Cursed by Diamonds (A Dance with Destiny Book 1) (15 page)

*****

After another luxuriously healing rose bath, peaceful sleep was all she needed. She blew out the candles and made her way to the inviting bed. Falling into the big feather mound was like falling into a cloud. Sleep came upon her in moments, but it was not the peaceful sleep she had hoped to enjoy. The dreams seemed to come at her from every angle—the voices, the faces, the little bottles, the chilling screams, and all the blood. So… much… blood. They tortured her mind for hours.

Late into the night she woke, more exhausted than rested. She roamed through the darkened house and out into the moonlit fields. Jenevier tried to force herself to focus on the answers she needed. Her futile efforts only managed to chase them further away. She felt them sinking down into the abyss of her mottled mind.

When she wearily returned to her room, her eyes were nearly closed. If she but laid her head upon the fluffy pillow, it would effortlessly bring on the blissful peace she needed. She smiled at the thought.

A couple steps from the feathery world she wished to fall into, Jenevier banged her toe hard on something in the middle of the floor. Cursing out loud, she stumbled forward, reaching for the edge of the bed. Instead, she landed solidly on the hard wooden floor, with both knees.

Bloody hell…

Chapter 15

Jezreel

(zhez-REEL)

The tears ran down Jezreel’s reddened face as she read Jenevier’s farewell letter again and again.

“How can she have just left me like this?”

Alastyn couldn’t answer her. His stomach was twisting in on itself. He was fighting nausea, using all his strength just to hold back his own tears. They both sat numbly, staring into the distance, spinning awful pictures in their minds about the terrible misfortunes that may befall Jenevier upon her quest.

Jezreel finally broke the silence. “What if she never returns? What if this morning was the last time we ever see her?”

“Then the last thought she will have of us… would be the arguing.”

“Jenevier doesn’t hold such things on her heart. She left because of what Marlise wrote in that damn book. You saw her collapse onto the floor this morning. You ran to her yourself. You saw the look in her eyes, Alastyn. You heard the despair in her voice. She’s on her way to meet Valadrog—a man she knows absolutely nothing about. What if he hurts her, or sells her, or worse?”

“Calm yourself, Jezreel. Marlise made more than a few friends in her lifetime. There are people far and wide who owe a great deal to Jenevier’s family. We have to trust that Fate will deal kindly with her. Her family has dealt kindness to others, so may it now be returned.”

“But you were there reading those journals yourself last night, Alastyn. Remember? Not
all
her family has dealt so kindly with others. Some of her ancestors chose a darker path. If she is to be blessed because of the good, then she is also to be cursed for the bad. Fate never goes just one way.”

“Enough, Jezreel! You’re driving me mad. I was only trying to ease your mind, but you refuse to let it be so. One thing I
do
believe in all of this mess—you shouldn’t spend the night in this house. Have you nowhere else to go?”

Jezreel didn’t speak.

“You heard them, same as I, Jezreel. You heard those witches say they’d be back here tonight. They are capable of great evil and pain. If they return and find Jenevier gone, they will certainly make you accountable. Accountable either to them,
or
their dark master.”

“Then let them come,” she said dryly.

Alastyn sighed. “Suit yourself, Jezreel. I cannot make you go. But I can make sure you have somewhere else to sleep tonight, if you wish. It is but for one night, Jezreel, just one night. Jenevier even begged you not to stay in this house. If you’re not here when the wraiths return, you will remain safe. You’ll be of no use to Jenevier if you are taken. For good or ill, she’s depending on
us
to do whatever we can to aid her. I will go now and try to find out all I can about this whole affair. If you will not join me in this, then do what you feel is right in your own heart.”

Alastyn walked out the door and didn’t look back. He was determined to question every soul living in Tamar Broden. He would start first… with his father.

*****

Jezreel thought long and hard about Jenevier’s letter and Alastyn’s words. Neither one seemed to be the road her mind kept leading her down.

“Everyone else is so certain of what
my
path should be. Yet, they’re allowed to follow their own hearts.”

She straightened up the house, bolted all of the windows and doors, then packed herself a small bag—in case she changed her mind at the last moment and chose to run. But as for now, she was staying.

“If they return and find her gone, I’m almost certain they will take me in her place.” She half smiled at the thought. “What better way for me to help my dear friend than to take her place? If the Prince is content with me, he may give up his pursuit of Jenevier. Yes. Then she would have the time she needs to reach Valadrog. If that man truly
can
help women with the mark, then Jenevier should be able to bring me back as well.” Jezreel was slowly talking herself into strength she did not truly possess. “Yes. And if Merodach
does
take me… well then, I just may be able to find out some of his well-guarded secrets. I can be cunning, when need be.” She smiled, satisfied with her new plan.

Waiting for dusk, Jezreel busied herself by reading some of the ancient scrolls and journals Marlise had collected through the years. The old healer had written page after page of information pertinent to all her cures. She even had maps of strange locations marked with even stranger names.

Wow, I’ve never even heard of most of these places.
She sighed.
That amazing woman died with so many secrets still to tell.

It appeared the wise old healer had built an intricate network of people she trusted and new places she had discovered. From the looks of it, Marlise could readily obtain nearly all she needed without having to travel too far from her own front door.

Jezreel’s mind was alive, hungry for such knowledge, and she could actually understand it. She read on—journal after journal, scroll after scroll.

As she began to pull yet another ancient book from the old case, something caught her eye. Something she had never seen before.

“Here now. What’s this?”

The wall behind the bookshelf looked oddly different from the rest. After carefully removing the remaining contents, she brought some more candles. Examining it closely, Jezreel ran her fingers along the surface, knocking around on the wall in different places. Her curiosity was more than just a little piqued.

