Belmary House Book Six Read online

  “Make him answer me,” he whispered to her. “Excuse me, sir?” he asked louder.

  The man looked up from his busywork and raised an eyebrow. “How may I help you?”

  Thankfully, Maria must have been maintaining her shield to keep people from noticing what ragamuffins they were and he stood a little straighter. “The woman we checked in with last night. Where has she gone?”

  The man blinked slowly, then narrowed his eyes as if he might not answer or pretend he didn’t know. Owen reached around and tugged on Maria’s sleeve. She sighed and repeated the question to the man.

  This time his eyes went wide and he stared blankly. “The young woman left last night with a man.”

  “A man? Who?” Owen demanded. Maria repeated him and the man continued to stare.

  “He was bald. Had a slight limp, but nothing bad. The girl looked ill. He was helping her walk. Holding her quite firmly so she wouldn’t fall. I thought she was drunk.”

  “And you just let him take her out of here?” Owen reached to grab the man by the collar but Maria stopped him with a sharp sound.

  The man blinked rapidly a few times and went back to his work as if they were no longer there. They probably weren’t as far as he was concerned.

  Maria led him back to the room and he followed, fuming and terrified at the same time. “You don’t suppose that’s that soulmate of hers, do you? A bald man who limps? She always did have a soft spot for the downtrodden but—”

  “It wasn’t her soulmate,” Maria said.

  He stopped, but she kept going. “Wait, Maria. You said before the man Ariana thought she was in love with wasn’t her soulmate. Is that what you mean or do you mean it wasn’t him who took her?” He was confusing himself.

  “Both,” she answered. She opened a door once they were on the proper floor again. It wasn’t their room, but the one where Ariana should have been.

  “Oh, good idea. Let’s look for clues.” Owen walked the perimeter, looking under the chair, under the bed, under the damn basin. Not a hint she’d ever been there. Not a hairpin. Not a hair. He slumped on the edge of the bed. “Who took her, then?”

  Maria was as maddening as ever. “A bald man?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, Madame I-know-things. Why don’t you know anything about this? It would be quite helpful for once.”

  She gave him a sour look. “Perhaps she went of her own accord.”

  “Not a chance. She’d never leave us like that without a single word.”

  “She’d never leave you. And all her talk of cousins being so important. She wouldn’t know what it was like to have a real cousin. Not that it’s her fault, I suppose.”

  Was she jealous of Ariana? To what purpose? Was that the real Maria finally breaking free of whatever held her captive in her own body? In any other instance that would have given him the greatest joy. But he needed that entity now. Needed the power and knowledge to find Ariana. Knowledge. Perhaps the real Maria could be helpful after all.

  “Can you rummage around in Maria’s memories and find out if she ever spoke of that lout and where they went together? Maybe he sent someone to nab her?”

  Maria looked past him and the glow in her eyes dimmed somewhat. A moment later she shook her head. “Ariana wanted her to ride out somewhere on the outskirts of London to look at a house. But it was too far.”

  “Do you think that’s where they’ve gone? But damn it, they’ve probably also gone to another time. What year did she say she went to? I’m sure she bragged about it.” He wracked his mind but nothing surfaced.

  “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions,” Maria said.

  “How is it that when we were in my cousin’s village you knew what I was going to say before I said it. You knew when to reach into the river and grab a fish without looking. You seemed to know everything. Why are you so…” He stopped himself from saying something unkind.

  “In the village, there was great power surrounding me. The presences I needed were everywhere. Even using up most of my energy to keep myself hidden from the people there, I was able to get all the help I needed.”

  “And there’s no power here,” he said bitterly. He was useless. Utterly useless.

  “It’s always everywhere,” Maria answered.

  He wanted to throttle her. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “It’s not close here.”

  Frustrated tears stung his eyes and he took a deep breath. “How do we get to it then? Please, Maria, this is important. Ariana didn’t go with that man willingly, I know it.”

