Belmary House Book Three (22 page)

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Ashford had never in his entire life hoped for death, but he wanted it now. He knew what Kostya’s foul grandmother had in store for them was going to be far from the peace of simply ceasing to exist, and his breath froze in his lungs when he saw her turn her eyes to Matilda.

All at once he knew it was over, he’d failed to protect her, and he wondered what false hope had allowed him to believe they’d had a chance. Had it been Camilla’s futile desire for revenge that had driven him to think he could use the power he’d only had for a short time, power she’d been honing her whole life? Kostya clutched at him harder, knowing he was about to bolt, everything in him wanting to shield Matilda from that woman’s evil glare. The pain she inflicted on him now was nothing compared to what it would be when she finally vanquished them.

“Run,” he yelled. “Leave now, Matilda.”

“It’s too late,” Kostya rasped, his arms trembling as he continued to hold on.

Matilda looked at him, her lovely multi-hued eyes full of love he didn’t deserve, and instead of running out the back door, propelled herself forward. She slid under their linked arms until she was only a foot from the woman, almost hitting the hem of her dress with her knees. He was barely able to see through the fresh blast of blinding pain that hit him square in the temple.

It looked like she had his gun, and was raising it with both hands, aiming at the grandmother. He called out her name again and wrenched his hand free of Kostya’s grasp, throwing himself toward Matilda until he felt her shoulder under his palm.

He squeezed, only wanting to feel her close once more, before they were separated and tortured for their impertinence in thinking they could stop such a powerful force of hatred. As his finger brushed the soft skin of her neck, his pain receded and his vision cleared. He was close enough to see the grandmother’s gown had moth holes near the edges. A force that was at least as strong as his love for Matilda seemed to flow from his hand, but it didn’t scare him this time, and he held on.

She squeezed the trigger, and he felt her knock repeatedly against him with the force of the recoil, until she got nothing but empty clicks. He was deafened by the sound but had managed to stay upright, never letting go of her. Wood chips rained down on the stunned council members from all the holes she’d put in the ceiling, and the grandmother lay in a billowing satin heap in front of them, one of the holes placed squarely between her eyes.

“I didn’t really think that would work,” Matilda said, her voice sounding tinny in his ringing ears.

“What is this magic?” one of the council asked, leaning forward to inspect their fallen leader. “Could this be? She’s dead. She’s dead at last.”

They knelt before Matilda and Ashford pulled her away, enveloping her in his arms as she dropped the gun. Liam lay gasping for breath, and Kostya stood shaking his head in disbelief. The others dropped to the ground one by one, trying to recover from the pain that had been inflicted on them, that they were now free of. Forever.

“We must burn her immediately,” Sorin said, pale face drenched with sweat.

He and the little girl’s father, along with several of the now defunct council, dragged her body outside. A few minutes later, Ashford heard the sound of a roaring fire, and Kostya quickly closed the shutters to block out any smoke.

“Is that it?” Matilda asked, as he clung to her. He never wanted to let go, still feeling the remarkable force flowing between them. “Is it over?” She seemed to have the same idea, arms tightly wrapped around him.

“It’s over,” he said. “You saved us.”

“It was you,” she said. I couldn’t have done it without you. I felt … something, when you touched me.”

She shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. He knew she was realizing what had happened and held her tighter, wanting to absorb her pain. In time she’d come to see she had done nothing wrong, but he knew right now she was tormented. He stroked her hair and caught Liam’s maddening look. Ashford was certain if the man hadn’t been so exhausted from his suffering he’d be gloating about being right. After only a second of bitterness, Ashford was glad he was right.

They were alive, and he’d finally come to see his Matilda didn’t need him to protect her. They needed to be together, to protect each other. To be happy. Surrounded as he was by death and tears, he found it odd that he should be thinking of being happy, but with Matilda in his arms and Kostya free, he had hope once again.

“Take me home, Ashford,” she said against his chest. “I want to go home.”

Everyone wanted a closer look at the human object that had freed them from generations of tyranny. Kostya explained to Tilly and Liam that they’d never had any need for such weapons, and that none of his relatives had ever seen such a thing. He himself would have never thought it possible, and he wasn’t quite convinced it was only the tiny bit of lead that had ended his grandmother.

Ashford had been right when he’d said Tilly was important to their mission. He was positive their ridiculous notion of her being a catalyst was wrong, but there was definitely something about her. Practically a stranger to him, she had risked her life to follow Ashford here, stubbornly believing that goodness would prevail in the end.

He only hoped Ashford would learn to finally accept his birthright and embrace the powers he’d always had, and stop believing whatever idiot notions Liam Wodge spouted. He glanced at the older man, and wondered if it hadn’t been a savvy ploy to keep Ashford from crumbling under his many misgivings when it came to his heritage. His brother-in-law was as powerful as any of them, and only his aversion to anything magical had kept him from experiencing it sooner.

He sent his grandmother’s frightened and confused council on their way, telling them to clean her cottage of all her foul hexes and free anyone she had enslaved there. It was clear they didn’t know what to do without someone ordering them to do it, so he told them they could convene the next day for further instructions. It wouldn’t be him giving the instructions, but at least his command had got them to leave.

Sorin helped Tatiana take her husband’s body back to her own house so she could mourn in peace, and Kostya removed his uncle’s body while Irina and Gustin took their daughter home to rest. Seraphim was exhausted and shaky, but she’d be better after a hot meal and good night’s sleep. He’d make sure the fallen would have proper burials, and be honored as heroes. When word spread throughout the village that his grandmother was truly dead at last, the resounding joy would be widespread. He had no doubt the sun would shine on them the next day.

Sorin returned and they sat near the fire in the plush chairs that were meant to be his reward for doing the unthinkable. He tried to apologize for his cowardly betrayal, but his good natured cousin wouldn’t hear a word of it, saying he might have done the same if he’d been offered a chance to save Natalia.