“Too bad Alastyn left already. I could really use a strong back and a broad set of shoulders right about now.”

Struggling to move the large case far enough away from the wall to stand behind it comfortably, it didn’t take her long to locate the small latch.

“There you are. Now, let’s see what happens when I do this. No? How’s about—”

When the latch popped, she gasped. Her heart started racing.

“Too bad Jenevier’s not here.” She giggled. “She
loves
stuff like this—curiosities and the unknown.”

Cautiously opening the door, Jezreel lifted the candle over her head and brushed away the many cobwebs. Her eyes grew wide when the flickering candlelight revealed a tiny room. It was lined with ancient shelves full of dusty old jars, decaying books, and many oddly shaped candles. Raising her light higher, she noticed a small wooden stool in the corner sitting alongside a large black cauldron.

“What
is
this place? Jenevier never mentioned it, and she is horrible at keeping secrets. Well, at least from me she is.” She smiled. “I was right; she didn’t know about it. Perhaps Marlise didn’t even know about this room. This house
has
been in their family for generations. It may yet hold many secrets.”

She picked up a dust-covered book and carefully began turning the brittle pages.

A loud knock on the front door caused her heart to skip precious beats. When she peered out, she realized darkness had fallen. Now, Fate awaited her just outside.

Backing into the tiny room, she pulled the door closed, cursing her vile arrogance.

You should have listened to Jenevier. You should have left with Alastyn.
She sighed, blowing out a nervous breath.
What were you hoping to accomplish? Huh? You are one giant fool, little girl
.

The knock came again, louder and harder.

Jezreel let out a tiny scream… cringing back into the darkened corner just as the front door was violently kicked in.

Chapter 16

Markus

(MARR-kuss)

When Alastyn returned home, his father was sitting in his chair, staring quietly into the burning logs of their modest fireplace.

“Hello, my son. How did your lovely friend fare last night? Better than your dear mother, I hope.”

Alastyn didn’t respond.

“I was weak. Much has changed in me since I lost your mom. But the change in you, my son, has been far greater. I haven’t been a good father to you, not even remotely.”

Alastyn stood silently by the door and waited. His father had never spoken to him of such things. His chest tightened and his tongue lay frozen behind his clenched teeth.

“I’ve asked myself over and over every night since your mother was taken. Was there anything differently I could have done?  Was there something I could’ve used to stop them? Alas, all I can do now is live with the guilt of my failure. My failure to your mother, yes, and my epic failure to you as well, my son.”

His father began weeping then. Alastyn felt his bitter pain more than the other man could ever imagine. In that bittersweet moment, he finally opened his heart. Alastyn released the hatred he had carried around with him for so long, let it escape from the fortress he’d built around it. Blessedly, it was caught up in the air and blew away, forever.

Alastyn knew full well what the wraiths could do. Had he not just experienced the same thing for himself? He could no longer harbor ill feelings toward the broken man sitting in front of him. His resentment had been unjustified. He only felt pity now—pity and empathy.

His father spoke slowly as he stared blankly into the fire. “I saw it in your eyes at the celebration yesterday. I saw you lose yourself in that lovely young lady. I was so happy for you, so proud. Then I saw the Prince gaze upon her with those treacherous black eyes of his. I knew in that moment I would be forced to have this wretched conversation with you this very morning. I’ve been sitting here all night praying for the right words to best comfort you. Alas, my brave boy, there are no words in mortal tongue that can ease your bitter pain.”

Alastyn stood perfectly still, waiting.

“What words can one bestow upon a man who has lost his first love so violently and suddenly? There are none. Nay, they do not exist. But know this, my son. There is nothing you could have done to stop those vile witches.”

He looked up and caught his father’s stern but loving gaze.

“Yes, my son. I have seen them as well. They came for your mother that horrible night. Their ghastly shrieks froze me where I stood. All I could do was watch and listen.” He visibly shuddered. “I still have nightmares about those hideous wails, those hissing voices. I can see clearly, my boy. Your eyes are full of understanding, not confusion. You’ve seen them yourself this past night, have you not?”

Alastyn barely nodded as he held his father’s inquiring gaze.

“Come. I have something to show you.”

He followed his father into the familiar room his mother had always used. Her treasured quilt chest sat in the far corner… a silent, painful reminder of what once had been.

Alastyn stood in the doorway as his father knelt before the intricately engraved, dark cherry trunk.

He hadn’t stepped foot in this room since his mother had disappeared. He couldn’t bear the pain of her absence. So, Alastyn chose to do the same thing he had learned to do concerning
all
things difficult—he locked it away. He built an impenetrable wall around his pain, left it there to rot.

His father, Markus, was once a strong and respected man in Tamar Broden…before his mother had been taken. Since then, Markus had become a mere shell of his former self.

Alastyn’s mother, Alissa, was a tall, elegant woman with long flowing raven hair. Her eyes were as sparkling emeralds. She captivated all who knew her, lit up every room she entered. Everything about Alissa was stunning. She fascinated people with her quirky sense of humor and soothing laughter. His mother was light and love personified, especially where Alastyn was concerned. He was the very center of her universe. Although he had been young when she was taken, her unconditional love had shaped that happy little boy into the caring, protective man he was fast becoming.

Markus held a painted tin box. Alastyn couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. He suddenly wanted to run away from the unknown pain he knew the box would hold. But he also wanted to
know
, finally, just to know.

Markus whispered as he passed by the terrified young man, “No more secrets, my son. No more secrets.”

Alastyn’s mind was swirling with a cascade of fear, grief, longing, loneliness. He stood motionless, staring into a deep abyss of misery. It terrified him, yet drew him.

Markus took his seat in front of the dying fire and quietly waited for his son to join him.