Legacy of the Witch (4 page)

I would always remember just the way my
heart felt at that moment. As if it would burst from joy over what I saw in
his eyes as he looked at me. Concern, caring—passion. It was… It was a
moment I vowed I would never forget.

And then I was in the present again, blinking away the vision.
The memory?

It had gone dark outside, and the only light came from the desk
lamp I’d turned on. I’d been so mesmerized by the man’s story, and then by the
fantasy it had inspired in my brain, that I’d lost track of the time. For some
reason my visions of the boy were very much a younger version of the man whose
story I’d been reading.

I heard footsteps below and thought he’d come back, so I set
the manuscript aside and got up, walking toward the doorway, unreasonably eager
to see him, and reaching around the corner for the light switch in the hall.

But my hand went still when I saw the flashlight beam on the
first floor. Frozen in place, I stared over the railing into the living room
below, following the beam to its source, a gloved hand, and then my gaze moved
up the arm to the face. Despite it being barely visible in the darkness, I could
see enough to deduce that it was covered up by a black ski mask.

And there was another man following close behind him.

This is a break-in.

I jerked backward into the office, moving as quietly as I could
while shaking from my head to my toes. Scuffing my sock feet over the thick
carpet, I got back to the desk, and reached out for the lamp. I needed to shut
it off before they saw it and realized I was up here and—

Click!
said the lamp.

I cringed at the noise, and then I heard them whispering loudly
to each other as they came up the stairs, summoned by my stupid, stupid,
stupid
noise. What had I gotten myself into?

I looked around wildly, but it was too far to the closet, and
they were coming down the hall now. I could see their flashlight beams coming
closer. With nowhere else to go, I ducked low and scrambled underneath the desk,
though even the sound of my jeans on the carpet seemed louder than gunfire.

The desk was solid in front, so I was hidden. I hoped.

The two thugs came into the office.

“I know I heard something,” said one.

“Who the hell cares? Let’s just find the thing and get out of
here.”

They moved to the closet, opened it and rifled around in there,
not being nearly as careful as I had been when I’d searched it myself earlier.
Then one of them came over to the desk, swiping everything to the floor as I
curled up even tighter, making myself as small as possible. He circled around to
the back of the desk—my side of the desk!—and bent to yank open one drawer, then
another.

“Hey, ass-wipe, it’s too big to be in a desk drawer.”

“Yeah, well, maybe there’s a clue in here.”

“A clue? Who’re you, Magnum, P.I.?”

“Come on over here and I’ll show you a—” He looked at me then,
just happened to shift his head the right way and met my eyes under the desk,
just like that.
Bam.
I was discovered.

“Well, well, well. What’ve we got here?”

He aimed the flashlight beam in my eyes, blinding me. “Come on,
little thing. Come on out of there now.”

I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. I crawled out
from under the desk, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me upright.

The other one stopped what he was doing and stared at me. “We
were told the sarge lived alone.”

I opened my mouth once or twice, but no words came out.

“So who are you, then? You a burglar, too?”

I shook my head.

“You mute?”

“N-no. J-j-just scared.”

“You’re gonna be more than scared if you don’t start talking,
little lady. Who are you and what’re you doin’ here?”

“I…w-work here.”

“You work here.” He looked me up and down, then looked at his
partner. “She works here.”

“Yeah, I’ll
bet
she does.”

“Well, that’s good, that’s good. Maybe you can help us out.
We’re looking for a box. Looks like an old treasure chest, only smaller. You
seen anything like that around here?”

I lowered my eyes, shook my head.

“Interesting. Interesting, huh, Joe?”

“The way she couldn’t look you in the eye when you asked her
that? Yeah, very.”

“I know a liar when I see one, lady. You’ve seen that chest
we’re looking for. When and where?”

I shook my head again. “You’re crazy. I don’t know what you’re
talking abou—”

He hit me with the flashlight, though it felt more like a
baseball bat. Caught me right across the jaw, snapping my head back hard. My
knees buckled under me, and I crashed to the floor, butt first. But the guy had
me by the blouse, pulling me right up onto my feet again. “When and where have
you seen that box?” He buried his hand in my hair, twisting it cruelly and
pulling hard, bending my head to the side.

And still I said nothing.

“I don’t know, Joe, she ain’t talking, even though I belted
her. Whaddya think?”

