Authors: Ronda Thompson
The Cursed One (20 page)
Again, the feel of her cool hand against his forehead. “You'll be dead by the time I return,” she said. “I won't go, and you don't have the strength to force me.” Her hand moved around the back of his neck and she lifted his head, placing a cup to his lips. “Drink some water.”
He was dying of thirst. His throat was dry and scratchy and he drank so he might better talk her into leaving. The cool water tasted like heaven. He would have emptied the cup, but she suddenly took it away.
“Not too much,” she said. “It will just come back up otherwise.”
How did Lady Amelia Sinclair Collingsworth know
that? She said she'd talked to Mora regarding tending the sick, but surely they had focused on what they might have to do for his leg and didn't get much further. Mora. He suddenly remembered what else he had to do that was important.
that? She said she'd talked to Mora regarding tending the sick, but surely they had focused on what they might have to do for his leg and didn't get much further. Mora. He suddenly remembered what else he had to do that was important.
“Mora,” he rasped.
For a moment, Amelia looked startled. “What?”
“Mora,” he repeated. “I must rescue her. They said they would only wait two days before they made her disappear.”
Amelia's tense features relaxed. “You are in no condition to help Mora. Best think about yourself now. The girl will have to deal with her own situation.”
Why was Amelia acting this way? He'd expected just such an attitude from her when he first met her at Collingsworth Manor. But she wasn't like this. He'd come to know that about her. She hadn't wanted to leave Mora behind the night they escaped the tavern, and she wouldn't want to leave her to her own fate now.
“What's wrong with you?” he asked. A chill wracked him and he shivered uncontrollably for a moment. Her image became hazy to him. Once he could speak again, he continued, “You would never leave Mora to her own fate. You care too much about her.”
Something crossed her lovely features. Guilt? “I care more about you. I love you.”
Gabriel remembered that she had told him she loved him. He remembered the soar of his heart before it plummeted. He also remembered what he'd said to her when she asked if he loved her in turn. It had not been what she deserved to hear, but then, she didn't deserve to be deceived by him, as he had deceived her from the
beginning. He did love her, as he had vowed to love no woman. He was weak when he should have been strong against her. He was weak now as fever raged through him, and he was weak against a curse that had been put upon his bloodline centuries ago.
beginning. He did love her, as he had vowed to love no woman. He was weak when he should have been strong against her. He was weak now as fever raged through him, and he was weak against a curse that had been put upon his bloodline centuries ago.
“You shouldn't love me,” he said. “I am not worthy of your love.”
Amelia regarded him curiously. “Why?” she asked. “Because of your family? The rumors that insanity will someday strike you down? Because you were a friend of Lord Collingsworth's and I was for one day his bride? Why are you unworthy?”
Her image blurred and focused again above him. She had a scratch on her cheek Gabriel didn't remember seeing before. He tried to lift his hand to touch her, but he didn't have the strength. Gabriel thought of the claws jutting from his fingertips last night, wondered if they were still there when she'd found him unconscious.
“What happened to your face?” he asked. “How did you get that scratch?”
Her cheeks bloomed with color. “I don't know,” she answered. “But a little scratch is hardly need for concern when you are dying.”
Gabriel might very well be dying, but Amelia would never admit to that. It was the same as admitting to defeat. She would try to convince him he wasn't dying. She would try to give him hopeâstrength to fight. Now she acted as if she expected him to give up. What would happen tonight when the moon came out? Would he turn regardless of his fever and his weakened state? As a wolf, would he be sick or strong?
“What time is it?”
“It is late,” she answered. “Nearly dark.”
She touched his cheek. That's when he noticed that her hands were rougher than he recalled. True, they had gotten rougher since their journey through the woods, but still, he'd thought they were soft against his skin when he'd made love to her.
“Close your eyes,” she coaxed. “Go to a place where there is no pain. No worry. Go to a place where your suffering will end.”
Gabriel snatched her wrist. She jumped. He yanked her close, surprised that he had the strength to do so. “Who are you?” he demanded.
For a second her face paled. She moistened her lips. Very calmly, she answered, “You know who I am. The fever has made you delirious.”
Was that true? Was Gabriel hallucinating? No, he'd know Amelia anywhere, her scent, her touch. This was not Amelia. “I don't know who you are, but I know that you are not Amelia.” His nostrils flared. “You are wearing her perfume, but she has no perfume with her. Your scent beneath it is not the same as hers. But I know who that scent belongs to now. You deceived us in more ways than one, Mora.”
