Beyond Bewitching (17 page)

That was no ordinary lump. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out the cloth pouch containing Sarah’s treasures. He didn’t need to look at the bag to confirm what it was. She’d insisted he carry it for her.

Sarah, where are you?

Would she want him and Tanner to keep their promise to take her special belongings to Samuel’s grave? She wasn’t dead. Had she meant for them to do the task if she simply wasn’t able?

He sat up, untying the leather lace as he blinked his bleary eyes. The bloodstone was on top, and he turned it over and over in his hand. She’d said the coven had given it to her for healing. Her rough life had offered plenty of opportunities for that, but the stone hadn’t seemed to complete its purpose.

Tilting up the sack, he dumped her mother’s locket into his palm. The delicate chain and oval pendant had survived hundreds of years, and he was almost afraid to handle it for fear of damaging the priceless heirloom. Curiosity got the better of him, though. Wedging his fingernail between the layers of metal, he popped the locket open. A tiny painting of a woman’s face stared back at him. The likeness reminded him of Sarah—beautiful gray-green eyes and a long black mane. She looked a great deal like her mother.

The last item brought a lump to his throat and a knot to his stomach. For all the horror involved in Samuel’s conception, she’d loved her son. Even the knowledge that Naga had helped create him was overshadowed by the fact that Samuel had
also
come from her. Any child she bore would have a selfless heart and a generous soul, truly evil father or not.

John raised the lock of hair to his lips, savoring the softness as Sarah had done. Would their babies have her dark hair and intelligent eyes? Was she really pregnant, or had Naga tried to disrupt her composure by revealing the worst of his sins against her?

Tucking the hank of curls back into the sack, he lifted the pendant. The locket spun round and round as John held it over the pouch, keeping perfect time to the lullaby echoing in his head. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the music of his mate.

You said you’d teach Tanner and me the words, Sarah. I’m holding you to that promise.

He guided the pendant into the bag and finally picked up the bloodstone. Even in modern times, the dark green gemstone with bright red nodules was associated with healing. What had kept it from working its magick with Sarah? She’d possessed the stone since her inception as a full-fledged witch, but it had yet to heal anyone.

Rubbing his thumb over the polished surface, he shook his head. He’d never known a talisman to fail.

Light footsteps drew his attention to the doorway, and the matriarch walked toward him carrying a tray.

She stopped several feet from him. “Where did you find that?”

Looking down at the bloodstone, he shrugged. “It belongs to Sarah. She got it when she was welcomed into her coven.”

“Place it on Tanner’s chest, over his heart.”

John grasped the cloth bag in his free hand as he stood, obeying the Xanthus Mother without question. A small jolt of electricity zinged through his fingers when the stone touched Tanner’s body, and the red blotches began to glow. Color slowly returned to Tanner’s pale skin.

Could the stone have been meant to save him?

Blinking against the bright sun shining in his eyes, Tanner raised his arm to cover his face. The scent of sweet yet tart apples and cinnamon tickled his nose and made his mouth water. Had someone made his favorite French toast for breakfast?

“Are you awake? Come on. We have to get moving.” Heavy footfalls came closer, and John blocked the shafts of light. “How are you feeling?”

Pushing up on his elbows, Tanner squinted up at his friend. “Like my stomach’s about to eat itself. Is breakfast ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go. I want to leave soon.” John offered him a hand up. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

A firm grasp gave Tanner enough leverage to stand, and something clunked on the floor near his foot. He bent to examine the object. “Isn’t this Sarah’s bloodstone?”

Images flickered in his mind, each one more alarming than the last. Sarah getting hauled into the splintering mess of Naga and her abusive husband was by far the worst. As he straightened, Tanner squeezed his eyes shut tight to stop the horror of watching her vanish.

He sucked in a painful breath. “Did you find her?”

John’s jaw flexed. “Yes, it’s Sarah’s bloodstone. And, no, I haven’t tried to find her yet. I couldn’t go without you. The matriarch believes we can trace Sarah’s essence through the afterlife and pick up her trail where she escaped.”

“The Goddess and the Fates wouldn’t have let her in if she wasn’t dead.” The doubts Tanner had experienced after her disappearance seemed ridiculous now. Sarah’s heartbeat echoed his own. “She’s alive.”

“The stone healed you.” John held out his flattened palm. “I’ll put it back in the pouch with her other belongings. Then we need to eat, get cleaned up, and go find her.”

Rolling the bloodstone in his hand, Tanner hesitated. “Sarah wants those things interred with Samuel. She trusted us to keep them safe for her. We should do that before anything else.”

“But isn’t that like saying we think she’s dead? She should be the one to do it.”

Tanner closed his fingers around the polished stone. “Or maybe we have to prove we’ll carry out her wish to find her. She gave us the things that matter most to her for a reason.”

A nod from John was answer enough. “Let’s eat.”

As hungry as he was, Tanner hardly tasted his breakfast. A quick shower rinsed the nasty-smelling paste off his healing cuts, but he skipped a shave. He dressed for winter in Massachusetts. The sooner they found the burial site, the better.

Slipping on his boots, he fingered the outline of the bloodstone in his jeans pocket. “I’m ready. Do you have the lock of hair and the necklace?”

John held up the cloth pouch. “Yeah. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“Good as new. Or at least I will be when we find Sarah.” Tanner extended his arm, grasping John’s forearm.

Mirroring the action, John initiated the mind link.

We seek the grave of Sarah’s son

To finish the task that’s left undone.

Lead us to the hidden site,

And we shall make her wishes right.

Blessings on both child and mother.

Peace and love from one to the other.

Dim lights flickered, blurring the room around them as the tempest spun. Chill seeped into the circle, and the world grew brighter.