  “I can ask the others but I’d have to leave her for a bit. Shouldn’t be long, but it’s dangerous for her. She’s not ready.”

  He shivered, as cold as if a window had been thrown open and an icy breeze blasted through the room.

  The others.

  That faint presence he felt when he did a spell out of nowhere. Those whispery, faraway voices he sometimes heard. Was that who was in Maria? One of them? He started to shake and gripped the coverlet on the bed.

  “How dangerous?” He didn’t want to risk Maria’s life. He’d put her through so much already.

  She shrugged. “Like I said, she’s not ready.”

  Not helpful. The opposite of helpful. What did he do? Who did he choose? He loved Maria, didn’t he? He wanted to save her, make things right. But a lifetime of memories assailed him. Laughter, tears, running through the forest, sharing secrets and dreams and struggles, more laughter, more tears.

  “Do it fast,” he said. “As fast as you can get the information you need.” It had to be Ariana. It would always be Ariana.

  Maria looked at him for what felt like an eternity before she smiled. The true smile, not the wolfish leer. An instant later she collapsed to the floor in a heap. With a cry, he grabbed her under her arms to keep her from hitting her head on the way down. Her body was cold, her skin as unyielding as if she were made of wood. He recoiled in disgust but gathered his courage.

  “Maria,” he pleaded.

  He shook her shoulders and patted her stiff cheeks. He’d really killed her, once and for all. All he could think was now he’d never find Ariana. The guilt and shame of it made him unable to breathe.

  Maria opened her eyes. “She’s okay,” she said.

  He gasped for air and leaned back on his heels. “Ariana’s okay?” he asked, shaking with relief.

  “No, Maria’s okay. Ariana’s in terrible danger.”

  ***

  Ariana woke up to a screaming headache in a room she didn’t recognize. After a failed attempt to heal her throbbing head with a spell, she scrambled off the narrow bed she lay on and rushed to the door. Locked. At the window she breathed a small sigh of relief.

  She was at her mansion, looking out at the back of the place. Except it wasn’t finished. There was no thriving vegetable garden, no decorative wall, no fruit trees anywhere to be seen. It looked exactly as when she first found it.

  That meant she was in her own time or very close to it. But why was she here? Had everything she’d done been a dream and she was just now starting out? No, that wasn’t right. She rubbed her temples and sat down.

  Milo had found her at the inn. An emergency with Gloria. He said he had a new spell he wanted to try. That was all she could remember. She also remembered she was locked in this small, sparse room and angrily pounded on the door. No sooner than her fist hit it once, it swung open to reveal Milo with a pitcher and cup on a tray, towels beside it.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right,” he said. There was no table so he set the tray on the edge of the bed. “I was worried you’d never come round after that confounded spell knocked you out. You were completely unconscious. I was afraid to do the time travel spell in your condition.”

  His words came out in a jittery rush. That wasn’t like him to be so tense, but she knew he was worried. Still, she thought of how frightened Cousin Dexter had been for her and nodded toward the door. Better safe than sorry. />
  “Why did you lock me in?”

  “Was it locked? My goodness, that silly wench. The serving girl must have done it for your safety. You were- were babbling and trying to wander around. She must have been afraid you’d fall down the stairs.”

  “I thought I was completely unconscious.” Her senses were on high alert now. She looked over Milo’s shoulder as if Nick might be looming in the doorway.

  His shiny head turned red. “Yes, you were. Until we got here. Then you came round some, but were very ill.” He peered at her, his eyes full of anxiety. But was it for her? “I’m still not sure we should do the travel spell yet.”

  “What year is it?” she asked, trying to get her bearings. She did feel awful and had no recollection of what went on after being in her room at the inn.

  “It’s 1832. Right after you bought the house. As soon as you’re steady, we can go forward.”