Her soft smile faded. The blue eyes staring down at him hardened. “Let go of me,” she bit out. With surprising strength, she wrested her arm from him. She rose from the bed and stood rubbing her wrist. “What normal man has the ability to tell a person by their scent? I found it odd at Collingsworth Manor, and I find it odd still. Anyone else would not be able to tell that I am not Lady Amelia Sinclair Collingsworth. And the only one who can will soon be dead.”
Gabriel's sudden fear for Amelia overpowered the fever that raged in him. “What have you done to her? If you hurt her, I'llâ”
“You'll what?” Mora goaded. “You are not in any condition to threaten me. If it will ease your way into death, she is still alive. For now. I need her. I need to know about her life, her past, so that I can take her place among society.”
Struggling to rise, Gabriel asked, “For God's sake, why?” His head spun and he fell back against the pillows, fighting dizziness, fighting nausea. “What is this great plan of yours?”
Mora had wisely positioned herself out of his reach. She shrugged. “It isn't my plan,” she said. “It's the Wargs' plan. I am simply a tool they use, as are all of us among them who can shift into the likeness of another. We are pretenders. And our duty in life is to serve. Through a few, many will benefit.”
Gabriel couldn't stand to look at Mora standing there with Amelia's face. “Show yourself to me,” he said. “I will go to my grave at least knowing the face of my killer. If I am still uncertain as to what you actually are.”
For the briefest moment, she looked sad. “I am not your killer. The injury to your leg, the fever, those things will kill you. I have no need to dirty my hands. As for what I am, I am human for the most part. It is said the Wargs were favored by the ancient gods. They gave us the powers we have in order to guard mankind ⦠but mankind turned on us. We became hunted, cast out, and soon we learned to live in the shadows.”
“Why don't you just stay there?” Gabriel suggested. “And you say you will not kill me, but you will kill Amelia once you've wrested all the information you need from her. She wouldn't leave and save herself because of you. How can you live with your deception?”
Mora turned her back on him. “I am regretful that she must sacrifice for me, even though I should not be, because our survival is more important. You ask why we do not remain hidden. We cannot survive any longer in the woods. There is not enough game to feed us. We have grown weary of being hunted, of being whispered about around night fires. We are stronger than mankind. We are favored. It is only right that we should rule.”
Gabriel had trouble comprehending all she said, due to his weakened state. Some of it didn't make sense. “At Collingsworth Manor, why didn't you simply let them in? Why the pretense?”
When Mora turned to face him, she no longer looked like Amelia. She didn't look like the Mora he knew, either. How she had managed to make herself look plain must have been a trick in itself. Her hair was long and thick and fell to her slim waist, nearly the same shade of pale blond as Amelia's. She wore the clothes Amelia had worn when last he saw her, too. She was nearly the same height, the same build. Her eyes were blue, although a darker shade.
“I could have,” she admitted. “I needed to have Amelia's trust even if she was captured. I still needed time to study her, to get to know her. I convinced them all that to let us flee would work more to our favor. It would give me the time I needed, although there is still much I do not know about her.”
“And now I understand that you must at least in some ways resemble the person whose place you take,” he said.
“Yes,” she admitted. Mora sighed. “Enough talk. Shouldn't you be dying?”
Now that Mora had brought the matter to his attention, Gabriel realized he didn't feel as weak as he had earlier. He was still hot, but not burning up. Did the coming of the wolf bring him strength? It must, because he'd been able to make love to Amelia when he should have been too ill. What else could the wolf do for him?
“There is one thing your kind cannot plan for,” he told Mora.
She lifted a brow again, an unconsciously haughty gesture that would suit her well among society.
“Some of us will not simply lie down and die.” The pain hovered just beneath the surface, and Gabriel allowed it to come. As a man, he could not save Amelia. But as something other than a man, he might still give her a chance.
