The Witch's Thief (17 page)

Basil stumbled toward the bed, gently laying Marianne’s body on the soft mattress.

“Ah! You’ve found me!” Marianne cried. It was good to hear her sister’s voice. Marianne hovered over her body and fell on top of it, crying in relief.

Basil turned, not seeing the ghostly image of Marianne, and staggered until he fell to his knees beside Julia. With one hand under her chin, he lifted her face until he could see her clearly. He looked her over, searching for any sign of damage.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Good,” he said, and his eyelashes fluttered. He took several deep breaths. Slowly, he dropped onto the floor, resting his back flat against the carpet. He exhaled deeply, sighing in what sounded like relief to be home and safe.

Julia sighed, too. They had made it back alive and relatively unharmed. And with two out of three of the Merriweather spellbooks. Sage had grabbed them just before coming through the mirror. He set them on the floor and then collapsed into a chair. His head leaned back, and he closed his eyes.

She took Basil’s hand in hers and squeezed, rubbing her thumbs in circles along the back. She lifted his hand, pushing the cuffs of his shirtsleeves away from his wrists to inspect the damage done. The manacles had bit into his flesh, tearing into the skin to produce two sets of bloody welts around his wrist.

“This must hurt terribly,” she said softly. “We must clean and bandage them.”

Basil didn’t respond, although she hadn’t expected him to. He was clearly exhausted and in need of rest. They all were.

But, something about the way Basil laid on the floor, some stillness that she found odd, made her look more closely. She leaned forward, brushing his hair away from his face. He had a peaceful expression on his face, one she had not seen since their younger days. As if all of the tension had finally left him, and he was filled with comfort. It was strikingly at odds with how he looked when he first settled onto the floor.

“We should get you into a bed. The floor cannot be comfortable,” she said, thinking about her suspicions. Belit’s Curse was so rare. Could it be possible that two witches in her lifetime would be stricken?

He didn’t respond. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Basil?”

Had he fallen asleep so quickly? She could not imagine how exhausted and drained he must feel.

Still he did not respond. She shook his shoulder, trying to wake him.

“Basil?”

A growing sense of unease grew in the pit of her stomach. Something was not as it should be. Why wasn’t he waking? Had Drake or the demon bespelled him just as they were crossing the portal?

“
Basil?
”

Sage sat up, alerted by the sound of panic in her voice. With one glance at his brother, he shoved away from the chair and slid to Basil’s side on the floor.

“He’s not waking!” Julia said as Sage knelt, putting his head on Basil’s chest, listening. He sat back up, his head jerking as if someone had slapped him.

“He’s not breathing.”

Julia’s vision began to swim. She felt light-headed and nauseous.

“What do you mean he’s not breathing?” Marianne leapt from her position on the bed. “How can he not be breathing? What happened over there?”

But Sage didn’t answer. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders, lifting him, shaking him as if to wake him from his deep slumber. Basil’s head lolled forward and back, lifeless.

Lifeless.

Julia’s chest tightened so much she couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, she watched helplessly while Sage attempted to revive his brother.

“Give me your hand,” Sage said, grabbing her hand before she had chance to comprehend his meaning. “Marianne, you, too. Give me your hand.”

“But, my magic no longer works,” she protested.

“Marianne!”

“Yes,” she said, scrambling to the floor and placing her hand on Basil’s chest.

“Concentrate, all of you!” Sage ordered. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his lips moving in silence as he muttered a spell. Julia attempted to calm the panicked screams she heard in her mind and focused on the healing magic Sage was preparing.

A tingling sensation began along where his palm touched her hand until the heat became unbearable.

“Ow, Sage, you’re burning me!” Julia said, her eyes snapping open. Sage broke contact, pulling his hand away, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Basil remained unmoving on the floor.

Sage leaned down to listen again at his brother’s chest. When he leaned back, he lifted Basil with him. Julia whimpered when Sage slapped him across the face.

“Wake up!” Sage shouted, slapping him again, clearly becoming panicked. “Damn you! Open your eyes!”

