Blood Curse (Branded Trilogy Book 2) (10 page)

“Where did he go?”

“Where did who go?” Pril asked.

“The boy that was in the closet.” He pointed. “Right here.”

“I cannot know.”

He raised a brow.

“I saw no one.”

He scanned the room; men groaned from the floor, arrows stuck in their backs, arms and stomachs. Pril stood by the entrance bow ready to fire at anyone who moved. She’d been too busy standing guard to see a child escape.

He hoped the kid was okay and well on his way to safety. He took one last look around for any sign of the boy. He wasn’t in the room. Kade went back to the bar, grabbed the whiskey and the money he’d left on the counter.

“You do not need spirits. Put it back,” Pril whispered as he came close.

“My ribs, kidneys and face hurt like hell. I’ll be taking the damn bottle.”

He walked past her and outside.

“You’re welcome,” she said taking up the rear.

“I’ll not thank you, Gypsy, so forget it.”

“I just saved your life.” He pointed the whiskey bottle at her.

She mounted Athos.

“That may be, but you did so only because you need me. ” He saddled Goliath the whiskey still in his hand. “Had I been a stranger you would’ve walked away.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Not think, Gypsy. It’s what I know.”

She moved her horse next to his and handed him a handkerchief. “Hold this to your face until we get somewhere safe.”

He took the blue fabric and placed it gently above his eye. Damn, his face hurt. He couldn’t deny she’d saved his life. He was out numbered and hadn’t stood a chance. He was a skilled fighter, but skill didn’t matter when there were ten to one odds. His only concern had been her. Had she not been here, his task would be much simpler.

As it was, he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to steal the child from her once they found Tsura. He flexed his jaw, and the bone ached. He had no choice in the matter. Pril wouldn’t see the child again once he took her.

Guilt pressed against his sides, and he fought to take a breath. As much as the gypsy annoyed the hell out of him, she had come in handy. Her talent with the bow and arrow was remarkable. He’d never seen anything like it.

Over the years aboard his vessel he’d come across some talented riflemen, swordsmen and fighters, but he’d never seen one as proficient as Pril with the bow.

“Where did you learn to shoot?” he asked as they traveled south.

“Galius.”

He nodded.

“I started when I was four, Tsura’s age.”

He didn’t miss the hinge in her voice or the way she fidgeted with the reins.

“Tough weapon to learn.”

“I have tried others, but I was always good with the bow, and it was the one I felt the most comfortable with.”

He wanted to know more, but stopped himself. Too much information about the gypsy may cause him to falter in his plan. He couldn’t afford to get soft on her. He needed to bring the girl back. He’d made a deal.

Pril dug inside her bag for the beeswax she’d brought. Her hand closed around the glass jar, and she sighed. She thought she’d lost it. The one ingredient she needed to perform most healing spells. She placed her hand over the jar and said the words loud enough for her to hear.

“Blend together to bind thy mess, heal thy flesh upon caress.”

The spell had been cast on the wax in the jar and would mend Kade’s wound without her reciting the words for him to hear.

If she had the book she’d be able to find a spell to search for Tsura. She closed her eyes and allowed the loss to sweep over her. It’d been burned, and she’d not found one page left from it among the rubble. The most valuable family heirloom she had, trusted to her after Vadoma died. She shook her head. How could she have been so reckless as to keep something so important in her vardo? She should’ve buried it, created a spell that would keep the book from anyone’s eyes but hers.

Vadoma kept the book with her at all times. The people were frightened of the evil Chuvani and never came near her. She lived most of her life alone, and Pril believed she liked it that way. People came to her for balms, advice and even childbirth, but they wouldn’t allow her within their circle of friends or inside their homes. She was an outcast.

Pril was content to be with her family and the Renoldi clan. She didn’t need simple folk to make her happy. But Vadoma did. She needed to belong. Pril often thought this was because of her powers. They pushed her away from society, and instead of being accepted they turned her away. Soon Vadoma grew black to all things that were good and concentrated on getting revenge to those around her. She reveled in their fear, giving her immense pleasure.

Pril walked toward Kade. He sat on a tree stump, holding the handkerchief she’d given him earlier above his eye. The cut needed stitches, but she had no thread so she settled for a healing spell instead.

“About bloody time,” he growled when she drew near.

“I needed the wax.”

He examined the jar and raised a brow.

“It seals the skin, and since I don’t have any thread it will have to do.”

He blew out a long breath and removed the makeshift bandage from his brow.