Amelia was trapped. The men who had mistaken her for
a boy earlier had been called to account by Mora, and now two were stationed outside the door, one downstairs, and two outside. They weren't about to allow Amelia to escape. Mora had forced Amelia to hand over her clothes and, oddly enough, had offered her the luxury of the bath she had ordered for herself. She'd also had food brought up to Amelia. She felt rather like a goose being fattened for Christmas dinner.
a boy earlier had been called to account by Mora, and now two were stationed outside the door, one downstairs, and two outside. They weren't about to allow Amelia to escape. Mora had forced Amelia to hand over her clothes and, oddly enough, had offered her the luxury of the bath she had ordered for herself. She'd also had food brought up to Amelia. She felt rather like a goose being fattened for Christmas dinner.
She had used the bath, mostly because she hadn't had a proper one since she made love to Gabriel, partly because she needed the time to think about her situation and how she would get herself out of it. In her valise, Amelia had found clothing. Her own clothing. Her perfume. Whatever Mora would need to convince those at Wulfglen that she was the distraught Lady Collingsworth.
Would Rosalind see through Mora's disguise? Had they become good enough friends for Armond's wife to know the woman presenting herself as Amelia was in fact an impostor?
And why was Amelia even allowing herself to believe
it would come to that? If Gabriel weren't sick, possibly dying, she would never give up hope of being rescued. But he was, and the thought of him at Mora's mercy nearly drove Amelia insane with worry and with anger. After all he'd done to protect her, to protect even a woman who had no need of it, Amelia felt useless when he now needed her to be strong. Nothing in her life had prepared her for what had happened at Collingsworth Manor on her wedding night, for what had happened every day since.
it would come to that? If Gabriel weren't sick, possibly dying, she would never give up hope of being rescued. But he was, and the thought of him at Mora's mercy nearly drove Amelia insane with worry and with anger. After all he'd done to protect her, to protect even a woman who had no need of it, Amelia felt useless when he now needed her to be strong. Nothing in her life had prepared her for what had happened at Collingsworth Manor on her wedding night, for what had happened every day since.
Still, Amelia had survived. She had done what was necessary, what Gabriel told her to do for the most part. And in the process, she had discovered things about herself she had never known before. She was frightened of the men guarding her, for she knew they were more than men. But she was more frightened for Gabriel. Mora had said his infection would kill him, but what if Mora wasn't patient enough to wait for a death from natural causes for him? Amelia had to do something; she just wasn't certain what.
Glancing around the room, she looked for something she might use as a weapon. The room was sparsely furnished. The tub still sat in the middle of the room, the water now cold. There was a crock for pouring fresh water into the basin. A candlestick. Amelia walked over and picked it up. It wasn't heavy enough to render a man unconscious.
She glanced at her valise again. She'd dug a sensible gown from the valise to put on after her bath. Truth be told, she preferred the lad's clothes. They had been much easier to maneuver in. For the first time since her escape from this very tavern, she wore undergarments
again. She'd kept the sturdy boots, knowing if she did manage to escape, they would serve her better than one of two pairs of slippers that had been stuffed inside the valise.
again. She'd kept the sturdy boots, knowing if she did manage to escape, they would serve her better than one of two pairs of slippers that had been stuffed inside the valise.
Amelia lifted her perfume, uncorked the dainty bottle, and sniffed. It seemed stronger than she remembered, and her eyes watered. She had grown accustomed to going without it. She'd replaced the bottle when a thought occurred to her. She glanced back at the sturdy crock and the basin. Snatching the bottle back up, she moved toward the items. The crock was full of fresh water. Amelia poured a little into the basin; then she unstopped the perfume and poured the whole bottle in the water. The scent was so strong her eyes watered again.
She took the crock to the tub and emptied what water remained. Now what to do? She needed the men posted outside the door to come into the room. Snatching up the empty perfume bottle, she hurled it against the door with all her strength. It shattered. Quickly she rushed to the door, bent, and picked up a large shard of glass. She'd barely made it back to her position in front of the washbasin when the door swung open.
One of the men walked inside, glass crunching under his boots. “What are you up to?”
Poising the sharp shard against her wrist, Amelia said, “I will not take part in your plans. I will kill myself first.”
The man's eyes widened. He yelled for the other man before he lunged toward her. Amelia dropped the glass, grabbed the basin, and threw the contents in his face. The other man was already reaching for her and
she swung the basin and hit him square in the face. He stumbled back and fell to the floor. The man whom she had doused had his hands over his eyes, rubbing frantically.
she swung the basin and hit him square in the face. He stumbled back and fell to the floor. The man whom she had doused had his hands over his eyes, rubbing frantically.
