Blood Moon (8 page)

“This might sound a bit crazy,” Ben says, “but do you know anybody around here who has a hand in the dark arts?”

“As in . . . magic?” questions Daciana. She furrows her eyebrows, mystified. “Does such a thing exist?”

“Oh, it exists all right,” I say. “It’s all over the place where we come from.”

Though he’s a little timid, Ulric exhales a weighty breath. “There . . . might be someone in Colchester, but this person, for the most part, is respected by many. Should thy accusations fall on suspicious ears, her life will be forever changed, and her reputation will suffer greatly.”

“Who is she?” Ben asks. “Are you friends with her?”

“I am afraid I am not,” Ulric replies. “However, my brother, Alaric, and this woman are quite familiar.” He smirks while voicing the last part. Collecting his self, he says, “Ah, ye want her name. I shall give it to ye, but ye must promise me one thing.”

“What?” Ben and I inquire in unison.

“Ye must never, ever speak of the conversation we had this day, and ye must never, ever bring Daciana, Alaric, or me into thy feud. Whatever comes of thy allegations, our hands are washed clean.”

“Done,” I say, before Ben has a chance to respond.

Ulric inhales a shaky lungful of air, then discloses, “In town, she is known as the herb witch, but her true name is Lavenia.”

Chapter Six

Since Ulric made us promise we won’t involve him, Alaric, or Daciana, Ben and I are on our own as far as finding this Lavenia chick. We trek back to town, always keeping a wary glance over our shoulders to ensure the werewolf doesn’t sneak up on us. I guess that crazy woman in the forest really did a number on the wolf, though, because we arrive safely and without incident.

Most of the shops have closed for the evening, the patrons and owners calling it a day. Even Fiona’s boutique is locked. The only noise coming from the village is that of music and raucous chattering at Murdock’s Inn. I’m beginning to think the citizens have the right idea: drinking away their problems after a hard day’s work. If Ben and I had money, that’s almost certainly were we’d end up.

“Fiona’s probably wondering where we are,” I say, lifting my skirts as we traipse across the mucky main road.

Ben’s stomach growls. Patting his belly, he says, “I hope we haven’t missed dinner. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, being chased by a werewolf is quite the workout,” I respond, “and walking in these damn heels isn’t much better.”

Smirking, Ben says, “Maybe if you wore heels more often, your feet wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“Maybe you should keep your mouth shut before I take one off and stab you with it.”

He narrows his eyes. “So violent and angry.”

“Yeah, well, if I wasn’t so stressed out, I wouldn’t be.”

Ben scoffs. “Poor baby.” I jerk my head toward him and scowl. Undeterred, he continues mocking me. “I know just the thing to relieve stress.”

“Oh, God. I probably don’t want to know.”

With a mischievous look, he hooks one arm around my waist, tugging me closer to him. Lowering his head, he whispers in my ear, “A nice,
hot
bath.”

My insides ripple with pleasure, and several heartbeats pass before my mind can process words. Then I realize how much of a game this is, so I shove him. “You’re doing this to me on purpose,” I say. My throat feels like someone suctioned out all the saliva.

His pearly whites gleam as he smiles proudly. “That I am, Princess.”

I kick at a clump of mud, sending it flying onto the side of a building, where it sticks. Ben’s chuckling wards off my punting another pile of wet dirt for the moment, but that only lasts until I see the next cluster. He laughs noisily as the clomp hits the side of a shop.

“Careful, Ben,” I caution, “the next thing my shoe will meet is you.”

Though his cackling dies down, it doesn’t stop altogether. “Oh, I’d love to see you try, Princess.”

I circle in front, causing him to stop, so I can challenge him. “Are you forgetting what happened with Cameron?”

“Are you forgetting I’m stronger than you, that I’ve been a werewolf a lot longer, and that I’m a dude?”

Eyes constricted, I ask, “And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“That I could take you.” He shrugs. “What else?”

“You know, if it wasn’t so muddy right here, I’d consider your offer.”

Throwing his head back in amusement, he resumes the conversation seconds later. “And you would lose, Princess. Hate to break it to you.”

I open my mouth to argue how wrong he is, but change my mind. “Whatever. I’ll catch you off-guard one of these days, when you least expect it.”