She took the blood soaked fabric from him and dumped water from her canteen onto it. Slowly, and with sure hands, she dabbed at the dried blood from the gash above his left eye.

“I’m sure it feels worse than it looks,” she said.

“Cut the small talk, Gypsy, and get to it. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey to drink.”

He yanked the rag from her and dumped some of the whiskey on it.

“What are you doing?”

“Clean the wound with this. Water won’t get infection out.”

“I know that.” She grabbed the cloth. “I was ridding the wound of all the dried blood first.”

He shrugged and took a swallow from the bottle.

She watched as he made a face, and his body gave a slight tremble.

“If it tastes so awful why drink it?”

He stared at her, his eyes glazed and bloodshot.

“Who said anything about it tasting awful?”

“I cannot imagine it tasting like berries.”

His face really did look horrible. The skin around his eye was swollen and blue. He had a cut on his chin, and the cheek was bloated.

“Not berries, but rather pure ecstasy.”

He winked at her, and she knew the alcohol was influencing him.

“Hmmm.”

“There are many things in life that will give a man such ecstasy, Gypsy.”

“I’m sure there are.” She opened the jar and scooped out a healthy portion of wax. She gently rubbed her thumb over the cut.

He flinched.

“Apologies.”

He frowned.

She pulled some herbs from the pocket on the inside of her skirt and dabbed them into the wax-covered wound.

He moved back.

“Do sit still,” she said.

“I am still, but the earth is not.”

“Oh, dear.”

The bottle in his hand was empty. He’d had all of four drinks from it. How could there be nothing left?

He swayed to the side, and she caught him before he would’ve knocked his head on a rock.

“Thanks, Gypsy.”

He swatted the air, and she ducked so he didn’t hit her. She left him to go retrieve his blanket and saddle. When she came back he was out cold, his loud snores fit to raise the dead.

She sighed, propped his head against the saddle and covered him with the blanket. She inspected the wound one last time, making sure she’d covered it good, pleased to see the skin already closing.

The sun dipped behind the hills and an array of colors lit up the horizon. Soon it’d be twilight; she needed to get a fire going for warmth and a meal. She gathered wood, stacked it and found Kade’s flint and steel. She struck the two together until the sparks fell onto the dried leaves and twigs. She leaned in and blew onto the smoldering pile until an orange flame licked the air.

Pril sat on the ground next to the fire, lost within the dancing flames. She missed Tsura more with each passing hour.
Where could Milosh be?
She hadn’t asked Kade if they still followed her brother’s trail or if they’d lost it. They’d been so close the night before, and she wondered now if Kade had known Milosh was at the bottom of the hill all along.

She didn’t believe he’d gone for a stroll. He was going somewhere, she just didn’t know where. Kade’s loud snores mingled with the growling in her stomach, and she reached for her quiver a few feet from her. She better hunt their supper before nightfall when she’d be too frightened to go anywhere.

Kade folded the paper and tucked it back inside his shirt. He flexed his jaw. Too much time had been lost, and he was no closer to finding the girl than he had been a month ago. As each day passed the pressure in his chest built, and he was sure his heart would explode. They were still at least a day behind Milosh. He worried they wouldn’t find the girl before time ran out. He rubbed his eyes, refusing to think of the consequences that lay ahead. His stomach turned and bile rushed up his throat.

They needed to move. Determination pushed his shoulders back, and he stood taller. He went about the camp, gathered their supplies and shoved them into the saddlebags. He glanced at Pril, curled up on the ground fast asleep. He hadn’t the time to sit here and wait for her to wake. He stood above her, long red hair barely visible, the blanket covering her whole body.

He nudged her with the toe of his boot. “Get up.”

An owl hooted from somewhere above, and wolves howled in the distance. She didn’t move, and he bumped her again.

“Wake up, Gypsy.” There was an edge to his voice, a pitted, grated sound that he didn’t recognize, and he set his shoulders against it.

She rolled over, flipped her hair out of her eyes and glared up at him.

“Why are you waking me in the middle of the night?”

“We must travel. Time has been wasted.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, now move.” He pushed her with his foot again. “Get up.”

“I am not a dog.” She flung his foot from her. “Do not kick me again.”

He raised a brow.

She stretched her arms above her head and threw the blanket off.

“Time has been wasted due to consumption of liquor,” she said under her breath as she walked into the forest to relieve herself.