“Belt her again.”

He lifted the flashlight and brought it down again. I cringed,
ducked, got tangled on the desk chair, would have fallen if he hadn’t had me by
the hair.

But the blow never landed, and he just let go, because
something sailed through the darkness and clocked him right between the eyes. He
dropped like a sack of feed, and so did I. When I looked, the other one was
being jerked, flipped and nailed to the floor.

Then the man I had come here to rob was kneeling beside me.
“Are you okay?”

Just like before. Just like after he pulled me out of the
river. Those same eyes. That same face, only older now.

How can this be…?

“I think…they’re getting away,” I managed, though my mind was
spinning, and not just with fear and pain.

The two thugs were on their feet and running for their lives.
He went after them, but I knew they got away when I heard a car’s tires
screeching and its engine roaring. I pulled myself up to my feet, clasping the
desk, limping around it and finally turning on the light.

I heard Harrison swear, then looked up to see him in the
doorway staring at me just before my world went black.

Chapter Four

I was there again, in the secret garden in the midst of
the harem, splashing in the warm water of the pool, this time by the dead of
night. I kept a scrub brush nearby. Should anyone question me, I was to tell
them I was cleaning away the algae. Lilia had made a loud fuss over having
“filthy old housemaids” sullying the pool’s pure waters, worked the others up
into a real fit about it, and then slyly suggested the job be made one of my
many duties.

She was always doing that, my Lilia. Finding out what I loved
to do best and then conniving a way to make it my duty. Often times other, less
pleasant, tasks had to be moved aside to make room. My life of servitude was
becoming a life of fun. Doing things I loved and calling them work. So, since
I’d nearly drowned playing in the waters of the sacred river, she’d decided to
find a way to allow me to frolic in the waters of the harem pool, which was
supposed to be for the use of the king’s harem slaves alone. Its waters were
said to contain minerals that enhanced their already breathtaking beauty.

I didn’t mind at all giving the pool a scrub while I was
basking in it. It was a far better job than scrubbing the stone floors or
washing the bed linens.

This night, however, my fun was interrupted by the arrival of
someone who jumped nimbly down from the wall, as he had so many times before,
and landed softly, his bare feet slapping the wet stone.

He smiled, and my heart melted the same way it always did. I
crossed my arms in front of me, painfully aware that I was wearing only a scrap
of cloth around my chest and another around my hips.

He was aware of it, too, and appreciative. I felt a rush of
heat and power, and thought perhaps I understood another of Lilia’s frequent
cryptic comments—this one about what she called feminine magic. “The woman who
can wield her own womanhood can bring any man to his knees,” she told me. Over
and over, she told me this.

“Hello, slave girl,” he said.

“Hello, soldier boy.” I lowered my head shyly but could not
dislodge my eyes from his. “Join me in the water?”

“And lose my head for it?”

“Everyone’s asleep. They won’t know.”

He looked around. There was only darkness, stone walls, water
trickling from the fountain in the center of the pool. Arching doorways led off
in several directions, all of them dark. It was dark in the courtyard, too,
where we were. The crescent moon was above us, waning, hanging low in the
sky.

Giving a nod, he set down the shoulder pack he’d been carrying,
stripped off his garment and revealed the white fabric that was his
undergarment. It twisted around his lean hips, down between his legs and up
again, the untucked end hanging like a short curtain over his man parts. And
then he was sliding into the pool with me, his breath rushing out of him as he
closed his eyes. “Oh, you are so right. This is good.”

“Yes, I know. My Lilia made it part of my duties to clean the
pool, so if I’m caught, I have my scrub brush nearby.”

“You are not only beautiful but smart, little Amarrah.”

I blushed with pleasure.

“What will be
my
explanation if I
am caught, clever one?” he asked.

I thought for a minute as he sloshed through the water, closer
to me. When I looked up again he was standing very near. And something inside my
belly went all molten. “You won’t need an excuse. You can run like a gazelle,
leap the wall and be gone before anyone gets a close look at you.”

“And leave you to be whipped for cavorting with an unknown male
in the harem, where men are forbidden to set foot?”

“I would say you were an intruder. That I was about to scream
for help.”

“That might work.”

“If not, whipping isn’t so bad. I can take it.” I said it
proudly, but my words made his expression darken.

