Vision in Faith (Legends of the North Book 3) (16 page)

She flew across the field to James's cottage and crashed against the door, yanking at the handle as she looked over her shoulder. The door opened, and she fell through it into James's arms.

"Vicky?"

"Shut the door. Just shut the door," she managed to get out as she panted from the run and the fear still coursing through her.

James shut the door and then ran his hands over her as though looking for an injury. "Are you hurt? Were you attacked?"

Vicky shook her head as Teazle ran past her and jumped up on the window seat, a low growl coming from her. She followed the dog into the living room and looked out the window too.

Vicky jumped as James's hand wrapped around her waist before he pulled her back against his chest. "What happened?"

"I don't know. Nothing, really. I was looking up at Altenbury Hall and then… I don't know. The sun was shining on one side, but behind me, it was like nighttime almost. And then what sounded like a wounded animal was echoing around the hedgerows and Teazle started whimpering, and I don't know…"

James turned her in his arms and she buried her head against his chest. "It's okay. You're safe. That's all that matters."

Her nose pressed against him, she inhaled his familiar scent, and she did feel safe. There in his arms, safe and
loved
. She let out a quiet gasp and James tightened his hold on her, misunderstanding the noise. Did he love her? It had snuck up on her, but she was pretty sure she'd fallen in love with him.

They spent a quiet night together; Vicky lost in her own thoughts when James spoke. "I want you to stay here tonight."

She thought of all the reasons why she shouldn't, but in the end she realised she didn't want to be at home, alone. She nodded and took his hand when he held it out to her. He dragged her to her feet and quietly led her upstairs, Teazle not far behind.

She climbed in bed and James wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. She felt his lips on her neck before he whispered, "Good night, snips."

"Good night, James." But she couldn't resist the eye roll at the stupid nickname.

She fell asleep, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of James's chest pressed against her back.
 

Vicky felt like she was floating. Gently swaying on the sea, her body warmed by the sun as it shined through the clouds so far away. It was peaceful, like being rocked inside a lullaby. The gentle wash of the sea as waves kissed the shore. She could smell the salt, taste it on her lips.

At the sound of birdsong, she slowly opened her eyes. Above her, tree branches swayed beneath a white bird. It cooed as it looked down at her, its head tilted so its eye looked straight at her. Vicky smiled at the bird's beauty.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Turning, she saw James, smiling at her, his love shining clearly in his eyes.
 

A shriek of laughter distracted her, and she turned in the direction it came from. There, playing in the shallow water, foam lapping around her feet, was a child who was the spitting image of Emma. The child shrieked again when she was lifted from the water and spun around in the air by Matt. Emma walked through the surf to join them both.

 
Vicky felt James's arms wrap around her middle. Out in the sea, she could just make out the heads of Jess and Rob. Resting her head back against James's chest, she let out a contented sigh.

A feeling that was suddenly shattered by the sharp sting of pain, bringing her wide awake. Turning over, she yelped as something sharp stabbed her finger. Lifting it to her mouth, she gently sucked on it where there was a bead of blood. Expecting to see James next to her, she was surprised to find a white rose laid across his pillow, a trail of blood leading towards her and the cold patch of bed next to her.

 
Pushing back the covers, she made her way downstairs to find James sitting in a wingback chair next to the fireplace, glass in hand. Teazle lifted her head when she entered the room, and James turned to look at her.

"Did I wake you?"

She shook her head and made her way over to him. He pulled her onto his lap, and she swung her legs over the arm of the chair, her butt pressed firmly against his thighs. "What are you doing down here?"

"I couldn't sleep. Thought a drink might help."

She handed him the rose from his pillow and he looked up at her questioningly. "Where did you get that from?"

"I think I had a vision. But it was different than the others. It was nice. We were happy. The six—no, seven—of us together. When I woke up, that was on your pillow."

"Seven of us?"

Vicky let the smile spread across her face at how worried James looked. "Yes, we had a child." His eyebrows hit his hairline and she laughed. "Matt and Emma had a child."

