Awaken the Curse (3 page)

“The nightwalker legends, the obelisk. They must have once lived within these mountains.”

“Nightwalkers—your maid blamed them for the attack tonight.” He fumbled with his bandaged shoulder, pain stabbing his gaze.

Katherine’s hands fisted against her stomach. James might have been killed. Why did that thought freeze her blood and set her limbs trembling? After all, she was more than ready to murder the arrogant horse’s ass herself. “Don’t listen to Enid. She’s never happier than when she’s prophesying doom.”

“You don’t believe there’s more to these stories than mountain superstitions? That somehow the Imnada survived the wars and live among us?” His voice dropped. “Perhaps lurking just outside the door?”

The hush of the snow-filled night and her own restless fears closed around her until a pricking between her shoulder blades shivered her chilled flesh, and she glanced quickly out the window, expecting to see a gleam of cats’ eyes.

She gave a laugh and a shrug, her gaze still locked on the open notebooks, her father’s neat script laid out in page after page of tidy rows. “Ridiculous, and you know it. The Imnada died off ages ago.”

“You mean we Other wiped them out.”

His voice from just behind her fell warm against her ear. She spun around to face him, to find his dark eyes locked on hers. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she scolded.

A corner of his mouth curled in a sly smile. “You used to count my ability to creep an asset—one of many you enjoyed.”

Heat stole up her neck to heat her cheeks as the cold room grew instantly stuffy. She stepped once more beyond his orbit, clearing her throat and changing the subject. “Maybe the Other were to blame for the Imnada’s extinction. But every war has its winners and losers.”

“If you call what the Fey-born did to the shapechangers a war. I call it a slaughter.”

“They betrayed their king. Their treachery led to Arthur’s death and the collapse of Other supremacy that followed.”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, though his stare continued to pin her like a bug under glass. “There are some who say Arthur’s demise and the downfall of the Other were writ by the Fey at the birth of our world. A fate that couldn’t be turned aside.”

“Fates aren’t doled out like candies in a shop,” she said, her voice shakier than she would have liked. “We’re free to make our own destiny.”

“And free to change it?” His stare burned her skin, his words squirming her insides.

She opened her mouth to respond with a tart and cutting response when the pricking between her shoulders returned, spreading into a cold rush of fear across her back. The candle guttered and went out. A shape moved beyond the window.

“James! Outside!” She pointed. “Is it Father?”

He threw open the casement, letting in a draft of freezing wind as he peered through the stinging snow into the night.

“Who’s out there?” she asked, hugging herself against the sudden cold infecting her inside and out.

“Who, Katherine?” He lifted his brows as he closed and latched the window. “Or what?”

Chapter 2

After a restless sleep filled with golden cognac eyes and full honey-sweet lips, James was more than ready to leave his bed at first light. Being alone with Katherine last night in scant more than a slip of silk, her auburn hair gleaming like fire down her back and the scent of her perfume like wine in his blood, had brought too many uncomfortable memories boiling to the surface.

The blast of winter he met when he left the house after breakfast slapped him back to the present. He wasn’t here to rekindle a failed romance. He was here in answer to a tantalizing mystery. He retrieved Professor Lacey’s summons from his coat pocket and scanned the familiar script, the words almost falling into one another as he recounted his findings, and the sketch at the bottom that had drawn James like a lodestone upon a string.

Four symbols. Crudely and hastily drawn but instantly recognizable.

He pulled the amulet from inside his shirt. The notched disk of pure silver was engraved with an arch bisected by a triangle and arrow to the right, a rod and crescent to the left.

A match to the third in the row of symbols.

James’s search for answers would begin at the obelisk.

Detouring from his walk to the stables, he headed round to the east side of the house and the terrace doors letting onto the study. No footprints marred the drifts of snow spread over the bricks. No sign of anyone standing among the garden’s shrubbery in the middle of the night. But he’d seen something or someone out here. He was sure of it.

Continuing on to the stables, he found a sturdy pony blanketed and tucking noisily into its oats. In the loft above came humming and the scrape of a pitchfork.

“Hello!” James shouted up the ladder.

“Be down in a titch.”

James rummaged within the harness room until a shadow blotted out the light.

“Let me help ye with that, sir. Hard to do with your shoulder paining you.” A man eased the saddle and bridle from James’s grip.

This must be Cade, though he wasn’t anything like James had pictured after seeing the disheveled maidservant Enid. Silver threaded this man’s hair and fine lines seamed his sun-bronzed face, but even so, his commanding looks and whipcord athleticism would have been enough to turn any woman’s head, and his carriage contained far more of the king than the beggar.

“Surprised to see you up and about after the shape I found ye in last night. Lucky I came across you when I did. Hour or two longer, and you’d have bled out or froze to death.”

“I’m tougher than I look.” James rolled his sore shoulder. It ached with the twinge of stitched flesh but beyond that there was only the buzz and tingle of Katherine’s healing magics. “Are you heading out to search for Professor Lacey this morning?”

