Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red (22 page)

“Calm down,” he ordered Graham. He motioned through the stalls toward the back of the barn. “We’re going to tie you to a stake so that you can’t hurt anyone, but I swear that we’ll protect you unless you . . . change.”

Graham swallowed and appeared to be attempting to get ahold of himself. “And what if I do change?”

“Let’s cross that bridge if we reach it.” Jaromir knew this was a weak answer, but he had nothing better to offer.

* * *

Not long after, Céline was back sitting at Keegan’s bedside. Darkness had fallen, and several candle lanterns glowed from small tabletops. She was only too aware that whatever Jaromir had in mind regarding poor Graham, he’d never had any intention of discussing it with her, and she was going to have to wait for information. So she’d let Rurik escort her to Keegan’s tent, where she’d filled Amelie in—on what little she knew—and told Amelie to go and eat something and try to get some rest. After her sister had agreed and left, Céline
asked Rurik to find Jaromir and see if he could learn what was going on.

His rapid agreement suggested that he wanted to know just as badly as she did.

And now . . . she sat tending to Keegan, who continued to drift in and out. She believed he would live, but mushroom poisoning was complicated, with a variety of aftereffects. Keegan’s recovery might be a slow one.

As she sponged his face, footsteps sounded behind her. Turning, she hoped to see Jaromir but wasn’t surprised when Rurik came into view. He stopped beside a hanging tapestry.

“Is Graham safe?” she asked. “Where is he?”

Rurik hesitated before answering. “The lieutenant tied him to a stake in the barn, and he’s made sure word is spreading through both camps.”

“What?”

Céline was aghast. She’d had no idea what Jaromir planned to do, but it never occurred to her that he’d tie up the young soldier out in the barn.

Rurik held up one hand and glanced down to make sure Keegan was asleep. “Don’t worry. The lieutenant is there in the barn, hiding. But no one else knows that except for Corporal Quinn.”

“So . . . ,” Céline asked, confused, “Jaromir is guarding Graham himself, in secret?”

“More than that. I think he wants to see if anyone tries to visit, to do anything.”

And then Céline began to understand what Jaromir was up to. Graham had been pointed out as the next one who would turn. If someone was doing this to the
men on purpose, how would he—or she—react to knowing the next victim was tied up in the barn?

Would the culprit try to slip in and set Graham free to do as much damage as possible? Or . . . if the process could be reversed, would he or she try to stop it from happening in order to discount any more finger-pointing from Céline?

But Jaromir had promised he wouldn’t use whomever she named as bait.

Wait . . . had he promised?

Suddenly, she wanted to be alone.

“What does the lieutenant want you to do now?” she asked Rurik.

“He told me to look out for you and Amelie.”

“I’m fine here. I think Amelie’s in our tent. Will you go and check on her?”

Rurik nodded and vanished.

Full darkness had fallen outside, and Céline fought against her rising guilt over having exposed poor Graham. She should have known Jaromir would try something like this. When he’d said,
Trust me,
she’d assumed he would not put anyone at such risk—much less do something so humiliating as tying the person to a stake. He’d practically lied to her face.

Did he want to finish this so badly he was willing to put her trust of him in question?

A part of her almost couldn’t blame him. She wanted to go home, too, to her shop . . . to Anton . . . to all that was familiar. She wanted to leave this place behind.

Keegan’s breathing deepened, and he seemed to be in a more comfortable sleep now. That was a good sign.
Céline sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a few moments.

And in her partially relaxed state, she felt a familiar sensation, like the one she’d felt the first night here after crawling into bed. There was
something
outside, something that called her.

Standing up, she leaned over and felt Keegan’s forehead.

He would be all right alone for a short while.

Unable to stop herself, she left the tent.

