Beneath the Black Moon (Root Sisters) (25 page)

“No!”
She said anxiously. She wrung her hands, feeling devastated, crushed. “How
could you ask that? Don’t you see what a mess this all is?”

Brent
blinked and then stood. He looked more concerned than angry, as though he could
read her pain on her face. “What mess?”

“Everything…
you, me. My grandmother and Caro. Kat and my mother and Hattie and… what are
you
thinking
?”

“What
do your grandmother and Caro have to do with anything?” He was alert now. The
post-lovemaking warmth was gone from his gaze. “What do Kat and your mother
have to do with anything?” He leaned forward and gripped her, holding her
shoulders tight so that she could slip away. “What did they do?”

“Who?”
Cam asked, as if she didn’t know.

“Your
grandmother and Caro. They’re behind this, aren’t they? Everyone in the county
talks about you and all the time you spend in that kitchen. What did they do?
What could they possibly have in common?” Suddenly he stilled, his fingers
digging into her flesh. “They both lost children. But where does Katherine come
in? And what secret causes you such agony? What could be so horrible?” He gazed
levelly at her and Cam quickly looked away.

“Cam,”
he asked, and his tone was suddenly deceptively calm. “They didn’t kill her,
did they?”

Cam
whipped around, ready to deny it, ready to deny everything and act enraged that
he could even
think
such a thing. But suddenly she couldn’t do anything.
He was staring at her, and it was as if the bottom fell out of her mind. She
reached for a lie to tell and found nothing. She could only gape at him.

He
took one look at her and he knew. She could tell that he knew. “My God,” he
said, giving her a little shake and releasing her. He was still shirtless and
he crossed his arms over his bare chest, his muscles flexing as he rocked back
on his heels. “My God.”

“You
can’t tell anyone!” Cam said desperately. Hating the way she sounded, she
changed her tone. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“They
killed a woman.”

“They
had good reason.”

“What
good reason could there be for killing a woman?”

“She
killed my mother! And Sam.”

“Cam,”
he spoke to her as gently as if to a child. “Your mother died in a fire.”

“A
fire that Kat started.”

He
hesitated. “You said…”

“I
know what I said. It wasn’t an accident. Kat started it.”

He
hesitated, muttered to himself. “They fought. They argued just before your
mother died.”

“Yes.
Kat killed mama and Sam.”

“How?
How did she start the fire without getting caught?”

Cam
hesitated, licked her lips. “You know how,” she said finally.

His
eyebrows were high with shock. “Magic.”

“Conjure.”

“I
don’t believe it.”

“Why
not? It’s what’s making Hattie sick. It’s what nearly drowned me!”

His
fists clenched. “That was conjure?”

“How
else could I drown in a creek that shallow? I’m not a child.”

“You
didn’t tell me.”

“Of
course I didn’t tell you. I don’t tell anyone. Would you if you were in my
shoes?”

“So
someone did that to you?” Fury glinted in his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“I
don’t know.”

“Is
that a lie too?”

“No.”

“I
believe you. If you did know who had done it I’m sure your grandmother would
have killed them by now.”

“Would
you blame her?”

“No,”
he said savagely. “I’d do it myself if I knew who was responsible.”

“So
you understand about Kat?”

“Understand?
No. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would one planter’s wife kill another? Even
if they were both… rootworkers. That’s not enough. There has to be something
else. What, did they both take the same lover?”

“Don’t
you dare talk about my mother and lovers in the same sentence.” Cam’s voice
shook with fury. “I hear enough of those disgusting stories from Hadley.”

“Why
did she do it, Cam? You have all of the answers, so answer that.”

“They
had a disagreement,” Cam said simply. “They disagreed over power. Kat Varennes
was half-crazy already and she was jealous of my mother.”

“So
she
killed
her?” Brent’s voice was acidic. “That’s the explanation your
sweet grandmother fed you to explain three murders?”

“There
weren’t three murders! Kat murdered my mother and Sam! Grandma and Caro
put
her down
like the mad dog she was. She wasn’t a woman. She was a monster!
She slaughtered my mother over a petty disagreement.”

“And
how do you know for sure?” Brent demanded. “As you’ve reminded me so many
times, you were only six at the time.”

“My
mother was powerful and desirable and Kat Varennes envied her!” Cam said,
struggling to keep her voice down. “Are you saying that my grandmother and Caro
lied to me?” She was beyond furious.

“I’m
saying that if that’s the best your grandmother can give you then she’s leaving
something out.”

“I
don’t care what you believe!”

“Yes
you do.” He took an almost predatory step toward her. “Of course you do. You’re
afraid of what I might tell people. You want me on your side. That’s why you’re
suddenly explaining everything. Until now you’ve been lying at every turn.” The
accusatory tone of his voice infuriated her.

“Yes!
I’ve been lying. I was practically born lying. At least now you understand why
we can’t get married.”

“Oh,
I see,” he said darkly. “So your explanation doubles as an excuse.”

“It’s
not an excuse!”

“Damn
it Cam!” He exploded. “What are you so afraid of?”

Cam
opened her mouth to refute his accusation. Once again, she couldn’t quite
manage a lie. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her, but she couldn’t seem
to lie to Brent anymore. “Everything,” she said finally, shocked by her own
admission. “Absolutely everything. Can you blame me?”

His
shoulders slumped suddenly and all of the fight seemed to go out of him. “Cam…”

“Don’t!”
Cam said suddenly, through a thickness in her throat. Tears gathered in her
eyes. “Just don’t.” Her survival instinct was rearing its head, warning her
that she was too vulnerable to confront him right now.

There
was a pained expression on his face as she turned away, but he knew her well
enough to let her go.

“Cam,
Mr. Anderson is here again.”

