One More Haunted Evening Read online

  Lila nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “A little help, Braden,” Quent said, reaching out to the rigid man. But when he touched his arm, the vicar’s head slowly fell back into place, and his now black eyes burned with a frightening glare.

  “Step away from me!” The vicar’s voice practically made the walls shake. “Insidious invader.”

  Tilly and her sister gasped in unison, and Sidney drew Tilly closer to him. Good God, what the devil was going on?

  The elder Miss Southward took a step toward her father. “Papa?” she asked, a hand on her heart. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Be gone, whore,” he said, his dark eyes boring into poor Lila Southward as if he could actually burn a hole through her. “Be gone all of you.”

  “Now see here.” Quent stepped past Lila towards the vicar—or whoever he was. “I won’t allow you to talk to your daughter like that. I—”

  The vicar lifted his arm and sent Quent flying across the room. His friend’s body pounded against the wall and then slithered to the floor before anyone could do anything about it.

  “My lord!” Lila was at his side in a moment.

  “Li-Lila,” Quent gasped out. “Don’t go near him.”

  Anna dashed past the others in the room and ran down the hall, into the kitchens and stopped just at the door to the herbarium. Brighid would know what to do. Surely she’d have a remedy for her uncle. Anna may not like the man, but he was her uncle and she did love him and didn’t want him to suffer another moment.

  Anna stepped out of the way as three maids rushed past her with buckets of steaming water. They were followed by more servants with blankets, sheets and trays of food.

  “Brighid, you will not deliver that child in this cursed castle,” Mr. Chetwey yelled as Anna stepped into the room.

  Her friend was standing at the wooden table, clutching it so tight her knuckles were white as snow. “The child isn’t exactly giving me a choice, Blake,” she bit out right before her body stiffened and Brighid cried out in pain.

  Mr. Chetwey’s face was nearly as white as Brighid’s knuckles, and raw with fear. “Dearest, at least lay down.”

  “No!” she hissed. A moment later, her body seemed to relax, though she still breathed heavily. “It’s better to stand. I’ll rest when it’s time.”

  With a deep breath, she relaxed and took a sip of tea. All Anna could do was stand there. Her uncle was having convulsions and the one person who could help was about to deliver her babe.

  Brighid looked up, meeting her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was about to send for Quent.”

  “Why?” Anna asked even though whatever the reason couldn’t be nearly as important as what had happened to her uncle.

  “Did they find the ring?”

  Her blood chilled. “The….ring?”

  “That’s the only explanation for the shift into darkness here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s all right here.” Brighid turned the book and Anna stepped forward. She couldn’t read anything of the foreign language but the drawing of the ring looked exactly like the one on her uncle’s hand.

  She was afraid to ask, but she needed to know before she said anything to Brighid. “Why?”

  “Someone must have taken it from the box, maybe even just recently, because I’m certain I felt a shift in power just a short time ago.”

  “It is out of the box,” Anna said.

  The way Brighid’s eyes widened and grew dark scared Anna almost as much as seeing her uncle after he’d put the ring on his finger.

  “It must go back in that box right now!”

  Anna took a step back. She’d never seen Brighid this intense. Maybe it was the babe coming, but she didn’t think so. Her dearest friend was scared, and that was a definite rarity.

  “You need to stay calm, dear,” Mr. Chetwey tried to sooth his wife.

  Brighid took a deep breath, clenched her jaw, and grasped the table once again.

  Anna had heard childbirth was painful, but she’d never seen someone in so much pain.

  After a moment, Brighid slowly blew out a breath and then sighed before focusing on Anna. “This is very important. Nobody is to touch that ring. At first, it injures but the longer it is out of the box, the stronger it becomes and brings death.”

  “The smithy,” Anna whispered.

  “What about the Smithy,” Mr. Chetwey demanded.

  “Lord Quentin had given it to him to clean.”

  Brighid’s eyes widened. “The apparition you saw over Lord Quintin?”

  Anna swallowed and nodded.

  “It’s been out of the box for two days?” she nearly cried.

