One Haunted Evening (Haunted Regency Series Book 1) Page 29

  She pulled back and smiled weakly at him. She was exhausted and needed to be in bed.

  “I must do something first.”

  What could she possibly need to do at four in the morning?

  “I need to cast a spell so Mrs. Routledge does not see what I am about. She cannot see into this room or hear what is said, but I am certain she is well aware that I have been in here since we learned Callie was taken.”

  Blake nodded though he wasn’t at all comfortable with that entity watching what they did.

  “I must go into the garden, but I need to protect my path and the area.”

  “Very well.” He didn’t understand, but there was much about what was happening he couldn’t comprehend. All he could do was stand beside her and help when needed.

  Brighid lowered her head, closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if going into herself, before walking from the room. She mumbled words he did not understand and could barely hear, and followed her through the kitchens, out the door and down the path to her garden. She stopped in the center, on a flat stone slab, held out her arms; hands turned up and walked in a slow circle, still muttering a language he did not recognize. After a moment she stopped and looked at him. “It is done.”

  Blake glanced around, not certain what he would find, if anything, though a bit nervous. “She can’t see you?”

  Brighid smiled brightly. “No, and now I can look for Callie.”

  How the hell was she going to look for Miss Eilbeck? It was the early morning hours and they had only the light of the moon. He would think Brighid was daft, though he knew better. She marched past him and back into the kitchens. Blake turned to follow, not willing to part from her for long. In the herbarium she once again picked up the black cloth and crystal and returned to the center of the garden. She placed the fabric and then the crystal on a raised, flat stone and settled before it.

  Blake stopped at her side. Could she really see into the ball? He had heard of gypsies gazing into crystal balls to tell a fortune. He thought it was a bunch of foolishness and a way to get people to part with their money. Yet, that appeared to be what Brighid was doing.

  She chanted low, almost silently, and he gave up trying to understand her. After several moments she sat back on her heels, her shoulders slumped as if defeated. “I can’t see her. I can’t find Callie.”

  Blake was reluctant to leave the bed. He never dreamed that he would find such contentment while a woman slept within the cradle of his arms without having made love to her first. Brighid’s head rested on his shoulder, her deep even breaths brushing against his neck. Brighid needed all the sleep she could for the coming night and he feared disturbing her sleep.

  Carefully, he lifted his arm from around her and slid from the bed, shifting the pillow to where his body had lain. She sighed and pulled it close, her eyes never opening. He stood there in awe of her beauty and strength. Black hair fanned out across the bed and her red lips, parted in sleep. What he wouldn’t do to be able to crawl back in that bed, pull her close and sleep once again, but it was not to be.

  They had talked until the sun was about to rise. He insisted on taking some of the tasks she laid out before they drifted off. Now he needed to do what he promised.

  At least she was peaceful now. When she first drifted off, she grew restless with what he assumed were troubled dreams. If only he could take the worry from her, but it was not in his hands. None of this was in his control and it aggravated him to no end.

  He covered his yawn as he slipped from the room.

  As he should have suspected, Braden was pacing the kitchens. “Did she find an answer?” he demanded the moment he saw Blake.

  “Might I have a cup of coffee, Cook?” Blake strode past Braden. He needed to clear his mind before he spoke with his friend.

  “Have you learned anything?” Thorn asked anxiously as he came into the room.

  Too many people knew what was going on, which meant that Mrs. Routledge knew something was up as well. He glanced about, expecting to see the ghost lingering in some corner of the room eavesdropping on their conversation. Even if he couldn’t see her, that didn’t mean she was there.

  Cook placed a steaming cup of coffee before him.

  “She doesn’t know what to do.” It was a lie, but hopefully one that would serve them well in the end.

  “Damn it all.” Braden hissed. “You were in there all bloody night, and the night before. She said she would bring Callie back!”

