Last One Down
Lachlan
LACH HAD JUST RAMMED DEEP into her sweet, hot, very wet snatch when the thought assaulted him.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered.
“Don’t stop,” the woman on her knees before him, her face in the bed, begged.
“Bad fucking timing,” he muttered, pulled out and put his hands to her hips as he listened to her gasp in protest, the sound driving straight through his dick.
He whipped her to her back, spread her legs then jerked them up with his hands behind her knees and he positioned.
He drove inside.
Moving her calves to round him, he fell forward. He planted one hand in the bed at her side, arm straight, the other hand he moved between her legs.
“Hurry,” he grunted as he thrust fast and deep and his thumb rolled.
“Oh God,” she moaned.
Lach’s eyes moved over her.
Her masses of hair were spread across the bed, her creamy skin was stark against the dark sheets and her beautiful face was extraordinary in its excitement.
Christ.
His need quickened exponentially and not just because he had things to do.
“Hurry,” he ground out, grinding deep and circling tight and hard with his thumb.
Her neck arched back, her nails dragged down his chest and she repeated, “Oh God.”
Finally.
There it fucking was.
Lach moved his hand from between her legs, dropped to his forearm, let go of his control and kept thrusting deeper, faster and harder until he found it.
When he came down, her mouth was on his neck, he was breathing heavily into hers and her hands were roaming the skin of his back. He gave himself a second to recognize he liked the smell as well as the feel of her just as he liked the sweet, light way her hands roamed his skin before he pulled out and rolled off.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“A minute, baby,” he muttered, moved until he was sitting on the side of the bed, and he reached an arm out toward his jeans.
“Lachlan?” she called, and he felt the bed move as she did then he felt her hand slide up his spine right before her soft body pressed against his back.
Her scent came back to him.
Jesus, she really smelled great.
Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to, Lach couldn’t allow himself to concentrate on her smell.
He had his jeans in his hand so he pulled his out phone, activated the screen, touched his thumb to it, slid it around, tapped it and put it to his ear.
It rang three times before his sister hissed in greeting, “This better be good.”
Christ, he didn’t want to know what he interrupted.
“Lewis was murdered first,” he replied and at his words, the woman at his back gasped.
Shit, what was her name?
Emma. Right, Emma.
Emma was a pretty name but not right for her considering she was far beyond a pretty woman.
There was nothing on the phone for several seconds then Lorna asked in his ear, “What?”
“Lewis was murdered first. He told us he was murdered then he was suddenly in the eastern turret. Myrtle was murdered second.”
“Lach, what are you on about?”
“Lorna, Lewis was murdered first. We know this because Myrtle’s ghost joined him after he materialized in the turret. And the police records reported Myrtle’s body was found in Lewis’s room.”
“So?”
“So, she could have heard something and gone to his room.”
“Or she could have been dragged there,” Lorna suggested.
“Either way, the wee boy was alone up in that turret when he saw his mother tossed from the cliff by Caldwell.”
“Oh my God,” Emma whispered and he felt her body leave his back.
He ignored this as Lorna repeated, “So?”
“So, wee Myrtle wasn’t dead yet.”
“Lach—”
“As far as we can tell from the timeline Lewis gave us, he materialized directly after he was murdered. Moments later, he reported he saw Caldwell and his mother outside in the storm. Caldwell was looking over the cliff and Brenna was gone when Myrtle’s ghost joined her brother. If Caldwell was outside throwing Brenna off a cliff, who was inside smothering Myrtle?”
“Oh my God,” Lorna breathed as it hit her.
“There were two of them. Caldwell had a partner. He killed Brenna while someone was inside smothering the children.”
“Fucking hell,” Lorna whispered.
“If Myrtle came into the room, she could have seen the assailant. And definitely she would have seen him if he dragged her there prior to killing her. And, Lor, we didn’t question Myrtle.”
“We need to get to The Point,” Lorna decided.
“Yeah, we bloody do. Where are you?”
“Plymouth.”
“I’m in Exeter. Get in your car. I’ll meet you at The Point. You call Cassandra.”
“You calling Uncle Angus?”
“He’s already there. The party is tonight. I’ll call him and get him to talk to Belle. Lewis is protective of his sister and Belle’s protective of both of them. Uncle Angus is going to have to talk her into letting us talk to Myrtle.”
“Is Cassandra there?” Lorna asked.
“I don’t know. She was invited but she had a job and I don’t know if it’s done. Find out,” he ordered. “Get her ass there. We have to talk to Myrtle then we have to figure out what’s next.”
“Right. On it and outta here. See you at The Point.”
Lach touched his screen then he got up and swiftly moved, carrying his jeans across the room to the bathroom in order to deal with the condom.
When he came out, he had his jeans on and he moved directly to his jumper on the floor.
Emma was in bed, the covers tucked tight around her naked body. She was sitting on her ass, her legs curled into her chest, her arms wrapped around her calves, her eyes on him.
“What do you do for a living?” she asked quietly as he tagged his jumper from the floor, straightened and prepared to pull it on.
“You don’t wanna know,” he muttered and yanked it over his head.
“I’m thinking you’re right,” she whispered as he pulled the jumper down to his waist. “But you seem worried and, uh, we just had sex and it looks like you’re leaving.”
At her words, he focused on her.
She had great hair, dark, glossy and a lot of it.
And she had a fantastic ass.
He moved to the bed, put a fist into it, leaned toward her and touched his mouth to hers.
Then he moved back and caught her brown eyes.
Damn, but she also had great eyes.
“My job is strange and there’s some danger,” he told her, his burr soft and gentle, his mind processing the fact that her eyes getting wide was all kinds of cute. “To me but also to the people I do it for. A month ago, I left a job because there was nothing more I could do. No information to get, the trail was cold, the story dead and nothing was happening. It had been weeks and nothing. There were other jobs to do and we had to do them. So we made certain the protection was strong and we left. But I just figured out we missed something.”
Her brows went up. “And you remembered that while you were inside me?”
He grinned and whispered, “Sorry, love. My job is intense and when I say that I mean sometimes lives are at stake.”
She held his eyes a moment before she muttered, “At least whatever it is has to do with kids being murdered and lives being at stake. I suppose that’s more important than um . . .” she threw out a hand to indicate her bed and finished, “whatever.”
He liked that she understood. Not many women would and he knew this because the few he’d tried to explain it to didn’t so he no longer bothered.
He liked it enough that his grin turned into a smile and he leaned in again, catching her at the back of her neck. He pulled her to him and kissed her, this time longer, deeper and wet.
She tasted great too and that night he discovered it wasn’t just her mouth that tasted good.
She was blinking at him and looking dazed when he let her go.
It was a good look but, also unfortunately, at that moment it wasn’t a look he could get lost in.
So Lach moved away, grabbed his socks and boots, sat on the bed and pulled them on.
He was swinging his leather jacket on and walking to the door when she called out, “Lachlan?”
He turned and looked at her.
“Aye?”
“Be careful,” she whispered.
He didn’t have time but the look on her face, the memory of her heart-shaped ass in his hands and tipped up for him to take, all that hair, her warm brown eyes soft on him and the sweet way she said that, he went back to the bed and kissed her again.
