Goddess Born (21 page)

Surely he would understand and not think me evil—

“Tell me, Daughter,” Brigid said. “How have you been using your gift?”

“I healed a man of lockjaw two days ago. And I think a baby will need her heart repaired once she is born.” Pulling the rock from Ollie’s nose hadn’t taken anything more than a steady hand.

“You are a blessing to these people.”

“A blessing to some and a curse to others,” I murmured. “Why do some people insist on hating us when all we want to do is help?” My question was more rhetorical, since I was already well versed in the answer.

“Humans have always feared what they don’t understand.”

“Then why keep us a secret? If our true identity were revealed, people would learn not to fear us. Once they saw what we could do, they would come to revere us—”

“You mean they would worship you,” she interrupted. “And yet you are not a god. It is not your place to be worshiped.”

My mouth tightened with annoyance. “So we are to be despised and persecuted instead.”

Brigid looked beyond me toward the edge of the garden. A veil of sadness shadowed her lovely face, and a long moment passed in silence. “It has not always been this way,” she said, returning her eyes to mine. “There was a time when my children were known, but the temptation for glory became too great. Through me you are divine and have gifts held only by the gods. But you are also human, subject to human temptations. Too many of my sons and daughters were tempted to raise themselves up in pride, demanding to be worshiped for their power. When I left the human world I decided it best to keep your identities secret, to save you from yourselves.”

The memory of being thrown into the river and the looming charge of witchcraft came into my head. What was the purpose of being saved from myself if someone else was just going to kill me?

Brigid arched a delicate brow. “You have made some enemies,” she said. “These people may have the power to destroy your body, but only you can destroy your soul. Do you understand the difference?”

I nodded halfheartedly.

“Then why are you afraid of dying?”

Only a god would ask such a question. I loved my life, my friends, living at Brighmor. I loved Henry and wasn’t ready to give him up, even for the Otherworld. “I just don’t want to die yet.”

“Yes, I see that. But this does not release you from your divine obligation. While my blood runs in your veins, you may not deny those in need, regardless of your personal safety. To do so would be to curse yourself.”

“What if a man is wicked?” I thought of Nathan Crowley and how many times I had wished for his death. “Wouldn’t it be better to let him die?”

Brigid tilted her head to one side, the graceful movement reminding me of a swan. “It is a hard thing to measure a man’s heart. Your power is to sustain life, not to judge it. Some of my children who sought to do more have fallen.”

I sighed, knowing she was right.

Brigid took a silver cup and dipped it into the spring. “Drink, Selah, that you may be strong.”

I accepted the cup. The cold water turned to fire in my throat. Brigid controlled both elements, and in this spring she had combined them to give power to her children. The water rushed through me, filling me with her divine strength.

Brigid looked at me approvingly. “Be true to thyself, Daughter,” she said, taking the cup. “It is time to go home. Your Englishman is waiting.”

I looked at her curiously, but she said no more, returning her attention to the spring.

Like Brigid’s garden, I pulsated with renewed life when I walked back into the mist. The sunlight faded, swallowed up by darkness, and I found myself kneeling again in front of the altar. The herbs were nearly consumed, the few remaining leaves and twigs giving their last heat. I took in a deep breath of smoke and earth to reacquaint myself with the mortal world. All of my senses were heightened, the feel of the rough stone against my skin, the scent of burning herbs mixed with freshly crushed ferns, the sound of breathing nearby...

My eyes flew open, searching the darkness. Directly in front of me, I saw Henry, illuminated by the moonlight. He was dressed in a pair of breeches and a linen shirt, left untucked and open almost to his waist. In his haste to follow me, he hadn’t tied back his hair or even pulled on shoes or stockings. I could feel his confusion at finding me like this, his desire for what he saw as my untamed nature.
Be true to thyself.
Nothing could be more true than my love for Henry. I wanted him to know what I was, and to love me if he could.

As if in a dream, I walked over to him and slid my arms around his neck. He offered no resistance when I pulled him to me, bringing our mouths together hard. His chest was exposed, and the heat from his body passed through my thin sheath to the skin beneath. Already dangerously near the surface, a warm tide surged inside me, threatening to spill over if we didn’t stop.

Henry’s arms encircled my waist, and he pressed a hand into the flat of my back to bring us even closer. A tremor of pleasure ran through me and I gasped as the fire poured from my skin. It flowed into him, and he pulled his head back, groaning softly. Then his hold on me tightened and he brought his mouth down upon mine with renewed fervor. My whole body blazed hot, the intensity nearly driving me beyond control. I wanted him to take me further, to make me his wife right here on the forest floor.

