Blood Curse (Branded Trilogy Book 2) (13 page)

He’d been tied.

Kade went to Milosh’s head where he ran his hands across the sides then to the back of the skull and felt the large bump.

“Your brother did not kill himself,” he said.

Pril wiped her eyes and peered up at him.

“He has a lump the size of a mountain on the back of his head, and his wrists were bound. He did not die willingly. My guess is whoever killed your brother took Tsura.”

“But why?”

“Only you know that answer.”

“Why would I know such a thing?”

“Someone, other than Milosh and the Renoldis, want your daughter.”

She looked at her brother, and her lip trembled.

“Who is it?”

“I do not know.”

“Bullshit.”

She tipped her chin.

“Who hunts Tsura because of a curse?”

“I know of no such thing.”

“Tsk, tsk, Gypsy. Your lies are catching up to you.”

She shrugged.

He hooked his finger under her chin and forced her to face him.

“Before we left your clan you mentioned the curse.”

Recognition flickered in her brown eyes.

“Ah there it is. You remember.”

“The curse is a myth.”

“I care nothing of the curse but those that hunt her.”

She sighed, blowing the hair from her wet cheek.

“They are of three.”

He nodded.

“Brothers.”

“Who?”

“They call themselves Monroes.”

He hid any reaction to the name and asked, “Are these people similar to the Renoldis?”

“No.”

“What do they want?”

“I do not know.”

“I say you do.”

“I care not of your thoughts.”

He studied her—poised with cold tears left on her cheeks, defiant yet broken at the same time. She didn’t’ make any sense. The child had something the Monroes, Renoldis and Milosh wanted, and she knew what it was. He regarded Milosh, dead between them, and without saying another word he walked away from her.

She held the truth from him, and he couldn’t be angry with her for it. How could he expect her to be honest when he planned on stealing Tsura? He was no better than her. In fact, he was worse. He’d abscond with the one thing that kept Pril alive for reasons he had no control over, and it would kill her. He flexed his hands.

He knew this and yet he couldn’t seem to see past the threat that lay over his head, sinking him deeper and deeper with each day that passed.

Time was short, and he felt the pressure like a dozen horses trampling him. Where was the girl now, and who the hell had taken her? All he knew was one rider had been here but that didn’t mean there weren’t more waiting on the perimeter of the forest. He’d need to find the tracks and follow them. He peeked back at Pril. He should leave her here. She was becoming a distraction, one he didn’t need. The boy had crept to her side and placed his head on her shoulder. Thoughts of leaving Pril left him.

He was responsible for them both whether he liked it or not. He wouldn’t turn his back on those in need, and the boy needed him. Pril would get by without him, he knew that, but maybe it was possible that he needed her?

He shook his head. What in hell was the matter with him? He ran his hand through his long hair. He was to find the girl, steal her back from whoever took her and trade her for another. He must remain focused. Sam was counting on him.

Kade flexed his tired muscles. They’d been traveling for most of the day, and he wasn’t about to stop until they reached the next town. His backside ached, and his right hip tingled from time to time, but he pressed on—he had to.

He tightened his grip on the reins. Fear picked away at his sanity. He was restless, and he didn’t know how to calm his rigid nerves. The pressure built within him making even the simplest of conversations difficult. He was like a rabid dog, quiet, yet skittish. Lightning flashed in the distance, and he searched the grey clouds ahead. They were riding into a storm.

After they buried Milosh, he’d found the tracks and followed them southwest back toward the mountains. He knew it wasn’t the Monroes, but was curious of the Renoldis and if they’d come across the clan on their travels. Pril hadn’t given him any information and over the last two days. She hadn’t spoken more than three words. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and contrasted with her pale complexion. She refused dinner last night and hardly touched the fish he’d caught this morning. He was growing concerned, and it pissed him off.

He’d always known who he was and what he stood for, but lately he wasn’t sure anymore. He glanced at Pril beside him on Athos, the boy wrapped in her arms fast asleep. The kid didn’t want to ride Milosh’s horse, instead choosing to sit with her. With each day that passed the kid grew more and more affectionate toward her.

The wind picked up, blowing the hair from his face. Goliath shook his head and stepped backward. Grey clouds formed over the mountains, and he watched as they rolled toward them. He needed to find shelter.

“Make sure that horse is tied tight to your bridle,” he said to Pril.

She turned mute eyes toward him and nodded.

They were in the middle of the field, tall stalks of yellow and green grass swaying in the wind. A few hundred yards to their right was a stand of trees. He surveyed the treacherous clouds again. Could they make it? The bluff wouldn’t keep them dry, but instead defend them against the wind, and right now that’s all he could find.