“Aye. Just as soon as I finish here.”

“Do you think you’ll find him?” Another, darker question left unspoken. James had offered Katherine platitudes to ease her fears, but did he really believe them? Cade had said a few hours more and James would have frozen to death. The professor had been missing for three days now.

“I told the young miss if he’s found shelter, he’s more than likely safe enough. For now.”

“For now?”

The man paused in his work long enough to level a strange unblinking stare upon him. “These mountains are dangerous for those who didn’t grow up in their shadow. I warned the professor what might happen if he went wandering about on his own.”

“Are you speaking of the nightwalkers?”

Cade gave a sharp snort of laughter. “Let me guess: Old Enid’s been bending your ear with her rubbish. There’s no such thing as nightwalkers. They’re stories made up to frighten children into staying in bed. Naught more.”

“Enid said I’d find you here.” Katherine came striding down the path, dressed in a sturdy riding habit, the gorgeous hair he’d wanted to run his fingers through last night bundled safely away under a hat, the mouth he’d ached to kiss curved in a wary smile. “Are you ready to leave for the obelisk?”

“You’re coming?”

“Of course. How did you think you’d find your way there?”

“Cade?”

The groom looked up. “Not me, milord. I’m to be heading north this morning into the next valley.”

“Then how about a map or written directions. Hell, a damn compass and sextant would work in a pinch.”

She frowned. “You’re being ridiculous. Cade’s busy. I know the way. Simple as that.”

Simple? Nothing was simple where his feelings for Katherine were concerned. They never had been.

“One would think you didn’t want me to go with you,” she said.

That’s exactly what he wanted. A long, solitary tramp through very cold snow, preferably up to his waist. Then he caught the teasing sparkle in her golden eyes and the dimple at the corner of her mouth as she smothered a quick smile. Before he thought better of it, his hand shot out to assist her over a muddy puddle.

What was it about this woman that drove him to ignore common sense? She’d broken his heart once. Hadn’t he learned anything since then?

He noticed her hesitation before she placed her hand in his, the tilt of her head, the sunlit curve of her cheek, the pulse fluttering against her jaw.

He gritted his teeth. The answer to that question was a definite no.

*   *   *

“Amazing.” James caressed the rough surface of the obelisk, leaving Katherine’s own traitorous skin flushed and sensitive. He stretched to study one of the four deep circular depressions carved into each sloping side of the upright stone.

“The four sides carry four different symbols,” Katherine explained. “Father searched all his references, but his expertise tends to folklore and linguistics. This had him at his wit’s end.”

James flashed her a look over his shoulder. “Which explains why he wrote me.”

She nodded, praying he didn’t notice the heat coloring her cheeks. “Monsieur d’Espe heard about the disk and urged Father to contact you.”

“The chevalier d’Espe?”

She jerked her head up at the sharp way he spoke. “That’s right. He’s renting the Hall nearby. He’s convinced the Imnada still exist and hopes to find proof. I think he’s half-mad, but Father enjoys his company.”

“ ‘Half-mad’ is putting it mildly. I’ve met Monsieur d’Espe. He’s a jumped-up treasure hunter chasing every half-baked rumor about the Imnada shifters like a dog with a bone. Most think he’d sell his soul to find proof of their survival. A few believe he might already have done so.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “Silly question, but how did the chevalier hear about the disk?”

Her gaze slid to the side, her whole face aflame. “I might have mentioned it at dinner one night.”

“Might have?”

“All right,” she huffed. “I told him. We were speaking of the obelisk’s markings and it sort of slipped out.”

“Did anything else happen to slip out? Like how I came by the amulet in the first place? I’d hate to have traveled all this way to find myself at the end of an outraged father’s blade.”

“If you mean the part where I was lying naked in your arms after having shed my virginity along with my self-respect, the answer would be no.”

“Funny. I don’t remember it that way at all,” he said quietly. Before she could respond, he turned back to his study of the great rough-carved stone. He drew free a slender chain from his shirt, the amulet dangling as he pulled it over his head. The beaten silver disk flashed in the sun as he reached up, fitting it into the grooved indentation on the north-facing side of the obelisk.

“James!” A ripple of light burst from the stone to curl around his fingers and up his wrist to disperse like droplets of mist in the air.

“I wondered what would happen.” He ran his hand over each face of the obelisk. “Four sides. Four disks.”

“But why? What are they for?”

“I have no idea. Therein lies the mystery.”

At the sound of an approaching rider, James removed the disk, sliding it into his pocket just as the chevalier d’Espe emerged into the clearing.

Accustomed to Father’s rumpled demeanor, Katherine found Monsieur d’Espe’s single-minded intensity daunting. He radiated nervous energy, his actions quick, his words curt, and his temperament mercurial. “They told me I would find you here, Mademoiselle Lacey. I had hoped to find your father at home. Has he not returned yet?”

“No, but we’re hoping for word anytime. This snow has everyone caught at their own hearths, I’m afraid.” She stepped back to avoid the churning hooves of his horse, which tossed its head and nervously pawed at the snow.