In the hall of her house, heading to her door, hearing the rain pouring down outside, he pulled out his phone to call Uncle Angus.
The Other
She stood beside the prone body of Angus McPherson on the floor in the corner of the room in the servants’ quarters where she’d lured him.
The blood dribbled from his forehead into his eye and off his red nose.
His phone rang.
She reached down, pulled it out of his limp hand and looked at the display.
Then she put it to the floor, lifted her foot and smashed it with her heel.
The other ones, she hadn’t smashed. In her time skulking about the house, she’d just collected them, turned them off and hidden them.
She didn’t know why she smashed that one.
But it felt good.
She turned the lights out when she left and was certain to lock the door.
Mickey
Mickey was grinning at the female bartender and lifting his new pint of lager to his lips when his phone rang.
He pulled it out of his back pocket and looked at the display.
He felt his brows draw together, his eyes went back to the bartender and he muttered, “A minute.”
She jerked up her chin and wandered down the bar.
Mickey took the call and put his phone to his ear.
“Dempsey,” he answered.
“Mr. Dempsey?” a woman asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. This is strange . . .” she trailed off.
When she didn’t speak for some time but didn’t disconnect, Mickey said into the phone, “Can I help you with something?”
“I, well, you’re going to think I’m all kinds of barmy but, well, I’ve spoken with Dr. Holmes and he gave me your number to call you.”
The minute she mentioned Holmes’s name, Holmes being a historian with a doctorate, a specialty in Cornwall and a sub-specialty in famous local crimes including the Bennett murders, Mickey’s back went straight and she had his complete attention.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Mercy. Mercy Richardson.”
“Ms. Richardson, why did Dr. Holmes tell you to speak with me?”
“He says the dreams I’m having are, well, he says you’d be interested in them.”
Dreams.
Bloody hell.
“And what dreams are you having, Ms. Richardson?” Mickey inquired.
“They’re very, erm, strange,” she whispered but said no more.
“Please tell me about them,” Mickey coaxed, not feeling good about this mostly because Bennett made it clear he didn’t feel good about the fact that nothing came of all the work and research Mickey and Bennett’s crew of whoever they were had done a month ago.
Mickey was convinced the spirit of Caleb Caldwell had been fucking with Bennett’s head. One last shot before, if all this lunacy was true, Caldwell was sent straight to hell.
Bennett was not convinced of the same.
With absolutely nothing left to find and nothing left to do, Bennett’s team had disbursed.
That didn’t mean Bennett had to like it. He didn’t and he made this clear.
He also had no choice and he made it even clearer he liked that even less.
“All right,” she said in his ear, taking him from his thoughts. “Well, first, I’ve been having them for months. I tried to remember when they started, Dr. Holmes said that might be important, but I don’t know exact. But I do remember they started a few weeks before all that news hit with James Bennett, The Tiny Dynamo and James’s brother, Miles. I remember that.”
Blood hell.
“Right, so you started having the dreams, then . . .” Mickey prompted.
“I know you probably think it’s weird that I told you that about, well, Belle Abbot and James Bennett but, I don’t know. I think it’s important. Because, at the time, I thought I was dreaming about them. It felt weird because, you know, they were from another time and everything. Like, they didn’t look like them, really, but still . . . they were. Then, bang! They’re in the paper and they’re together. It really freaked me out.”
“As I suspect it would,” Mickey muttered, seeking patience. “What else? Most important, what did you dream?”
“Okay, now, I know this all sounds bizarre—”
“How about this,” he cut her off. “Just assume I won’t think it’s bizarre. All right? You don’t know me but rest assured I’ve seen and heard a lot, Ms. Richardson, so just tell me your story and don’t worry what I think about it. Yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Then, well, okay, so you won’t think it’s bizarre when I say it isn’t like these dreams are dreams. It’s like they’re, well . . . memories.”
Bloody fucking hell.
“Go on,” he urged.
“The thing is, there’s another man.”
Good Christ.
“And . . .” Mickey prompted.
“And he’s with a woman. And I see them. They don’t see me. I think, well, it’s crazy but I think I’m like a servant or something. And they don’t see me or they don’t care that I’m around. I exist but I’m not important. But, and Mr. Dempsey, this is disturbing as well as weird and it’s the reason I went to Dr. Holmes. I asked around, who to talk to because I’m scared to go to sleep, it’s that disturbing. And this is because, first, okay, I know you said don’t say anything is crazy but this is. See, she’s a witch. An . . . actual . . . hocus-pocus witch. And worse,” she cried, warming to her theme, “they’re plotting a murder. The murder of two children and a woman. And the woman’s name is Brenna.”
By the time she was finished, Mickey had thrown money on the bar and was on his way to the door.
“Ms. Richardson,” he said into his phone as he made his way across the pub toward the door that would lead him to the driving rain outside, “start at the beginning, don’t leave anything out, don’t hesitate and tell me everything.”
Twenty minutes later, Mercy Richardson had told Mickey Dempsey everything.
Five minutes after that, when Dempsey was unable to get Jack Bennett on the phone, he called a mate of his who was a pilot and he pulled in a favor.
Five minutes after that, he was headed to the airstrip.
Jack
“Poppet, have you seen my phone?” Jack called as he entered his and Belle’s room at The Point.
“No,” she called back through the closed door to the bathroom.
Jack stopped in the room and looked around.
Something was wrong and it was more than the something he’d felt was wrong the entirety of the six weeks since they dispelled Caldwell’s spirit from Miles and even more than the something that had been nagging his gut all day.
As he took in their room, it hit him.
The dogs were not there.
This wasn’t unusual but it was rare. If they weren’t with him then they were with Belle. Or, oftentimes, Baron was with him and Gretl was with Belle.
But usually one or the other of them were close.
“If you need a phone, honey, mine’s in my bag on the bed,” Belle continued to talk through the door.
Jack moved to her bag on the bed, seeing some of the contents scattered over the duvet as he called out to Belle, “Do you know where the dogs are?”
“They’re not with you?”
That nag in his gut clawed deeper as Jack sorted through her stuff on the bed and in her bag but found no phone.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, rounding the bed and pulling the house phone from its charger as he called back, “No, they’re not with me.”
He wasn’t surprised when he hit the on button on the phone, put it to his ear and found it dead.
He wasn’t surprised because five minutes before when he’d been unable to locate his mobile, he’d tried this in his study.
His eyes moved to the windows to see the rain driving against the panes.
And he wasn’t surprised the house phone was dead because it happened often during storms.
They were due to meet the others in the drawing room shortly for pre-dinner drinks, so he gave up on making a call that could wait but was about to go in search of the dogs when the door to the bathroom opened and Belle walked out.
Jack stopped dead and stared.
She was wearing a flowing, full-length gown of smoky, dark gray, the color and fabric rich, striking and perfect for her.
One shoulder was bared, the dress held up over her other shoulder with a thick twist of the fabric that gathered the material tight across her chest and midriff, drawing attention to the sleek line of her neck, the elegant drape of her shoulders and the delicate length of her collarbone. The full, fluid fall of her skirt dropped to her feet, which were encased in spike-heeled, black satin sandals with fragile-looking straps, the ones over her red-painted toes embedded with rhinestones.
