Bound In Blood (The Adams' Witch Series Book 1) (16 page)

I breathed deep, in through the nose and out the mouth to calm the electric nerves that sizzled and sparked. They were fading now, with every breath I took, I was fading, until I was lost in my own mind.

I was a blank page, wishing I could start this story over again. Maybe I wouldn’t have ended in Adams, at my aunt’s house, at the bank of the stream where I couldn’t find the energy to muster any physical response when it happened.

A figure.

Standing at the edge of the tree line—chapped lips smirking and holding a bundle of smoking straw—a figure engulfed in shadows and moonlight walked toward the bank of the creek. Fire marinated the hay, producing an earthy smell of freshly mowed grass and wood smoke that swallowed me up. The shadow blew on the swathed talisman and the embers sizzled. Gray clouds curled up, surrounding the sallow face of the figure and floating upward.

A dark veil descended over me.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Isabella

1639

“To the house now, both of you. I will speak to you there.”

“Sir…” Thomas started.

“Now!” Mr. Ludington yelled.

Branches snapped all around as quick feet barreled through the woods toward them. Thomas took Isabella’s hand and ran to the house. Her chest squeezed tight, her breaths labored as she had to dig deep to gulp in air.

“This way,” he said, tugging her around a corner of another house before they finally reached his.

He crashed through the front door, sending it thudding against the wall. Mrs. Ludington ran into the hallway and then stopped in her tracks. “Isabella Lynne?” She looked at her son. “What is she doing here?”

Thomas dropped Isabella’s hand. Her heart sank with it as it fell to her side. “Mother…I…”

Heavy footsteps thudded in the entryway. Isabella turned and took a step behind Thomas as Mr. Ludington banged the door shut. “Go to your room, Martha. I need to speak with our son.”

She nodded her head, obliging him and walked with her head up, back to the other room.

“Sir—” Thomas started again, but he was interrupted.

“Thomas, would you like to tell me why you were meeting in the woods with this…girl?” he shot out.

“I—”

“And why, during these times, you left your post? You left another guard to become bewitched? Is this how you show your gentlemanly honor to our village?” His father strode up next to them. Frightened, Isabella took a few steps back.

Thomas stood tall. “I was walking my rounds when I happened across Isa—Miss Lynne.”

The older man’s eyebrow peaked. Then he turned to Isabella, “And what excuse do you have for being in the woods at night?”

His dark eyes bore into her and a single bead of sweat rolled down her back. “Sir, I—”

“She came to see
me
, Father.”

Mr. Ludington looked from one to the other. “What are you speaking of, Thomas?”

“Miss Lynne and I are in love. I wish to marry her.”

***

Isabella sat at her desk that night, hoping to hear a tap at the window. She still believed in Thomas, in them as a couple. He and Magistrate Ludington escorted her home earlier under the guise of a witch hunter. Thomas’ eyes appeared hopeful. His father’s were dark. Though the judge said he would think on the matter, she dared not hope too much. His silence revealed everything to her. He vowed he would not tell anyone of her suspicious appearance in town. Isabella, however, knew he did that only for his son, even when an encouraged smile beamed from Thomas.

Isabella exhaled loudly and placed the quill on the desk. No more words came. Her heart did not wish to write this letter to Thomas. It could break him…them.

Isabella slid back from the desk. It glowed yellow, sometimes orange in the moonlight. Strange, she felt as if someone’s eyes watched her. Glared at her.

A shiver ran up her spine. She ran her hands over the wood and closed her eyes, calming her nerves. With everything happening, she felt as if her insides were split in two. Her head told her one thing, while her heart screamed another.

The crickets chirped outside and the wind rushed through the trees and pushed against the house’s exterior walls. It seemed to pick up speed and become louder as she sat there, eyes closed.

She gripped the hard, cold wood of the desk and squeezed her eyes tighter. So tight that swirls of white light sprang from all corners. Her body coursed with shivering goosebumps and hairs pricked her arms.

Her stomach turned, panic rose through her as her heart beat out of control. She felt something. Something evil within the fringes of her body.

A voice sounded in her head. Impossible. It wasn’t her own voice she was so used to hearing lately. It was foreign. It didn’t belong, but it was also familiar. Out of place speaking in her own mind, though she knew who spoke.

Laughter rose up in her, yet it was not hers. It stayed there, lodged in her own thoughts that were not her own. It laughed and laughed.

Isabella tried desperately to open her eyes. The foreigner would not let her. Images flooded her mind. No conjuring of her own imagination and not memories, but bits and pieces seen through someone else.

Why?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sarah

My body was in a weird state between being asleep and dreaming, and being awake and dreaming. The numbness faded. Awareness crept back to me in inches.

As full realization returned, I stiffened. I wasn’t where I thought I should be. In the haziness between sleep and wakefulness, I’d lost myself.

I was supposed to be by the bank of the stream. I felt next to my laying body, expecting soft dirt or mud. Instead, smooth folds of cotton met my fingertips. I moved my hands down toward my waist and felt still more cotton.

Was it possible I drove back to Rose’s and don’t remember? Or even better, Drake drove me and I don’t remember. Regardless, everything ends with me not remembering.
I blinked away the sleepiness, rubbed my eyes and peered to the right, expecting to see the desk. That odd, beautiful desk.

My eyes finally cleared and I opened my mouth to scream. Nothing came out. I wasn’t by the stream and I wasn’t at Aunt Rose’s. So, where the hell was I?

I peeked down. I still wore the clothes I put on for the party, which was good. An unfamiliar patchwork quilt lay on top of me, orange and greens.