Another rush of power, and his arms began to tremble around me. He groaned again in pleasure, pressing my head hard against his chest. “Oh, Selah,” he murmured into my hair. “What are you doing to me?” He kissed me again, letting his mouth slide down to my neck as his hands moved up my back. “What spell is this?” he whispered, his breath hot on my skin.

With our bodies pressed together, his desire flowed freely into me, equal to my own. But there was something else, something I hadn’t expected. Other emotions began to take hold—not fear exactly, but suspicion and unease.

“You have bewitched me...”

His words knifed through my passion. Piece by piece, I felt him arrive at the conclusion that I was somehow unnatural—that I was indeed a witch. In a panic, I wrenched free of his grasp, and stepped back, terrified of what he might do or say next. “I...I didn’t mean to,” I gasped.

“Wait, Selah,” he said, reaching for me.

But it was too late. I turned and started to run. Finding the path, I ran as if demons were chasing me, my feet pounding against the earth. Henry started after me, but being more familiar with the woods and running barefooted, I stayed ahead of him. Reaching the house, I ran in through my apothecary and straight up the stairs to my room. The bolt slid into place, securing the door just as Henry arrived. We were both breathing hard from the exertion, and I heard him lean against the door. My legs were shaking so badly that I could no longer stand.

“Selah, please open the door. We need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, Henry.” I rocked back and forth, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. “I’m so sorry...”

Chapter Thirteen

A Vision of Evil

Loud knocking woke me from my place on the floor, followed by Mary’s muffled voice asking if I needed help to dress for Sunday meeting. Not wishing to be seen, I spoke through the closed door, telling her that I would remain home this morning. Cold and sore, I regretted sending her away without first asking for a pot of tea.

Henry had stayed in the hallway for much of the night, trying to convince me to let him in. I had refused, telling him to go away when he so much as hinted about what happened in the woods. From his choice of words and conflicting emotions, I knew he thought me to be a witch. Or, at least, he was very close to thinking so.

Why was it always this way with humans? A bit of unfamiliar power, and I was inevitably evil. With Henry’s testimony, Nathan could seal my fate for good.
She led me into the woods and put me under a spell.
They would hang me twice, just to be sure.

I must have inhaled too much of the burning herbs at the altar to think he would understand, or that he could ever believe what I really was. Not that I blamed him. Standing in his place, I probably wouldn’t believe me either.

I pushed up from the floor to stretch the soreness from my legs and arms. My feet felt scratchy, and I looked down to see that they were still covered in dirt. The sheath was also filthy and torn where a thorn had snagged it. With a sigh, I pulled it off, throwing it in a corner on my way to the dressing table to clean up. The water in the pitcher was cold, left over from last night, but it sufficed for a quick sponge bath.

I splashed my face and neck several times, accidentally sloshing water onto the mirror. Over the years, I had stood in this exact spot to search my reflection. If I were really Goddess Born, it stood to reason that there would be some physical characteristic ready to give me away. Out of habit I looked again, but found the same face staring back—entirely human in both form and feature. The divine part stayed tucked safely inside, only coming to the surface when needed to heal someone, or, as I had recently learned, when kissing Henry.

After my freakish display last night, I now had to figure out the best way to backtrack and convince Henry that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Maybe I could claim it had been some kind of shock between us, or that a rare type of lightning had passed over Brighmor. Both of these ideas were absurd, though sadly enough, they might be easier for Henry to believe than the idea that I descended from a goddess.

With some reluctance, I put on a simple cotton frock and brushed the tangles from my hair. Voices came through the window, and I glanced out to see the servants departing on foot for Hopewell to whatever religious services they would be attending. While I stood watching, Henry also left on horseback. At the end of the drive, he stopped and looked toward the house. I ducked out of sight before he could see me. Needing to block out the whole world, I unhooked the drapes, letting them fall across the window. As the daylight disappeared, I suddenly felt very tired and went to my bed to lie down.

It seemed like only minutes had passed when the front door banged opened and hurried footsteps came up the stairs to my room. The knob rattled, followed by a series of loud knocks.

“Let me in, Selah Kilbrid,” Nora said. “I’ve news that can hardly wait for the telling.”

Nearly falling out of bed, I rushed to the door and turned the key. “Good heavens!” I exclaimed, still groggy eyed from sleep. “What’s the matter?”