“I hope you’re right. One never knows what is waiting for a chance to pounce in these hostile environs. I carry two pistols and a silver dagger at all times, just in case.”

Katherine had heard this advice before, usually over the second course, right before the story about the mysterious beast he’d trapped in Suffolk and the collection of letters he’d unearthed at a library in Boulogne proving the Imnada were real. But James’s head jerked up, his hand shoved deep in his pocket. “A
silver
dagger?”

The chevalier’s eyes narrowed as he studied James from top to toe, his gaze cool. “Do I know you, Monsieur?”

“Lord Duncallan. We met at a symposium in Paris last year.”

“Of course. I remember you from the reception afterwards.” His lips curled in a whiplash smile. “You wore a tall blonde that night, I believe. A delectable creature. You were the envy of every man in the room.”

Katherine glanced at James, whose icy gaze and clenched jaw revealed the truth of d’Espe’s claims. A knot caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down. Had she really thought James had spent the last five years in monkish solitude? Of course not. So why did she feel as if she’d been kicked in the gut?

The chevalier preened. “Silver is the bane of the Imnada shifters. It acts like a poison on their systems. I am surprised a supposed expert on the creatures does not know this simple fact, but then, so much of the information has been lost or laughed off. It takes a true professional to dig for what is important.” He turned back to Katherine with a snort of disdain, clearly dismissing James as not worthy of notice. “I warned your father, Mademoiselle Lacey. He ignored my precautions, but we see who remains and who has vanished without a trace, do we not?”

A trickle of unease slithered down Katherine’s spine, and she caught herself glancing at the trees as if she might catch a watching pair of eyes from among the bare tangled branches. Then a hand curved around her waist, James’s solid oaken presence pulling her back from the apprehension gripping her.

She slanted a curious look up at him through downcast lashes. His attention was focused on d’Espe, but the warmth of his arm remained, the press of it along her spine, the feel of his body against hers. Even through her coat, it sent a lightning shock along her bones, and she suppressed a shiver lest he recognize her need.

“You believe in these nightwalkers?” James asked d’Espe.

“Why shouldn’t I believe?” the chevalier answered, either oblivious or uncaring of the pain he’d caused. “To most of the world, you and I and the rest of the Fey-born Other are as fantastical as any Imnada shifter. Men and women whose magical powers derive in the summer kingdom of the Fey? We are an impossibility.”

“True enough, but Mademoiselle Lacey tells me you’ve come here hoping to catch a shifter in the flesh. Any luck?”

The chevalier scowled, his hands tightening upon the reins. “Mock if you like, my lord. But it is not as far-fetched a theory as some would believe. These creatures were able to change their form at will. How hard would it have been for them to slink away in the guise of animals and hide from the world until memories of their treasonous rebellion faded? Even if I am incorrect, it was worth every expense to travel to see the obelisk for myself. Think of it—a source of their powers waiting only on someone clever enough to unlock it.”

“Is that your theory? That this is some sort of prehistoric magical wellspring?”

“It is far more than a theory, my lord. Again, I would not expect someone who has not devoted his life to these creatures, as I have, to truly understand the stone’s true significance, but whoever unlocks the stone and its secrets will hold unlimited knowledge of the universe.”

“Are you close to success?”

“Closer than you know,” the chevalier said, eyes alight with some inner flame. “I will leave you to your”—he raked Katherine with a greasy stare that made her shudder with cold even beneath her three heavy layers—“observations, but be very careful, my lord Duncallan. You wouldn’t want the nightwalkers to come after you as they did the professor.”

The horse, released from its tight hold, bolted into the wood, snow flung in its wake.

Katherine’s muscles contracted, fear chewing its way up her throat. “Dreadful man. Do you think he’s right? Do you think the Imnada’s power is somehow locked within the stone?”

“I think his brain’s gone soft. Monsieur d’Espe has been chasing shifters for decades with nothing to show for it but a house full of curiosities and an empty bank account.”

“But how does he know what happened to Father?”

“He doesn’t. He just wants to scare you into leaving the mountain—and the obelisk—to him. Come,” James said. “We should head back as well. It’s getting late.”

The sudden withdrawal of his arm nearly toppled her, and she dropped her gaze while collecting her scattered wits and tumbling emotions. She would not fall in love with him again. Never ever. Comforting arm or not, James Farraday was trouble. She knew it up, down, and sideways. He was a player and a scoundrel, and she didn’t care what he said about the Duncallan estates: there was no woman on earth who wouldn’t scoop him up like a dish of Gunter’s ice cream. But she refused to be one of them.

Eyes firmly on the ground as she fought off the tantalizing image of James topped with a cherry, Katherine caught a glimpse of something sparkling out of the corner of her eye. She paused to kneel at the obelisk’s base, picking up a familiar brass button. She ran her fingers over a spattered stain across one corner of roughhewn stone. “James? You may want to come see this. I found—”

The roar of a gunshot drowned out her words.