Her glorious hair was pulled up from her neck and away from her face but fat curls dangled from the arrangement and there were thick tendrils resting against the long line of her neck.
She was also wearing the diamonds he’d given her after she’d flown with him to London and spent the weekend with him there. An event that happened the weekend previous. It was his congratulations gift to her for not losing her mind during the flight. She didn’t enjoy it with abandoned glee but she did control her fears and eventually relaxed and settled in.
The jewelry included a necklace that was one row ring of diamonds that sat at the base of her throat starting with a somewhat large but by no means ostentatious gem in the middle that became smaller as they rounded her neck. It had a matching bracelet, all the same size diamonds, and two-carat diamond studs for her ears.
Although not ostentatious, as would not befit Belle, there were enough of them and all of them were of the finest quality that the entirety cost a small fortune.
On his Belle wearing that gown, it was a dazzling display.
And last, on her left ring finger was the reason Joy insisted, regardless of Jack’s continued concern about the fact they had not discovered Caldwell’s plans or sent Myrtle and Lewis home, that they have the small, intimate dinner party they were having that night.
His engagement ring.
A Bennett heirloom cluster of diamonds surrounding a large cushion-cut diamond in the middle.
It was the reason for their trip to London the weekend before. It was the ring he slid on her finger when he’d officially asked her to marry him and she’d done exactly what she told him she’d do and immediately said yes. That was after she burst into tears but before she’d thrown herself in his arms and kissed him.
The dress she was wearing that she designed, the casual elegance with which she wore it and her unassuming beauty was what she gave him. The diamonds were what Jack could give her. The contentment registering in her eyes and her ease in her surroundings was what they could give each other.
All of it in one beautiful, shapely, petite woman. She embodied everything not only good and right between them but also, Jack thought uncharacteristically dramatically, in the entire fucking world.
“Weird, where are the dogs?” she asked, looking around and, for some adorable reason, twitching her wrist with the diamond bracelet on it.
“Belle, come here.”
His voice was thick, deeper than normal, strange, and likely because of it her eyes shot to him. Then she stopped moving and studied him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.
God, he fucking loved her. All she had to do was tip her head to the side and it hit him like a bullet.
That was how much he loved Belle Abbot.
“No,” he answered and concern moved over her face so he finished, “But I will be when you come here.”
The concern fled, her face grew soft and she moved directly to him, close, fitting herself right to his front, her arms sliding around his middle inside his dinner jacket, and as she did this his closed around her.
She tipped her head back and looked direct in his eyes.
“Okay, I’m here,” she said softly. “Now are you okay?”
“Absolutely.”
She smiled her sweet, small smile, the tips of her beautiful lips tilting up and she pressed closer.
“You know what I love?” she asked.
“What do you love?” Jack asked back.
“That Joy is doing this, celebrating us and it’s just family and close friends. That she’s happy with that. That you’re happy with that. And that tonight I can wear a pretty dress and enjoy myself with the man I love who I’m going to marry with people who are important to me close and I don’t have to mingle.”
Jack grinned down at her, tightened his arms and dipped his head close. “If you like, our wedding can be the same.”
Her brows drew together. “Are you sure?”
“I’d marry you in a Registry Office with only my family, your family and Yasmin there. I don’t care.”
She grinned back and agreed, “Then let’s do that.”
That was when Jack’s brows drew together. “You don’t want a big cake, a big dress, a big bouquet and a big day?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want a big cake, a big dress and a big bouquet, and even if it was just you and me, it would still be a big day.” She got up on her toes and finished on a whisper, “The biggest, best day ever, Jack Bennett.”
Oh yes, he loved Belle Abbot.
“Excellent,” he replied. “We’ll do it next month.”
With this he was awarded one of her lovely startled giggles but she said through it, “Fine by me.”
“I’ll get Olive on it,” Jack remarked.
“Perfect,” Belle whispered.
Yes, it would be perfect.
Unable to stop himself and not trying, he dipped his head even closer in order to kiss her.
Immediately, his Belle kissed him back. And Jack enjoyed it so much he decided to take his time and keep doing it.
So he did.
Therefore, when he finally stopped kissing his very soon-to-be wife and guided her to the drawing room, neither Jack Bennett nor Belle Abbot gave another thought to missing dogs or mobile phones.
They were both thinking more pleasant thoughts, such as their recent kisses and their bright future.
Lewis and Myrtle
“Lewis, Lewis, Lewis!” Myrtle cried, her ghostly body darting to her brother who, as usual during a storm, was floating at the window in the eastern turret, looking out and being moody.
“I told you,” he said to the storm, “I don’t want to go to the party, Myrtle. You go. Belle said she wants us there so go. But I’m going to stay here.”
“Lewis, no! It isn’t about the party,” Myrtle exclaimed and something in her tone made her brother turn his eyes to her. “Something’s wrong, Lewis. I feel it. We have to tell Belle.”
“We can’t tell Belle, Myrtle. Tonight she and Jack are celebrating their engagement. She’ll be with him probably all night,” Lewis reminded her. “And, by the way, if you go to the party, you can’t let Jack see you. You have to be invisible unless he isn’t looking.”
She grabbed his vaporous hand and tugged. “All right, I’ll be invisible if Jack’s around but we have to go. We have to find someone. We have tell someone that something is not right.”
She watched her brother’s eyes narrow on her before he asked quietly, “What do you feel, Myrtie Mine?”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head, “I don’t know. I just know it’s bad.”
Lewis studied his sister for only one second before he nodded.
“Right, then let’s tell Angus.”
Myrtle’s phantom shoulders drooped with relief.
“Thank you, Lewis,” Myrtle whispered and, holding hands, they floated swiftly to the stairwell and down but suddenly and inexplicably, something happened. It was as if their ghost forms hit a wall and they couldn’t move.
“What on—?” Lewis muttered, looking down to his feet that strangely felt like they had bounds tied to his ankles and he saw the strange markings on the floor.
“Lewis!” Myrtle shrieked, his head snapped up and his eyes focused on the shadowy figure in the shadowed stairwell. “Oh no, Lewis! It’s her!”
Her eyes were on them. They were gleaming through the dark with a preternatural light.
And she was smiling.
The children watched as she lifted her finger to her lips then she dropped her hand, leaned forward and touched the markings on the landing.
“That witch didn’t think to protect you,” she whispered through her manic smile.
Then she straightened, whirled and dashed away.
Cassandra and Yasmin
“I’m so sorry we’re running late,” Yasmin said words to the windscreen that were meant for Cassandra who was sitting to her left in the passenger seat of her Audi. “I know it’s just family but it is formal and I couldn’t decide what to wear. This is a hazard when you have three closets full of clothes.”
“I’m sorry too, mate,” Cassandra replied quietly, her eyes riveted to the road, her hand clenched around her mobile, which she’d tried and failed several times to use to phone Jack, Belle, Joy, The Point, Rachel, Lila, Jensen and Angus. “But we’ll get there.”
Before Cassandra left, Jack never believed she was clairvoyant.
