Slipping the Past (25 page)

“Then why dost thou let her into your home at this hour? Tongues will wag, Caleb Dover, and you only encourage her by listening to her lies. She wants to trap thee. The church may demand thou wed her.”

“As soon as I find her a suitable husband and give her into another’s care, I can take thee to wife. That is mine only intention. Know I give thee my word and love. No other.”

“’Tis not enough, Caleb. I want her not in thy dwelling, under thy roof.”

“I gave mine word to see her and the children taken care of, but my intent was not to wed her.”

“She believes otherwise.”

“Then she is mistaken. Only one woman holds this man’s soul. ’Tis thee.” Caleb reached up and touched her face. “Let me prove ’tis thee I love. Come inside. I’ll send her away.”

Josephine pulled away and put her back to him. “’Tis a sin. We’re not wed.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. The heat of his body burned her through her dress.

Caleb pressed his mouth against her ear. “Soon,” he whispered. “I promise.”

She turned her face into his lips, where warm breath dusted her cheek. “What will they say? The church could excommunicate us.”

“Our love ’tis not a sin. We were meant to be together. Feel it. Know it. Our love is a gift.” One hand slid into her bodice, the other tugged on her skirt, lifting and sliding under the woolen fabric, stroking along the bare flesh of her thigh. Josephine gasped as his thumb brushed her nipple. They’d be banished, punished for this. It needed to stop. It needed to stop before she could no longer deny him.

“Caleb.”

“It is always thee. Thy face, thine lips I dream of. Always.”

Gabriel’s hands moved to her hair, holding her in the kiss. An inferno burned through her. Jocelyn writhed and rocked against him, whimpering, needing both to break free and get closer. Two worlds, two places, blurred together until she didn’t know where or when.

“Whore!”

Josephine screamed as Ian walked into the stable, blood on the front of his shirt and hands. “Thou art a witch, Josephine. Thou hast be-spelled me, forced me to do the Devil’s bidding.”

“There is no witchcraft at work here.” Caleb dropped her skirt and pushed her behind him, where she eyed the constable over his shoulder.

“The witch seduces thee also. She gets thee here, whilst she has thine family murdered.”

“What hast thou done?” Josephine’s eyes danced from Ian’s hand to his crafty smile. He clutched a knife; fresh blood clung to the blade and appeared black in the weak light. The smell of raw meat wafted toward her and her innards twisted to knots. “Hast thou murdered them all?”

“Not yet.” Ian lunged at Caleb.

“Run! Run to the house! Lock the doors!” Caleb threw a hand up to block the attack, catching the blade across his forearm. His other hand grasped Ian’s wrist, trying to twist the knife free. The constable was twice his strength and size. It wouldn’t take long to overpower him. Josephine swept the barn for a weapon, frantically searching for anything to stop the monster. Caleb twisted around to look at her as the knife plunged into his chest. “Run,” he gasped.

“Come back to me, Jo.”

The roaring ceased and somewhere in the woods the crickets chirped. Gone were the Enforcers, the orchard, and the grave. Jocelyn raised a hand to her head and opened her eyes. Gabriel’s amber gaze stared back. Dizziness swept over her and he caught her, steadying her against his chest. “Easy. You’re safe.”

“Oh God. He killed you.” Pain knifed through her skull. Jocelyn’s knees buckled. “It hurts.”

Gabriel’s arms tightened. “I’m here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“No.” More pain in her head. “What’s happening?” Jocelyn screamed.

Gabriel scooped her into his arms. “Breathe. Everything will be okay.”

“I can’t.” Her brain felt as though it was rent in two. Worse than before. “It hurts.”

“Take the whore’s eyes out.”

“No.” A scream bubbled up from the back of her throat.

“Come back to me, Jocelyn.” But even as Gabriel said it, his words faded into a fog.

Ian studied her. He pushed his cowl back and lifted an iron from the fire. The tip had turned molten red. “Hold her.” The arms of another knight tightened around her.

“I won’t tell anyone. Please. I beg you, do it not.”

“Do not let her go,” Ian said to the man holding her. The iron moved in.

“Why hurt them?” The man pulled her back, away from the iron.

“Do not question my authority. You should be the last to do it. You’re in this as deep as am I.”