“God, it stings!” he shouted, and Amelia knew she had only a moment before both men recovered. She leaped over the fallen man, and then she was running, out the door, into the hallway, and down the stairs. She couldn't be quiet, not in the clunky boots she wore. The man posted in the common's room glanced up from a table where he sat, surprise etched on his features.
“Hey!” he shouted, struggling to his feet.
Amelia had the advantage. She was already in motion and she made her decision to try the back door. It had stood open and unguarded earlier. She prayed that was still the case. The kitchen area was overheated. A pot sat simmering on top of the stove, no doubt for whatever dinner the men had planned. She snatched it up, uncaring this time if she burned her hands. As soon as the man who'd been guarding the downstairs came through the entry, she hurled the contents of the pot in his face. He howled with the pain and she threw the pot at him for good measure. Then she was at the back door, which indeed still stood open. She was out a second later, running for her life and for Gabriel's.
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The pain caught Gabriel by surprise. It came so quickly
he didn't have time to prepare. He clutched his middle and bent over. He glanced up, gasping with the pain. Mora still stood watching him. He saw no victory in her eyes but rather a sad resignation. She thought he was dying.
he didn't have time to prepare. He clutched his middle and bent over. He glanced up, gasping with the pain. Mora still stood watching him. He saw no victory in her eyes but rather a sad resignation. She thought he was dying.
“Surrender to it,” she said softly. “Let death take you quickly.”
Would the change come faster if he did what she suggested? If he surrendered rather than fought? Gabriel closed his eyes and willed the wolf to him. The curse that had hovered over him and shaped his life, had once stolen his dreams and his future. How he hated the beast that prowled beneath his skin, but this once he must surrender. He must bow down. His pride fought the notion, for it whispered of the weaknesses he detested in others. The weaknesses within himself.
Fangs lengthened in his mouth. He felt them with his tongue. As he stared at Mora through the haze of pain consuming him, he saw the moment she realized he was not dying ⦠he was changing. Her eyes widened. She took a step back, although he imagined it was an unconscious gesture.
His eyes burned inside his skull. Claws burst through the skin of his fingertips and he nearly shouted out with the pain. Instead, he held them up for her to see.
“You didn't plan on this, did you?” he asked, his voice raw and garbled.
“You are one of us,” she whispered, clearly shocked.
“Never,” he growled. “I am cursed! I do not choose to become this monster inside of me. But for Amelia, for her life, I gladly embrace it.”
The pain was excruciating, but he kept his focus on Mora and what she would do now that she knew she wasn't dealing with a dying man, but a creature, not unlike herself. She didn't do what he expected. She didn't shift her shape and become a beast. She ran from him. The pain in his leg was nothing compared to the pain
of transformation, but Gabriel forced himself to rise from the bed. He must rescue Amelia, if it was the last thing he ever did in this life.
of transformation, but Gabriel forced himself to rise from the bed. He must rescue Amelia, if it was the last thing he ever did in this life.
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Amelia ran. She had to reach Gabriel. She had to protect
him from Mora, if it wasn't already too late. The thought of him weak and sick, at Mora's mercy, propelled Amelia toward the cottage at a speed she would have once never suspected she possessed.
him from Mora, if it wasn't already too late. The thought of him weak and sick, at Mora's mercy, propelled Amelia toward the cottage at a speed she would have once never suspected she possessed.
Shouts sounded behind her. An alarm had been raised. Amelia picked up her skirts and picked up her speed. The boots were harder to run in than her dainty slippers. They were heavier and too big. Still, she managed as best she could, pushing herself onward toward the cottage. She knew the creatures were now aware that the cottage was where she and Gabriel had been hiding, but she had to save Gabriel. How she would accomplish that without a weapon of any kind, against a woman who was no ordinary woman, she didn't know. Only that she must try.
Crashing through the woods, Amelia nearly collided with a dark shape. She barely avoided running into the wolf. The animal hesitated, turning back toward her, and Amelia's heart rose in her throat. The animal bared its fangs and growled low. At one blessedly ignorant time, Amelia might have thought it was simply a wolf. She knew better now. She had a feeling she knew who this particular wolf was, as well.
“Mora?” she croaked.