  Blake took a drink, ignoring his friend’s outburst. Blast, he was tired. “She said she would do everything in her power to do so. But she has denied being a witch for the past decade. You can’t expect her to suddenly possess all the knowledge she needs to bring Miss Eilbeck back.” He took another drink, downing the contents. “Let’s take a ride.”

  “Take a ride?”

  “Yes.” He reached for the door. “It will clear my head and perhaps yours as well.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Thorn announced.

  “I am not leaving this castle or its grounds,” Braden growled stubbornly.

  It hadn’t been Blake’s intention to go anywhere. Hadn’t Brighid proclaimed the garden to be protected? Blake turned and pegged his friend with a look. “At least step outside with me, then. I am in need of fresh air.”

  “Very well.” Braden trudged after him, none too happy. “Tell me Miss Glace is still working to find a way to bring Callie back.”

  “She is sleeping at the moment and I would appreciate you keeping your voice down.”

  “Sleeping? She is sleeping while Callie is lost somewhere?”

  If Braden didn’t stop ranting and get into the garden, Blake would plant him a facer and drag his bloody ass out there. Instead, he turned and marched into the center, stopping beside Brighid’s crystal. Thorn sauntered into the area and settled onto a bench and Braden finally stormed after them.

  Blake looked around, praying they could not be heard. “What I tell you will not be mentioned outside of this garden.”

  “Why is this garden so special?” Thorn asked.

  “Brighid has protected it so that Braden’s great-grandmother won’t know what is being said or done.”

  “Does that mean she does know how to bring Callie back?” Braden asked, a bit calmer than he had been moments earlier.

  Thorn came to his feet. “How?”

  Blake quickly explained what Brighid believed needed to be done. “We will need everyone who arrived with Braden. They helped disturb the spirits, especially Braden’s great-grandmother.” He turned to his friend. “You and your brother must be there because you’re the link.”

  “Blood of the castle,” Braden nodded. “I’ll tell the others.” He turned to go.

  “You can’t discuss this outside of the garden.”

  Braden narrowed his eyes on Blake as though he was being difficult. “Then drag them all out here, Chetwey.”

  “It is too suspicious.” Blake shook his head. “The two of you should take the others into town, away from here, so as not to be overheard.”

  “I am not leaving Marisdùn. Not while Callie is missing somewhere here.”

  “I’ll go. I’ll take them,” Thorn offered.

  “Thank you.” Blake didn’t want to go either. He would if necessary, but he would rather be by Brighid’s side. Then he turned to Braden. “And she needs a personal item of your great- grandmother’s if it is to be found. Lock of hair, comb, broach, anything.”

  “Where the devil would I find something like that?” Braden scrubbed a hand across his cheek.

  Why did they expect him to have all the answers? “Ask Mrs. Small.” He turned and marched toward the castle. “I need to get back to Miss Glace.”

  Brighid gazed into the crystal, but it was filled with nothing but a whitish lavender fog, moving and shifting but allowing no shape or vision to emerge. She should have placed the crystal out as soon as the moon had risen on Saturday so that it could be charged with the power. The
sun was of no assistance, which is why she had brought the crystal into the herbarium, hoping the pictures would be clearer in not such a bright light. It had sat out last night, but the moon wasn’t yet full and she feared one night was not enough to give it the energy that was needed.

  The color did change, but that was all.

  This would never do. She needed a vision. She needed to see that Callie was still with them. What if she had moved on? What if Mrs. Routledge had done something once she had her and it wouldn’t matter if they got rid of the woman, they still wouldn’t get Callie back?

  “Stop it!” she chastised herself. Such thinking would bring about failure.

  “Stop what?” Blake asked from behind her. He had been sitting on a stool beneath the window. Normally she would hate to have someone with her all of the time, but Blake’s presence brought security and comfort.

  “Just chasing away negative thoughts.”

  He rose from his seat and came forward, wrapping his arms around her. “You will do what is needed. I have every faith in you and whatever power you possess.”

