CHAPTER TWELVE
JOSEPHINE
The rain had slowed. Lines of pale moonlight streamed through the clouds, bathing the room in pools of silver light. Dawn was not far away.
They needed to move.
With the storm dissipating, Josephine knew time was running out. But as she traced delicate patterns on Henry’s bare chest with her fingertips, all she could concentrate on was the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. Having him beside her was more than she ever thought possible, and the last few hours had been a welcome reprieve from the grief and fear that now crept back to claim her again.
Henry swore to protect her, to keep her safe from all harm, and as she lay wrapped in the warmth of his arms, she wanted to believe he would do just that. But the amulet that pulsed at her throat was reminder enough that there were forces at work much bigger than even the best of intentions.
She had to tell him. He had to know what he was getting involved with, that he was risking his own life every second he stayed with her. Her previous attempt had been a disastrous failure, but there was still time.
If she was being honest with herself, the thought of telling him the truth, telling him the one secret she had sworn she would never tell was terrifying. But after the days of running and the hours spent wrapped in his arms, she was more afraid of not having him by her side.
“Henry,” she whispered, gathering her courage. “Henry?” She shook his shoulder.
He opened his eyes and gave her a sleepy smile. “I thought it was a dream.”
Before she had time to respond, Henry grabbed her and pulled her back down on his chest, kissing her passionately.
“Henry!” Josephine gasped in between kisses, trying hard to balance her giggling and the need for oxygen. When he released her, he was grinning like a madman and Josephine couldn’t help but laugh harder.
He tried to reach for her again, but she swatted his hands away.
“Wait,” she tried again. “We have to talk. I need to tell—” The words died in her throat as the sound of horses broke through the stillness of the night.
Josephine leapt to her feet. Henry was at her side, pulling his tunic back over his head with one hand and throwing their small store of supplies in one of the burlap potato sacks with the other.
“Oh God,” Josephine whispered, the blood draining from her face. “Oh God, Henry. He found us.”
She yanked her clothes into place and pulled Henry from the cabin into the trees.
She stumbled over the uneven ground and the large roots from the trees. If it weren’t for Henry gripping her elbow, she would have surely fallen.
Everything around her was fuzzy.
He found us.
The words, like a mantra, played over and over in her head.
Henry screamed at her, but the sound was distorted and she couldn’t make out his words. The only thing that made sense was the circle of black horsemen moving toward them.
It was too late. They were surrounded.
Josephine stood rooted to the ground, every fiber of her being screaming for her to run. But there was nowhere to go. There was a sharp grappling as Henry was yanked from her side.
“Jo!” Henry screamed, thrashing around in the arms of the men who held him captive. “Jo!”
His frantic cries snapped her out of her daze. “Stop! Stop!” she cried, throwing herself into the center of the circle. “Please don’t hurt him.”
A man wearing a long, dark overcoat moved toward her. His tan face was twisted into a menacing sneer, and his eyes, almost the same color as his jet-black hair, were trained upon her face. Dark shadows clung to him as he walked, and the very forest itself seemed to bend beneath his darkness.
The fingers of his magic clawed toward her, cleaving through the night, and Josephine’s heart nearly stopped, as the weight of his darkness settled around her. Her body recoiled as the shadows danced around her, sending shivers creeping along her spine and extremities.
Death incarnate had found her.
The Master.
The amulet around her neck began to vibrate, its gentle hum a reminder to stand strong.
Don’t be afraid, Jo. Don’t be afraid.
“Give it to me,” he sneered, holding out his hand. His cold, slate-colored eyes were narrowed in disgust.
Somehow, she found her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Faster than lightning, the man struck her across the face, knocking her to the ground. “Don’t lie to me, you foolish girl. I know you have it . . . and I want it.”
For a moment, she couldn’t move. Her head throbbed, and her cheek was on fire. Henry was still yelling, but the men who held his arms managed to keep him secure between them.
“My lord.” One of the other men came forward. A black tattoo—the same one she’d seen on the men who’d burned her house to the ground—covered his forearm. “It’s not here. We searched the cabin but didn’t find it.”
The Master nodded his head before turning back to glare at Josephine. Grabbing her by the hair, he yanked her to her knees. The pain was so intense that black spots dotted her vision, and she cried out in pain. “Tell us, girl! Where is the book?” he roared, his voice echoing across the trees.
As Josephine looked up into his angry face, all she could think about was the fact that this was the one responsible for murdering her entire family. The Master. Those two words burned her to the core, and anger coursed like venom through her veins. “You’ll have to kill me first,” she spat through clenched teeth.
The Master laughed, the same cruel laughter that had taunted her the night of the fire. “Oh, that can be arranged, little witch. But first . . .” He glanced over at Henry and grinned. “Bring him here.”
Josephine’s heart nearly stopped as the two men holding Henry moved toward her, yanking him between them. They forced him to his knees in front of the Master, who pulled a long dagger from the folds of his coat. With a sinister grin, he placed the blade across Henry’s throat.
The sight of the blade at his throat made Josephine’s knees wobble, but she forced her face to remain neutral,
allowing only the anger to show. Stay calm. You can save him. Just stay calm.
“What about now, little witch? Care to change your mind?”