“How often have you been whipped, Amarrah?”

“Not once—since I came to the harem. Before that?” I lowered my
head. “No, I do not want to think about before.”

“It was bad, in the king’s palace?”

I nodded. “Never the king, though. The other servants.”

“Wrinkled old hags, jealous of you being the most beautiful
female in all of Babylon.”

My eyebrows rose high. “I…you…think I’m…”

“More than the harem girls, more than anyone. So beautiful that
I have not been able to stop thinking of you. And I would have come to you
anyway, even if I did not have…dire news to share.”

I blinked, torn between wanting to know what this dire news was
and wanting to pursue the topic of his apparent fascination with me.

Responsibility first. Always. Duty to those I served was my
only reason for being. This I had been taught from the very cradle. And now that
I was slave girl to the slave girls, I was willing—even eager—to serve them.

“What is this dire news, Harmon?”

He lowered his head. “There’s talk in the ranks. It’s been
suggested that your beloved Lilia has been unfaithful to the king—with one of
his soldiers, no less.”

My hand flew to my lips and my eyes widened, for I knew it to
be absolutely true. I had to warn her! I turned toward the pool’s edge, but
Harmon stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“There’s more,” he said.

I turned to face him, tears already burning in my eyes. “Hurry,
then. I must warn Lilia before it’s too late.”

“It might already be, Amarrah. I came as soon as I could,
but—”

“Just tell me. What else is there to know?”

He took a deep breath, nodded resignedly. “It’s been whispered
that they are witches—Lilia and her two sisters, as well. The high priest has
been told. This harem is a very dangerous place for you now, Amarrah. I want you
to leave with me—tonight. I’ll find a way to hide you, to disguise you, until
this has all been forgotten.”

I went very still, tipping my head to one side, staring at his
beautiful dark eyes, thick lashes, dark skin. “You would do that for me? Risk
your father’s wrath—and the king’s—along with your future?”

He held my eyes, said nothing, just nodded.

“Why?” I asked him.

And then his gaze lowered. “Because you have somehow burrowed
your way into my heart, and I cannot get you out. So please come with me,
Amarrah.”

Tears burned, and my throat squeezed so tightly I could barely
force words through. “I can leap that wall as easily as you, my beloved soldier
boy. But I cannot leave this place until I have warned my friends. They’ve been
so good to me. I owe them that.”

“They would not do the same for you.”

“I think they would.”

He held my eyes, then finally nodded. “You have more honor than
any man in the king’s guard. More courage, too. No wonder I love you.” And then
he clasped my head in his hands, pulled me close and kissed me.

It was my first kiss. And I heard a whisper inside my mind, a
vow.
I will never forget this moment, this feeling, not
even if I live a thousand thousand lifetimes.

And I didn’t.

* * *

“Amarrah, are you all right?”

I blinked up at him, and for just a moment his face swam in
front of my eyes. In that odd, surreal, timeless instant, I was the little girl
from that…that vision or hallucination…and he was the boy. My young hero.
Harmon, son of Brock. All grown up.

Such a feeling of déjà vu washed over me that I was momentarily
dizzy as I stared at him and leaned in closer, my eyes falling closed, awaiting
his kiss.

He leaned in, too, his lips moving so close to mine that I felt
his breath, warm and unsteady. Then he seemed to pause, and he straightened away
again.

I opened my eyes, and bit by bit the puzzle pieces of the here
and now fit back into place. When I looked into his eyes, I saw the confusion
there. He’d almost kissed me, and he was trying to figure out why.

“Are they gone?” I asked, recalling the break-in, along with
all the rest. Why those men had been here. Why I was here myself.

“Yeah, they took off.” He slid his arms under mine, helped me
to my feet, but having him holding me that closely made my heart begin to
hammer. This was too real.

It’s a childhood fantasy. I spun it from
the strands of that story Gidaty was always telling me. It’s not
real.

“Did they get the box?” I asked, nearly panicking at the
thought.

He frowned at me.

“They came for the box. The one that looks like a miniature
treasure chest, with the odd symbols painted on the bottom, and the old iron
lock.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that?”

I looked at the floor. “They were asking me about it.”

“I heard that part. I was coming up the stairs. They didn’t
describe it—not the way you just did.” He let go of my shoulders and took a step
back, away from me. “How did you know what it looks like, Amarrah?”