He folded her bedroll and tied it to the back of Athos. He’d woken with a pounding headache and sore muscles, the bottle of whiskey empty on the ground a reminder of how much he’d drank the night before. He was thankful Pril had left some cooked salmon wrapped in a dry cloth beside the low flames of the fire. Had it not been there, he’d be heaving into the bushes. The whiskey numbed the pain from the beating he’d taken, but also the memories of the past. He shook his head to lessen the guilt he felt over why he was here and what he was going to do. He watched Pril as she came closer, a scowl fit to scare the devil himself on her face.

“Brighten up, Gypsy. Morning is only a few hours away.”

She tipped her nose and tied her shawl into a knot around her shoulders.

The night air was brisk, and the dew dampened their skin. Clouds of fog formed around their mouths. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter around him. Lack of sleep made it difficult to keep warm. He’d known this from years upon his ship. There had been many evenings where sleep eluded him while he kept watch for pirates and thieves out across the waters. He missed the sea and yearned to go back to the life he loved.

He was stuck here, bound by blood, by obligation. He couldn’t give up now and go home. He’d never forgive himself. Honor had kept him here, searching for months for a child with a mark behind her left ear. Devotion pushed him beyond reason—beyond any sense that taking a child was wrong. Duty was the one emotion outside of anything he’d ever felt before where he’d sacrifice himself to end it all.

These things were rooted within his heart, the breath within his soul and the blood pumping within his veins. And, he experienced it all. He ached deep within the core of his being where pain obeyed no rules. Where memories lingered to haunt his dreams, pushing past a resolve he knew was uncertain. It was not a choice.
It was not choice
.

“Let us leave,” she said from on top of her horse.

He’d watched her sleep during the night, lost in her red hair and pale complexion. She was an anomaly to him—a mystery he fought hard not to concern himself with. But he wondered where she came from. Who was she, and why at her age did she not have a husband? What was so special about the child that the Monroes, Milosh and others hunted her?

He mounted Goliath and headed in the direction he’d seen the tracks.

“Do you know where we are going?” she asked irritation in her voice.

“Not a morning person, Gypsy?”

“This hardly qualifies as morning.”

She yawned.

“Milosh’s tracks are just past the tree line. I’d seen them yesterday when we left the village.”

“And Tsura’s?”

“There is one set.”

“How then are you sure we are following the correct ones?”

He sighed.

“Because they are the same ones we’ve followed since the beginning of this Godforsaken trip.”

“Oh.”

She was silent, and with Pril that either meant he’d pissed her off somehow or she was contemplating her next question.

He waited.

“How is your head?”

He hadn’t thought about the wound at all. She’d placed the wax on it, and when he touched his hand over the skin all he felt was the sticky lotion. No pain or discomfort of any kind.

“Remarkable. There is no pain. Your wax must really work. That is the second wound you’ve healed with it.”

“Do I sense your belief in the healing methods of my people?”

“No. I still have my suspicions, and from yesterday, I can tell I’m not the only one.”

“Yes, well, those people, you included, are daft. You know not what the earth can offer you.”

“Listen, Gypsy, I don’t need a lesson in the healing elements found within the soil as you like to say. I am well aware that there are benefits to plants and herbs.”

“How so?”

“I’ve lived at sea all my life. When my crew got sick the doctor on board always used such things.”

“You lived at sea?”

“I do.”

“Oh…what is it that you do aboard a ship?”

He hadn’t thought she wouldn’t know. He was used to being recognized within the small towns and villages by the sea where he’d port for an evening or two. Most of society lived by the wharfs and shipping yards, but the gypsies had gone deep within the bush to hide the child.

“I sail it.”

“You’re a Master?”

“I prefer Captain.”

“Do you own the vessel?”

“I do.”

“What do you transport?”

“Sugar, cotton, tobacco.” He heard her gasp and knew she was thinking of the Monroes. They were the wealthiest tobacco farmers in the south. He’d taken their tobacco aboard his ship many times, carrying it to London and Bristol. It was where he’d become acquainted with Silas Monroe and his brother Jude. Both offered him friendship among the docks, and Silas always had a whore waiting for him when he ported from a long journey. Had he known what would come of the friendship, he’d have killed Silas then.

“Was your father a Master, or Captain rather?”

“Samuel Walker was the captain of the S.S.W merchant ship before I.” Saying his father’s name sent a wave of emotions up his spine causing his face to heat and his head to spin.

“S.S.W?”

“Solomon Samuel Walker, my grandfather’s name. The vessel was named for him.”

“You lived aboard a ship all your life?”

“Yes.”

“What about your mother?”

“I didn’t have one.”