Now, if he’d bloody answer his bloody phone, he’d find out she was.
And if he’d bloody answer his bloody, bloody phone, she could maybe save Belle’s life.
And, bonus, free the children.
“You need to hurry, Yasmin,” Cassandra said, still talking quietly.
She had not shared the vision she’d had while getting ready for the party at Yasmin’s house. She didn’t want to alarm Yasmin because the woman could be dramatic but mostly because she was driving.
“I know,” Yasmin agreed. “But we’re starting with drinks so we’ll just miss a martini or two.”
They’d miss a lot more if she didn’t pull her finger out.
On this thought, her mobile rang in her hand and Cassandra saw it said, Lorna Calling on the display.
She took the call and put it to her ear.
“Hey, mate,” she greeted.
“Lach and I are on our way. Lach figured something out and—”
Cassandra cut her off. “The woman.”
“What?” Lorna asked.
Without being able to escape for privacy, she said simply, “Vision, Lor. I’ve seen it. You and Lach need to get down here. Now.”
“We’re both on our way,” Lorna assured then disconnected.
“What vision, Cass?” Yasmin asked into the car softly. “Is something wrong?”
“Just go faster, Yasmin,” Cassandra answered and the car speeded up, racing through the dark, wet night shrouded in thickening-by-the-second fog.
And Yasmin went fast. Very fast.
Too fast.
“Yasmin, in the road!” Cassandra screeched just as the Audi’s tires hit a big log that was resting across the road.
Yasmin jerked the wheel automatically even though she’d already hit the log.
The car rolled. Then it rolled again. It rolled another half and a banged-up, unconscious Yasmin Delacourt and Cassandra McNabb in an Audi TT coupe ended upside down on the side of the lane a quarter of a mile away from The Point.
Baron, Gretl and Shadow
The intelligent eyes of the gray horse watched as his turned-back ears heard the two German Shepherds clawing and whining at the stable doors.
They’d been drawn in then locked in.
The big, darker dog gave up to step back and bark as the blonder, smaller dog continued to claw and whine with increasing alarm at the door.
Backing up, the gray stallion lifted up on his powerful hind legs and used its front hoofs to hammer at the stall door.
Then he did it again.
And again.
And Baron barked, Gretl whined and clawed and Shadow beat at his confines as the other horses whinnied and shifted and the rain poured down outside.
Belle
Exiting the bathroom on the way back to the drawing room, four things came to Belle.
One, there still was no Baron or Gretl.
Two, the children had not arrived. They couldn’t materialize in front of Jack but they could be there in spirit and find their moments to show themselves to Belle and the others when Jack couldn’t see. She knew this, they’d done it before. Not often, they were powerfully fearful of Jack catching a glimpse of them, but they’d done it.
Three, Miles was picking up Olive from the airstrip and due to the weather had called some time earlier when he’d learned her small commuter flight had been delayed. But still, even though the weather was worsening, they were later than expected and no call had come to explain why.
And four, Angus had not come down to have drinks and regale them with stories past of “wee ghosties.”
Baron and Gretl could be napping somewhere.
Myrtle and Lewis might be there but since Jack was, they hadn’t shown themselves.
And the weather was bad. Maybe Miles just assumed they’d understand this and didn’t want to interrupt the festivities with an unnecessary call.
But Angus didn’t often miss a chance to imbibe. He left a month ago, promising, like Cassandra had, to continue researching and looking for someone who might be able to assist them in getting Myrtle and Lewis home. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been around, mostly to check in, check Cassandra’s protection spells, eat their food, drink their booze and regale them with stories past of “wee ghosties.”
As quick as her strappy sandals would allow her to do so, she moved to Jack’s study to look for the dogs.
When she got there, she flipped on the light.
No dogs.
“Strange,” she whispered, turned off the light, closed the door and was about to retrace her steps to go to the staircase and Angus’s room when she heard a noise come from the other end of the hall.
That was probably Elaine, Gemma or Carrie. Elaine was cooking. Gemma and Carrie were serving.
Belle smiled to herself. A dinner party at home with family and friends and the women were all in gowns, the men in formal attire and they were being waited on.
“I suppose I’ll eventually get used to it,” she murmured, thinking it wouldn’t be hard.
She liked to dress up, especially since Jack so obviously appreciated it. She also liked to see Jack dressed up. He was beautiful always but criminally attractive became (nearly) unbearably attractive when he was in his well-cut tuxedo.
She began to move again toward the stairwell but another noise came from the other end of the hall. She stopped and looked that way.
“Elaine?” she called and there was no answer.
She took one step in that direction.
“Gemma?” she tried and when she got nothing she tried again. “Carrie?”
She took two more steps then suddenly the hall was plunged into darkness as the lights went out. A nanosecond later, the space was lit by a flash of lightning that was followed by a deep, bellowed roll of thunder.
“The storm,” she muttered. “The electricity went out because of the storm.”
She had no idea why she was talking to herself. She only thought it best to get back to Jack. He was protective, she’d been gone for a bit and there were no lights in the house. He’d want to know where she was. She’d go to him and ask him to find Angus and the dogs.
She turned back toward the drawing room just as another flash of lightning lit the hall.
And right before her stood a woman, her wide eyes bright with an unnatural light, her lips curled into an evil smile.
Belle opened her mouth to scream and braced to flee, and in her terror missed the fact that the woman’s arm was raised over her head so she also missed that arm slamming down.
She didn’t miss the pain that radiated throughout her skull when something crashed into it.
However, this lasted nary a moment before all went black and Belle Abbot collapsed to the thick carpet covering the stone floor of one of the many halls in Chy An Als Point.
Jack
The feeling seized him, so fierce he was paralyzed for a split second.
Then he moved and spoke, the piercing pain in his gut intensified to such an extreme, it was nearly debilitating.
But he didn’t hesitate.
“Jensen,” he barked, “come with me. I’ll get you a torch. Then you find Angus. Mum, Lila, Rachel, you stay here.”
He was striding to the door as her heard his mother start, “Jack, what on—?”
And Lila’s, “Is something—?”
As well as Rachel’s, “Where’s Belle?”
He stopped at the door and saw Jensen close. The man didn’t ask a single question. He was a man. He was also a father. He felt Jack’s mood and he wasn’t wasting time.
“None of you leave this room,” Jack ordered.
“Jack, darling, what—?” Joy began.
“Do not . . . leave . . . this room,” he clipped, jerked his chin up to Jensen and prowled out.
He was stalking down the hall, Jensen on his heels when Jensen asked, “Dude, you gonna fill me in?”
Jack didn’t tell him that he knew. That he simply, for no reason that was sane, knew that Belle was in danger.
Instead, he shared, “The lights are out. The phones are out. Both Belle and my mobiles have disappeared. The dogs have disappeared. Angus has not joined us. Cassandra and Yasmin have not yet arrived. And Belle went to the bathroom too fucking long ago. None of this is a coincidence. Something’s wrong.”
“The storm—” Jensen started.
“The storm does not explain two missing mobiles, Angus’s unusual delay in taking the opportunity to drink whisky and my dogs disappearing.”
“Cassandra’s protection—”
“Is magical,” Jack finished for him. “If the threat to Belle is real, human, in this fucking realm, it doesn’t . . .”