Nora walked in. “Why are you sitting in the dark? It’s like a cave in here.” She went straight to the window and pulled open the heavy drapes.

“It was a difficult night,” I said defensively. “I was sleeping.”

She looked me up and down. “I can see that. Come and sit before I tell you anything.”

Still feeling a bit unsteady on my feet, I did as she told me and sat down in the chair near the hearth. “Did you run all the way here?” I asked. Her face was red and slicked with sweat, and strands of dark hair fell from the neat knot at her neck.

“Yes, I did, and I’ve not much time. Soon as meeting was over, I slipped out the door to see you, but Anne and Gideon Boyle are not far behind.” She took a hand towel from my dressing table to dry the sweat from her face. “You will not believe what happened this morning.”

“What is it?” I asked, already dreading whatever she had to say.

“Nathan Crowley has had a vision. He stood at the end of meeting and proclaimed there’s a witch living in our town.”

I sucked in my breath. “Did he say who it was?” My voice came out half choked, though Nora didn’t seem to notice. She was practically bobbing on her feet from excitement.

“That’s the best part. In his vision, he was forbidden to give the person’s name yet. There’s to be a special meeting in three days where he will divulge it. Isn’t this the most exciting news?”

“And you believe him?” I was growing increasing distressed by her excitement.

“Do be serious,” Nora said, rather indignantly. “Of course I don’t believe such poppycock. The idea that one of our neighbors could actually be a witch? I’ve never heard something so absurd in my entire life. I mean, it’s not like we’re living in Europe where they still believe this sort of rubbish, running around like a bunch of heathens ready to burn each other up at a moment’s notice.”

The blood drained from my face. Fortunately I hadn’t eaten anything or it would have come back up onto my lap.

“My goodness!” Nora cried. “You look like a ghost has crossed your shadow. What’s wrong?”

“This is not some game meant for your amusement. Nathan could really hurt someone.”

“No one is going to believe him,” Nora protested. “He’s the only one making accusations. There would have to be a witness or something.”

“And then would you believe him?”

Nora looked discomfited. “I guess it would lend some credibility to his vision,” she said. “But, there’s no such thing as witches. Just because Nathan drank some bad wine before bedtime and suffered a nightmare doesn’t mean anyone is going to step forward and risk their own reputations to support him.”

“What if they did?”

“They won’t,” she persisted. “Well, unless it’s Phoebe, and then the whole town would have to testify, wouldn’t they?”

I wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. In three days my life would be ruined.

“Don’t worry, Selah. Nathan will make his grand announcement with enough drama to get the town into a proper uproar. Then the constable will conduct an official investigation. When nothing can be proven, the whole witch thing will subside, and we’ll all return to our boring lives.”

It would never be so easy—Nathan would not allow it. “This is not going to end well. Once people get stirred up, there’s no telling what will happen.”

“In my opinion, the only one at risk is Nathan Crowley. Have you seen him lately? The man’s been walking around for the past two weeks gaunt as a scarecrow, muttering to himself. If anyone’s possessed by a devil, it’s surely him.”

“Who’s possessed by a devil?” Henry asked from the doorway.

I silently cursed myself for not closing the door behind Nora. I sat completely still and stared at the floor as he came to stand before me. He hadn’t even asked permission to enter, likely because he already knew what my answer would have been.

“Good day, Nora Goodwin,” he said, giving her a polite bow.

“Good day, Henry Kilbrid. And if you had attended meeting you would not have to ask,” she said crisply.

“I chose to commune with God from a nice hilltop this morning,” he replied.

Nora smiled at his frankness. “I spoke of Nathan Crowley. At meeting he claimed we had a witch living in Hopewell whom he intends to name in three days. I was only reassuring Selah that this would be impossible since there is no such thing as witches and that if anyone is currently in possession of a demon, it is surely Nathan.”

I struggled to keep my breath steady. Now I would learn whether Henry intended to condemn or support me. From the corner of my eye, I caught a small movement, and then felt his hand firmly on my shoulder.

“I agree entirely,” he said. “But it won’t be easy for the woman who’s charged.”

My mind began to race, trying to figure out what he agreed with—that there were no such things as witches, or that Nathan Crowley was possessed. Or maybe he had meant them both.

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” Henry asked. I was really quite impressed at how well he could feign ignorance.

“Not the slightest,” Nora sighed.

“Supposing Nathan isn’t in his right mind, it could be just about anyone,” Henry said.