He ambles over to me, leans in so close our noses almost touch, and says, “I’m always on the lookout. There’s never a moment that goes by where I don’t clad an invisible suit of armor, or have a giant brick wall built, fortifying my mind, heart, and body.”

Confrontation aside, I contemplate what he just told me. I’ll be honest: my feelings are a little hurt. Why does he need to keep a metaphorical brick wall up, especially when he’s around me? That doesn’t make any sense. Thinking about his words, my heart melts into a pile of mush, liquefying, dropping into my stomach as one big, fat glob of emptiness. Fortunately, I’m able to black out my mental opinions so he can’t recognize he’s deeply upset me.

“Let’s just go,” I say, defeated.

“What, you suddenly don’t want to kick my ass?” He thinks this is highly amusing, judging by the grin on his face.

I begin walking and disregard him. We need to keep our heads in the game if we want to return to Hartford, not stand here and argue over who has the upper hand in fights. With the newest information Ulric and Daciana revealed to us, we have a long journey ahead, one riddled with complexities and danger. Should we stray from our original plan, what we came here for, our futures will become completely nonexistent, including the future lives of those we love.

Unexpectedly, Ben rushes up from behind, enclosing my waist with his arms and stopping me in my tracks. “Hey,” he murmurs against my hair, “I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just messing around.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, waving him off. My attempt to squirm out of his grasp doesn’t work, as he decides it’s best to hold me in place.

“Friends?” he jokes.

I can’t help but smile. “Yes, Ben, we’re still friends.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Oh, my God. Stop. No.”

His chuckle is deep and husky. “Fine, then. Have it your way.”

“Don’t I always?”

Nodding, he replies, “Yes, Princess, you do.”

We resume our trip to Fiona’s house, where she’s undoubtedly wondering where we disappeared to. I hate to assume she’s made dinner and it’s sitting on the table, cold from the lack of our presence. These people work hard enough as it is. Coming home at night and managing cooking is just another chore in their lives. There are no microwaves or ovens, only food straight from their backyards and meals prepared with kindness.

Not surprisingly, Ben and I open the front door and are met with the scent of warm bread and an aromatic stew bubbling in a large pot over the hearth. Fiona and Francine’s wooden bowls sit in front of them at the table, half-full of whatever concoction Fiona created before we arrived.

“I’m so sorry we’re late,” I say, as Ben closes the door behind us. “We were sidetracked with sightseeing both the town and the fringes.”

Although Fiona smiles, there’s no twinkle in her eyes telling me it’s okay to show up at whatever time works to our advantage. “No matter. Did the two of ye have a pleasant time?”

“We did,” I reply, “and we’ll be sure to make this up to you.”

She dismisses my offer with a wave of her hand. “No need. As long as ye arrive safe and sound before evening, all is well. There are too many strange happenings in the forest of late, and I would not wish for anyone to be near that region.” Curling her lips, she adds, “Come now, sit and eat.” She stands and walks over to the blazing hearth, ladling out large portions of stew into our bowls, while Ben and I seat ourselves. Francine has yet to say a word.

With fresh, piping-hot food before us, we happily dig in. Going an entire day without food is not what I’m used to. Normally, Beth prepares both breakfast and dinner. I can skip lunch without a problem, but that’s only because I’m full from eating scrambled eggs and pan-fried bacon. Sadly, I miss her, just as I miss Randy, my parents, Jana, and Blake. My throat tightens, and I nearly choke on my supper thinking of the fond memories I shared with loved ones not so long ago.

“Do either of ye have plans tomorrow?” Fiona inquires, breaking my trance.

Glancing from Ben back to Fiona, I answer, “We do.” Unsure whether I should keep my mouth shut, or explain who we plan to visit, I decide on the latter. If Fiona knows anything about Lavenia, now’s the time to listen. “We’re going to visit the herb witch.”

Fiona, who had lifted her cup to drink, nearly spews her water across the table. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she says, “Do not trust her. Many believe she practices the dark arts. ’Twould be a perfect location, I must admit. She is on the outskirts of town, away from the rest of us commoners, doing God-only-knows in that cottage of hers.”

Intent on the conversation at hand, I let my spoon rest against the inside of my bowl and prop both elbows on the table. “And why do people think she’s into witchcraft?”