I drew a deep breath, then lowered my head and blew the air out
of my lungs all at once. “I’ve never been any good at deception. That’s how I
lost the thing to begin with.”

“Lost…?”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I should have told you the
truth to begin with. I—” My knees buckled, and I clasped his shoulders
instinctively to keep from falling down.

He swore softly, then scooped me up off my feet and carried me
back through the house, down the stairs. He settled me onto the big cushy sofa
and went to the kitchen. I heard water running, pans clattering. When he
returned two minutes later he had a steaming mug in each hand and the scent of
chocolate surrounding him.

He handed me one. I sat up straighter, and he took the other
end of the sofa, leaning back against the arm and facing me.

“Okay,” he said. “Start talking.”

I nodded. “I grew up in Iraq. My parents…they disappeared. A
lot of people did in those days. So my grandmother raised me. On her deathbed
she gave me the box and made me swear to keep it safe for my entire life.”

“
My
box? Are you sure it’s the same
one?”

I nodded. I was dying to ask him how he had gotten it himself
and where it was now, but I owed him an explanation first. “Then she died, and I
was sent to relatives here in the States. I was thirteen. At the airport, before
I left my country for the last time, a customs agent confiscated it. I never saw
it again until the other day on one of those antique shows on TV, and I assume
that’s where those burglars saw it, too.”

“So you’re not here to help me with my book.”

I met his eyes. “No. And I cancelled the temp who was supposed
to come, when the agency phoned earlier to explain why the original person
hadn’t shown up, because I thought I would need to remain here long enough to
find the box.”

He tipped his head back—in frustration, I thought. “It’s not
here.”

“I know. I searched the entire house.” I lowered my head,
ashamed, blushing hot. “I’m very sorry.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter all that much. His face was
pensive, and so very handsome in the firelight. “What’s the big deal with this
box, anyway?”

“I don’t know. I only know it’s very important, and that my
grandmother said I would have to keep it safe, that evil forces wanted it, and
that I must never let them have it.”

“What are you supposed to do with it when you get it?”

“Grandmother said I would know when the time came.”

“And you know nothing about why these guys broke in and tried
to steal it?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t.” I sighed, and let a moment of
silence tick awkwardly past. Then I asked, “Where is it, Harrison?”

“Last I knew, it was at my former fiancée’s place.”

“You gave it to her?” I asked, mortified. And then,
“Former?”

“Yes, former. And no, I didn’t give it to her, just took it by
to show her. She was interested in antiques, and frankly, it’s something I’m
proud of because of where it came from. She was supposed to return it to me when
we broke things off, but she hasn’t followed through. You say you saw it on
TV?”

“Yeah. A blonde woman was having it appraised. You know, on
that show where people bring in stuff they’ve found lying around their attic to
have it appraised? They told her it wasn’t worth anything, though.”

He nodded. “It’s priceless to me. And apparently to you,
too.”

I nodded. “How did…how did you end up with it?”

“I…helped a woman and her kids get out of a burning house near
the Kuwaiti border. Her husband had been an Iraqi official, but he was accused
of spying for Kuwait and taken away. His wife left behind a mansion, a fortune,
but she took that little box with her as she tried to find a way to get herself
and her kids across the border. She said she never knew how he got the chest,
but she always felt there was something special about it. In fact, I almost lost
her because she wouldn’t leave the house without it. It was kind of an obsession
with her.”

“Somehow, she knew,” I whispered.

“I was stunned when she gave it to me. To thank me for saving
her children.” He lowered his head.

“Did they make it—into Kuwait?” I asked softly.

He nodded. “I made sure of it, though if you ever tell a soul,
I’ll swear you’re making it up.”

I blinked at him. “You’re a hero, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know why it is that when a man does the right thing
he’s always called a hero. What was the alternative? Let them burn? Leave them
to be persecuted for the alleged crimes of the father? What kind of person would
have done anything different?”

I lifted my brows. “I read your memoir, Harrison. And even
though you played down every single heroic incident, I can see through you.”

He made a
pssht
noise and shook his
head.

“It’s good, you know.”

“Right. What do you know about memoir writing?”

“Quite a lot, actually. I’m only a few credits shy of my BA in
English, and I’m freelance editing for a small publishing house to pay my
tuition.”