  Ariana didn’t think she needed to be afraid of Milo, unless perhaps he was being threatened by Nick. If Nick had convinced some of the other witches to help him kill her, perhaps they were holding Gloria somewhere. If only her head didn’t hurt so badly. And if Dexter hadn’t filled her mind with nonsense, she wouldn’t be so suspicious right now.

  “Why did you come find me?” she asked, hoping if she heard the story again, she’d be more at ease.

  He flapped his arms and wiped his now sweaty head, though it wasn’t hot at all in the room. “Everything’s sideways, Your Majesty. There’s such an upheaval. I know you probably only meant to be gone a day or two when you ran off, but you were gone months and months. People started to take sides, turn against Nick and me, demanding to see you. But we couldn’t scry you at all. It was as if you were gone.”

  That was a lie. Another lie. “Gloria’s not deathly ill?” she asked. “And is Nick in Italy or not?”

  That was important. She had to know where Nick was. Her heart ached that she was so suspicious of him but Milo was acting all wrong.

  He huffed impatiently, as if she were being annoying. “He was in Italy. He’s in the future now. Our time. He’s in danger if we don’t get you back soon. And poor, dear Gloria. She is very ill. Sick with worry about how divided everyone’s become. I told you all this at the inn last night.”

  She eased around him toward the door. He must have tried to put one of his memory spells on her, but she had been working with Gloria on different wards against them in their spare time. Gloria was adamantly opposed to them for some reason even though they were Milo’s specialty. The spell must not have taken properly because she was remembering more and more every second.

  He’d wanted her to leave with him and she’d agreed, but she wanted to take Owen and Maria along. She was going to get them when Milo reached out to her, a look of anger on his face. That was when he’d done the spell. Should she confront him? Tell him she’d help him against Nick? What if Nick was here now?

  She decided it might be best to go along with him for the moment. If Nick was here and tried anything, she’d blast him to infinity and then take care of whoever might be threatening Gloria in her future time. Because Gloria being in danger was the only thing that made sense. On his own, Nick was completely harmless, so he would have had to have partnered with someone who had turned against Milo. Could she be remembering wrong about what happened at the inn, after all?

  She knew first hand, not least of all what had become of Maria, how badly a memory spell could go wrong. Maybe the story about her coven being in upheaval was the truth and Nick was in trouble as well as Gloria.

  Barely able to comprehend up from down after all the tumultuous what-ifs that clattered around in her mind, she huffed out a sigh. All she wanted was to be on the road to Scotland with Owen. See that her family was safe after the fire and then fall fast asleep for days.

  “And I told you I wanted to bring my friends along,” she answered his irritation with more of her own.

  A flicker of surprise in his eyes made her believe she was right in that he’d done a memory spell on her and that it hadn’t worked properly.

  “Yes, of course you did.” He paused for far too long, eyeing her as she continued to ease toward the hallway. “And they’re here. Of course they are. They’re still … sleeping.” He clapped his hands together as if the matter was settled and looked at her like she was a foolish child. “Come along and have some breakfast. You’ll feel better. Then we can wake up those layabouts and be on our way again.”

  One thing was certain. Owen wasn’t a layabout. He’d grown up on a farm, had to ride three miles to the village for his lessons each morning, and that was after he’d done his chores. The sun itself was lazy compared to Owen Povest.

  The heavy realization that she could no longer trust Milo hit her like a flooded river breaching its bank. She swayed on her feet and grabbed the doorframe. Whether he was under duress or had betrayed her, he wasn’t acting in her best interests. If she let him kill her, she’d never be able to rest in peace. All the work her parents had done to prevent it would be for naught. Even harder than the hit of Milo’s lies was the fact that she now understood why her and Owen’s parents had lied to them all those years. Tried to keep magic from them. It was dangerous.

  God, she’d been a fool. A child.

  “Take me to where Owen is. I’m not hungry at all.” A muscle twitched in his jaw and she could tell he was grinding his teeth. She’d never once seen him angry at her and it was jarring. She’d never had to use her imperious voice on him, either, but she pulled it out now. “At once, Milo.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said. “Follow me.”

