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.