Belmary House 6 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Belmary House Book Six

  by Cassidy Cayman

  Belmary House Book Six

  Owen Povest has fled to his family’s village in hopes of getting a grasp on his uncontrollable power.

  Reeling with guilt over ruining Owen’s and Maria’s happiness, Ariana is hiding out in her chosen future. A future that is about to repeat itself with deadly consequences.

  Tilly and Ashford can’t face the thought that they’ve lost their only daughter, and trying to find her is threatening to tear them apart. In order to save his family, Ashford may have to do something that will ultimately destroy it.

  And something is wrong with Maria.

  Chapter 1

  Owen Povest collapsed onto his back in the ditch, staring at the sky. “I guess pride does goeth before a fall,” he said with a dazed groan.

  It had been three days of nearly non-stop trudging since anyone offered him a ride. About that long since he’d had anything to eat. The ferns growing at the edge of the woods nearby looked temptingly delicious to him. Like the green salads his Aunt Tilly loved so much.

  He rolled to his side to try to contain the gnawing hunger. Why did he thunder off like a petulant child? His parents were agreeable to his plan to visit the Povest side of the family in Moldavia. In fact, they seemed eager to get rid of him, not that he could blame them after what he’d done. They would have given him money. His uncle Julian would have given him a horse and more money.

  But he was too proud, too angry. The exact same things he’d berated Ariana for. He hoped she was all right, wherever and whenever she was. Foolish lass.

  “And you’re just as foolish,” he said, closing his eyes against the midday sun that seemed to burn right through his tired retinas.

  He wasn’t sure how far he was from the village in Moldavia where his cousin Sorin presided over a powerful coven of witches. He wasn’t even sure he was headed in the right direction anymore. Learning about his magical legacy seemed unimportant after the long weeks of hard travel. He only wanted something to eat. Anything. He reached for the lacy ferns. If they were poisonous, at least he’d die with a full belly.

  “I was wrong,” he said to the plants. “I was a wee idiot. I need help.”

  “About bloody time,” a voice behind and far above him said.

  God? Had God deigned to help him? Despite all the mistakes he’d made? Tears clouded his eyes but he was too dehydrated for them to fall. He rolled over to see a man, medium tall in height, brown hair, an impish grin on his face. Probably not God.

  “I couldn’t find you until you called for help,” he said, holding out his good hand.

  “Cousin Sorin?” Owen asked, still lying in the ditch. “Is it you?”

  “None other. Has it been so long that you don’t recognize me? And why on earth would you cloak yourself like that? I’ve been traipsing around for days trying to find you.”

  Owen finally accepted the outstretched hand. “If I did, I didn’t mean to. I’m off magic until I can better understand it.”

  Sorin surveyed him from head to foot, a wry twist to his friendly, weathered face. “Well, it’s not off you, that’s for certain. Hungry, are you? You’re looking at me like I’m a roasted ham.”

  Owen’s stomach growled ferociously at the mention of such a delicacy. He doubled over, clutching his twisting gut.

  “I’m near starving,” he said.

  His second cousin snapped his fingers and two horses ambled out from the trees. He pulled a saddle bag off one and handed it to Owen. He greedily tore through it, cramming a loaf of stale bread into his mouth and nearly choking. With a shake of his head, Sorin handed him a leather-wrapped jug. The wine had him reeling after days of no food but it was like heaven on his tongue. After he wolfed down the bread and a hunk of dried pork, he was able to smile at Sorin.

  “Better?” Sorin asked. “Feel like a human again?”

  “Much better,” Owen said. He felt rejuvenated, as if he could walk for another three days. It seemed the second horse meant he wouldn’t have to, though. “Thank you for coming to get me,” he said, then frowned. “But how did you know I was on my way?”

  Sorin motioned toward the horses, clearly eager to be on his way. “I guess you could say I had a messenger.”

  “My father?” he asked, stomach sinking. Had they changed their minds about letting him go?

  “Nooo, not your father,” he said cagily. “Someone who’s itching to see you, though. She’s been a right pain in my nether regions, wreaking havoc at the village. So let’s hurry, shall we? Perhaps you can sort her out. I certainly can’t.”

  Owen didn’t have any time to feel curious. It seemed like he had barely mounted the horse when he was faced with a large set of gates. He turned around to see a vast path leading through the woods but had no recollection of entering the woods.

  “Is this the village?” he asked, a shiver of excitement racing up his back. His family lay beyond those gates. Hopefully willing to accept him and eager to help him learn. “How did we get here so fast? Was I that close to making it?”

  Sorin chuckled. “You might not be doing magic but that doesn’t mean I’m not. I wandered around the hard way for weeks looking for you, so got us home a bit quicker. And you not only weren’t close, you were heading too far north so would have missed us had you kept walking the way you were.” Sorin looked at him sternly. “Don’t be such a fool next time. Ask for help. It’s what family’s for.”

  “Yes, sir, you’re right.”

  “I know I am and don’t call me sir anymore. It makes me feel old. The last time your father set foot in this village, you weren’t born yet. And now look at you. A man.”

