Smoke on the Water Read online

  “I know why the Gilletts were killed.”

  Dr. Frasier glanced at the window as the thunder grumbled both louder and closer. “Why?”

  “Sadie was a witch. Malcolm was caught in the cross fire.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Peggy was killed for the same reason. I bet she was branded like Sadie, with the snarling-wolf icon.”

  His attention, which had been on the clouds billowing on the horizon, suddenly came back to me. “How do you know that?”

  “The Venatores Mali are witch hunters,” I began.

  “From the seventeenth century!”

  “You looked them up.”

  He shrugged.

  “Their leader is Roland McHugh.”

  “Was,” Dr. Frasier corrected. “They’re all dead, Willow. Have been for a long time.”

  “They’re back. Roland might be back too.”

  “When were you going to start convincing me you aren’t crazy?”

  “I’m in here because I stabbed a man who was going to kill me and brand me.”

  “So you said, but he didn’t.”

  “Don’t you find it odd that I knew about the snarling-wolf brand years before it became popular?”

  “Just because you read about the Venatores Mali at some point and internalized the information into your delusion, doesn’t mean your delusion is true.”

  Lightning sizzled and snapped as my temper simmered higher.

  “The voice that speaks to Mary is named Roland,” I said. “Not a common name.”

  “Doesn’t mean the Roland is talking to her.”

  “What if it does?”

  Dr. Frasier blinked. “Huh?”

  “If he’s talking to her, if the voice is real, then is she still crazy?”

  “Tree in the woods, Willow.”

  The wind began to whistle, and tree branches rattled together like bones.

  “Mary thinks she’s a witch,” he continued. “Why would the leader of a witchhunting society talk to her from beyond?”

  “I think he’s been talking to a lot of people.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that every schizophrenic who hears voices is hearing his?”

  “No. But the ones who’ve listened, then killed, branded, and burned witches probably are. Mary caught a clue before she went that far, which oddly makes her more sane than a lot of others.”

  “She didn’t seem more sane to me,” he muttered.

  “Nevertheless…”

  “You know how crazy this sounds, right?”

  “Truth is stranger than fiction.”

  “I should probably get a nurse to bring you some food and your meds.”

  “You haven’t noticed that while we’ve been talking, a storm’s come up?”

  “Lately, that happens a lot.”

  “The more annoyed I’ve gotten the closer and stronger the storm.”

  “Just because you think you’re affecting the weather, doesn’t make it so.”

  He was maddening.

  “I transported Mary out of the facility.”

  “Why would you take her out and then come back in?”

  “I didn’t take her anywhere. I sent her. I didn’t mean to the first time. Actually, nearly every time I didn’t mean to. First it was the moon, and then it was blood. The transportation spell was supposed to be for joy, but—”

  “You think you transported her through magic?”

  “I did.”

  “Willow, please.”

  His frustration was evident, but what really got me agitated was the tinge of fear in his voice. He thought I’d gone over the edge, and I had. I was so done with being looked on as crazy when I wasn’t. I had to make him see.

  I crossed the distance between us and took his hands. “Sebastian.” I tightened my fingers. “Please.”

  Our eyes met, and the entire world stilled. The storm hovered, still there but swirling, getting no worse, no better, just waiting. I held my breath; he held his.

  The clouds parted, the moon flowed in and over us and I remembered this night, this moment, this kiss.

  Our first.

  Had he drawn me close, or had I stepped in? Had I gone on tiptoe, or had he lowered his head, even as I stretched upward like a flower toward the sun?

  Our lips met, and the lightning flared as bright as the moon. The earth shook; the whole world changed. This was destined. We were destined. My entire life had been leading to this, to him.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck; he wrapped his around my hips. Our mouths opened, our tongues touched, stroked. I couldn’t help it, I sucked, and then he groaned, the sound reverberating against my chest, my breasts.

  I rubbed them against him and he gasped. Except his mouth was still on mine; perhaps the gasp had been in my head. We probably shouldn’t be here, doing this. But I didn’t want it to stop; I didn’t want him to stop. So I held on to him as the rain began to tumble down.

  How did I know about the rain? It took me a few seconds to understand that the rain was falling on us.

  We opened our eyes at the same time, our mouths still fused, our tongues tangled. His lashes were wet. When he blinked, the droplets flicked into my face. Together we drew back and lifted our eyes as the sky spilled more rain.

  The sky. Spilled rain. Onto us. We were no longer inside but outside.

  We stumbled away from each other, stood a few feet apart, peering from the sky, to the trees, to the sky again. We were in a clearing, in the forest, in the night.

  “Wh-wha—what happened?” Sebastian asked.

  “Wait.” I turned in a circle. “I know this place.”

  I’d seen it before.

  “There’ll be a man,” I said. “All in black. A hat. Like—like—a Pilgrim.”

  “That’s—”

  “Shh!” I held up my hand. The trees rustled; but was it the wind, or was it him?

  “He’ll have an accent. A brogue, I think.”

  “A brogue? Where are we?”

  “No idea.”

  “We have to—”

  “Be ready. He’s coming. He’ll have a knife, and the moon will glint off his ring. The wolf ring.”