  Her skin tingled where he touched her, even through the clothing, and she drew on his strength and stared back into the crystal. The lavender disappeared and red hues began to emerge.

  She sucked in her breath. Please let it mean passion and not danger. “Step away from me.”

  His arms dropped and he did as she said.

  The colors faded to pink and then lavender before shifting to yellow and then grey, not quite reaching black before the clouds shifted back to yellow and lavender. Black was worse of course, but yellow spoke of betrayal and the lavender of enlightenment. The more she looked the less she could see. Brighid sat back and pulled the black cloth over the crystal. “As soon as the moon has risen, I need to return the crystal to the garden to gather strength.”

  “Here you are,” Anna announced brightly as she stepped into the herbarium. Her cousin, Lily Southward, followed her into the room.

  Brighid blew out a breath, thankful her friend had come so quickly. She had sent Lord Quentin for Anna less than an hour ago.

  Blake pulled away. “I shall leave you with your friends.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Send word if you need me.” Blake nodded to Anna and Lily as he left. Anna sent her a speculative look, which Brighid chose to ignore.

  “When you summon me, please do send that handsome gentleman again.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she moved further into the room. Brighid wished she could laugh with her friend. Surely Anna was aware that Callie was missing.

  Lila Southward’s face was drawn with barely a hit of color to her cheeks. Brighid’s heart went out to the young woman. Callie was her dearest friend and she must be worried beyond measure.

  Brighid gestured for them to take a seat and explained what she believed needed to happen to get Callie back. By the time she was done, even Anna was pale.

  “What do you need from me?” Anna asked.

  “I need you to make a poppet from cloth and clay and paint the face of Mrs. Routledge upon it. Lord Bradenham is getting a personal item of his great-grandmothers’ so we can put it into the doll.”

  Anna blinked at her. “I don’t even know what the woman looked like.”

  “There is a portrait of her in the gallery.”

  Her friend sucked in a breath. “You want me to walk through the castle, go to the portrait room and begin painting?” She glanced around “What if I am seen by her.”

  Brighid bit her lip in thought. They must use deception in order to succeed. “I know, simply announce that you thought to view the portraits during your visit. The staff and ghosts are already used to your presence in the gardens while you sketch and study the statues. Then you can come back and paint. Will that work?”

  “It should.” She turned to Lila. “You will come with me, won’t you?”

  Lila’s eyes grew wide and she visibly swallowed. “Of course. But let’s do be quick.”

  Brighid opened her eyes and glanced about. The moon was high and the crystal refused to offer an image. There was not much else she could do. She knew the spell, prepared her mind, and the time was upon them. She needed to empty her mind and prepare what was to come. Blake had left her here hours ago to do his duty to help out their hosts in keeping the guests entertained. So many had already arrived for the planned Samhain party, but she couldn’t be concerned with them. Now Blake waited for her at the edge of the garden. Two people stood in the shadows just behind him. She could not make out their faces but one was a woman.

  “Are you ready?” he asked with concern.

  She took a deep shuddering breath and nodded. “What time is it?”

  “We are to meet in thirty minutes,” Blake answered.

  It was enough time to gather the incense and place the poppet. The likeness of Mrs. Routledge that Anna had painted onto the doll was unnerving. Lord Bradenham had brought her hair from a brush stored away in the attic and it had been shoved inside of the poppet. Brighid didn’t like having it in the herbarium but soon it would be in the dungeon waiting to be destroyed.

  As Blake came forward, the two from the shadows did as well and entered her garden. For the first time in hours her heart leapt with hope. “Lord Patrick, I am so glad you and your wife are here. When did you arrive?”

  He drew his wife to his side. “Laura and I arrived a few hours ago.” He glanced at Blake. “I’ve heard Marisdùn was haunted, but there are ghosts everywhere.”

  “You can see them?” Brighid asked hopefully.