  “What’s he got against this place? Against— you know. What we do.”

  “That’s a long and sad story, Owen. Your father was put through the wringer. We all were. But it’s different now. Far more welcoming.”

  They crossed through the gates, which swung slowly open of their own accord as soon as they were right in front of them. As soon as they were on Povest land, a lone figure appeared from the forest like a wraith, moving toward them at what seemed a very fast pace.

  “Is that a sentinel or something?” Owen asked anxiously. “Do I need to prove myself?”

  Sorin barked a laugh but quickly turned grim as the figure grew closer. Owen could now see it was a woman in a pink dress, a sash flapping behind her.

  “Not a sentinel,” Sorin said with weighty solemnity.

  Owen’s sense of foreboding grew as the woman got closer. She must have come from nearly a quarter mile away, but her feet ate up the ground and she was upon them in moments.

  “Owen,” she berated, stopping in front of their horses. “It’s been ages. How bad of you to make me wait so long.”

  His heart seized, threatening to stop. Her curls were no longer lustrous but littered with twigs. Dark circles ringed her once clear blue eyes, now hazy and unfocused. She clasped her dirty hands in front of her and beamed up at him. It re
minded him of a wolf baring its teeth right before it attacked. He didn’t have his bow on him and yet he reached for it instinctively to protect himself.

  “Say hello to your friend, Owen,” Sorin said dully.

  He swallowed hard to clear his dry throat. “Er, hello Maria.”

  Chapter 2

  Tilly paced in front of the portal, wanting to tear the curtains from the wall. Wanting to strike out at Ashford. It was all his fault after all, not being honest when he couldn’t destroy that filthy book. She made a feral noise in her throat, instantly turning the blame on herself.

  Talk about dishonesty. They’d all made a pact when Owen was a tiny baby and Ariana was still in the womb. No magic. Never again, no matter what. They were going to live normally. No harm would come to their children because of Ashford’s and Kostya’s powerful lineages.

  And that’s when the real lying had begun. Years and years of it. She’d actually had the audacity to visit her family in the twenty-first century, leaving the children with Farrah and the rest of her beloved house staff. What was wrong with her? Hindsight was laughing at her now, rubbing it in her face at how wrong she’d been.

  “Why can’t you get it working?” she snapped, surprised at the guttural sound of her voice. She’d been crying nonstop for hours, interspersed with anguished moans of self-recrimination.

  “Because I can’t, darling,” Ashford said, maddeningly calm. She knew he wasn’t calm at all, but was trying to keep her from flinging either herself or him out of the second story window. “Ariana might have done what generations of Alexanders have been trying unsuccessfully to do. Close up this bloody portal once and for all.”

  An indescribable sound climbed out of her throat and she paced some more to keep from hitting him.

  “She couldn’t have. Keep trying. You can break whatever she did. You have the bloody book right there, Ashford. Bloody well use it, damn it!”

  She broke down into fresh tears once more. How could she possibly have any left in her? She fell into Ashford’s open arms, alternately beating his chest and clutching at his shirt for comfort. But there was no comfort to be had.

  “We killed her,” she sobbed. “We—”

  “Hush,” he said forcefully, squeezing her tight enough to make her gasp. “Stop. Call for a drink, tea or whisky, whichever you think might help. But you mustn’t say such things.” He patted her back, making soothing sounds. “We’re going to find her, love. She’s going to be fine.”

  Serena poked her head around the door frame, her own face red with tears. Her son Owen was gone as well, but at least they knew where he was going. To family, safety. Ariana was heading toward nothing but bad.

  “What— goodness, what is all this?” Serena stepped tentatively into the room and gasped, putting everything together. “Oh no. She couldn’t have. She didn’t. Perhaps she went after Owen.”

  “She didn’t,” Tilly said, trying to keep from sounding like a shrew to her best and oldest friend.

  But underneath her fear was a disgusting stain of envy. Serena knew Owen was all right, albeit out of her sight for a while. She knew exactly where he was going and how to find him should she want to. Tilly knew nothing. Well, something. She knew about that horrible future she’d witnessed before Ariana was born. Panic welled in her and she couldn’t speak to explain. Gasping, she collapsed onto the bed and clutched at her collar.

  “It looks like Ariana went through the portal and did a hell of a good job closing it up. I can’t even sense it being here anymore.” Ashford pressed his lips together, clearly wishing he hadn’t been so forthcoming. “I’m certain we’ll figure it out soon, though,” he added lamely.

  Tilly looked away from him before she went off her rocker with rage. Why couldn’t he fix it? It was his house, his family’s curse. It was supremely irresponsible of him not to have studied harder, done more. Done something. She knew she was being unfair and tipped over onto her side, curling up in a ball.

  “Let me get Kostya,” Serena said. “He’ll sort it at once.”

  She ran from the room while Ashford took over pacing duties. “He won’t help,” he said. “He’s too afraid.”