He turned into the kitchen, trailed off and stopped dead.
This was because he found the kitchen dark and deserted. No Elaine. No staff.
This was also because his mind’s eye brought up a picture of Belle.
Always but always she wore Cassandra’s protection amulet around her neck. Even to bed.
Tonight, she was wearing his diamonds around her neck.
No amulet.
“Fuck!” he hissed then strode to the drawer with the torches.
“Jack,” Jensen whispered, his concern heavy in his tone.
He handed Jensen a torch and tagged one for himself.
Then he issued orders, “Find Angus. As you try to find him, find your mobile or any mobile. Get it to Lila. She calls nine nine nine. She calls Cassandra. She calls and checks on Yasmin if Yasmin is not with Cassandra. Then she calls Lachlan and Lorna and she tells them to get to The Point as soon as they can. In that order. You don’t wait for her to make these calls. You keep searching for Angus and my fucking dogs.”
“Right,” Jensen whispered, didn’t hesitate and Jack saw the torchlight bobbing as the older man raced from the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath even as he moved swiftly, Jack turned on his own torch and strode to the door he’d exited months ago with Belle the night they met when he was guiding her out to show her the stables.
He moved into the dense fog and pouring rain as lightning lit the night, bouncing against the looming fog, making it eerie, threatening. And he moved through it as the flash disappeared and the thunder rolled.
But he wasn’t headed to the stables.
He was headed in a sprint to Belle’s cliff.
The site of Brenna Addison’s murder.
Mickey
“We have to land, mate. This storm, this fog—” his pilot friend said into Mickey’s earphones.
“We’re over Devon,” Mickey cut him off.
“We won’t make it to Cornwall in this weather,” his friend retorted as the plane bounced alarmingly in the storm.
“Try,” Mickey bit out.
“Mick—”
“Try,” Mickey growled.
The pilot growled back but it was merely an angry, worried sound, not an intelligible word and he flew on thinking if they got out of this alive, Mickey Dempsey was going to owe him big.
Huge.
Lorna
Lorna, driving too fast on the rain-slicked roads through the fog so thick she could barely see past the headlamps on her car, took her life in her hands (further) when she snatched up the ringing mobile sitting on the seat beside her.
She didn’t look at the display. She just took the call and put it to her ear.
“Talk to me,” she ordered.
“You close?” Lach asked in her ear.
“The good news is, no one but me is stupid enough to be on the roads tonight, even the police, so I’ve got a straight shot. The bad news is, I’ve called Cass three times since I connected with her and got no answer. I’ve called The Point, no answer. Belle, Jack, Lila—”
“Me too,” he interrupted her. “And I’ve called Uncle Angus six times. Nothing.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Lach,” she warned, her voice low.
“Me either, love,” he whispered. “Can you think of anyone close we can send there?”
“Nope,” she answered.
“Fuck,” he muttered then, louder, he ordered, “Drive but be safe. I’ll see you there.”
“See you there.”
She disconnected, tossed the phone on the seat beside her, concentrated as best she could and drove.
Fast.
Jack
She wasn’t there.
Belle wasn’t on her cliff.
Brenna’s cliff.
Breathing heavily, soaked to the skin, terrified out of his mind, he looked up at the dim shadow of The Point looming over him in the fog.
Lightning rent the air followed by thunder and he saw them.
He saw them.
Two children in the window at the landing on the stairwell in the eastern turret. Two children who looked to be shouting and banging their fists against an invisible barrier.
Myrtle and Lewis.
Jack Bennett blinked.
And when his eyes opened, he was no longer Jack.
He was Joshua.
And his children were up there.
So without hesitation, his long legs moved, racing toward The Point.
Racing to his children.
Caleb
Caleb Caldwell’s body swayed violently and he blinked.
Then he felt it.
Rain pummeling his skin.
Earth beneath his feet.
He looked down.
Earth beneath his feet, solid, real, right there.
He was not in Bennett’s brother.
He was real.
He was himself.
He was back.
His head shot up and his eyes focused on the drifting fog, seeing James Bennett racing through it toward The Point.
Caleb smiled.
Then he raced after him.
Angus
“Dude, you okay? Dude? Angus? Angus?”
Jensen was shaking him. Angus, head foggy and killing him, blinked, feeling thick moisture on his face as he pushed up.
“God, man, God! I can’t find any fucking phones, and dude, you totally need an ambulance.”
Angus heard his voice, saw his shadow but it penetrated that the room he was in and beyond was dark.
Then he remembered.
“The other,” he whispered.
Jensen ignored his whisper and ranted on, “Something’s whacked, man. Whacked. I found those girls, the woman, you know, the servants. They were asleep, dude. Asleep. All piled on top of each other in a corner in a room off the kitchen. Nothin’ I could do would wake ’em, Angus. They . . . were . . . out.”
“The other,” Angus repeated on a whisper.
“What?” Jensen asked.
He tried to focus on the man’s shadow. “The other.”
“You’re fucked up, dude. You got a head wound. Sit tight, I’m gonna—”
His hand darting out, with fierce strength he latched on to Jensen Abbot’s forearm.
“There is another,” he declared, his voice getting stronger. “A partner. A woman. A witch. Belle’s in danger.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. My baby girl has disappeared. The dogs—”
Swiftly, ignoring the lightening in his head that caused him to sway slightly, Angus got to his feet.
“Let’s go,” he stated, moving toward the shadowed door.
“Dude, you need to—”
Angus whirled to him, his kilt twirling. “Jensen, let’s go.”
Then he turned back and ran to and through the door, not waiting to see if Jensen followed.
Belle
“Please turn that off,” Belle whispered, pressing into a corner of a room, her head foggy and killing her, blinking against the light from the torch being shined into her face, feeling thick moisture dribbling through the hair on the side of her head.
“Yes, you’re pretty. Very pretty,” she whispered back, and it was so dark, her head muddled from the blow, the torchlight blinding her, Belle couldn’t see her. She couldn’t even see what room she was in.
“I need to—” she started.
“I knew, of course. I saw your pictures in the paper, all of them. But he told me. Again and again and again and again how pretty you were. Prettier than me. Better than me. Your eggs were the best in the world. Your hair was so soft, such a pretty color. Your eyes, so gray, so beautiful. Your clothes so fashionable. And you designed them. You. The Tiny Dynamo. His beautiful Belle. His beautiful, sweet, perfect Belle who could do . . . no . . . wrong.”
“Who are you?” Belle whispered, knowing, whoever she was, she was insane.
She shined the light in Belle’s face, Belle blinking at the light and the throbbing in her head, and this went on for long moments before she finally whispered her answer.
“I’m nobody.”
Baron, Gretl and Shadow
Having beaten down his stall door, Shadow galloped through the stables and proceeded to hammer at the stable doors with his hooves as now both Baron and Gretl barked loud and howled louder.
The latch no match for Shadows powerful blows, it gave way and both doors swung open.
Without hesitation, all three animals burst into the dark, stormy night.
Jack/Joshua
Joshua raced up the turret taking the stone steps two at a time. He rounded the curving stairwell to the landing and both of his children’s eyes came to him.