  Anna swallowed against the lump in her throat and nodded, afraid to tell Brighid where it was now. She was already about to have her babe, the most recent turn of events was likely to bring it about quite efficiently.

  “Listen, this is very important,” Brighid implored. “The ring is evil. It belonged to Rufus Flavius and he was wearing it when he killed Cynbel the Celt and his family.”

  Anna gasped.

  “Cynbel was filled with so much agony and hatred that as his blood coated Flavius’ hand while he was tortured, his spirit went with it, along with the curse. That blood is what’s given the ring its power.”

  Mr. Chetwey pushed the cup of tea before Brighid. “Drink!” her ordered.

  Brighid took a sip and set it aside. “Flavius died a week later and nobody ever knew how, except his hair turned white and his body was cold as ice immediately. Others died before they realized that it was the ring. Anyone who wears it turns evil so you must make sure nobody puts it on. Do you understand?”

  Panic rushed through Anna’s body. “And, if they do?”

  “Just make sure it doesn’t happen,” Brighid snapped.

  Anna bit her lip. She wasn’t about to tell Brighid the ring was now being worn by her uncle. “Well, just in case, you know, what if someone did put it on. How would you get it off?”

  “In the past a Druid Priest was able to exorcise the demon, but the last time it happened, they had to knock the man out and cut off his hand.”

  Anna brought a hand to her throat. There had to be another option.

  “The hand was kept in the grove.”

  “What grove?” Mr. Chetwey asked.

  “There is a grove of Oak and Ash trees at the southwest corner of the property. It was a hallowed place for the Celts as these are the most sacred trees. Inside is a circle of stones, which I have only viewed on a few occasions. The hand was placed there until the Druid Priests returned.”

  Anna leaned forward, anxious to learn more. The answer to helping her uncle was here somewhere.

  “They fashioned a box of the Oak, the only time they’ve ever cut into a tree in the grove, but it was necessary to contain the evil. They then removed the ring from the hand and placed it inside the box. Once sealed and blessed, the ring could cause no harm.”

  Brighid pinned Anna with a look. “Where is the ring now?”

  Tears filled Anna’s eyes. “On my uncle’s finger.”

  Brighid groaned and practically doubled over. At first, Anna feared it was because of what she’d told her, but Brighid was having another labor pain.

  Mr. Chetwey rubbed her lower back until it passed and Brighid stood once again.

  “I’m getting you out of here now. Babe or no babe,” Mr. Chetwey insisted.

  “We cannot be harmed in here.”

  “What the hell are you going to do with that?” Mr. Chetwey yelled when the cook entered, holding a large butcher knife.

  “To put under the mattress to cut the pain,” she answered. Anna had heard of the old wives tale but never believed it actually helped.

  “It’s time for you to leave, Mr. Chetwey,” the cook insisted.

  “I’m not leaving my wife,” he argued.

  “This is no place for you.” Cook pointed to the door.

  “I need you to
walk about the castle seven times,” Brighid ground out as if another pain was coming upon her.

  “Why?” Mr. Chetwey thrust his fingers through his hair, staring at her in disbelief.

  “To ward off evil influences.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

  “Please?” Brighid begged.

  Chetwey blew out a sigh. “I’ll do what you wish, but I’ll be back.

  “You’ll join the others and get drunk,” Cook said. “That’s what a gentleman is supposed to do at a time like this. We’ll take good care of Mrs. Chetwey and let you know when it’s arrived.”

  “Help the others,” she said. “I love you.”

  His features softened and he bent, gently kissing her lips. “And I you, my lovely witch.”

  A smile pulled at the corner of her lips for but a moment. “Go. Please.”

  Mr. Chetwey looked down at his wife, distress in his eyes before he turned and stomped out the door muttering something about seven times around the blasted castle when he should be at her side.

  Brighid glanced up and met Anna’s gaze after Mr. Chetwey left the room. There was fear in them but Anna wasn’t sure if it was because of the pending birth or the fact that the evil ring was being worn once again.

  “What do we do? How do we get it off of his finger?”

  “Unless you can find a Druid Priest, I don’t know.” With that, Brighid cried out as another pain racked her body.