  “He will,” Tilly muttered from her fetal position. He would or she’d…

  Kostya raced into the room with Serena on his heels. “What’s this about? How can you know Ariana’s gone through the portal?”

  Tilly dragged herself upright. “I’ve sent messengers to all her friends’ houses. No one’s seen her in hours.” She pointed to the book with all its notes sticking out from the pages. “She marked up all the pages that had to do with the portal. They both knew about it for years. I don’t know how long exactly, but you can tell by their handwriting it’s been since they were children.”

  Serena sank to the floor. “My poor baby,” she said into her skirts.

  “Your poor baby is on his way to his cousin’s house,” she said. “Mine is somewhere in time, about to be—”

  “Not possible,” Kostya interrupted. “You changed too much. If she went through the portal, I don’t believe things will play out the same.” He nudged Ashford out of the way and leaned over the corner as if he could see or smell the damn thing. “But I agree we need to fix this so you can go after her.”

  Hope surged in Tilly’s shattered heart. Kostya was powerful. The most evil, power-hungry witch she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting was his own grandmother, and that nasty piece of work had feared his abilities. If anyone could fix what Ariana had done, it was him.

  Kostya looked anxious as he rubbed his hands together. His face turned pale and beads of sweat popped out on his brow. Tilly prayed he could keep it together long enough to call up his old talents. Just this once. She knew he must be having flashbacks. He’d been cursed in the worst possible way by that wicked grandmother of his, a curse that had caused him to lose his daughter. Magic had never done a single favorable thing for him or anyone he loved. The man was happy to be a simple farmer and keep the accounts at their Scottish property. And now he was jumping back into the fray to help Ariana.

  “Thank you Kostya,” she gulped. “You can do it. I know you can.”

  His hands shook as he held them out toward the corner. He looked positively waxen as he muttered a few words. Within seconds he was tossed backwards, landing in a heap near the bedside.

  “Well, that didn’t work,” he said, rubbing his hip. Like a champ, he got up and cracked his neck before stalking forcefully back to the portal area. “What do you suppose she did?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t sense any of it,” Ashford said.

  His comment was met with silence. Ashford had never been very good at magic. His power was there, but he couldn’t control it. He used his wits and his fists and sometimes a gun to help the people who were victims of the portal before it was closed up by Tilly’s step-grandfather. That itself had been an extremely strong spell. It made her head spin to think how much Ariana must know to have been able to crack through it.

  “The young buggers must have been pretty adept at covering their tracks if you believe they’ve been studying the book for years,” Kostya said through gritted teeth. Whatever new thing he was trying must have hurt. “By all accounts one of us should have sensed them using magic.”

  Serena looked pained. “He kept apologizing and saying I mustn’t believe anything I heard after the debacle with Maria Winters. The poor boy was so heartbroken, but I did wonder how the rumors about him got started in the first place. He was always such an honest child.”

  “He wasn’t,” Tilly said harshly. “Neither was Ariana, apparently. She told me the reason she was so mad at him was that he made the whole of London society believe he was rich so Maria could marry him. It most likely wasn’t just rumors, it was probably a spell.”

  Serena pushed her hands into her stomach as if to ward off the pain Tilly’s cruel announcement gave her.

  “I warned him that love made people do stupid things,” she said. “I only meant that
he should keep an eye on Ariana so she didn’t end up with the wrong sort.”

  Terror struck Tilly anew. If they didn’t hurry, that was exactly what might happen. “Please,” she begged Kostya. “We have to get her back. You know how it works. An hour or two here could be days or weeks for her.”

  Once again Kostya was sent reeling backwards. He swore and shook off whatever happened to him.

  “You say they made notes in the book?” he asked, breathing hard from exertion. “Let me see. I can’t make a dent unless I know what I’m working against. It’s odd because it’s as if the portal’s not there at all. Just her wards, which if the damned things didn’t pack such a wallop, I’d think were quite brilliant. But I can’t sense a single thing behind them.”

  “That’s what I thought as well,” Ashford said. “But certainly Ariana couldn’t have completely undone a six-hundred-year-old spell. That would make her…” he trailed off, glancing fearfully at Tilly. “No, she’s just done something new and clever to hide it. We’ll break it.”

  He looked at the book with loathing and no one made a move toward it. Kostya looked like he might cry and Tilly couldn’t make herself reach for it either. It seemed to pulse all the hatred they felt toward it back at them, but multiplied by a thousand. Finally, Kostya sighed and gripped it, dragging it off the dresser. He sat down on the floor and began leafing through it, a joyless laugh escaping his lips.

  “I think the children did that,” he said. “Put the extra layer of revulsion on it to keep people away. It’s fine now that I have it in my hands. Clever.”

  While Kostya pored over the pages, the others exchanged looks. How could their children be so powerful? What monstrous things might they have done all the time they’d secretly been studying their heritage? Growing strong enough to stymie even Kostya.

  Tilly shuddered, a new mantle of fear settling over the old one like a heavy, damp blanket. Ashford continued his pacing until Kostya snapped his fingers at him.