“Oh, what if it’s me?” Nora asked excitedly, giving us her best devious smile. “Will you still let me come to your party at the Oswalds’? I may even be tempted to dance if Nathan already thinks me a wicked woman.”

With everything going on, I had failed to remember the ball that Martha Oswald had planned for Henry and me this Saturday night.

“All the more reason to have you there,” Henry laughed. “And I would make sure to request your favor for several dances.”

Listening to their good-natured banter helped to lessen the panic in my chest. In its stead, a strange sensation developed—an awareness of becoming detached from myself, as though all this talk had been about someone else. “Are Anne and Gideon coming over to discuss Nathan’s vision?” I asked.

“I almost forgot,” Nora said, stealing a quick look out the window. “Last night they shared evening meal at our home. I heard them telling my parents later that they were coming to Brighmor today to speak with you and Henry about...” Her voice trailed off, leaving us hanging in suspense.

I looked at her imploringly, but she purposefully ignored me as she decided how best to continue. “They want to make sure that you and Henry are properly situated in your domestic life, and to answer any questions you may have about the propagation of our species.”

Henry started laughing. “Oh, this should be most entertaining, to receive instruction from Gideon Boyle.”

Nora stole another peek out the window, a slight blush in her cheeks. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed. “I see them on the road, and it looks like they’ve brought old man Sweeney along.” She rushed over to give me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll just go out the servants’ door, and across the Dowlings’ property if you don’t mind.” She shot Henry a quick look. “Good luck,” she said, with a sympathetic smile, and dashed out.

As soon as we were alone, Henry moved forward, kneeling in front of my chair. “Do you want me to speak with Nathan tonight?” he asked, all humor gone from his voice. “I have no qualms with killing the man if he persists in threatening you.”

In a letter to my father the real Samuel Kilbrid had sworn an oath to protect me at all cost, but I had never expected a similar level of devotion from Henry. Then I recalled our trip from Philadelphia and how he had already killed several men on my behalf. Studying his face, I saw he would do it again, would challenge Nathan this very night if I asked.

Though his offer was certainly tempting, there had to be another way to get through this. “We can’t,” I said. “It wouldn’t be right. All I can do is wait and see how people respond at the meeting. Maybe Nora’s right, and no one will take him seriously. She doesn’t think a vision is enough, and he’ll need a witness to really charge me.” I stiffened, caught unaware by my own words. The only credible witness was kneeling in front of me at the moment, carefully watching my face. I looked down at my hands, afraid of what he might find.

“Why did you run away last night?” he asked, his voice turning quiet.

It had been easier to ignore him when there was a door between us. Having nothing to say, I started to fidget with my wedding band. Henry took my hands between his own to get my attention.

“Don’t ignore me, Selah. You may have noticed by my sitting outside your room for three hours last night that I’ve wanted to speak with you. I need to know—”

I looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m not a witch, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I never thought you were,” he said calmly.

“You accused me of using a spell to bewitch you!”

“There’s no denying something happened in the woods last night, but that doesn’t make you a witch.”

“You think I’m evil!” I pushed him further, wanting to learn exactly where he stood.

“Stop telling me what I think. I admit it was a poor choice of words.”

We stared at each other for a minute before I could speak again. “You really don’t think I’m a witch?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. During our exchange he had tightened his grasp around my hands. “You’re not a witch and you’re not evil, but that still leaves a whole lot that you could be. Tell me what happened last night. Tell me what you did.”

“Please don’t, Henry,” I pleaded. My mind would burst if I had to think about one more thing right now. It would have been so much easier to just tell him the truth, but he would never believe me.

“When are we going to talk about it?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Why must you keep pushing me away?” He lifted up one of my hands and pressed it to his lips. “I need to know what you did. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

There was a loud knock on the front door, and I pulled my hand away, tucking it safely beneath my gown. “I don’t think the servants are back from church yet. We may need to let them in.”

He stared at me, his eyes darker green than usual. “Very well.” He stood and helped me to my feet. “But this does not mean the matter is settled between us.”

I nodded. At best, I had bought some more time to invent an explanation.

“And what do you propose we say to our guests?” he asked, his smile returning.

There wasn’t much we could say. “Just smile and nod,” I told him and led the way down the stairs.

* * *

We sat in awkward silence, Henry and me on one sofa with Anne and Gideon straight across on the other. Edgar had taken a seat in an armchair to my left, from which he watched me like a concerned grandfather.

“You were missed at meeting this morning, Selah” he said. “Are you unwell?”