* * *

Instead of using the oversized, makeshift harness—which would not have fit—Jaromir had tied Graham with two ropes, one tied very loosely around his neck and one around his ankle, both finished with stout knots, and the ends of both were secured to a stake. Tying the young man’s hands and ankles tightly had seemed a possible option at first, but the physical change these men underwent had proven strong enough to break the links in chain armor, so Jaromir had opted for something from which a wolf might have trouble breaking free. At least it should hold the beast long enough for Jaromir to . . . take any necessary action.

After making sure that Graham had food and water within reach, Jaromir piled up bundles of hay and made himself a hiding place with a vantage point from which he could see the guardsman.

Before going into hiding, he told Graham, “Don’t worry. I won’t take my eyes off you, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. Quinn has ordered all the men to stay out of the barn, on pain of imprisonment themselves.”

Graham nodded miserably. He was clearly more afraid of what would happen to him if he began to change.

At present, there was nothing Jaromir could do to alleviate that fear. So he crouched down behind the hay and made certain he could see Graham through a crack between the bundles. Graham ignored the food and water, and after a few moments, he lay down on the floor. A single lantern on the floor—out of his reach—provided the only source of light other than a thin moonbeam coming in through one of the high windows.

Jaromir had nothing to do but wait and observe.

Unfortunately, this gave him too much time to think, and
thinking
was the last thing he wanted to do.

He worried what Céline would think of him when she learned what he’d done with the information she’d provided. Would she ever trust him again?

He respected her greatly and often marveled at her skills as a healer, but she had no capability for making hard or necessary decisions, and that one flaw made her less useful to him.

Worse, much worse, he couldn’t get Amelie out of his head. What he’d done in the forest earlier that afternoon was unforgivable. She was young and inexperienced, and she could so easily fall in love with him. He’d thought he could satisfy himself by teasing her and flirting with her and putting any other feelings on a back shelf. But everything about her pulled at him, and in a moment of weakness he’d given in . . . when he knew he’d never be able to give her what she needed: the love of equals.

She deserved a love of equals.

He was already married to the security of Castle Sèone and to the protection of Anton, and he could never allow himself to become involved with a woman unless he was in complete control. Anything less could leave him vulnerable, and thereby leave Castle Sèone and Anton vulnerable.

He should never have allowed himself to start something with Amelie that could not be finished. She could so easily be hurt, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. She mattered to him—much more than he cared to admit. If he were a simple soldier in some prince’s forces and she were a simple girl helping to run an apothecary shop, he’d marry her in a heartbeat and spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy.

But he wasn’t a simple soldier.

And she wasn’t a simple girl. She was Prince Anton’s seer.

And Jaromir needed to get a handle on himself damn quick.

If . . . if he could only stop thinking about the fierce manner with which she’d grasped the sleeve of his shirt and kissed him back. He’d kissed more women in his life than he could remember, and he’d never felt anything like that.

Fighting to focus on the task at hand, he squinted through the bundles of hay to gauge Graham’s breathing by the rise and fall of his chest. The young man appeared to have fallen asleep. That was probably a mercy. Still, Jaromir desperately hoped this night would
yield something, some piece of information that he or Céline or Amelie could explore.

A soft scratching sound caught his attention, and he looked up and to his left. There . . . high in a window, a dark form was crawling over the sill. Jaromir held his position, just watching, uncertain what he was seeing yet.

With a fluid grace, the form leaped from the windowsill, landing lightly on the floor. Jaromir kept still as illumination from the lantern exposed the newcomer.

It was a black wolf.

It looked nothing like the creatures these soldiers had been transforming into. Lean and long legged, this animal appeared to be a normal wolf with glittering amber eyes. Slowly, it walked nearer to Graham, and Jaromir picked up the cudgel he’d brought along in case of nonlethal fighting with any of the camp soldiers. Though his sword was in its sheath on his hip, he left it there for now, as he crouched and prepared to rush.

But he didn’t rush.

The wolf wasn’t growling or even poised in a hunting stance. It simply approached Graham, lowered its head, and took a long sniff. At the sound, Graham’s eyes opened, and he sat up, backing against the wall in confused terror.