  Anna stood paralyzed with fear. She couldn’t help her friend and for the first time, Brighid could not help her. She was a powerful witch and the only answer she offered was to find something that no longer existed.

  Brighid relaxed after the pain passed and pointed to the door. “Go. I need to add a stronger spell for this room so that nothing can get in or out.”

  Anna stepped back into the kitchen but watched her friend from the other side of the door. Brighid muttered words nobody could possibly understand. A moment later, she waved her hand in front of the door and the room shook.

  “Anna, could you try and enter?” Brighid called. “And do be careful.”

  Anna tentatively held up her hand at the entrance and was immediately shocked, as if a bolt of lightning shot up her arm.

  Brighid relaxed against the table. “Good.” She breathed out. “I’m sorry to have harmed you, Anna, but I needed to make certain.”

  “Of course, Brighid,” she said as she shook her hand, trying to get the tingling to go away. Thank goodness she hadn’t attempted to walk through the door. Who knows what could have happened?

  “The tingling will pass. You need to tell the others.”

  “I will, and Brighid, good luck.”

  Anna turned and rushed back through the castle to where she left the others. It was her fault Brighid was about to give birth at Marisdùn. If anything happened to either of them she’d never forgive herself, and she didn’t even want to think about what Mr. Chetwey would do to her. If she hadn’t sought Brighid out after finding Quent on the road, she would be safely in the comfort of her home right now.

  The clock struck midnight just as she entered the room and a feeling of foreboding settled around her. This was probably the worst night of the year for Brighid to bring a babe into the world.

  “Brighid said—” Anna rushed into the parlor, her face quite flush. But she stopped where she stood when Papa’s black eyes landed on her, robbing her of whatever else she meant to say.

  Anna’s eyes flicked down to the ring on Papa’s hand and the tiniest bit of hope sparked in Lila’s heart. The ring. This was all because of the ancient ring he’d put on his finger. There had to be a way to get that thing off Papa’s hand. But how?

  “Out of my way, whore!” Papa’s unnatural voice boomed.

  Oh, he couldn’t leave like this! They couldn’t let him wander through Marisdùn with all the partygoers that filled the castle and grounds. They had to find a way to get that ring off his hand and set everything to rights. “Papa!” Lila scrambled back to her feet. “Let me get you a glass of warm milk, and—”

  He turned fully to face her. “I am Cynbel, and you will address me as such.”

  Cynbel? Cynbel the Celt? Lila blinked at her father. Was that even possible?

  “Papa…er…I mean, Cynbel,” Tilly said, stepping slightly towards him. “Are you saying you’re Cynbel the Celt who battled Rufus Flavius fifteen hundred years ago?”

  He looked Tilly up and down as though she was rubbish he never wanted to lay eyes on again. “How dare you speak to me, invader!” he roared, and there wasn’t anywhere in the room to hide from the magnification of his voice, which boomed off the walls, shattered a mirror behind Tilly, and shook the windows in their frames.

  Mr. Chetwey appeared in the door behind her uncle. Either he hadn’t walked around the castle seven times, or he ran. Anna suspected he ignored Brighid’s request and went to find the axe he now held in his hand.

  Their eyes met. Even if she begged him not to cut off her uncle’s hand, she doubted Mr. Chetwey would listen to her. Not with Brighid in the castle giving birth.

  Anna held her breath as he walked up behind her uncle—er Cynbel—and raised the axe. In one fluid movement, he struck the vicar in the back of the head with the wooden handle. The man dropped and fell forward, out cold.

  Anna pulled away from David, ran to her uncle and grasped his hand. She had to get the ring off his finger while they had a chance.

  As much as she tried, her gloved fingers kept slipping. “It won’t come off,” she cried.

  “Move! I’ll cut off his hand.” Chetwey raised the axe over his head.

  “No!” Lila and Tilly cried in unison. Anna didn’t want to see her uncle’s hand removed either, but she also knew they may not have a choice in the matter.

  “Why don’t you just try to remove the ring before we resort to such drastic measures, Chetwey?” Lord Quentin pushed to his feet.