The wolf lunged and knocked her to the ground. It was on top of her a moment later, snarling down into
her face. The creature was going to kill her. The animal's breath didn't smell like raw meat, as had that of the man who had attacked Amelia at Collingsworth Manor. Oddly enough, the creature smelled like the perfume Amelia had once worn. Her mind still had trouble grasping that a person could shift their shape and become someone or something else.
her face. The creature was going to kill her. The animal's breath didn't smell like raw meat, as had that of the man who had attacked Amelia at Collingsworth Manor. Oddly enough, the creature smelled like the perfume Amelia had once worn. Her mind still had trouble grasping that a person could shift their shape and become someone or something else.
Could Mora reason while in wolf form? If she could easily shift her form back and forth, Amelia had to assume Mora could think rationally even when she took on the guise of a wolf. Staring into the glowing eyes of the beast, Amelia could only do one thing. Appeal to the person she once knew as Mora.
“Let me go to him,” she said. “Please, Mora. I know you really don't want to hurt either of us. Whatever you are, you are still human.”
The wolf growled again, lowering its fangs dangerously close to Amelia's neck. She felt its breath, the warmth of saliva that dripped from its mouth. Amelia was mesmerized by the glittering gaze of the wolf. Mora's eyes, she realized.
“We were friends,” Amelia whispered. “I cared about you. I trusted you.”
She had no idea if the wolf understood her words, but she reasoned Mora surely understood her fear. Even an animal sensed that in a person. The wolf stared at her a moment longer; then it climbed down from on top of her. Amelia was afraid to move. Afraid Mora would reconsider. The wolf abruptly glanced up; then it was gone, like a wisp of smoke in the darkness.
Amelia scrambled up. She pressed a hand to her
pounding heart, then turned to run in the direction of the cottage. She only made it a step when she drew up short and screamed. A tall shadow stood among the trees.
pounding heart, then turned to run in the direction of the cottage. She only made it a step when she drew up short and screamed. A tall shadow stood among the trees.
“Amelia?”
“Gabriel,” she said with a sigh of relief. Her first instinct was to rush toward him. To fling herself into his arms. She was never so happy to see anyone in her life.
“Don't,” he said when she took a step toward him. “Run, Amelia. And keep running, no matter what you see or hear.”
His voice sounded odd. Not quite like him. And how on earth had he managed to rise from bed, much less walk out into the woods? She thought he was dying when she left him.
“Howâ”
“Go now!”
“Not without you,” she argued.
“I will follow,” he said. “We are in the woods again. Do as I say.”
She wanted to argue further. Amelia hadn't done all she'd done to leave him behind. There wasn't time to waste; she knew that and so did he. The others would be upon them at any moment. Either as men or as wolves.
“Promise me you'll follow,” she said.
“Go!”
He almost growled the word at her. Amelia tugged up the hem of her skirt, tied it around her waist, and ran. She knew she couldn't return to the cottage. They wouldn't be safe there now. She hoped she was headed east. A glance over her shoulder and she saw the tall shadow following. At least he hadn't lied about that.
How he could follow at all was still not something she understood. There wasn't time to contemplate the matter. There was only time to run. It was dark, but the full moon overhead helped light her way, although the trees cast shadows and she still had to be careful.
How he could follow at all was still not something she understood. There wasn't time to contemplate the matter. There was only time to run. It was dark, but the full moon overhead helped light her way, although the trees cast shadows and she still had to be careful.
Behind her, she heard the howls of wolves. They were close. Too close. Amelia glanced behind her again. She didn't see Gabriel. Had she moved too quickly for him? Had his leg given out? She stopped, dragging air into her lungs. Suddenly the sounds of animals fighting split the night. Or she thought it was the sound of animals fighting. Perhaps it was the sound of the wolves attacking Gabriel. Amelia went to the ground; she frantically searched for some type of weapon. The only thing she came up with was a large stick. Grasping it in her hand, she turned to retrace her steps.
A wolf suddenly appeared on the path behind her. A large wolf. Survival instincts came rushing to the surface, and Amelia ran. She doubted if the stick would ward off the beast. She also doubted that she could outrun it, but she pushed onward, fear driving her when her legs and lungs would have given out.
While she ran, she kept expecting the animal to lunge on her back and take her down, like felled prey. A glance over her shoulder told her the animal was still there. But it didn't seem to be chasing her. It seemed to be following her. And it was limping. She continued to run, jumping over fallen logs, tripping once when she stepped in a rabbit hole, but scrambling back up to run again.
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