  “There’s no moon,” Sebastian said gently.

  “There is. It’s there, it’s just—”

  The rain stopped. The clouds parted. The moon shone down again.

  The man came out of the trees, took one look at me, and pulled his knife.

  “Another of you!” he exclaimed. “You’re like rabbits.”

  “Believe me now?” I asked.

  Chapter 15

  Sebastian was disoriented and dizzy. The guy did have a brogue—a really thick one that was hard to decipher with everything else that was going on. Namely the sudden appearance of the forest, the mud, the wet, the cold, the crazy man.

  “One of you be dead and soon there’ll be another,” he said, and smiled.

  Sebastian, who’d seen a hundred crazy smiles, was more chilled by that one than any that had come before. The guy started toward Willow, blade arcing downward, and Sebastian stepped between them.

  Willow tried to push Sebastian out of the way. She only slowed him down. The knife grazed his side, and Sebastian’s training took over. He planted a roundhouse kick to the guy’s chest.

  “Oof,” the man said, but he didn’t fall to the ground, and he didn’t drop the knife.

  He almost lost his hat. Who wore a hat anymore? Especially one like that, which was square and wide-brimmed and as Pilgrimy as Willow had predicted. Were they making a movie nearby? Thanksgiving on Elm Street? Black Friday the Thirteenth?

  Fury filtered over the fellow’s face, and he came at Sebastian wildly swinging.

  Sebastian had to get the guy on the defensive rather than the offensive, and away from Willow at all costs, so he aimed sharp, fast strikes at the man’s nose with the heel of his hand—right, left, right. He never landed a blow, but the nut did back up, so Sebastian kept doing it until they were nearly to the tr
ees on the far side of the clearing.

  Sebastian made a move to snatch the attacker’s wrist, planning to twist it until he dropped the weapon, then maybe slam his head against the trees until he stopped moving, maybe even stopped breathing, but the world kind of shimmied and he nearly fell to his knees. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself upright again.

  The psychotic Pilgrim smirked. “Give me the witch and live.”

  Sebastian gave him the finger. That should get the point across without words, since he seemed to be having some difficulty drawing a full breath. He hadn’t worked out since he’d arrived here. In his defense he’d been mighty busy with Disappearing Mary, but this fight revealed that Sebastian could not allow himself to slack off any longer. He was losing his edge.

  Sebastian had figured the finger flip would anger the fellow enough that he’d charge forward, giving Sebastian the opportunity to do the wrist twist that he’d been imagining. Instead, the guy seemed more confused than furious. He began to circle, knife out, working his way toward Willow, which was something Sebastian could not allow. Unfortunately his quick movement to prevent that made him sway like a loose branch in a high wind.

  Willow’s cry of alarm was followed by a low, rumbling bestial snarl. Was that thunder? The wind?

  His attacker’s gaze flicked to Sebastian’s right, and he blinked. “Prudence?” he asked, and then he ran.

  The pure black wolf bounded after him.

  *

  My vision had ended at the appearance of the green-eyed wolf. Apparently her name was Prudence.

  The black-clad man fled. The wolf chased. I waited for the sounds of predator on prey. I thought I might enjoy them. Then Sebastian lurched, fell, and I forgot anything else.

  I reached him in an instant, tearing open his light brown shirt, now stained maroon and glistening beneath the light of the full moon. Blood pulsed from a gash in his side to the beat of his heart. I stared at it, repelled and fascinated, and the forest around us wavered.

  “No!” I yanked my gaze away. I couldn’t afford to lose myself in a vision now.

  I pressed the lower, not yet bloodied, section of his shirt against his wound.

  “Help!” I shouted. I didn’t know what else to do. “Help us!”

  “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  Sebastian’s eyes were open, and while he appeared far too pale, he was also lucid. For now.

  “What will?”

  “Cell phone? Maybe a helicopter?”

  “Fresh out,” I said. “How about you?”

  “Left my cell in my office, and my helicopter in my alternate life.”

  If he was making a joke he couldn’t be dying, could he? Panicked, I pushed harder on his wound, and he winced.

  “Sorry!” I eased up on the pressure.

  “No.” He set his hands atop mine. “Harder is better. Pressure is good.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.” The shirt bandage was nearly soaked through. He struggled to sit up, and I felt a gush against my palm. “Stop that!”

  “We’re going to need to go somewhere else. A place with heat and light, a needle and thread.”

  I knew he was right. But—

  “Which way?”

  All around us the trees were so high and so thick that every direction appeared the same.

  The undergrowth rustled. Someone was coming. I grabbed Sebastian’s hand and set it on the cloth, then got to my feet and put myself between him and the rustle just as the wolf returned.

  She stared at me. I stared at her. “Prudence?”

  Sebastian snorted. She cast him what I thought was a disgusted glance, then dipped her snout to the ground and brought it back up. Sebastian stopped snorting.

  “I guess she’s Prudence,” I said.

  “Really?”

  “Good a name as any, and we have to call her something.”

  “Why?”

  “I think she’s here to help.”

  She dipped her head again.

  “See?”