But there was something wrong with them.
He could see through them.
“Jack, no!” Lewis cried, his son’s eyes on him, wide and horrified.
But he didn’t falter as he charged to them. They floated, yes, floated away from him, across the landing, their young bodies slamming into what appeared to be an invisible barrier behind them so when he raced across the landing they were easy to catch.
And catch them he did. Dropping to his knees, he swung his long arms out to the sides and curled them around their wee bodies.
Bodies that solidified instantly at his touch, coming real, forming flesh, so when Joshua held his children to him, he felt their warmth against his frame and more, they felt the power of his.
“Oh my gracious, Lewis,” Myrtle breathed.
“You’re safe,” Joshua whispered, pulling them closer.
“Belle,” Lewis whispered back, Joshua’s head came up and he looked to his son.
“Lewis?” he questioned.
“Belle,” Lewis repeated in a whisper then louder, “Belle.” Joshua watched his son’s eyes dart over his shoulder and he shouted, “Poppa!”
Joshua released them, got to his feet and whirled just as Caleb Caldwell hit the landing, his arms swinging out, both his hands wrapped around a thick, heavy candlestick, and he struck.
Belle
“Sick of it,” the madwoman whispered as Belle pulled herself together, and it occurred to her hazy brain she should get the heck out of there. “Sick of hearing it. Sick of feeling it. Sick of it!”
“I—” Belle started just as she started to edge along the wall to escape, but suddenly of its own accord, her body locked.
Then she blinked.
And when she opened her eyes, she was no longer Belle.
She was Brenna.
And her children and Joshua were in danger.
So without hesitation, her mind clear, the pain in her scalp dulled, her legs moved to start racing toward the door.
She only got two steps before she was caught, shoved back and she hit the wall.
She stared at the shadowy woman who stood before her.
“Let me pass,” she demanded and for her words she felt the sharp sting of a slap on her cheek and her head jerked violently to the side as the woman struck her.
“You’ve spoken enough over the years, Belle Abbot, and you weren’t even there. Now, I get to do the talking,” the woman said to her.
Brenna ignored this lunacy, one thing on her mind, and started again toward the door but did not get very far before the woman again was upon her. She shoved, she pushed, they grappled and kicked.
“Why are you doing this!” she cried as she struggled. “Let me pass! My husband and children need me.”
“I don’t care!” Came the demented shriek in response as Brenna was viciously shoved away.
She lost control of her limbs and reeled back, but with effort she remained standing only to see the woman had grabbed hold of something and was coming her way swiftly, arm raised.
She was close, there wasn’t time to escape so Brenna cowered and lifted her arms to deflect the blow.
The woman didn’t make it because Joshua’s two Alsatians came barking and snarling into the room. Baron leaped through the air and landed on the woman, knocking her sideways. The dog kept at her as Gretl came darting to Brenna then retreating quickly to the door, darting back to Brenna and to the door again, whining.
“You know where they are,” Brenna whispered.
Gretl woofed softly.
“Take me,” Brenna urged, Gretl took off out the door with Brenna racing after her.
Racing to her husband and children.
Angus
With Jensen at his heels, Angus turned the corner to the stairwell of the eastern turret and he slammed full body into Jack Bennett.
He wheeled back two feet and stared at the shadowy figures.
No, not just Jack.
Jack holding Myrtle firm to his hip with one arm, his other hand engulfing in a strong grip the hand of Lewis.
Both the children were real. Not phantoms.
Real.
“Now this is one in all my years I’ve never seen,” he muttered, eyeing the apparently alive and breathing children.
“Holy fuck,” Jensen muttered behind him.
“Caldwell’s on the stairwell,” Jack informed them and Angus shook off his surprise as Jack strode forward, through and beyond the two men. “I need to get my children to safety and find my wife.”
“Your children?” Angus asked, following him and looking at him closely, or, more accurately, looking at his broad, soaking wet, dinner-suit-jacketed back.
“Your wife?” Jensen asked, following Angus.
Jack stopped and turned with the children.
“I need a safe place for the children so I can find my wife,” he clipped.
“Uh, right, lad,” Angus muttered.
Wife, children, they were not dealing with Jack.
They had Joshua.
Well, at least he’d seen this before.
Angus turned to Jensen. “Where’s Lila?”
“Drawing room,” Jensen answered.
Angus looked back to Jack or, he was guessing, Joshua. “Lila will keep them safe.”
“Drawing room,” Jack murmured, turned and strode swiftly through the house to the drawing room, taking the children with him.
He opened the doors and Angus had the chance to see the women had lit candles so there was dim light. He also had the chance to see the faces pale and hear the gasps.
But this was all he had the chance to see.
They all turned when they heard a dog woofing and saw Belle racing behind the dog on her high-heeled shoes, her hands in her skirt holding it up.
“My love,” Angus heard Jack murmur.
“My sweet!” Angus then heard Belle cry.
Then Angus and the rest watched Belle race directly into Jack, throwing her arms around him, Myrtle and catching Lewis up in her embrace.
Well, it seemed Belle was Brenna if the presence of living, breathing Myrtle and Lewis didn’t faze her.
This also didn’t faze Angus but it fazed Jensen.
“Holy fuck,” Jensen muttered.
Still holding on, Belle arched her upper body back and caught Jack’s eyes.
“Something’s amiss,” she declared at the same time Jack announced, “There is danger.”
“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Rachel whispered.
“If it’s what I’m seeing, you’re seeing what I think I’m seeing,” Lila whispered in answer.
“I think I’m seeing the same thing too.” Joy was also whispering.
The entire room stilled and braced as a commotion came from the hall, there were running footsteps and then a dripping wet, formally clad, shoeless Yasmin and an equally dripping wet somewhat formally but definitely eccentrically clad Cassandra skidded to the halt at the doors.
“Caleb Caldwell had a partner and she was a witch!” Yasmin shrieked.
“You stole my thunder, mate,” Cassandra muttered.
But Yasmin’s eyes rounded, her torso swayed back and she cried, “Oh my God! Myrtle and Lewis are real!”
Cassandra took in this fact and her eyes cut to Angus. “Have you ever seen this?”
“No’ ever,” Angus replied, shaking his head then concluded, “Best part of the job. Can have years in it and still be surprised.”
Cassandra looked back at Jack, Belle and the children, murmuring, “This is going to be the talk of the Winterfest Coven meeting, seriously.”
Jack cut in at this point and Angus’s eyes moved to him to see his on Angus.
“I know you but I do not. I do not understand this. I also do not care. Caleb Caldwell is in my home. I was able to incapacitate him to get my children to safety although I doubt he will be unconscious for long. I also doubt he has left this house. He is still here. He is, as usual, intent to do mischief. And we cannot delay in finding him and dealing with him.”
“There is a woman,” Belle put in quickly. She was now at Jack’s side, one of her arms curling Lewis close, the other arm holding Jack and Myrtle. “She’s in the west wing. One of the bedrooms.” Her head tipped back and she looked at Jack. “My beloved, I fear she’s demented.”
