Read Online The Reckless One by Connie Brockway - Free Book Online
Authors: Connie Brockway
Ads: Link
…”
She shrugged and Carr smiled at her sophistry. The old witch was a woman after his own heart. If the bones lied, how could it be her fault? She was simply a messenger.
“You know why I trust you, Pala?” he asked. “Aside from the fact that if you were to ever prove untrustworthy you know I would kill you, that is?”
The cheap necklaces about her thin throat rattled as she cautiously shook her head.
“It is precisely because your messages from the spirit world reek more often of gin than brimstone. An infallible witch? An honest one?” He laughed. “Those qualities don’t exist among noblemen so how could they exist in the likes of you?
“No, Pala, it is precisely because you fail and cheat and whine that I listen. You are treacherous and cowardly. Only the dead could prompt someone like you into risking her neck by claiming she hears them.” He settled back once more. “It isn’t so long ago that witches were burned. But you know that, don’t you?”
Pala hunkered in the center of the room, like a rabbit baited for a fox.
“Now then, I know you heard something, saw something, or even smelled something among those bones of yours. Something to do with Janet. What was it? And no more drivel about her undying love.” A little prick of something like regret rose within him. He ignored it. The dead returned for one reason only: to annoy the living. “In point of fact she did die. Now what … did … you … see?”
A sudden blast of wind rattled the glass in the windows as a low moan issued from the chimney.
“I cannot help what I hear,” Pala finally whispered. “You ask and ask, you know when I lie. I
not
lie. She loves you. Even now, even after what you did. She forgives.”
“Oh.” He stood up and was about to walk away when he heard her speak, her voice flat and soft, marked by the lack of inflection in which she issued all her most accurate portents.
“She desires …”
“Yes?”
“To be reunited with you.”
Carr snorted, disappointed. More maudlin sentiment. He’d over seventy guests in residence this day. Since Pala did not appear to have any suggestion on how to rid the castle of the haunts, he’d best go attend the living.
“She wants to be with you.”
“Well, I’m afraid the dear girl will have to wait a bit, won’t she?”
His smile faded as he saw the intensity with which Pala stared at him. He was not mistaken. He’d engendered it in enough men to be wholly familiar with its every aspect. Pala was afraid.
“There is more,” he prompted. “What do you know!”
“She is
not
waiting. She comes back. To forgive. To protect from them. As she always did.”
Them. The McClairens.
Alive, Janet had shielded him from their unproven certainty that he’d betrayed them, refusing to believe he would do such a thing. At least, at first. By the time she’d died, so too had most of her clan. Later, thanks to the fortuitous whoring of his son Raine, he’d had the excuse he needed to kill off any remnant of that cursed clan.
In truth it had been no great surprise when the McClairens had begun creeping from their graves, seeking in death the retribution they’d been denied in life—though they’d certainly bided their time in coming back.
Janet … now Janet was a different story. Yet here was Pala claiming Janet was only now returning. It made no sense; Janet had been haunting him for years.
“In what form will she haunt me? When will she come back?”
“Now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She is no spirit no more. She has found a vessel. Here. At Wanton’s Blush.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is reborn in another. One who is not aware she shares her body with another soul. But you will know. You will recognize her.”
His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he moved forward, grabbing the old woman’s arm and hauling her to her feet. “If you are lying I will tear your heart from your chest myself and force it down your throat.”
“I not
She shrugged and Carr smiled at her sophistry. The old witch was a woman after his own heart. If the bones lied, how could it be her fault? She was simply a messenger.
“You know why I trust you, Pala?” he asked. “Aside from the fact that if you were to ever prove untrustworthy you know I would kill you, that is?”
The cheap necklaces about her thin throat rattled as she cautiously shook her head.
“It is precisely because your messages from the spirit world reek more often of gin than brimstone. An infallible witch? An honest one?” He laughed. “Those qualities don’t exist among noblemen so how could they exist in the likes of you?
“No, Pala, it is precisely because you fail and cheat and whine that I listen. You are treacherous and cowardly. Only the dead could prompt someone like you into risking her neck by claiming she hears them.” He settled back once more. “It isn’t so long ago that witches were burned. But you know that, don’t you?”
Pala hunkered in the center of the room, like a rabbit baited for a fox.
“Now then, I know you heard something, saw something, or even smelled something among those bones of yours. Something to do with Janet. What was it? And no more drivel about her undying love.” A little prick of something like regret rose within him. He ignored it. The dead returned for one reason only: to annoy the living. “In point of fact she did die. Now what … did … you … see?”
A sudden blast of wind rattled the glass in the windows as a low moan issued from the chimney.
“I cannot help what I hear,” Pala finally whispered. “You ask and ask, you know when I lie. I
not
lie. She loves you. Even now, even after what you did. She forgives.”
“Oh.” He stood up and was about to walk away when he heard her speak, her voice flat and soft, marked by the lack of inflection in which she issued all her most accurate portents.
“She desires …”
“Yes?”
“To be reunited with you.”
Carr snorted, disappointed. More maudlin sentiment. He’d over seventy guests in residence this day. Since Pala did not appear to have any suggestion on how to rid the castle of the haunts, he’d best go attend the living.
“She wants to be with you.”
“Well, I’m afraid the dear girl will have to wait a bit, won’t she?”
His smile faded as he saw the intensity with which Pala stared at him. He was not mistaken. He’d engendered it in enough men to be wholly familiar with its every aspect. Pala was afraid.
“There is more,” he prompted. “What do you know!”
“She is
not
waiting. She comes back. To forgive. To protect from them. As she always did.”
Them. The McClairens.
Alive, Janet had shielded him from their unproven certainty that he’d betrayed them, refusing to believe he would do such a thing. At least, at first. By the time she’d died, so too had most of her clan. Later, thanks to the fortuitous whoring of his son Raine, he’d had the excuse he needed to kill off any remnant of that cursed clan.
In truth it had been no great surprise when the McClairens had begun creeping from their graves, seeking in death the retribution they’d been denied in life—though they’d certainly bided their time in coming back.
Janet … now Janet was a different story. Yet here was Pala claiming Janet was only now returning. It made no sense; Janet had been haunting him for years.
“In what form will she haunt me? When will she come back?”
“Now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She is no spirit no more. She has found a vessel. Here. At Wanton’s Blush.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is reborn in another. One who is not aware she shares her body with another soul. But you will know. You will recognize her.”
His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he moved forward, grabbing the old woman’s arm and hauling her to her feet. “If you are lying I will tear your heart from your chest myself and force it down your throat.”
“I not
Similar Books