  “Brighid said the ring has to come off at all costs,” Mr. Chetwey informed him.

  “All right,” Mr. Garrick offered in a reasonable voice. “But I don’t think the first resort should be cutting off the man’s hand for God’s sakes.”

  “I’ll try,” Mr. Thorn offered, kneeling beside Anna.

  Mr. Thorn removed his gloves, and then took hold of the ring. “Bloody hell,” he cried a moment later, dropping Father’s hand as if it were a hot coal.

  “Thorn,” Braden said.

  “Apologies.” He winced in obvious pain.

  “Given the circumstances, I’m quite sure Mr. Thorn can be forgiven,” Anna said, gently taking his hand and blowing on his fingers. “As soon as we deal with my uncle, I’ll see about bandaging them.”

  Thorn smiled at her and then turned to Chetwey. “Do not cut off his hand. We’ll try a cream or something to help it slide off.”

  “We have to act quickly before he wakes,” Sidney said, shaking his head. “I don’t think it’ll be possible once he regains consciousness.” He glanced at Lord Quentin and added, “I can’t believe he threw you across the room with no effort at all.”

  “My child is about to be born,” Chetwey groused. “I should be with my wife at my home, but we’re here in this godforsaken castle, and she’s barred me from her herbarium and pressed upon me the fact that no one in the area will be safe until that ring is retrieved. Now, I won’t have Brighid or my babe put in danger. So do get out of my way.”

  “I understand your concern,” Lord Quentin said, moving to block Mr. Chetwey’s way. “But we’re still not cutting off his hand unless it comes to that.”

  Tilly silently thanked God for Lord Quentin’s good sense. She wasn’t certain she could handle seeing Father’s hand chopped off, no matter how much she despised him at times.

  “The dungeons,” Mr. Thorn said quickly. “What if we put him in the dungeons? We could shackle him in one of the cells and then even if he comes to before we’re able to retrieve the ring, he won’t be able to harm anyone. I
t’ll buy us the time we need.”

  “Perfect solution,” Sidney agreed. “I’ll take his hands, you grab his feet.”

  “What the devil is going on here, Braden?”

  Blast. Sir Cyrus chose quite the time to show up, didn’t he? The magistrate, looked about the room, a stupefied expression on his face.

  “Fainted,” Quent said, Father’s feet balanced awkwardly in his hands. “Took one look at Lord Kilworth and he just dropped to the floor.”

  “We’re, uh, taking him somewhere more comfortable to recover,” Sidney added. “Do excuse us, passed out clergyman coming through.”

  Tilly, Anna and Lila followed Lord Quentin and Sidney as they carried Father through the castle toward the dungeon doors. Heavens. Tilly hadn’t ever wanted to come to this house, let alone visit its dungeons. A chill raced up her spine when they opened the door to the darkened staircase and she clutched her sister’s hand a little more tightly.

  From beside her, Anna sidled up and grabbed her arm, clearly just as reluctant, and determined, to follow the gentlemen.

  The path was dark and cold—if it hadn’t been for the torch Lord Quentin lit and handed to Lila, they’d not be able to see their hands in front of their faces.

  “Here we are,” Sidney said, as they deposited the vicar in the very last cell.

  “Don’t forget to shackle his wrists and ankles,” Anna reminded them

  “Let’s secure him in those chains there,” Quent said, and then they proceeded to chain Father to the wall.

  Part of Tilly felt badly for him. And part of her hoped he was released from the demon Celt in time to experience what Tilly, Lila, and Anna lived every day of their lives. A feeling of being trapped, jailed. Unable to explore life as they wished. It wasn’t very Christian of her, but then again, everything she’d ever been taught to believe in—or not believe in—was sort of being shattered into a million pieces this evening.

  Once they’d secured him to the wall, Sidney came through the cell and approached the girls. Tilly stood, her heart racing, her body aching to be engulfed in his arms. He stood but mere inches away from her, his pale eyes gleaming in the darkness, making promises she prayed he’d be able to keep once this was all over.