A silence descended on them as they all became lost in their own thoughts, everyone exhausted from the battle, but none wanting to leave the warmth and companionship of their comrades. For the first time since he’d witnessed his grandmother slump to the ground, he realized he was free to do what he wanted without fear. He knew what his first order to the council would be: remove his curse, remove all the curses the wicked woman had inflicted. His child would be safe. He thought of Serena and longed to be with her. As soon as things were settled here, he wanted to be on his way back to her.

“What will you do next?” Ashford asked, as if reading his thoughts.

He knew Ashford didn’t exactly approve of his relationship with Serena. He felt a brotherly protectiveness for his old friend, and Kostya himself sometimes wished he’d done things differently. He was lucky she loved him for all his mistakes.

“Kostya must stay and rule,” Sorin said before he could answer. “He’s the strongest of us all.”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “It must be you, Sorin. You were the one who had hope from the beginning, who never faltered. I only want to go home.”

“By home, I hope you mean Scotland,” Ashford said. “I don’t know what I’d do about the estate if you didn’t return.”

Kostya breathed a sigh of relief to hear what was Ashford’s way of giving his blessing. “Of course.” He reached across and touched his cousin’s sling. By tomorrow he’d have the use of his hand back. “It has to be you, Sorin. You’ll see. The people won’t have it any other way. I’m no longer one of you, haven’t been for a long time.”

Sorin blushed and looked down, trying to hide his obvious pleasure. “If you’re certain. I thought you might bring your lady here.”

“She’d never stand for it,” Kostya assured him. “For better or worse, you’re going to have to lead them. I hope it’s for better. I don’t want to have to come back here and settle up with another ruler who’s gone mad with power.”

“Of course not,” Sorin said, finally meeting his eye.

He didn’t think he’d have to come back. Maybe it would get to the point where his childhood home would be a place he’d like to visit. There was much work to be done to make that so, but if anyone could do it, it was his kind, fair-minded cousin.

“When will you leave?” Sorin asked.

He somewhat regretfully told him as soon as he could. It was a long journey and he’d been away from Serena for too long.

“Come back with me,” Liam said. “I’ll get you to the future, we’ll take a quick plane ride, then I’ll shoot you back to this time when you’re close.”

“That’s a kind offer,” Kostya said. “But I’ll take the natural way. I’m done with magic.” He smiled conspiratorially at Liam. “Perhaps except for larger cabbages.”

“Well, then, do you two kids think you can get back on your own? Whenever you decide to end up?” Liam asked Ashford and Tilly.

Tilly suppressed a yawn and snuggled in closer to Ashford, her face bleak and tired. He’d tried to assure her what she’d done hadn’t been murder, that she shouldn’t feel an ounce of regret or guilt, but he knew it would take her a while to believe it in her heart. She was good for Ashford, and he hoped they’d stay together and return to the farm as well, but knowing Ashford, he wouldn’t hold his breath. He’d never known such a stubborn mule.

“We’ll be fine,” Ashford said, getting a nudge for his bitter tone. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re sure? I’m heading back to when we left. Helen invited me for Thanksgiving in California.”

Tilly sat up. “She did not. Did she? What are your intentions with my grandma?”

“I think she’s a lovely woman and I’d like to get to know her better,” Liam said meekly, causing Tilly to frown and slump back against Ashford.

“Oh. Well, okay, then. Good luck. You better be nice.” She glanced up at Ashford before adding, “I-I’m sure I’ll see you again before you leave for California. You can get us back, right, Ashford? I just need to see my mom again, and settle things with Dex. He left in such a hurry and he was so upset…”

“Yes, Matilda, I can get you back,” he said.

She twisted around to get a better look at him, and it didn’t escape Kostya’s notice that she had said us, and he had said you. He could see how badly it hurt her and felt sorry for them, wishing there was something he could do, make Ashford see reason. It was clear how much he loved her.

Ashford gave him a beseeching look over the top of Tilly’s head and he knew he could give them some time alone at least. He suggested that Liam and he should walk back with Sorin to his own cottage, check in on Seraphim and Tatiana, who shouldn’t be alone in her grief, perhaps make sure the council members were doing what he’d asked.

Yes, there was much to be done here still, but he’d be on his way home as soon as he could, perhaps this very night. The moon was full and high in the sky and would afford plenty of light to show the way. He forced them, grumbling and complaining, out the door, nodding at Ashford’s grateful look as they went.

***

Tilly’s muscles ached as much as her heart. It had taken her some time to be able to relax after what she’d done, holding herself stiffly against Ashford’s warm embrace until little by little, she let go. Kostya quietly told her she didn’t want to know what his grandmother had done over the years to keep herself alive for so long. She was well past her time to go, and Tilly shouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse. They’d all be dead by now if she hadn’t acted so rashly.

She still couldn’t believe it had worked. Her mind had just gone blank. She didn’t expect to hit the old witch, hadn’t expected anything except to go out trying her best. She stayed quietly resting against Ashford’s strong chest after Kostya and the others left. She didn’t know if Kostya would be back and knew she should take advantage of their time alone while they had it. There were so many things to say, but she found she couldn’t speak.

She should have said she wanted to go back with him immediately, brooked no argument from him, but she didn’t want to leave without ever seeing her mother again, or speaking to Dex and making sure he was all right. She was sure Ashford had to understand that, and he’d readily agreed to take her back.

Too readily, which was what made her uneasy. Their tentative agreement seemed to be crumbling more easily than a flaky pastry, and now he didn’t need her anymore. There was no one left to fight, no reason for him to have to utilize his powers.

“I want to go back with you,” she finally said. “I only want to say proper goodbyes. You know that, right?”