I was in a good-sized room, much like the room at my aunt’s with old and out-of-date furniture. Paintings of country scenes surrounded me, roosters and chickens, barns and fences. Two windows streamed in light from behind, each on either side of the bed. I didn’t know what time it was and a quick search of the room revealed no clock.

How long had I been sleeping? Was I even sleeping or had I passed out when I saw that figure in the woods?

Footsteps creaked the floor. My hands automatically clenched into a fist around the quilt and I drew the blanket closer around me. My mind returned to that too interested jock from last night. Had he brought me here? Kidnapped me?

I thought about faking sleep, but figured if attacked, I wanted to have the advantage of being able to see what was coming after me.

The footsteps moved closer, sounding like the clop, clop of a single person coming up a flight of stairs. My whole body tightened as a shadow moved underneath the door. A light shined in from below and someone stepped in front of the glow. My heart raced, palms growing sweaty. My eyes grew to big discs on my face and I hugged my knees into myself. The click of the door handle sounded. I bit down on my cheeks, to stop myself from screaming.

And waited.

The door inched open. With each moment, I moved farther and farther up the bed. The door, finally fully open, allowed light to pour in and I blinked away the sudden searing in my eyes. The shadow completely put out the light and my eyes gradually came into focus.

I breathed a big sigh of relief. It was Drake.

“Hey Drunkard. A couple of my friends found you near the creek. They had to carry you to the car.” He laughed and grabbed my hand. “So what the hell happened? One minute you were the talk of the town, guys were lined up to talk to you, and the next, you were gone.”

I looked up at him cautiously. “I thought I was sleeping.”

“I don’t think so, Sarah. Everyone tried to wake you up. You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever fainted before,” I said, a tug in my stomach. "I guess I don’t know what happened.”

“Sarah.” Drake laughed again. “You passed out.” He nodded his head when I shook mine. “Don’t worry,” he said, rubbing my shoulder. “It happens to the best of us. Rose doesn’t know a thing. I called and told her you were too tired to drive home last night. I was really worried up until we found you.”

I smiled, trying to relieve the boiling pit in my stomach. “Why? Is crime rate high in Adams?” The laughter that came from him soothed me, crept into my bones and massaged out the kinks.

He turned solemn after staring a while, his gaze lingering on my forehead longer than anywhere else. “Don’t get too freaked out okay?”

“Freaked out?” There was more than not remembering what the hell happened last night?

“There’s something you need to see.”

He tugged on my hands and stood close beside me as he pulled me up and out of bed. All the blood rushed to my brain and tiny stars sparkled in and out around the edges of my vision. I took a few steps and they disappeared. “What are we doing?”

“Here,” he said, motioning to the dresser with the mirror. “Look. Pete and the guys said it was there when they found you."

“Pete found me?”

I stepped in front of the mirror and gasped. It was worse than the Bloody Mary game I used to play as a kid. I reached up to my forehead and smudged a part of the circle drawn on my forehead. The circle encased a lightning bolt.

“Oh. My. God.” I looked down at my finger—black ash. My voice trembled so bad I barely spat out anything. “What’s going on here?”

“Probably just people messing with you. Marlene maybe.”

I turned and pointed at my forehead. “Drake, you do know what this is, don’t you?”

“It’s the symbol you keep seeing.”

“It’s the symbol that was found on my dad’s dead body!”

“Sarah,” Drake murmured. “He had a heart attack…”

“Maybe. Why the symbol? And why now? On me?” I stared back at my reflection. “Why me?”

“Calm down.” The hand on my back made idle circles over my shoulder blandes. “Someone’s playing a joke on you.”

“A joke. Seriously? No. This is not a joke. Who else even knows besides you and me about the symbol they found, huh? Who else?”

“I don’t know.”

He tried to grab for me, but I took a step closer to the door. “Me either. But somebody does. Somebody. Somebody is trying hard to scare me.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. But I’m thinking my dad’s death wasn't an accident. I’m going to request they open the case back up. I’m going to show them this…this symbol on me." I walked to the doorway and stopped. “But first. First, I’m going to talk to your grandfather.”

“Sarah—”

I put a hand up. “No Drake. You’re not stopping me this time.”

Drake moved in front of me, guarding me from the door. “Yes. I am. I told you he’s sick.”

“He knows something about this.”

“How do you know?”

I ran my fingers through my hair and tugged it down. “He has to.”

“He ran over a man that happened to be dead already with a symbol on him. How would he know anything about it? Sarah…your dad died of a heart attack, okay? I know you think you’re doing something good by trying to figure out some sort of mystery surrounding his death, but there just isn’t one. He’s dead. He died of natural causes. Not some mysterious…God, I don’t even know what the hell you think.” Drake ran his hands through his hair. “But I do know you’re not going to talk to Grandpa about it. He’s all I have.”

Tears slipped from my eyes and trickled down my face leaving wet tracks. “At least you have someone.”

I pushed past Drake and ran down the stairs. They led to the big oak front door I recognized from the other night. I ran through and slammed it behind me.

My black Escalade loomed in front of me in the driveway and I found the keys in the ignition. I rolled my eyes. Didn’t he know people steal cars? Especially nice cars, like this.

I peeled off toward the police station and after telling the officer at the front desk all that I knew, I stood calmly as he took photos of my head. My eyes still stung, but I made my face blank. Like gravity, the symbol’s importance couldn’t be disproved now. I didn't care what Drake said. Something was wrong and the symbol was the key.

The policeman thanked me for coming in. He wasn’t one of the two I freaked out in front of the other day. Thankfully. “The bathroom’s over there if you want to freshen up."