panic, the pony tore free of James’s grasp, wheeling in a circle to disappear into the storm.

  “Damn,” James cursed as he scanned the dark, every sense on alert.

  “What was that?” Katherine shuddered, hugging her arms to her chest.

  “Probably an owl,” he lied.

  It was absolutely not a nightwalker. They didn’t exist. The Imnada had died out over a thousand years ago. They were dry text on a page and weatherworn runes on a stone, not living, breathing monsters that would rip your heart out and gnaw on your brain. And if he repeated this enough, he just might convince himself.

  “It didn’t sound like any owl I’ve ever heard,” Katherine said, glancing around her.

  “You’re an ornithologist now?” James blustered, attempting to sound confident. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll look for a place to rest and wait for morning.”

  They continued on, the impenetrable mist thinning in some places, collecting in others, so that James had the eerie sensation of being shepherded by invisible hands. He strained to hear the ghostly cry again over the roar of the wind, but there was nothing beyond his heavy breathing, the rapid beating of his heart, and the deafening clack of his teeth.

  Just when he thought they’d have to settle for a frozen huddle beneath a heavy stand of trees, the mist parted like a curtain, revealing a blackened tumble of stones. “Up ahead. It’s a ruin of some sort. We’ll make camp there.”

  And pray that whatever had made that unholy howl wasn’t what he feared it was.

  * * *

  “Fageth a-dhesh aysk. Golest a-dhesh tewath. Enowot,” James whispered over the pile of kindling, conjured flames dancing higher as the spell took hold to cast wild shadows over the walls of the dilapidated stone chamber. The air slowly warmed. Heat melted the snow on Katherine’s hair and thawed her muscles, but it never reached the frozen emptiness within her. She remained numb as the reality of her father’s death sank in.

  A hand touched her shoulder, her cheek. Father’s face became James’s, a worried frown creasing his forehead as he knelt beside her. “Katherine? Are you well? I’ve warded the perimeter. That should offer us protection.”

  Hot tears slid down her cheeks to slip salty between her lips. “He’s dead.” Her voice cracked, her breath coming in great jagged gasps. “Cade killed him.”

  James pushed her hair behind her ears and threaded his fingers through her long locks. “We’ll get through it, Katie love. You’re not alone. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

  If only it were true. If only he meant it. Still, his voice soothed the tempest churning her insides, his keen-edged stare heating the cold, empty place in her heart. She wanted to outrun the desperation nipping at her heels, crushing loss a step behind. If she stopped—if she thought—the horrible truth would consume her.

  She reached for James, caressing the hard angle of his jaw, the combination of stubble and bruising that darkened his chin, the ugly cut on his left cheek. Her heart turned over in her chest as she stared deep into eyes that had always seen straight to her every fear and hope. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his. “Please. Hold me close. Keep me warm.”

  * * *

  This was wrong. Very wrong. Wrong for more reasons than he could count. Katherine came to him out of grief and pain and fear. He was supposed to be a gentleman, or so his title implied, though with Katherine’s body pressed enticingly against his, all gallantry and honor had dissolved into bone-throbbing lust.

  She pushed a hand inside his coat, laying it upon his chest where his breathing quickened and his heart thundered under her palm. Gods, help him, he wanted her. To hell with noble intentions and morning-after regrets.

  The plain, unvarnished truth smacked him between the eyes; it had never been the lure of the Imnada drawing him to this remote part of Wales. It had been all Katherine. The shape of her face and the sweetness of her mouth. The smell of her skin and the curve of her back. Her sense of humor, quiet loyalty, and irritating mother-hen tendencies. He’d spent five years getting over her. Thought he’d managed to finally lock those memories away—yet, like a drunkard when offered a taste, he’d been unable to help himself.

  As he wrestled with his swill-pot conscience, the kiss spun deeper and longer, every inch of him on fire, nerves scraped raw with longing. With his last ounce of integrity, he pulled away, gasping like a half-drowned swimmer. “We can’t, Katherine. You’re in shock. You don’t mean it. You’re not thinking straight.”

  And he wasn’t thinking at all.

  Her eyes burned dark and hot. For a woman not thinking straight, she looked awfully intense. “You’re wrong. I’m not scared. Not of you.”

  “By the gods, you should be scared. Especially of me.”

  “We can pretend it’s just as we once dreamed it would be. You and me and nothing between us. Or do you no longer want me?”

  Was she mad? Every screaming cell in his body wanted her. Repeatedly.

  She pulled his head down to hers, giving him no time to question her further. No time for him to come to his senses. Not that he fought that hard. He was lost to those honey-sweet lips that could turn a man’s innards to jelly. Dizzy with the southward rush of blood to his already rock-hard groin as her pliant body curved against him.

  Even so, if he really tried, he could come to his senses and stop now. It would be damn painful and probably leave permanent scars, but a brisk walk in the snowstorm outside might cool his overheated libido. It would be best. It would be right.

  Then she dragged his coat from his shoulders and pulled his shirt from his breeches, and the last noble intention was ground to dust beneath an avalanche of baser emotions. With a groan, he surrendered, his tongue plunging within to take all she offered, his hands full of her long red hair.

  Katherine Lacey had been his once upon a time. She would be his again. There was nothing to stop him.

  * * *

  She felt the moment James gave in, the second he reached his point of no return, hesitation changing to hunger. It should have frightened her, this single-minded power stringing his muscles and hardening his gaze. Instead delicious heat seared its way through her body, chasing away the shadows that lurked, the endless days that lay like a wasteland ahead of her.

  Closing her eyes, she ignored the future, concentrating on the present. On James’s hands as they caressed the slopes of her shoulders, the curves of her breasts. On the shivery trembling in her limbs as he lay a trail of kisses behind her ear, down her throat, inside her elbow, the center
of her palm.

  Behind her, the fire blazed up in a shower of sparks, the air growing warm and fragrant with flowers. She opened her eyes to discover walls of rough-hewn stone shimmering into flawless white marble that rose into the arch of a domed and frescoed ceiling, thick carpets where once she stood upon cold, damp earth, an enormous bed hung with damask curtains, a silken coverlet drawn aside to reveal linen sheets.

  “How can this be?” she gasped.

  A sheepish smile broke over his rugged face. “Fires are not all I can conjure. And I told you I spent much of our years apart in study. I just didn’t happen to say what sort of study.”

  “Is it real?”

  “Like the jewel I offered you, for tonight, it’s as real as you or I. But come the dawn, the magic will burn away like dew before the sun.” The flecks of gold within his unyielding gaze gleamed brighter and brighter until she saw nothing beyond the brilliance within his eyes. When he finally blinked, she caught back a breath. Gone were their heavy winter coats, mufflers, and boots. Vanished were layers of damp woolens and cold stockings. James wore a velvet embroidered banyan sashed at the waist, while she felt the slide of perfumed silk against her bare skin.

  “Tell me, Katherine,” he asked quietly. “Is this truly what you want?”

  She reached up to cup his cheek, half expecting him to disappear in a flash of Fey-born magic. “It is.”

  “Then who am I to deny you?” He gathered her into his arms and took her to bed. The mattress sank beneath her weight, the scents of lavender rising around her like springtime. And James above her, his face etched in stark, chiseled angles by the light of the fire.

  Tapes pulled loose, buttons undone, he guided her free of her gown, his hands and then his mouth sweeping away her embarrassment. She wanted his touch, yearned for it. Would die without the feel of his fingers gliding across her skin, his tongue dancing over her heated flesh.