“Surely you had a mother. Did she pass when you were young?”

He never spoke of the woman who bore him, knowing little to nothing about her. All Sam had told him was that she came from wealth. He knew nothing more and didn’t care to. Had it not been for Sam he’d have been cast into the sea swallowed by the waves, forgotten forever.

“Did you have any siblings?”

“No.”

He didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken and was anxious to stop it. He didn’t care to know of his lineage or bloodlines. All he cared about was the here and now and the task he’d set out to achieve.

“I find it odd that you know nothing of your mother.”

He flexed his jaw.

“Was she of ill repute?”

“Gypsy, if you keep pushing me about my past I’m going to push you from that horse.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

She was silent, and he could tell by the way she fidgeted beside him in her saddle she had another question but battled whether to speak it or not.

“Do you know where she came from?”

Her curiosity won out. Without another thought he reached over and shoved her from Athos’ back.

She fell, landing in the river with a splash.

He stopped Goliath and waited while she flailed about. The river couldn’t be more than a foot deep on the edge. What was she making such a ruckus over?

He walked Goliath closer and pushed Athos out of the way. The red-brown horse backed up to allow the massive stallion passage. The water danced around Goliath’s hooves coming inward and outward.

She stood off to the side, dress soaked and dripping. Her hair was disheveled, the ends wet.

“You bastard!” She came toward him and slapped Goliath’s rump.

The stallion reared, throwing his front legs up into the air and sending Kade backward off of the horse and onto the ground.

He took a moment to catch his breath. Goliath whinnied and stomped back and forth.

“Goliath stay,” he said in a calm voice.

The horse shook his muzzle before standing still.

He pushed himself up and wiped the dirt from his pants.

“That was not very ladylike.”

“Ladylike? Ladylike you say?” She pulled her thin arm back and punched him in the jaw.

He stepped back and gaped at her.

“I think I broke my hand,” she yelped as she hopped up and down throwing her fist into the air.

“Serves you right,” he said rubbing the tender spot on his cheek where she’d hit him.

“Why did you throw me from my horse?” She held her hand close.

“You were warned not to ask me another question.”

“I thought you were bluffing. What man throws a lady from her horse, into the river no less?”

“I never bluff.”

She assessed her skirt, sopping wet, and shivered. The cold night air seemed more frigid than before. He felt sorry for her. He hadn’t known the river was that close. He took off his coat and handed it to her when he saw it on her neck.

“Uh, Gypsy?”

“Yes?”

“Do not move.”

One arm in his coat, she eyed him. “Beg your pardon?”

“Cease your movements.” He spotted another one on her collarbone. He gave an uncontrolled shake. He hated the damn things, always had. Their slimy, squishy bodies disgusted him. He shook again.

She froze, her eyes wide.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Are you familiar with leeches?”

“Oh no, oh no, tell me you jest.”

“I wish I was.”

Her face glowed white in the dark. He watched the play of emotions slide across her face. Fear. Disgust. Anger. Fear.

“Get it off,” she shrieked. “Get the damn thing off!”

He didn’t know if he should tell her that there was more than one.

“Where is it? Where is it?”

“On your neck, collarbone and left arm.”

He wasn’t prepared for the high-pitched scream that blew past her mouth.

“Please, please get them off,” she begged, bouncing from one foot to the other.

“I don’t fancy them myself,” he said, trying to figure out the best way to tackle the situation.

“You have to remove them. Oh, please, please.”

He’d never seen her like this before. The longer he waited the bigger her eyes got, and her whole body vibrated. She was going to lose her mind. He could see it in the way she bounced around, fidgeted and chewed on her lower lip.

“I need you to stand still.”

“Please, just hurry.”

He came close enough to smell the river on her skin and see the panic in her eyes. He reached out with his forefinger and thumb, skimming the bloodsucker before he snapped his hand back.

“Damn, they’re slimy.”

She hummed and stared up toward the stars.

He tried again, but once his finger touched the leech it shot back to his side.

“Get it off,” she growled between clenched teeth.

“I’m trying, but I hate them as much as you do.”

“I do not give a damn, Kade Walker. Get the blasted thing off!”

Goliath neighed and shuffled his hooves. He never did like loud noises.

Kade inhaled. With accurate speed, he grabbed the bloodsucker pulling it from her neck and flicked it into the bushes.

“Two left,” he said more for himself than her.

She nodded and held still.

He blew out three puffs of air before he latched onto the second one, yanking it from her chest and flinging it into the river.