“Are you ready to ride, Gypsy?”

She nodded, and he wanted to shout at her to say something but as the wind pushed him forward in his saddle, he decided against it. He walked Goliath to stand beside her and without warning pulled the boy from her lap and onto his horse.

Her mouth gaped open, and fire shot from her eyes. He waited, but she remained silent. He shook his head, bit down hard, and nudged Goliath’s sides with his boots. The horse took off toward the trees. The boy woke and clung to Kade’s shirt, his fingernails digging into his skin. There was no time for comfort; the clouds were closing in on them. A loud clap of thunder echoed across the land, and the boy jumped.

He stole a quick peek at Pril to see if she still followed and saw the flash of red hair whipping in the wind. Lightning crackled, and he leaned forward, urging Goliath to go faster. He felt the first few drops, a pleasant kiss to his cheeks before the clouds opened up, soaking them from head to toe.

The trees came closer as the horses raced toward the bluff. The wind picked up, howling across the prairies. He shivered and squinted against the rain. He couldn’t see a damn thing and hoped to hell Goliath would lead them to the trees. The boy cried into his chest, frightened of the storm, and he hugged him closer. The rain pelted his face, stinging with each drop. Water ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin.

They flew into the forest, the downpour not as torrential under the cover of the large trees. The leaves rustled, the tops of the trees bent back and forth dancing in the wind. The scent of wet grass, soggy moss-covered ground, and damp bark filled his nostrils. The earth had been cleansed. He loved the smell of rain. He thought of the sea, and his chest tightened. The rain bounced from the leaves and onto their heads.

He led Goliath further into the bush until they came to three pine trees standing close together. Their bulky needled branches melded with one another and offered shelter. He dismounted before removing the boy from Goliath’s back. The lad’s teeth chattered, and his little body shook. He pulled his blanket from the horse’s back, wet on one side; he had nothing else and offered it to the child.

Pril’s hair hung sopping wet down her back as she tied Athos’ reins around the trunk of a tree. She turned toward Kade, her blouse soaked through to her skin exposing her corset and the tops of her rounded breasts beneath it. He swallowed unable to turn from the sight of her.

“Uh, Gypsy? Cover yourself…please.”

She peered at him, and he knew she had no idea why he’d asked such a thing. Although soaked through the temperature was warm.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Her breasts begged for his attention, and he wanted nothing more than to give it to them. He yanked his coat from the back of her horse and tossed it at her.

“Cover yourself, damn it.”

She glanced down and gasped when she saw what he was suggesting. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“The coat would do better.”

He searched the ground for dry kindling for a fire, desperate to put some space between him and Pril’s breasts. It’d been way too long since he’d been with a woman, and this was a reminder of how much he missed it.

He tossed the damp bits of wood onto the ground and pulled his flint and steel from his pocket. He ran the metal rock along the steel. No spark. Both were wet. He dried them on his pant leg before trying again. The rock still wouldn’t spark.

“Damn.”

“Use this,” she said, standing over him.

He took the small magnify glass and thought of Sam. He used one to read and always carried it in his front pocket. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

“The glass might work if the sun was out, but it’s covered by the clouds.” He handed the glass piece back to her.

He slumped down onto the wet ground and placed his head into his hands. Thoughts of Sam, the girl and how the hell he was going to make things right filled his mind.

“Mother earth dry thy land and lend heat to this wood to warm our hands.”

The wood crackled and sparked.

He looked up to see smoke coming from the pile of wood he’d placed beside him.

“What in hell?”

She turned and went back to the boy, grabbed his hand and brought him to the fire. He watched as she sat down beside the child and wrapped the blanket back around him.

“How did you do that?”

She met his eyes with her own, and he saw the sorrow within them. He knew how much she’d suffered over the death of her brother and missing child, and for the first time since he’d met her he inhaled her grief. He let her misery pour into him—into the parts he’d kept hidden and untouched—into his soul.

“A spell,” she whispered.

He frowned. He didn’t believe in such things.

“I am the second daughter to Imelda the great enchantress.”

He’d heard of enchanters and sorcerers. On his many years at sea he’d never witnessed such a person and figured it was nothing but a myth and still did.

“My mother was a powerful Chuvani.”

“What does that mean?”

“It is our people’s queen. She has the ability to do many things.”

“Light fires?”

She nodded.

“My mother used her magick for good. She sampled the earth to help heal the sick, mend a wound, or aid a woman in labor, but her talents did not end there.”

“Your mother was a midwife.”