“Her potions and brews miraculously heal all who are ill,” Fiona spits, her eyes wild with ferocity. “If ye ask me, she should be burned at the stake. Heresy to the crown is what she is. She has always been rebellious in nature, not giving a bloody care in the world. Now, she presents these people will concoctions which, astonishingly, restore their health.” Fiona slowly waggles her head from side to side. “’Tis the Devil’s work.” Her rant drawing to an end, Fiona gulps down several swigs of water. She notices Ben and I haven’t moved, or said a word, and she places her cup next to her bowl, adding, “Forgive me. ’Tis not my place to order ye around, but I wanted ye to know this if, by chance, harm should befall thyself.”

I reach out, my hand calmly resting on her forearm. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine. I promise.”

Squaring her shoulders, all her anger previously spent, she says, “Ye seem like a nice couple, and I would not fancy witnessing bad things happen to good people. My eyes have seen enough hatred and treachery come to pass in this lifetime. Do not let the same happen to ye.” With those words, she stands and gathers her bowl, as well as Francine’s, who has been quietly taking note of our conversation. “Come, dearest, ’tis time to retire for the night.”

As soon as Francine is tucked in her bed and Fiona waves to us from her bedroom before closing the door, Ben and I jump straight into a whispered conversation.

“Okay, so maybe Ulric was right,” I say. “Maybe this Lavenia is the one we need to keep our eyes on. If she has these so-called powers and is brewing potions, then I’m filing her under my suspicious-persons list.”

Forehead creasing, Ben stares at the wall, lost in thought. He revisits the discussion after some moments have lapsed. “We need to observe her before we confront her. We need to know who we’re up against.” He then rotates his head toward me. “This could get ugly. If what we’ve seen so far is indication of her using black magic, then she’s a very powerful witch. She may also be the key to the werewolf curse.”

I perk up. “You think so?”

Ben leans back in his chair. “Yeah, I mean, think about it. Everyone’s afraid of her, and she can create these potions that magically heal people. That’s not normal. Normal would be creating remedies from herbs like herb witches are supposed to, not conducting an extra business on the side.”

An idea impales my mind. “Ben . . .” I gasp, eyelids virtually becoming extinct. “What if that woman we met in the woods today is Lavenia?”

“Candra, she was picking berries, not herbs.”

“No, seriously, think about it. You saw what happened. She just dissolved before our eyes.”

He slants his body toward me and kisses my forehead. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow. But for now, we need to get some sleep.” He grabs his empty bowl and stands, strolling toward the basin where Fiona placed the dirty dishes and incorporating his into the assortment. When he pivots around, there’s an impassioned blaze in stare, one that rivals the fire burning in the hearth. “Bed. Now.”

My heart speeds up, pounding against my chest. I’m afraid to get up out of my chair, afraid my legs won’t support me. Suddenly, my mouth is completely parched, void of all dampness. I obediently rise and add my bowl to the pile of grubby dishes before Ben has the bright idea to drag me over the dining table.

His eyes smolder as he rakes them over my body, from head to toes. An approving grunt follows, and he extends one arm in the direction of our bedroom. “After you,” he murmurs.

Those last steps into the guest room feel like I’m walking to the edge of a cliff, unsure if I’ll jump off the ledge, or if I’ll just stand at the precipice. Although I have some impression of what might happen in the next thirty or so minutes, I’m not entirely certain my opinion is accurate. And the wait, the
unknown
, is eating me up inside.

Ben’s hand rests on my lower back, guiding me through the entryway. He closes the door behind us. My fingers dig into my brown skirt, clutching at the material like it’s the last item of clothing I’ll ever wear. His body heat radiates from behind me, his hands working quickly to untie the cords holding my chemise together. Strings loosened, I slip off the top portion of my dress and let it tumble down to the floor. My skirt proves to be a bit trickier, as there are several mechanisms underneath, filling it out. But the second the cool air caresses my exposed skin, I shiver. Ben briskly rubs his hands up and down my arms, thawing them.

“Cold?” he whispers against my hair.

What do I say? Is it actually the chill in the room, or is the source of my goosebumps internal?

“A little,” I respond.

“Come to bed, then.” He holds on to my hand, leading me.

I sit down while he stands in place. Peering up at his shadowy face, I ask, “Aren’t you going to join me?”