“Caldwell and his partner,” Cassandra said and moved into the room, pulling Yasmin with her and closing the doors behind her. She turned to face the congregation that automatically gathered together. “Right, I had a vision,” she announced. “Past and future. Caldwell allied with a local witch. He did this on the hush-hush. No one knew about it. Unfortunately, he did this in the only way he knew how. He beat her into submission, forcing her to help him. From what I gather, she’s been reincarnated too. And to make unhappy matters unhappier, she’s been reincarnated into Calvin Cole’s wife.”
“Oh lordy,” Rachel whispered.
“Shit,” Jensen muttered.
“Great, just great,” Lila snapped.
“She’s also here,” Cassandra added. “Both of them are. The spell Caldwell forced her to cast was that Brenna and Joshua would never be together, never happy, never living their lives to their fullest. In order to do this, if they were to be reincarnated, it would happen at a time where Caldwell and his partner were also reincarnated so that they could stop Brenna and Joshua or, in our time, Jack and Belle from living happily ever after.”
“So how do we stop them?” Joy asked.
“They both have to be destroyed,” Cassandra answered. “If he’s taken out, he won’t come back. And if she’s banished to hell, that’s it for her. But there’s a complication just because Caleb Caldwell was a full-blown ass. As we know, the children are ghosts, or um,” she eyed the wee ones before she went on, “they were. And this was at Caldwell’s behest because, seriously, this guy was one major dick. He forced the witch to put a spell on the children to tether their spirits here after she smothered them. They could appear before anyone except their father or any master of this house. If they did, Caldwell would return to this earth, alive and breathing, so he could have fun.” She eyed Jack and the kids and finished, “I’m guessing this happened.”
“Indeed,” Jack answered and pulled Belle and the children closer to him.
“This means, I’m afraid,” Cassandra went on, “that all that work I did protecting against magical mayhem was for nothing. We’re dealing with two humans here. And that means anything goes.”
“Shit,” Jensen muttered gain.
“So why are the children real and Jack and Belle are, um . . . not exactly Jack and Belle?” Lila asked.
Cassandra shook her head. “I’m not sure but my guess is, love’s a powerful thing.”
“What?” Belle whispered and Cassandra’s eyes went to her.
“Love’s a powerful thing, mate. It holds a magic all its own that no one can control. When there’s love, and a lot of it, anything can happen.”
“Oh my,” Joy whispered.
“So we must destroy Caldwell and this witch,” Jack brought the matter to hand.
“You got it,” Cassandra answered.
“And how do you propose we do that?” Jack asked.
“Well, him, he’s not supposed to be here so we can do whatever we want with him. Her, she’s real, from this time, but she’s got the reincarnated bitch witch attached to her soul. So we need to get it out.”
“Perform the same ceremony as you did on Miles?” Joy queried.
“Exactly,” Cassandra replied.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jack stated, bending to put Myrtle on her feet.
“Uh, we kinda need the bitch that’s got the bitch witch in her to do it,” Cassandra informed him as Jack straightened then pinned his eyes to her.
And his voice was a low rumble when he replied, “Then let’s find her.”
Cassandra grinned.
Belle wet her lips.
Angus began to move to go get his whip.
The doors to the room opened and Lachlan and Lorna, dripping wet, strode in.
Upon arrival, Lorna announced, “Lach should give up the family business and become a race car driver.”
At the same time Lachlan spied the children, his red brows shot up and he muttered, “Bloody, fucking hell.”
Caleb
“As before, you take care of the children, I’ll deal with Brenna,” Caleb ordered.
She shook her head.
“I want Belle.”
“I get Brenna.”
“I want Belle.”
He raised his hand and brought it down hard on her cheekbone. So hard, her head whipped to the side and she staggered.
“I’ll deal with Brenna. Then I’ll dispatch Joshua. You take the children.”
Righting herself, hand to her cheek, instinct caused her to agree, “Oh-okay.”
“Let us go,” he stated, lifting his hand toward her.
Instinct again forced her to lift hers to him, he took hold and dragged her from the room.
Jack/Joshua
“I do not like this,” he growled.
“I do not like it either,” Brenna whispered, and with his arm already around her, he pulled her closer.
“Trust us,” the Scot he did not know, but still did, assured.
Joshua stopped at the door to the outside that was in the kitchen and locked eyes with the Scot. “My wife and I should be with our children.”
“We have to lure him out there and we also have to lure her to the children.” The Scot got close and his voice dipped low. “We’ll no’ steer you wrong, lad. Trust us.”
Joshua held his gaze but he already knew, though he didn’t, that he could.
Without time to unravel it, he nodded, turned to the pegs by the door and snatched up a rain slicker. He helped his wife into it then he turned her to face him and settled his hands at her neck.
“All will be well, my love,” he whispered.
“I hope so,” she whispered back.
He bent his head to touch his lips to hers, gave her neck a reassuring squeeze then he turned and led her into the stormy night with three men following.
The Other
She opened the door and saw the candlelight immediately just as she smelled the incense.
And she also instantly spied the children huddling together in the middle of the room.
The little girl let out a short, stifled scream before she turned her face into the boy’s neck, and she watched the boy’s arms tighten around his sister as he stared at her defiantly.
She grinned her manic grin as she entered the room.
She got four feet in, noting the children didn’t retreat right before the doors swung shut behind her and five women jumped her.
She struggled but only briefly.
She’d long since learned when to give up a fight.
Joy and Rachel
Holding down one of the flailing woman’s legs, Joy turned her head to Rachel who was holding down the other one and whispered, “You didn’t have to pull her hair.”
Rachel looked to her friend. “Yeah I did.”
Joy fought back a grin, considering it might be rude, and continued, “Well, then you didn’t have to pull it so hard.”
“That’s debatable,” Rachel muttered and shifted aside but kept hold on the leg that Lorna had moved to in order to tie it down.
“By the way,” Joy began and Rachel looked back at her, “have I told you your dress is lovely?”
Rachel grinned a big grin. “Hey, thanks. Belle designed it. And, also by the way, yours is too.”
“Bloody hell,” Lorna muttered, yanked the rope tight and the woman cried out.
Joy bit her lip but it was in another effort to try not to grin.
Rachel didn’t bother.
She just smiled.
Belle/Brenna
Arms tight around each other, they stood together on the cliff, the lightning and thunder gone, the fog surrounding them, the wind whipping at their hair and clothing.
“We must go home,” she whispered into his neck, pressing deeper, and his arms got tighter.
“When this is done, we’ll get the children and go home,” Joshua whispered back.
“I’ve missed them.” Her voice was a throb and his arms got even tighter.
“And I too,” he murmured but the low sound was harsh.
Her head tipped back and she caught his beautiful, striking green eyes. Eyes Joshua Bennett shared down the line with his heir, James.
“I’ve missed you too, my beloved.”
One of his hands came up to cup her jaw and his face dipped close, his voice was low and rumbly when he replied, “And I you, my love.”
Before he could do what she knew he was about to do, what she loved, what he did so very frequently in their time together, touch his mouth to hers, she felt him.
Joshua did too for the pads of his fingers tensed into her skin, his eyes narrowed angrily and his head came up.
She turned in the circle of her husband’s arms and watched as the figure formed through the fog.