  “Just shadows and mists. I’ve seen more ghosts here than I did when I was a ghost myself. In fact, I didn’t see any before.” He chuckled before he grew serious. “Blake took Laura and me into town and explained everything.”

  “I hope you can help.”

  “What do you need, though I am not sure what I can do?”

  “You are my connection to the spirit world.” She sighed. “Even though it has been eight months since you were a ghost, you can still sense them and I may need you to tell me when Mrs. Routledge is in the circle if I can’t see her.”

  “Will you need me as well?” Laura asked.

  “No,” Lord Patrick said before Brighid could answer. “It is too dangerous. In fact, I would prefer you return to Torrington Abbey until this is over.”

  Laura frowned at her husband.

  “I do need her.”

  “It is too dangerous for my wife,” he warned.

  “I need a female balance. Your wife, Mrs. Small and I will be a triangle of feminine power, which will only strengthen the circle.” She looked at Laura. “Furthermore, she saw you when nobody else could. I need her power to feed yours.”

  “I don’t like it,” he grumbled.

  “You don’t need to,” Laura insisted.

  “We should go.” Blake held his arm out for Brighid.

  They entered the castle and went into the herbarium where she gathered the items needed and put them in a black sack that Blake then stashed inside of his coat, causing it to bulge. “It is time.”

  Blake led the way through the kitchens. “This castle has a history more fascinating than Torrington. Remember how we played below?”

  Lord Patrick laughed. “Does it have a dungeon as well?”

  “Let me show you,” Mrs. Small announced. “I know the castle well.”

  They went ahead of Brighid and she glanced about, hoping the ruse worked. Mrs. Routledge wasn’t stupid, but perhaps she would be curious enough to follow as more and more people made their way below.

  Blake gently grasped her elbow. “Shall we?”

  She took a deep steadying breath and allowed him to lead her to the doorway at the top of the stairs leading to the dungeon. Brighid stopped and turned toward him.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked.

  Without answering, she grasped his shoulder, went up on her toes and placed her lips against his. Blake pulled her tight, deepening the kiss, molding his mouth against hers as if they were
to be parted forever. Warmth built inside, blood pulsed through her veins, energy like she had never experienced filled her body. She was renewed and more alive than she had ever been in her life. Stumbling back, dizzy from his kiss, she smiled. “Not any longer.”

  Brighid might not be frightened, but Blake was terrified. It wasn’t every day one went to a portal to the other world in hopes of attracting an evil spirit and sending them away forever. One such as Mrs. Routledge was not likely to go away easily.

  Once they reached the center, beside the hearth, he withdrew the sack from inside his coat and handed it to Brighid. He looked down into it, wondering how many fires had burned there and if they were for heating the room, or the metal to torture prisoners.

  A shiver went down his spine and he stepped away to watch his love place and light candles at five different points in the room. Between each, she set incense to burn. She had not told him what was in the mixture but the aroma of basil, yarrow, clove, and garlic began to fill the room.

  The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he glanced about the dungeon, waiting for Mrs. Routledge to pop out at them.

  The others began to arrive and Brighid placed them in the circle where the strength could be harnessed the best. Directly across from her was Patrick. She was the witch and his friend the connection to the spirit world. On the other sides of the circle, directly across from each other were Braden and his brother – the blood of the castle. Forming the three points of the triangle were Laura, Mrs. Small and Brighid. He stood at Brighid’s right and Thorn to her left. He would have preferred Thorn at the other end of the room, but Wolf and Garrick filled in the remaining spots.

  She took the poppet Miss Anna had made and held it before her. “All that I do to this figure, I do to Mrs. Mary Routledge.” She then placed it before her at the edge of the stone hearth.

  They held their places in silence and at the stroke of midnight; Brighid straightened, lifted her chin and began to summon Mrs. Mary Rutledge. She spoke in a language unfamiliar to his ear, but Blake at least recognized the name.