James shook his head. "Let's hope that's a sign of the future." Lifting his glass, he drained its contents.

Vicky grabbed his hand as she stood. "Come on, let's go back to bed."

They both woke late the next day. But as she helped James make breakfast, the feeling she had during her vision came back to her. As they worked together, he brushed his hand over her arm, pressed his lips against her temple, or just nudged her out of the way with his hips. It felt natural, and she couldn't help but wonder how many other days they would have like that.

If her vision was anything to go by, they had nothing to worry about. But the previous visions she'd had, the ones that Emma and Jess had, all pointed towards anything but a happy ending. But they couldn't be taken literally, could they?

A knock pulled her out of her morbid thoughts. "I'll get it." Opening the door, she was greeted by Matt and Emma. They followed her back into the kitchen, where James was just plating up.

By the time they finished breakfast—brunch, really—Jess and Rob had joined them. Vicky looked at the five of them and realised, sitting beside her, they were exactly what she'd always wanted—family. It didn't matter that they weren't related; they were a family in all the ways that mattered, and would always be there for each other.

"I had a vision. Another one."

"Did it have a deer in it? Or a cypress tree?" Matt asked as he chewed on a fingernail.

Vicky's brow furrowed at what seemed to be a random question, but then, that was Matt for you. She shook her head. "No. It was different than the others, more peaceful. If it hadn't been for the rose on James's pillow, I would have thought it was just a normal dream."

"What colour rose?"

Vicky wondered why and shrugged because it was a strange question for a guy. "White. Why? Does it matter?"

Matt stood and began to pace the length of the kitchen as he shook his head. "No… I'm not sure."

"But when my vision had a rose in it, mine was white too, remember? Surely that means something," Emma said.

Matt stopped pacing and turned to face them. "You're right, Emma. It means this thing is coming full circle. I think we don't have long left."

James stood and moved to stand behind Vicky, his hands resting on her shoulders. "What makes you say that? What's happened?"

"I don't know. Vicky says the vision seemed different this time. Even the attacks are different. The previous times we've tried to fight it coincided with a Roman festival. The next one starts in eleven days or the next full moon. So, by my reckoning, we have maybe twelve days until this thing ends. One way or another."

The only sound in the kitchen after Matt's declaration was the quiet hum of the fridge.

"Fuck." James tensed, his fingers digging into Vicky's shoulders. "What the fuck are we supposed to do in twelve days?" he asked, throwing his hands out in his brother's direction.

Matt strode across the kitchen and got into James's face. "Why the fuck do you think I have all the answers? I don't know what all this means. I don't know what we're supposed to do, o-okay?" Matt stopped talking as he started to stutter and dropped into the nearest chair. Emma came to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispered in his ear.
 

"Shouting at each other isn't going to help. Or find us the answers," Jess said, staring pointedly from Matt to James. "Can you tell us more about this festival?"

"I-I-" Matt took a deliberate breath and started again. "It's called the Festival of Nemoralia. The Festival of Torches. It's a festival to honour the goddess Diana. Women would carry torches, their heads crowned with wreaths of white roses, as they offered up prayers to her. Branches of the cypress tree would be staked into the ground and gifts woven from thread would be hung as offerings from them. Written messages would be tied to the branches by ribbon. Sculptures of stags, statues of mother and child, and offerings of fruit such as apples and grapes would surround the branches."

"Well, that's a start," Jess said, linking her fingers through Rob's. Looking over in Emma's direction, she nodded at her. "We can start making offerings. I know what the hell I'm praying for."

"I can make wreaths," Vicky added. "I used to make them when I would do wedding hair."

After that, the kitchen was filled with the buzz of their voices as they planned what each of them could do. They spent the rest of the afternoon in their makeshift office, researching, and planning.

If this thing was going to attack them again, they would make sure they were ready for it.

Chapter 18

Vicky startled when she saw the hand in front of her face.