Pain. Burning, sizzling. She screamed and thrashed, but the accomplice held her tight.

“Is this necessary?” the man holding her asked. She twisted her face, catching his image in her peripheral vision.

“Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve no choice.”

“No. Not him.” Jocelyn thrashed, trying to break out of Gabriel’s hold, no longer able to separate reality from her vision. “No.”

“Hold her or you’re next.”

“Please. I won’t tell anyone.”

The iron moved toward her other eye. The heat curled her lashes before it touched and her vision flared. More pain. She screamed, bucking, thrashing. “No!” Dear God, he’d blinded her. He’d raped and blinded her. Her arms were released and she dropped to the ground, naked and writhing in pain.

“Get the other woman.”

“I will no longer be party to this. This jealousy goes too far.”

“She’ll never look at him again.”

“What of the other? She’s done nothing to you. I care not if you’re my liege. I am done here.”

“Yes, you are.”

There was the clash of metal. She turned toward the sound. Grunts, more clashes, a gasp followed by a gurgling sound, and a thud near to where she’d dropped.

He reached out and clutched her arm, drawing her to him and pressing his mouth against her ear. “If I could do it over….” A raspy hiss replaced his last words and his hand went slack.

“That is what happens to traitors.”

“Kill me.” Her face hurt, her sockets stung, and tears wanted to pour, but the iron had singed her ducts shut. Even that small comfort he’d taken. “Why don’t you kill me?”

“Because I love you.”

“You’re mad,” she whispered.

“Grab the other woman or follow my brother’s fate.”

Her sister screamed.

“Kill her. She’s of no consequence.” The screaming stopped abruptly.

Knowing her next words might be her last, Jonet raised her voice, choked with pain and fury. “I curse your soul. I curse you to hear the voices of all those you wrong, in the past and future. You’ll never be able to escape us. May God forgive you, for I never will. Rot in hell, Ian MacDonough.”

Nate flicked the ticket stub back and forth, watching out the window as the giants of the city slipped past. “Creepy girl.” He could deny it, but it was true. He wasn’t going to New Stratus City. When the train stopped, he’d stayed seated, handing the ticket to the porter.

She’d said he’d die if he went to Salem. A part of him didn’t care. Hallucination or not, what he’d done to Jocelyn had been real. He could make amends, save her, and perhaps finally find peace. The restlessness he’d always felt settled as he thought about what he needed to do.

You’re here for a reason
. He’d always wondered his purpose, felt out of time and place, like he really didn’t belong in this life or body. Now, he no longer wondered.

She wouldn’t be alone. Though he hated to admit it, Gabriel would watch out for her. They really did seem to be crazy about each other. Nate sat back, propped his feet on a vacant seat, and picked up the glass of water, downing the contents. He turned the empty crystal in the dim light and studied it. He’d hefted the same water across the car and into the paneling. Drinking the water, what he’d just done, defied reason. Libby had spoken the truth. There were forces at work greater than he could imagine and they wanted him to go to Salem.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He remembered. She’d forced the memories on him, opened his eyes and made it clear what he needed to do. Her name hadn’t been Libby then; it was Liberty. Nate pulled the holo-processor out of his backpack and began to take it apart.

***

“Burn the witch!”

Josephine struggled against the rope wound around her body, securing her to the pole. The mob grew more restless, screaming and throwing things. She closed her eyes as they piled wood and straw around her feet. No matter what she said, she’d no feasible cause to be at the Dover household that night. That in itself was enough to cast suspicion on her.

“I’m not a witch. Please, I beg thee. Please hear me, brothers and sisters.”

“She lies,” a man called out from the back. “She tried to seduce me and gave mine wife a fever when I refused her charms.” He threw a handful of manure, smacking her in the head. The lump stuck to her cheek and slowly slipped down her skin before dropping at her feet. “Die, witch. Thou hast murdered mine wife and unborn son.”

Josephine’s eyes watered. Every evil that befell them was now her fault and all the excuse they needed to inflict retribution. Aubrey Jones’s cow’s milk went sour, making his family sick. Three women in the village had miscarried and a child had drowned in the stream outside his home. Crops failed and the frost had come early. In their minds, she’d committed these heinous acts and deserved to be punished.