A gurgle sounded from Basil’s throat. He breathed again, but struggled for consciousness. Sage let out a cry of relief or helplessness, she wasn’t certain.

Julia jumped from the floor, and ran to retrieve the smelling salts she kept in the cabinet in her room. She ran them under Basil’s nose, hoping this would snap him out of it.

His head jerked away, but his eyelids fluttered open.

Sage sighed, obviously relieved at Julia’s quick thinking. He stood, dragging Basil to his feet.

“Come on,” he said, shouting into Basil’s ear. “Wake up. That’s it.”

Basil stumbled on his feet, clinging to Sage’s shoulder as if his legs had turned to pudding. His head remained upright and his opened eyes blinked in confusion.

Her heart began to beat again. She rubbed the sore spot on her chest, hoping the ache would fade now that Basil again breathed.

“What happened?” Basil asked, his voice groggy as if he just woke from a full night of deep sleeping.

“You stopped breathing,” Sage explained grimly.

Basil groaned, squeezed his eyes closed and put a hand to his forehead. “It’s happening…”

“We’ll fight it,” Sage said, matter-of-factly. “Come, let’s get you to your room.”

“What’s happening?” Julia asked. She ran to the other side of Basil, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulders to help Sage carry him to his room. Basil tried to walk, but it was as if his legs couldn’t support his own weight.

She observed neither answered her query. She decided not to pursue her questioning until they arrived at Basil’s bedchamber where he collapsed onto the soft mattress. She suspected she knew the truth, but she could not bring herself to speak the words. She’d seen what had happened to Susanna. This looked dreadfully similar. Could she bear it if the same happened to Basil?

“What’s happening?” she demanded, watching Sage remove Basil’s boots and swing his legs onto the bed.

“Julia,” Basil moaned in distress and grief. The sound pierced her heart. She stepped forward.

“Julia,” Sage said, turning to face her. The seriousness displayed on his face stilled her movements. It was unlike Sage to look so solemn. “Will you fetch some hot water and bandages? We must see to his wounds.”

Her gaze flashed to Basil’s wrists, which were raw and bleeding, then back to Sage’s cautious eyes. He expected her to resist, but Basil’s wounds needed attention. She nodded. She needed a moment alone to cope with the knowledge of why he must be suffering. There would be time for explanations when she returned.

****

Basil watched Julia leave the room and bit back the sound of her name on his lips. He wanted to call her back. He wanted to keep her close. Now that the end was near, he wanted her at his side for every moment available to them.

But he let her go. She would hurry and return, and then he would explain the truth.

He groaned and looked away from the door. The thought of telling Julia that he was dying sent a chill through him. He closed his eyes, trying to block the image of hurt he would see on her face. But, it didn’t go away, only becoming more clear with each passing second.

“You must tell her now,” Sage said grimly, as he undid the buttons on Basil’s shirt, helping him divest it. With tender movements, Sage gently removed the stained fabric from his arms, being careful to not hurt him too badly. Basil clenched his jaw, not making a sound although the area around his wrists burned and throbbed as if they were alit with flame.

“I can’t.” Basil choked the words out. The pain from using his magic lingered still. His wrists throbbed. His arms ached. His lungs burned with each breath. And despite his earlier resolve to tell her the truth, to marry her and love her for the rest of his very short life, his courage left him. His end had finally come. How could he bear to see the grief in her eyes? He would carry that vision with him to his grave. But he’d rather his last memories of her be filled with happiness, smiles and laughter. “Take me away from here, Sage. To London.”

“Basil, we can’t.” He crossed the room to the window and pushed back the draperies. “It’s snowing. And, I don’t think we’d make it to London in time—”

“I don’t want her to know.” He felt like a whining child, spoiled and used to getting his own way. For ten years he’d avoided telling anyone but two people. Only Reed and Sage. The only reason he’d been forced to tell his brother was the night he’d used his magic to save Sage from being crushed beneath a crumbling wall as it fell apart from an abandoned building. The pain that coursed through his arm and chest had been unbearable and he didn’t have the time to compose himself before Sage saw him. He’d demanded an explanation, already guessing what was wrong before he spoke.