Jaromir expected him to cry out, but he didn’t. Instead, the fear faded from his face, and the wolf stepped closer, smelling him again, from his feet to his face.

Graham sat there and let it.

Locked in the spell of the bizarre sight before him, at first Jaromir didn’t move either, though his mind was racing. What was happening here? Was this how the soldiers were being turned? Was this black wolf coming to them and . . . and what?

That final thought moved him to action. He wanted to solve this mystery so badly he could taste it, but not at the expense of Graham’s life. If this creature was about to
do
something to him, it must be stopped.

Without a sound, Jaromir gripped the cudgel and rushed, hoping he could reach the wolf and bash its head before it saw him coming.

Unfortunately, it half spun, saw him, and dashed away, jumping out of reach. Then it leaped to the top of a stall and made a seemingly impossible jump from the top of the stall to the window.

In a flash, it was gone.

Jaromir ran to the stall, thinking he might leap up and jump to the window himself, and then he realized what a foolish notion that was, so he made a dash for the front doors, slowing only long enough to call to Graham.

“I’ll be right back!”

* * *

Céline walked alone past several tents; then she stopped beside one with a view of the barn.

Why had she come out here?

She didn’t know, and she stood there for a few moments watching the side of the barn. Then . . . a dark
form appeared in a high window, and it leaped all the way to the ground, landing on all fours. It darted away into the trees, as if it was fleeing from something.

Céline followed where it had vanished, quickly passing into the trees.

* * *

Running through the barn, Jaromir cursed whoever had built it without a back door. Racing out the front doors, he ran around the side of the barn where the wolf had jumped.

The creature was gone. The ground below the window was empty.

He cursed again, fighting the urge to run into the forest and start hunting. He couldn’t just leave. Graham was tied to a stake inside, and Jaromir had vowed to watch over him for more than one reason.

Turning, he remained outside but closed the doors to the barn—for the moment—as if they’d never been opened, and he called out, “Guardsman?” knowing someone would hear him.

“Sir?”

A moment later, a guard carrying a spear emerged from around the side of the tent.

“Are you on night watch?” Jaromir asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m making my rounds, but I haven’t seen Corporal Quinn. If you know where he is, send word to him that I spotted a wolf inside the camp.” The guardsman stiffened, and Jaromir hurried on, “No, not one of those beasts, just a wolf with a black coat. It ran off when it
saw me, but we’ll want the men to keep aware. Wolves don’t normally come into a large camp like this unless they’re hungry.”

The guardsman relaxed and nodded. “Oh, yes, sir. I’ll pass the word.”

The man headed back the way he’d come. Once he was out of sight, Jaromir slipped back inside the barn. He had a feeling that black wolf had come for more than food, but . . . it was just a wolf, and for now, sending an alert was the best he could do.

* * *

Without letting herself think, Céline continued walking into the dark forest. She hadn’t gone far when two strong hands grabbed her, whipped her body around, and pressed her back up against a tree.

“What are you doing out here alone?” he hissed, pinning her in place.

It was Marcus. But she’d already known that or she never would have come out here. However, along this entire journey, she was becoming rather tired of men pinning her up against trees. That would have to stop.

“What were you doing in the barn?” she countered.

She wasn’t afraid of him. She fully believed him capable of destroying these Pählen soldiers. But she was in no danger. Something about him was familiar, a connection she couldn’t explain, as if she’d known him for a thousand years. He’d die before he’d hurt her. He’d kill before he’d let anyone else hurt her.

Of this, she was certain.

“What are you?” she asked softly.

“Another side of you. You’d know that if you lived among your own people.”

“I’ll not stand here and mince words. Did Jaromir chase you out of that barn? What were you planning to do to Graham?”

“Do?” Though he took his hands from her arms, he kept his face close to hers. “You don’t think I have anything to do with the horrors taking place here?”

“I don’t know. Why did you go to the barn in your . . . other form?”

“To see what I could learn. I’d heard that you named him as the next man to turn, and I wanted to smell him, to sense him, to see if I could understand why this is happening.”