Cam
turned a page in her book with pretend nonchalance. “Tell him that I’m—”

“—not
at home. I know; I know.” Helen said irritably. She ducked out of the drawing
room with an exasperated sigh.

“This
is the fourth morning Mr. Anderson has called on you,” Aunt Beth noted from
where she sat by the window, reading a letter from one of her childhood
friends. She lowered the stationary slightly to peer meaningfully over the
paper at Cam. Her explosive anger from the week before seemed to have dissipated.
Aunt Beth and Cam hadn’t technically reconciled, but for the past few days they
had been pretending that Aunt Beth’s outburst hadn’t happened. Knowing her
aunt, Cam suspected that Elizabeth was extremely embarrassed by her own lack of
control.

“Yes.”
Cam said quietly. She was pretending to read Shakespeare. The play,
appropriately enough, was
Romeo and Juliet
.

“And
the fourth time you have sent him away.”

“Yes.”
Cam said again, and turned another page.

“Oh
well,” Aunt Beth sighed. “It’s your own business, I suppose.” She returned to
her letter without another comment.

There
were footsteps in the hall, and Helen returned to the drawing room. She
remained in the doorway and gestured furtively to Cam. Thinking that Helen was
trying to convince her to see Brent, Cam shook her head firmly.

Helen
gestured again, pointing in the direction of the kitchen. Cam snuck a look at
Aunt Beth, who was deeply engrossed in her letter, set Shakespeare down with
relief, and joined Helen in the hall.

“I
don’t care what he wants. I’m not seeing him.”

“It’s
not him,” Helen said, “Mattie Deveraux is here to see Caro and Grandma.”

“What?”
Cam couldn’t remember Mattie ever leaving the forest before. Caro and Grandma
always went to see Mattie and not the other way round.

“She’s
in the kitchen right now.” Helen said, “I thought you should know.”

“Helen?”
Aunt Beth called from in the drawing room. “Do I hear your voice? Come here a
moment child, I want you to read this letter.”

Helen
frowned, obviously eager to see Mattie Deveraux, but then her shoulders slumped
and she walked obediently into the drawing room. Cam slipped out of the front
door and hurried across the lawn to the kitchen.

Sure
enough, Louis Deveraux was waiting outside of the kitchen, minus his usual
cheerful smile. Cam took one look at his solemn face and barged into the
kitchen without knocking.

The
three women inside were standing by the window when Cam entered, watching
something on the road. “What’s wrong?” Cam asked immediately.

“Who
is that?” Grandma asked, pointing to a man who was riding down the road away
from Cypress Hall.

“Brent
Anderson,” Mattie answered for Cam. “And the man reeks of conjure.”

“He’s
not a rootworker,” Cam said, bracing herself for the same old argument.

“Oh,
I know he’s not,” Mattie said, “But someone in his household is. And today
they’ve used enough that it has even leaked onto him.”

“Tonight’s
the black moon,” Caro said. “Maybe this is what our mystery rootworker has been
waiting for. Where are you going?” She called as Cam picked up her skirts and
turned to leave.

“I’m
going to warn Brent,” Cam said, just as Brent’s horse vanished around a bend in
the lane.

“Not
alone you’re not,” Grandma said, grabbing her by the wrist. “Thank you for your
warning, Mattie.”

Mattie
nodded. “I’m returning to my home,” she said. “I have to warn the others.”

“Be
safe,” Caro told her.

“And
you.” Mattie let herself out.

Caro
and Grandma made Cam wait until the carriage could be brought round, insisting
that she couldn’t go alone to the Wickers Plantation. It took nearly a quarter
of an hour, plus five minutes of lying to Aunt Beth. By the time they finally
climbed into the carriage, Cam’s nerves were stretched tighter than piano wire.
She still wasn’t certain how Brent and his family fit into this mess, but she
did know that when bad conjure was unleashed good people were inevitably hurt.

Grandma
and Caro were carrying every instrument of conjure known to mankind, even some
that Cam had never seen before. There was a steely glint in the eyes of the
older women that matched the expressions they had worn in Cam’s vision— the
night that they murdered Kat Varennes. Cam knew that whoever lurked at Brent’s
house was likely responsible for the incident at the creek, and her grandmother
probably wanted the rootworker dead for that. Cam was less interested in
revenge. Her first priority was Brent’s safety.

If
you’d seen him when he came to the house,
her guilty
conscience reminded her,
he wouldn’t be home right now with the most
dangerous practitioner in the county.

Cam
shifted uneasily in her seat, and then sat up taller as the Wickers plantation
appeared in the distance.

“We
don’t know what we’ll find here. Maybe you should stay in the carriage,” her
grandmother suggested as it rolled to a stop in front of Brent’s home.

“Not
a chance,” Cam said, nimbly climbing over the old woman’s lap and letting
herself out before her father’s driver even had a chance to open the door for
her. She darted across the lawn, but hesitated at the sight of the large brass
knocker on Brent’s door.

What
if…

“Don’t
be a coward, Camilla Jean,” she muttered to herself, reaching for the knocker
as her grandmother and Caro arrived behind her.

Cam
hammered on the door, unable to hear anything, even the calming words of her
grandmother, above the rush of blood in her ears. The door opened so suddenly
that Cam nearly fell right into the house. Cam caught herself on the doorframe,
and nearly cried out with relief at the sight of Brent standing, whole and
healthy, in the doorway. His gaze warmed at the sight of her, but then he
raised his eyebrows at the sight of Grandma and Caro. “Here to kill me?” He
drawled.

“Don’t
be ridiculous,” Cam said before either Grandma or Caro could intervene. “Brent,
who else is here?”

“What
do you mean?” He asked, instantly alert after seeing the alarm on her face.