  She followed him down the stairs and along the back hallway she knew led to the kitchen and servants’ quarters. She supposed he must have put them in one of those rooms, but they passed them by, ending up in the kitchen. It was all she could do to not stamp her foot.

  “Where are they?” she demanded.

  She was through dealing with things like a spoiled princess. Full of anxiety, not just for herself but Owen and Maria now, she tried to do a truth spell on him. Have him spill whatever plan he had, see for certain if it was nefarious or not.

  It fell flat, same as the healing spell she tried when she first woke up. A small smile curled his lips. He knew she’d tried a spell and it hadn’t worked. He’d warded the place. She only hoped that meant he couldn’t use any spells either.

  “Ariana, really. It was an arduous journey getting here last night. You’re clearly still feeling the effects of that quick spell. Try and calm yourself. Let me grab you a spot of tea and some bread and jam and then I’ll bring Owen and Maria down to join us.”

  Before she could object, he hurried across the huge kitchen and jammed himself into the larder. She rushed after him, thinking she might be able to lock him in and flee. She stopped when she heard him hissing commands to someone and she listened, still hoping against hope that he hadn’t turned against her.

  “I don’t know what went wrong, but she’s not going to let us just take her back. We’re going to have to do it now. Do you have it?”

  She didn’t need to hear more to know exactly what they were going to do. She looked around desperately for something to block him into the pantry with, but another voice answered and she froze. She had to know if it was Nick.

  “Yes, you want me to put it in now?” It wasn’t Nick. She slumped with relief before remembering she had to barricade them in.

  “Yes, idiot,” hissed Milo. “Make sure it’s enough.”

  They were going to poison her. Exactly as Dexter said. Exactly as her mother had found out on her ill-fated trip through time before Ariana was born.

  She pushed a wooden table in front of the door, but it was woefully light. The sound of its legs scraping across the floor made Milo pop his head out. He was sweating profusely and held a round platter with a pitcher and cup, two slices of bread, and an opened jar of jam. Had they poisoned all of it?

  “I won’t eat or drink any of that,” she
said, backing away. She felt hated tears prickling at her eyes but refused to let them fall. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. You don’t have to. Take the coven. I don’t want it anymore.”

  He took a few steps toward her, the tray shaking in his hands. “What are you on about, m’dear? Goodness, that spell must have hit you like a blow to the head. Sit down.”

  She stopped backing up. Even without magic, she could take Milo. He wasn’t any bigger than her and he was older and never exercised. Her mother had been teaching her and her brothers self-defense moves since they could toddle.

  The larder door creaked open further and a large, burly man appeared behind him. She recognized him as someone who’d joined the coven recently. He was only a few years older than her and not overly talented. She thought his name was Anders. She’d barely spoken ten words to him except to formally welcome him, and then a week or so back she’d complimented some work he’d been doing out in the garden.

  Why would he be part of this? What could he possibly have against her? It hurt almost as badly as being betrayed by Milo, who she trusted. The burly Anders cracked his knuckles and moved closer to Milo. She felt less confident in her self-defense training with the both of them staring at her.

  “Eat the bread and jam, Your Majesty, and wash it down with the tea. It won’t hurt none,” Anders said, both menacing and reassuring at the same time.

  “Why are you doing this?” she cried. If she could get him on her side, she’d have a chance to get out of there alive. “I told you, take the coven. Be its leader if that’s what you want. Anders, do you want more money? Is that what this is about? Milo has no money to give you, only what I’d leave behind. I can set you up to have an unlimited amount, for your whole life.” She stopped when she saw he stared at her with icy hatred.

  “My name is Bergen,” he said, his voice as cold as his eyes.

  She hadn’t even been close. “Oh God, do you hate me because I didn’t remember your name? I’ve always been rubbish at names. I don’t know why. I can remember French verbs until the cows come home. I’m sorry, Bergen. Please, is that a reason to kill me?”