  “She probably came back because she smelled the blood, and I was easier to catch than the other guy.”

  Prudence lifted her lip in a snarl.

  “See?” he mocked.

  “She won’t hurt us.”

  He struggled to his feet. “She tell you that?”

  I grabbed his arm before he fell back down. “I’ve seen her before.”

  “How can you be sure it was her?”

  “Those eyes aren’t the norm.”

  He squinted in the wolf’s direction. “They do look kind of…”

  “Human?”

  His squint became a frown. But he didn’t comment. What could he say? They did.

  Prudence trotted a few steps into the forest. Then she paused and glanced over her shoulder.

  “She wants us to follow.” I took his arm and started to.

  Sebastian didn’t, and since I was holding on to him, I had the choice of stopping, letting go, or dragging him along. The only real option at that point was stopping.

  “Where?” he asked. “Why?”

  “You got a better idea?”

  “Than following a wild animal deeper into a forest?”

  “We can’t just sit here. You said yourself that we need to find shelter.” And a needle and thread.

  “You think the wolf is taking us to shelter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” He sagged against me for an instant before he pulled himself upright. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

  As soon as we stepped from the clearing and into the trees, the wolf continued on. The moon, not as bright beneath the shadow of the forest as it had been in the clearing, nevertheless cast enough of a glow that we didn’t run face-first into a tree trunk.

  “Where did you see her?” Sebastian asked.

  “When I was a child she came up to my carriage.”

  “When you were a child?” he repeated. “In a carriage? And you think you remember it?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “You saw her in a vision.”

  At least he hadn’t said I thought I saw her in a vision. Progress.

  “I did.”

  “Wolves don’t live that long.”

  “You sure?”

  “I can’t Google it right now, but I will.”

  I didn’t care what he found when he searched the life expectancy of wolves. I knew those eyes; I’d seen them three times before—the first time in a vision from my childhood, the second in a vision of tonight. But the third time was what made me think this wolf was not exactly a wolf. Because those eyes were the same brilliant green orbs as those of the woman I’d seen tied to a stake and burned for a witch.

  And there was no way in hell Google was going to be able to explain that.

  *

  I’d hoped we were near a highway. Even a road would have been encouraging. No such luck.

  Sebastian leaned on me more heavily with each passing moment. I wasn’t going to be able to keep him upright much longer.

  “You’ll have to go for help,” he said.

  “No.”

  “I’m too big to carry and I’m getting weaker.”

  As if to illustrate, he stumbled and I cried out, tugging with all my might to keep him from falling. I only succeeded in hurting him. His indrawn breath seemed to slice through me like the knife had sliced into him. Because of me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I should have ass-kicked that guy into next week. I haven’t practiced enough lately. I’ve lost my edge.”

  “What edge? You’re a psychiatrist.”

  “Who studies judo. I’m not used to weapons, but that’s no excuse.”

  “You’re blaming yourself because some crazy man stabbed you?”

  “All I care about is that he didn’t stab you.”

  Though I knew that he was only speaking as a doctor for a patient or even a big man for a smaller woman and not because of everlasting love, still his words war
med me. As much as I could be warmed while soaked to the skin and walking through a late-October midnight.

  My chill wasn’t the problem. Sebastian’s was. Whenever I touched his skin, the ice of his flesh frightened me. He would soon be in shock if he wasn’t there already.

  “We should start a fire.”

  Not only for warmth, but maybe someone would see.

  “Got a match?” he asked.

  “Shit. You?”

  “No.”

  This time when he stumbled, I couldn’t keep him from going down. I went too, my knees hitting hard enough to hurt and my teeth clicked together.

  Sebastian lay on the damp earth in a tangled pile. I rolled him onto his back, calling his name, patting his cheeks, begging him to answer.

  “Shhh,” he murmured.

  I kissed him. I was so relieved.

  He started at the contact. His lips were too cool, but they warmed beneath mine, so I kept kissing him. Pretty soon he was kissing me back.

  I held his face between my palms, brushed one finger against his earring and he moaned. His hands were like ice on the back of my neck. I had to do something or he would die.

  When I pulled away, he tried to hold on, but he wasn’t strong enough to stop me, and that scared me more than anything had for a long time.

  His eyes opened. His smile was dazed and not from the kiss. I wasn’t that good at it. He tucked my hair behind my ear. “You have to go.”

  “I can’t leave you. In the dark. In the woods. All alone. What if that nut comes back?”

  “I’m more worried he’ll find you than me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Prudence licked my cheek, then nuzzled my shoulder. I should have been terrified that a wolf was so near my face. Instead I felt comforted.

  “She’ll stay,” I said. A wolf would be better protection than me anyway.

  I started to get up, and the wolf yipped and snatched my shirt, holding me down.

  “I need to find help.”

  She shook her head with my shirt still in her mouth, and the end tore just a little.

  “Or not.”

  She released me, then trotted around Sebastian and sat. Lifting her snout to the moon, she howled. I waited for the answering call of a dozen wolves. What if they appeared? Instead, she waited an instant, howled again, then laid her body along Sebastian’s and rested her snout on her paws.