Morning sun reflected off a fresh coating of snow decorating a worn headstone. The name and dates had eroded from the small rectangle, but Tanner didn’t need to see any identifying marks to know they’d arrived at the right location.

The grave stood apart from the other markers in the fenced cemetery. The lopsided gate hung from rusty hinges, and the pickets were in dire need of fresh paint.

Dropping to his knees, Tanner wiped the snow from the headstone. Beneath the layer of white, bold black spray-painted letters stood out.

Satan.

Vandals had defiled a little boy’s final resting place.

Beside Tanner, John growled. He rubbed his gloved hand over the insult, and it lightened to nothing.

“Here lies Samuel Pennymead, beloved son of Sarah Pennymead.” As he spoke, he wrote the words on the limestone marker with his finger. Etched letters replaced the hateful message. “The ground’s frozen. We can’t bury her treasures.”

Digging the bloodstone from his pocket, Tanner wracked his brain for a way to give Samuel his mother’s most precious gifts. He set the stone on top of the grave marker. “Maybe I can thaw a spot.”

Before he could touch the ground, the rough limestone became smooth marble and John’s simple block lettering morphed into a graceful font.

Too awed to speak, he took the cloth bag from John, placing the tufts of hair and locket on either side of the stone that had imbedded itself in the marble. Flowering vines wove around the inscription from a newly engraved heart at the base of the headstone. Both objects faded, seeming to become part of the marker.

John cleared his throat. “Goddess, please care for Samuel in his mother’s absence.”

Blinking his watery eyes, Tanner bowed his head. “And bless his innocent soul.”

“I knew you’d come. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Tanner whirled around at the sound of Sarah’s whisper. Familiar humming carried to his ears, and he scanned the cemetery to find her. A faint silhouette gathered substance near the gate, urging him to his feet. “Sarah!”

“Oh, no, young man! I’m Margaret.” The woman tossed back the hood of her cloak, revealing a round face framed by tight gray curls. “I’m the caretaker here at the museum. Would you boys like to come inside to learn the history of our cemetery? Maybe have some hot cider?”

Disappointment twisted his gut in knots, but he wasn’t about to encourage the old woman to come inside the fence by refusing. “Sure. Thanks for the offer.”

Sarah’s alive. I know she is.

Gesturing for John to lead the way, Tanner walked with him to the opening in the fence. The last thing they needed was for Margaret to notice the new headstone on Samuel’s grave—or the fact that the only footprints in the snow belonged to them as they were exiting.

She guided them along a shoveled sidewalk toward a log cabin. “We don’t get many visitors this time of year. Did you know that cemetery is supposed to be filled with folks who were found guilty of practicing witchcraft? Happened about the same time as the Salem Witch Trials. The grave where you were standing belongs to the young son of an accused witch. She was burned alive in her jail the night before she was to hang.” At the door to the museum, she stomped her boots on the porch and then waved them inside. “Why don’t you warm up by the fire while I get you some cider?”

Anxious to begin the search for Sarah, Tanner considered a slight memory spell but changed his mind when John frowned at him. Remaining undetected was necessary to the survival of the few enduring witch clans. They’d stay a half hour or so—long enough to avoid raising suspicions.

Weaving through a trio of shelves loaded with gift shop paraphernalia, Tanner trailed John across the room toward the fireplace. A rocking chair swayed back and forth, suggesting the museum had another guest.

Rather than sitting in the other chair, Tanner aimed for the hearth. John did the same.

“Ah, my friends have arrived.”

Relief flooded Tanner at the sound of Sarah’s voice again, but he hesitated, not wanting another disappointment like the one he’d experienced outside. He turned to face the occupant of the rocker.

She smiled at him, and his pulse skipped a beat.

Thank the Goddess!

Sarah rose from her seat. “We appreciate the hospitality, Margaret, but we’re expected somewhere.”

The old woman joined them, embracing Sarah for a moment. “Come again soon, dear. You know you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you, I will.” Sarah clasped his and John’s hands, and the heat from the fireplace vanished in an instant. The rough-hewn walls of their bedroom in the cavern replaced the interior of the log cabin. “I’ve missed you.”

Pulling her into his arms, Tanner held her close, counting every beat of her heart against his chest. “We’re going to have to make some mind adjustments after that exit.”

Sarah breathed in her mate’s masculine scent and savored the warmth of his arms around her. Getting dragged into Naga’s and Percy Ellington’s frozen wasteland of eternal damnation had left her with a chill from which she wasn’t sure she’d ever thaw. A few days or weeks in bed with John and Tanner might produce the heat required to defrost her. “It’s fine. Margaret is part of the local coven. They’ve been watching over Samuel’s grave since I ‘died’ in the fire. Their spell hid it from the Black Triad.”

John moved in behind her, surrounding her with more than simple physical warmth. “You’re safe now, and you can be damn sure I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned. “Who says I’m letting
you two
out of
my
sight ever again? Do you have any idea how close you both came to dying because you tried to protect me?”

“Closer than you know.” Tanner pressed his soft lips to her neck, sending tingles down her spine to her pussy. “But you saved me by giving us your bloodstone. I should thank you with an orgasm or two.”

The gift from her coven had finally proven its worth—a hundred times over. “I know exactly how close you came. I felt your pain from the cuts, and every moment the Triad’s poison coursed through your veins took me one step nearer to my own death. When the healing stone touched you, its magick helped me break free from Naga’s black soul to return to the physical world. I waited for you at Samuel’s grave because I knew you’d never break a promise to me. You allowed me to finally be able to say good-bye to my son. I couldn’t have done that without you both.”

“Our bond has made us all stronger.” John caressed her ass, making her nipples harden. He leaned in to kiss her, and his tongue teased the seam of her lips. “I ached for you all last night, Sarah.”