“No, she was a Chuvani.”

“To your people I suppose, but to mine she was a midwife.”

“My mother did more than deliver babies. She had what my people call seeing dreams.”

“Is this like your ability to read palms?”

She disregarded him and went on. “She’d throw a beam, harming the most powerful of men.”

“Interesting. A beam you say?”

There was no way any of what she said was true, yet she’d started the fire with a few words, or so it seemed. He didn’t actually see it.

“Must you poke fun at everything I say?”

“When you’re speaking of beams and magick then, yes.”

“You saw me light the fire.”

“I did not actually see you.” Denial was his only defense at what he refused to believe.

“My mother taught me to count the spells, performing the most difficult ones by the light of a round moon.”

“So you do all the things your mother could?”

“No, I am not my mother’s first born.”

“Galius can?”

She shook her head.

“The magick lies within the daughters, and the first born receives her mother’s gifts.”

“So you have a sister?”

“I did,” she whispered, and her eyes clouded.

He waited wanting to hear more of her past.

“My sister, Vadoma, was not like my mother.” She played with her skirt. “I loved her very much, but I could not save her just as I could not save Milosh. She was killed nigh on four years back.”

A single tear ran down her cheek, and his fingers itched to wipe it.

“Your brother’s death was not your fault.”

“It was.”

“You did not murder him.”

“Had I placed the protection spell on all the children his daughter would’ve lived, and we would not be here. I did not have enough of Vadoma’s blessed oil…I only had the amount to perform one spell. I used it for Tsura.”

“You protected your own child. I see no harm in that.”

She hung her head as more tears fell from her eyes.

“That night my niece was murdered.”

He understood her regret. He saw it in the way her shoulders hunched forward, how her eyes bled tears, and her voice trembled. He wished there was something he could do.

“I refused to look into my brother’s eyes. I could not allow myself to see the anguish he and his wife felt. I pushed it all away. I…I was a coward.” She wiped her cheek. “I should’ve dropped to my knees and begged their forgiveness, but instead I stayed within my vardo away from the agony and pain—away from Milosh.”

“Pril…” He didn’t know what to say. He’d never had a brother or a sister it had always been him and Sam.

She met his gaze with her own tortured depths.

“Have you ever experienced a love so powerful you’d do anything to save it, even if it meant you had to die?”

He thought of Sam and the journey he’d been on for the past six months. He cared for the man who raised him more than any person he’d ever met, and yes he’d die for him, but something told him this was not the kind of love she was referring to.

“I have not.”

She glanced at the boy snuggled into her side, and the corner of her mouth lifted. “I would die for Tsura.”

He knew she would, had seen the fight in her many times since they’d left her clan, and he wished he could help her. He tore his gaze from hers and stared into the trees around them. What did the Monroes want with the girl? He debated whether to ask Pril again, but figured she wouldn’t tell him, or even if she knew the answer.

He leaned against the tree. The fire, now larger than before, was warm. He listened as she yawned and had to stifle one of his own. Grief exhausted her, and she propped herself against the child. The two supported one another. A yearning he’d never felt before settled over him. There was no one special in his life, no wife and no children, only Sam. He was all Kade had, and without his guidance and love, he would never have made it past his adolescent years. He’d do anything to keep him safe and out of harm’s way.

The last message he’d received had been a threat, and he was anxious to get to the next town to make sure Sam was okay.

He prayed the old man was still alive. He’d been ill for a long time, suffering from a heart condition no doctor understood. Kade had taken him to every physician in England, and none had answers as to why Sam’s body couldn’t keep up the way it used to. No one could explain the sudden onset of tremors Sam had two or three times a week, leaving him exhausted and frail.

The last time he’d seen him was when he docked the S.S.W in Jamestown. Sam hadn’t gotten out of bed the whole month long trip from England. Crowley, the ship’s doctor, had tended to him keeping a watchful eye on his symptoms. Two days later Sam had vanished from the hospital, and Kade had searched everywhere for him. A week passed, and he figured Sam for dead. Drunk in one of the brothels on the wharf, he’d been approached by Silas Monroe.

He’d remember that night for the rest of his life. The plantation owner’s devious smile, his ruthless eyes and prominent chin cast Kade into a whirlwind of trouble and forced him to do the unthinkable.

Pril and the boy were cuddled into one another, and he wished there was another way. He expelled a ragged sigh. He’d take her daughter, forced beyond his own will—a double-edged sword with both ends pointing toward him. When he swapped the one for the other, no amount of alcohol would numb his deception and guilt. He’d come out the victor, but forever he’d be the loser.