Excerpt
…It wasn’t Luke but a long,
drawn-out shriek that brought Abigail thumping back to consciousness, her heart
hammering triple time in her chest. Eyes wide and staring against the darkness,
she warded herself just in time. Strong magic battered her. She tried to sense
Luke, but that was the problem with wards. They protected by forming an
impenetrable barrier and corralled her magic inside.
Whatever was pummeling her seemed
to have given up. She risked chinking enough of a hole in her warding to send a
tendril of magic outward because she needed information. When it came, it
terrified her so badly, her heart stuttered. Dark things surrounded them:
wraiths, mad wolves—those who’d been turned to serve the other side—and humans
who’d sold their immortal souls for forbidden knowledge. Had the girl rallied
them? How could she possibly be that powerful? Luke didn’t seem to be anywhere.
Abigail hoped he’d concealed himself out of harm’s way, because the two of them
couldn’t make the slightest dent in the dark horde outside. The stagecoach
rocked and she realized someone was climbing onto the roof. Throat so dry she
could barely breathe, she mended her warding.
The books. That’s what they want…
Let them haul the miserable things out of here. She knew she should risk heaven
and hell to keep such knowledge out of dark hands, but Abigail didn’t see how
throwing her life away would alter the outcome. She heard voices speaking the
Satanic tongue, and then dragging sounds as someone transferred the trunk to
the ground. Luke shouldn’t have bothered to put it back up top, she thought
grimly.
What had the Girauds been doing
with such arcane tomes in the first place? She supposed there was the slightest
chance they’d been protecting them from falling into the wrong hands. Yes, by
all means, let’s give Coven members the benefit of the doubt. Except it was a
struggle, and she didn’t know who the hell to trust anymore.
She waited until it was
absolutely still outside, and a tentative scan told her the dark host she’d
sensed earlier had moved on, before loosing her wards. The minute she did, she
felt Luke’s energy. He pulled open one of the coach doors. “I scared up a
couple of horses from a nearby farm. We need to go after those books—and the
girl.”
She fought down the protest that
rose to her lips, but it slid out anyway. “There aren’t enough of us.”
“Fixed that problem too.” He
smiled grimly. “I can ward you if you want to stay here, but if you’re coming
we need to get moving. Don’t want to let the trail get too cold.” From the
smirk in his voice, she knew he was being sarcastic.
She sent her magic spiraling
outward and felt the books pulsing with evil. No way that path would ever get
cold. “Why couldn’t I feel them this strongly before? I know the trunk had to
have been spelled, but still…”
“The trunk was spelled, and by
someone with magic to burn. It’s over in those trees. I guess Carolyn’s minions
were in a hurry and didn’t have a wagon.”
Abigail felt like a rube. The
book trunk had already been packed and sealed when she’d picked Carolyn up in
New York. She’d never even thought to examine it. “Did you see Carolyn?”
“Yup.” His upper lip curled into
a sneer. “Caught a glimpse of her riding a mad wolf.”
“Do you suppose there’s some way
we could separate her from Goody Osborne?” Abigail bit her lip nervously.
Luke shook his head. “Even if we
could—and I don’t think it’s possible—there are too many unknowns. Her parents
might have been turned. If that happened, the kid could have embraced evil
before it entered her body. By the time we sorted all that out, the dark would
have had one too many chances to kill us.”
Abigail winced at the unvarnished
truth in his words. Any residual doubts she held about the necessity of destroying
the girl melted away. “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m coming with
you.”
Luke boosted her onto one of the
horses. She pulled her skirts out of the way. It was a normal saddle and this
was scarcely a time for modesty. Luke vaulted onto his horse, kneeing it, and
they took off up the Overland Stage Road at close to a full gallop. “We’re
making too much noise,” she sent.
“Doesn’t matter. They’ll expect
us to come after them.”
She clung to the horse with her
legs, enjoying the feel of not having to ride sidesaddle. Luke’s horse was
larger, faster, and soon pulled so far ahead she could barely see him. She
kneed her horse, urging it to greater speed, but the animal shied, and then
reared. Abigail struggled for balance and called magic to calm the spooked
animal. Something sprang at her and knocked her to the ground. She sent killing
magic to stop its heart, before realizing what it was. Panting, she crawled out
from under a black and gray mad wolf with blood dribbling from its nostrils,
and glanced warily about. Were there more of them?
Carolyn stepped from the shadows.
It looked as if she was alone, but Abigail suspected otherwise. “What do you
want?”
“Simple enough. I plan to use you
to get rid of Breana Giraud—and others.” A sneer twisted the girl’s features
into something unpleasant. “You think people don’t know you’re part of Coven
government?”
Abigail set her mouth in a hard
line. “Fine. So the other side knows about me. Question is, who are you
really?”
“Don’t you recognize me?” Carolyn
stepped closer and turned her face from side to side as if posing for a
photographer. “I gave you my name, but I am far more than that.”
She’s arrogant. Perhaps I can use
that in some way. Abigail spread her hands in a placating gesture. “Because I’m
used to seeing you as Carolyn Giraud, I’m not certain who you are.” She paused
for emphasis. “I’d like you to tell me.”
“Certainly.” A feral grin made
the child look like something out of a nightmare. “It is always better to know
who your adversary is.” Her voice became soft and silky. “I have access to
magic you would kill for. You may not know it, but you’d like to work for us.”
She laughed, but it sounded more like broken glass shattering against itself,
than a twelve-year-old girl’s mirth. “We have real power, not that paltry tripe
the Coven settles for.”
Abigail waited. When Carolyn
didn’t say anything else, she said, “I’m listening…and considering your offer.
Life is always better than the alternative.”
“Ha! They said you couldn’t be
turned, but I told them they were wrong. I am The Promised, resurrected out of
legend. Goody Osborne was but a start, and this little girl is merely a
convenience.” Something like an outraged squawk followed the words, but Goody
silenced Carolyn almost immediately. “What I really want is you, Abigail
Ruskin.”
Shit! She couldn’t be The
Promised… “You mean the Dark Messiah?” Abigail scrunched up her face and held
her breath, hoping against hope she’d gotten it wrong.
“The same.” A supercilious
expression etched into the girl’s features. “At least the other side has heard
of me. Warms my black, black heart.”
“The books—?” Abigail hunted for
a connection while she rode herd on terror that threatened to immobilize her,
and clouded her judgment. If ever she needed a clear head, it was now, but her
mind raced feverishly.
“They weren’t doing the girl’s
parents any good moldering away in that underground chamber. I’d actually been
searching for them for years.” She flashed a sly smile. “They used to be mine…”