“Witch?” Henry’s eyes were wide. “Josephine, what’s going on? Who are these men?”
His words pierced her heart. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, meeting his gaze. The panic and confusion she saw there made her ache. “I was going to tell you. I . . .”
“Jo?” For the first time since she’d know him, Henry was staring at her as if she were a stranger.
She winced at that look on his face, so full of pain and doubt. I have to fix this.
She had only one option. She’d have to use magic.
Staggering to her feet, Josephine pushed her shoulders back and glared at the man in the overcoat. “You’re a fool if you think there’s anything in the world that would convince me to give it to you.” The amulet at her neck pulsated in anticipation.
The Master laughed. “Just hand it over, girl. You have no leverage here.” For emphasis, he dug the point of the knife into Henry’s flesh. It was a shallow wound, but Henry’s grunt of discomfort and the beads of blood that stained his shirt were almost enough to make Josephine lose her nerve. Steady, Jo. Stay steady.
“No amount of running and hiding will save you.” The Master’s wicked grin was back, his eyes fixed on Josephine. “I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, just like I hunted your father. Until there is nothing left but pain and death.” He spit on the ground. “Be a good girl and give me what I want.”
Mustering all of her courage, Josephine held up her hand, palm out. Magic sparked between her fingertips. “Let him go. Now.”
For the tiniest of seconds, Josephine swore she saw a flicker of panic flash in the Master’s eyes, but then it was gone.
He sneered at her and yanked Henry to his feet. “Don’t be stupid, girl. Give me the book.”
“No!” Josephine screamed, a hysterical cry rising in her throat. The magic between her fingertips crackled like lightning. “Let him go. Now.”
The Master’s responding peal of laughter, cold and cruel, boomed across the trees, hitting Josephine like a slap in the face. Then, without pause, he took the dagger and sliced it across Henry’s throat.
“No!”
It was as if time itself had stopped. Every part of her, body and soul, wailed as the light in Henry’s eyes faded, as he sank to his knees, blood gushing from his wound. No, no, no! Her cruel mind began hurling images at her: her first glimpse at Henry’s face, a stolen kiss among the trees, a dance underneath the moonlight, the feel of his fingertips tracing down her spine. I can’t survive this. What was left of her heart splintered into a thousand pieces—a thousand wounds that would never heal.
“Take care of this.” The Master flicked his hand toward Henry’s body, addressing the man who has spoken earlier. “Then bring her to me.”
“My lord?” The man with the tattoo cocked his head at Josephine, who stood unmoving. He had a peculiar look on his face, a vile hunger in his eyes that made the Master grin gleefully.
“You men have served me faithfully today,” the Master replied. “Take your pleasure; then bring her to me. Maybe then she’ll be willing to talk.” He stalked back to his horse, mounted, and urged his steed forward.
Josephine’s shattered spirit flickered a little as she caught sight of his long overcoat whipping in the wind as he rode away and disappeared into the shadows, the echo of his laughter on the breeze.
Everything inside her was broken beyond repair. It was as if she had lost all her ability to move or speak. There was nothing but silence and emptiness. She swayed and almost fell, but a rough hand gripped her by the wrist and yanked her forward.
The face in front of her was plain and covered with grime. The calculating, hungry eyes first roamed over her body, and then the hands followed.
Fight back! the tiny voice inside her head screamed at her, but it was her heart that was in control, or rather the aching hole where it had once been—nothing but silence and emptiness. Please, Jo, fight back! The man’s foul breath was hot on her skin, but she couldn’t move. The tiniest of sparks ignited between her fingertips, but quickly fizzled. Only silence and emptiness.
Over the man’s shoulders, she saw two others walk over to Henry’s body. One of them kicked at Henry’s leg. The other chuckled. As they bent down to pick him up, something inside her snapped. A roar tore from her throat as fiery rage consumed her. She threw out her hands. The magic surged from her fingertips like bolts of lightning, ripping and shredding through the man holding her and the two next to Henry.
The screams of the men mixed with the harsh wails of the horses. The ground rumbled from the stamping hooves as the panicked animals broke the formation and fled. The sky filled with crackling green light and a tangible energy as she screamed, blasting man after man, until not a single person was left standing. It was only then that the scream died on her lips. She lowered her hands.
With tears pouring down her cheeks, Josephine crawled over to Henry’s body. She called his name over and over as her fingers searched in vain for the rhythmic pulse in his neck. Desperate, she laid her head on his chest, praying the familiar beating would echo in her ears.
There was nothing but silence.
Crying bitterly, Josephine wept until her eyes began to ache, but that was nothing compared with the agony of her heart. I can’t survive this. . . . I can’t survive this. . . . I won’t survive this.
She stayed there, the dead all around her, until the warmth had faded from Henry’s skin.
The overwhelming sorrow had knocked the very breath right out of her, but she managed to pull herself to her feet. She placed a shaky hand over her heart, trying to stop the hammering pain from crushing her.
“Good-bye, Henry,” she whispered through her tears. “Good-bye, my love.”
With tears pouring down her cheeks and the orange glow of the morning sun streaming through the trees, she began to run.
Her emerald amulet hummed at her throat.