“She’ll find out the truth.” Sage let the curtains fall back into place and returned to his brother’s bedside. He sat next to him on the mattress. “It’s better she find out now. She can help us find a way to fight this.”

“No more fighting. I’ve tried. For ten years. There is nothing out there that can save me.”

“Let her comfort you then. Let your last moments be in peace.”

“No.”

“Damn you, Basil! When are you going to stop thinking of everyone but yourself? Take some comfort in these last hours. You deserve it and more for what you’ve been through.”

“I love her,” he said simply. He couldn’t bear to cause her grief.

He had known somewhere within that his time on this earth was nearly finished. When Aunt Petunia sent that missive, demanding his return home, Basil could have dismissed it, written to Sage and placed the responsibility on his brother to handle the situation. Basil knew Aunt Petunia simply needed to try to entice him home as she’d done on numerous occasions. The only reason he allowed her to persuade him was that he felt tired. Very tired.

It was past time to admit there was no cure.

“I know,” Sage said, growing calm. “And she loves you. Let her spend as much time with you as is left. Let that be your final gift to her.”

Basil’s throat tightened. His eyes itched with tears. He nodded. He was selfish to run away yet again instead of telling her what he should have said ten years ago. What a waste those years had been!

He would waste not another second away from her. It seemed sensibility was returning as the pain began to dull. Either that or he was growing accustomed to it.

Sage patted his shoulder then stood. He opened the door as Julia appeared, carrying a bowl of steaming water and fabric over her shoulder.

“I leave him to you, Julia. I find I’m in need of some cleaning up as well.” Sage picked at the singed edges of his shirt.

“Oh!” Julia nodded, closing the door behind him. She rested her back against the wood for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing away from it, taking the items to Basil’s bedside.

She set the bowl on the table beside the bed then sat on the mattress next to him. She took a swath of fabric, dipped it into the water, wrung it out and applied it on his wrist. She struggled to focus on her task. Her gaze kept lifting away from his wrist to wander upward, halting at the broad expanse of his bare chest.

Basil couldn’t stop the smile from lifting the corners of his mouth. Even in this moment, he enjoyed watching the rosy glow on her cheeks deepen. Enjoyed listening to the hitch in her breath when he brushed his arm, quite purposely, against her breast.

Neither spoke. She cleaned his wounds. He watched her.

As soon as his wrists were wrapped securely in clean bandages, he grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly on top of him. She surrendered to his kiss as he gathered her so she rested along his length in the bed. He was already hard from watching her, and she felt it. She rocked her hips gently against him. He groaned, his hands seeking her buttocks to clasp her harder against him.

She broke away from his lips to place tender kisses along his cheek, her tongue tracing the curve of his ear. She continued across the length of his neck and onto his chest where she worshipped him by kissing, licking and touching every inch of exposed skin. And during it all, she continued to rock against him, rubbing herself along his manhood, until the pressure began building, and he feared he would not last much longer.

Her breathing was fast and deep as though she had run for miles and miles. At last, she looked up, the pleasure in her eyes deepening the color around her irises.

“I cannot wait,” she said, sliding off of him. She ripped at her under garments, kicking them free while gathering up her dress to wrap her legs around him. She undid the laces on his breeches and yanked them down so his member sprang free, alert and ready. She raised herself up, and he helped guide her onto him.

Basil moaned at the hot, wet silk encasing him, squeezing around him. She paused for a moment, adjusting to the size of him, and then she rocked her hips, sliding up and down in slow, sure strokes.

She kept her hands on his chest for balance as she learned the motions to this new dance. He took the opportunity to unlace the top of her dress, tugging the fabric down to expose her breasts. He cupped them, squeezing and caressing while she closed her eyes and tossed back her head.

Their coupling did not last long, each eager to express in physical form the feelings building between them. The last several hours spent not knowing the fate of one another also pushed them over the edge, as they took this moment to give thanks that they both survived this latest ordeal.