“I did not cast a spell upon thy family. I did not murder the Dovers.”

“She lies.” The constable stepped forward, his back to her. “I saw her dancing with the Devil under the moon. She spread her thighs, whoring herself to him. She set her eyes upon the Dovers, seeking to destroy their family. When Brother Dover resisted her, she stuck him with a blade.”

“No,” Josephine gasped.

“Burn her!”

The crowd surged forward and the constable lifted his hands, stopping the mob’s advance. “Her confession first, brothers and sisters.” He raised his voice. “Do thee, Josephine Laurette Smith, wish to confess before God and these good people?”

Josephine opened her mouth to plead, but another spoke up. “She’s no witch.” A young girl on the brink of blossoming into a woman stepped forward. He pale hair was braided down her back, the top of her head covered with a cap. She held Josephine’s gaze for a moment and for a moment, Jocelyn looked into Nate’s eyes. “She is innocent of all but loving mine uncle. That was why she visited Caleb’s home that night.”

Liberty swung her arm around and pointed a finger at the constable. “I saw thee slit my mother’s throat. I ran, fearing I was next while thou murdered my brother and sister. Thou art the Devil. Thou art the one who should confess.”

“Ah, little witch. I wondered when you’d come forward. Thy accusations show thy guilt. Thou art in the same coven and have drunk the blood of thy mother with the witch, Josephine Smith. Thou conspire to free her with thy forked tongue and seductive lies. But we are God-fearing men and we wilt not so easily be misled by the words of a witch. Seize her.” Two men grabbed Liberty’s arms and dragged her to the pole. She threw her feet forward, digging ruts in the ground.

“No! He lies…he lies!”

“Thou lie. Thou art the Devil’s minion,” Liberty shrieked, thrashing and fighting as they forced her to the post. The constable turned and smiled at Josephine. “His whores.” They shoved her on the pile of sticks and lashed her to the other side, behind Josephine.

“Hast thou any last confessions, witch?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save thee, Josephine,” Liberty said in a low voice, keeping the words privy to Josephine alone. “I’ve failed you again. Forgive me.”

Forgive her? Liberty had never had contact with her, nor had she aided the mob when she had more reason than most. She’d fought to save her at the cost of her own life. “There is nothing to forgive. Thou hast not wronged me.”

“Aye, I have.”

Before Josephine could dwell further on Liberty’s words, the constable dropped the torch to the tinder. “If thou art innocent, God will save thee.” Flames exploded around them. Josephine’s skirt and hair caught fire, engulfing her in flames. Pain. Everywhere. The flames leaped higher, blistering the skin on her face.

Behind her, Liberty screamed.

Jocelyn sat up and clawed at her face, knocking her glasses free. Gabriel caught her hands and held them tight to his chest.

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

His face came into focus. She blinked. Light. Everything cleared and all but the memory of the pain and Liberty’s scream remained. “Gabriel.”

“Yes.”

His features were sharp and in color. Rich, amber eyes stared into hers. Pure color. Vivid hues…. “I can see you. You drew my energy again.”

“I needed it to get us out of there. When Diego said it took serious energy to teleport two of us out of the freefall, I realized I could before because Nate’s fear strengthened me. Emotion holds massive energy. The strongest is love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m okay, but….” The room began to shrink. Jocelyn grabbed the front of Gabriel’s shirt, pulling him closer. She lost her grip and dropped to the bed. “Where am I?” The room expanded, swelled, and stretched around her like a fishbowl.

“In a private compartment on a solar-train, headed for Salem.”

Dark circles sat under Gabriel’s eyes and worry swirled around in vivid oranges like smoke in a nuclear Jazz bar. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. Gabriel, Lucas, Augustus, Caleb. You are the only man I have ever loved.” Jocelyn sat up. She ran her fingers through the energy, making it ripple. “I can see your aura with my own eyes.” She reached up and touched her forehead. “How long did I sleep?”

“All night and half of the day.”

“Nate.” Jocelyn jumped to her feet and fell back on the bed. The room spun. She tried to rise again and Gabriel gently pushed her down.

“What happened? Slowly.”

“Nate held me while Ian put my eyes out. He tried to stop Ian from hurting my sister. So Ian killed him.” She massaged her temples. “The evidence. Did we get it?”