Her heart clenched, her stomach lurched but her hand itched.
And, not knowing what came over her, she tore free of her husband’s hold, strode forward, and before he could begin to know her intention she pulled back a hand and slapped her should-be-dead, former husband across his face so hard his head snapped to the side.
His burning eyes slowly came back to her but she did not cower.
“Tonight,” she whispered, “you burn in hell.”
Then she put her hands to his chest and pushed, her feet moving, shoving him back, going with him, straight toward the cliff.
Myrtle and Lewis
Myrtle’s head snapped up and her eyes found Lewis’s.
“Mumma,” she whispered.
“Poppa,” he whispered back.
The witch spirit tore free of the woman arched on the divan keening a mighty, frightening keen, and it exploded in bright white sparks that flew all over the room.
The children didn’t see it.
They were racing to the door.
Racing to their parents.
Racing to the cliff.
Lachlan
“Belle! Brenna! Whoever the fuck! Stop fighting!” Lachlan gritted in her ear as he struggled to keep hold of the madly fighting woman in his arms as the clash of Bennett and Caldwell played out on the edge of the cliff with two German shepherds barking their encouragement.
“Let me go!” she cried, wrenching her body sharply but he held on.
“Guide him to the cliff, lad! Throw him over!” Angus boomed, he and Jensen both circling the combatants, keeping the arena small, shoving Caldwell back toward Bennett’s fists anytime he tried to escape.
“I’m . . .” Bennett grunted on a punch landed on Caldwell’s jaw. His fist curled in Caldwell’s shirt jerked Caldwell straight again and he went on in a grunt, “Having . . .” and he landed another brutal blow, this time on Caldwell’s cheekbone. “Fun!” he finished, delivered another vicious strike, Caldwell’s legs gave out from under him and Bennett let him crash to the ground.
“Dude, seriously, it’s cold, raining and I’m hungry and wearin’ this fuckin’ stupid suit. Can you just throw him over the cliff so we can get inside and I can fuckin’ eat?” Jensen requested just as Bennett pulled back his leg and landed a powerful kick to the prone man’s gut.
“Not done,” he replied.
“Laddie, your woman is also out in the cold and rain and hasn’t had dinner,” Angus reminded Bennett, and Bennett’s head came up, his eyes going to Belle.
“Are you all right, poppet?” he asked considerately.
“Keep going,” she encouraged.
“Fuck me,” Lach muttered.
Bennett landed another kick.
“Mumma! Poppa!” The cries carried through the night then the two children formed out of the fog, racing toward Belle.
Lach let her go so she could crouch, arms wide, and both of them slammed into her body. Her frame rocked with their colliding weight but her arms curled around the children and she stayed strong.
“It’s all right, my sweetlings. Everything is fine. Poppa is taking care of the bad man and then everything will be fine,” she assured them as Lorna, Cassandra, Lila, Rachel and Joy raced after the children and stopped at the cliff.
“The witch?” Bennett asked sharply, turning away from Caldwell who was prone and groaning on the cliff edge.
“Well, the bitch witch, dispelled and sent to hell,” Cassandra started her update. “The just plain bitch, tied to the divan in the drawing room, and I zapped her with a sleeping spell so she’ll wake up, hmm . . . I’m guessing . . . Wednesday.”
“Excellent,” Bennett muttered at the same time Joy shrieked, “Jack!”
And all eyes turned to see Caldwell had pulled himself up, he had an arm reaching out toward Bennett and just when he would grab hold, out of nowhere, a huge, gray horse came galloping to the cliff, on its back was Miles Bennett and in front of him, Jack’s PA, Olive Mayfair.
Jack threw his body one way, Miles and Olive leaned forward, the horse reared back on its hind legs and struck out at Caldwell with its front hooves.
Caldwell reeled back, one step, two then he fell over the side of the cliff.
“Breeeeeeeeehhhhhhnnaaaaaaaahhhhh!” he shouted on his way down, the name stopping abruptly.
Everyone stood still, unmoving and not speaking.
And they did this until Lorna muttered, “Well, that was a bit of an anti-climax.”
At the same time, some man Lachlan had never seen came jogging up, stopped dead and stared at the two children in period clothing being held in Belle’s arms.
“Fucking hell,” the man Lachlan didn’t know was Mickey Dempsey whispered before his eyes shot to Bennett. “Jesus, mate. It’s true.”
And after the man uttered these stunned words, Miles, incongruously sitting bareback and drenched to the skin on top of an enormous gray steed with a middle-age woman held in his arm, said drolly to Jack, “Sorry we’re late.”
And at that, Lachlan burst out laughing.
Lila
“I’m not sure,” Rachel whispered, huddled with Lila and Jensen at the bottom of the stairs that Belle, Jack and the children just disappeared over the top of.
“It’ll be fine, baby,” Jensen soothed, holding her in his arms.
“But—”
“Rachel, my darling,” Lila stated, tearing her eyes from the top of the stairs and smiling at her beautiful, beloved daughter. “It’ll be fine.”
She watched her daughter draw in a breath.
Then she watched her nod.
Lila drew in her own breath.
Then she turned toward the drawing room, muttering, “I need a drink,” and thinking, as was her wont, dramatically, that not in all of history were truer words ever spoken.
Jack/Joshua
“Sleep,” he murmured to the three beings he held in his arms in the big bed.
“But—” Lewis started, lifting his head from Joshua’s ribs to look at his father.
“Sleep, son,” Joshua whispered.
Lewis held his eyes. Then he nodded and settled in.
Joshua pulled his family closer.
The storm outside had settled. The rain now fell in gentle, calming patters as Joshua Bennett held his family close.
Lewis’s head grew heavy on his ribs, and Joshua, as well as Brenna, felt their son drift to sleep. He knew his wife knew this when her head lifted from his shoulder, her neck arched back and her eyes found his.
Joshua bent his neck and touched his mouth to the sweet one of his wife. And when he did, he noted it tasted no less sweet than he remembered, even centuries later.
As he pulled away, he felt Myrtle’s head had come up from his stomach and he looked down at his daughter.
“I knew, I just knew I always loved you, Jack.”
Joshua smiled through the shadows and whispered, “Sleep, Myrtie Mine.”
He watched his daughter smile.
Then she whispered back, “All right,” and settled in.
His eyes went to Brenna and he also happily took in her smile.
Then she settled in too.
Their weight heavy and beautiful on his body, he felt his girls drift off, the youngest first, the older second.
Not long after, Joshua Bennett’s eyes closed.
Hours later, the sun shining bright against his eyelids, Jack opened his eyes and found himself and Belle alone in their bed, Belle snuggled close in his arms.
Dog tags jingled on Belle’s side of the bed and Belle stirred.
His arms tightened.
She lifted her head, looked down the length of his body then her head swung to him. He noted her eyes were sleepy but that didn’t mean they didn’t hold wonder along with sorrow.
“They’re home,” she whispered.
“Indeed, poppet,” Jack whispered back.
He watched the tears fill her eyes.
When the sob hitched in her throat, he pulled her over him and caged her tight in his arms as she burrowed her face in his neck and cried.
Jack sighed.
Last one down.