"Come on, you need to rest."

She looked up at James and took his hand as he pulled her to her feet. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since she'd learned of Nemoralia and none of them had stopped since. Her gaze wandered the room, taking in the wreaths she had just finished, woven animals, and handwritten scrolls tied with red ribbon.

They were the only two left in the room, the others having already gone home for the night, or early morning. She let James lead her upstairs where she crawled under the covers, burying her head in the pillow and falling into an exhausted sleep.

 
Vicky was sitting on the steps of Altenbury Hall, looking out over the fields. An orange glow appeared and as she stood, it lengthened into a flickering flame. She walked quickly in the direction of the glow until she could see that the flames were beneath a silver pot. A man sat on the stump of a tree, hunched over the pot with what looked like a large pair of pliers in his hand.

When he leaned back, the flames cast a light around him, making the sweat on his muscled arms gleam. His copper hair was slicked back and her gaze lowered to his pointed beard, thick and shaggy in the same colour as his hair.

She moved to the side and saw that in his other hand was a hammer. When he lifted the pliers, she noticed they held a sheet of orange that glowed brightly in the dark of the night. Only when he hit the sheet with his hammer did she realise how quiet it had been. No birds sang in the trees. She couldn't even hear the murmur of the river, even though she knew it had to be close by. With each ring of the hammer against the metal, she took a step closer until she could feel the heat of the flames on her face.

The man wiped a blackened forearm across his forehead before he dropped the hammer on the floor. He twisted the metal he held between the pliers before his eyes. She had no idea what he was looking for, but he seemed to find it.
 

Suddenly, he stood and strode off, away from Altenbury Hall, and she followed him.

When he reached the river, he plunged the metal into the tumultuous water with a hiss that made her jump. As the quiet of the night closed back in on them, he held what she then realised was a sword with one hand as he rested the tip of the blade on his other.
 

She crept closer to get a better look. The blade was long and flared from the tip to the handle. A handle that had intricate swirls along its length, and in the middle, the size of a ten-pence coin, was a glowing red orb.

Mesmerised as the man slowly sliced the blade through the air, she couldn't tear her gaze away from the red orb. With the handle in both hands, he held the sword straight in the air above his head. Light flashed down the blade, momentarily blinding her before she lifted her arm to cover her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, the man and the blade had disappeared. Instead of standing by the river, she was beside a wooden building. She could hear the faint murmurs of voices and started in their direction, but before she reached them, she stopped dead in front of an oak tree. A high-pitched maniacal laugh froze her to the spot. But that wasn't what scared her. It was the face of the man staring back at her which had her terrified.

She would recognise that face anywhere.

Hands wrapped their way around her arms. She tried to break free, but the more she moved, the tighter their grip became. When the hands shook her and she heard her name shouted, she stopped fighting and blinked her eyes open.

"Hey, hey." Gentle hands brushed the hair back from her forehead as she stared into James's concerned eyes. "You're okay. I've got you."

He pulled her head against his chest, and she lifted her hands to hold him then pulled back instead. Her hands were wet, but when she looked down, there was no water like last time. "Oh, my God. Is that yours?"

James held her away from him. She knew he'd seen the blood when she heard his sharp intake of breath. With a shake of his head, he whispered, "No." His hand started to skate over her as if looking for an injury. But there was nothing.
 

Nothing but the blood dripping from her hands.

Elbowing him out of the way, she jumped out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her, she grabbed the soap and scrubbed at her hands. A sob tore from her throat when she seemed to be just making it worse, spreading the blood up her arms. Switching the tap on, she let the water run down her skin, swirling down the plughole tinged pink.

When her hands finally looked clean, she switched the tap off and yanked the towel off the rail. She could still smell the metallic tang of blood as she scrubbed the towel over her arms before she sank to her knees on the cold, hard floor of the bathroom. Sobbing quietly into her clean, dry hands, she heard a soft tap on the door before it opened.