He took his time in replying. “I believe it is the work of a man by the name of Hector Corinth.”
“Why would anyone want to hurt you? Because of your position?”
He smiled. “No. Because of the power I wield.” He paused. “But I suppose you could say that he has powers of his own.”
He could tell her mind was spinning, trying to understand what he was telling her. “What sort of power?” she asked curiously. “Do you refer to wealth?”
“No.” He gestured to the first portrait on the wall. “It’s something that has been bred in me for centuries, since the dawn of my ancestors. It was a gift that was given to them and passed down to me. She was the first who showed signs of this gift.”
“Who is she?” Her voice was still hesitant, wary, but there was nothing he could do to ease her mind. He feared that until Hector was dealt with, tension would continue to fill these walls.
“Her name was Roxane. My great-great-great grandfather’s mistress.”
She appeared surprised at this. “Not his wife?”
He smiled. “I can tell you’re wondering why she has a place of honor in this room if they weren’t wed.” He looked at the image. “It’s because she was the one who offered the Visigoth ancestry, the unique bloodline that binds me and all of my ancestors to Rosedale Heights.”
“What exactly are you telling me? That you’re a vampire?” She laughed, obviously hoping that he would join in on the merriment.
His lips tipped up subtly. “I can assure you there is no such folklore involved in my line. Many call it the power of wicca, but as with any gift, it comes with a price.” He sobered. “I live here in seclusion because of it.”
She stilled, her eyes widening with a mixture of horror and disbelief as she swallowed hard. “You’re not actually saying that you’re a… witch?”
He shrugged. “I suppose you could say that, but it sounds so crass, don’t you think? Especially if others might learn the truth and I find myself swinging from a noose or burned at the stake.” He lifted a brow.
She blinked. “I thought witches were female.”
“A common misperception.” His lips twitched once more, and then he sobered. “But even the threat of such a fate doesn’t concern me nearly as much as Hector. He is set to destroy everything I have built.”
“Why does he despise you so?”
“Revenge, mainly.” His eyes swirled with the tempest brewing inside him. “Because I am part of the coven that voted to send him into exile. And he believes that I possess something he wants.”
“What is that?”
He smiled slowly. “I shall not answer that question, even to satisfy your curiosity. It would be best if you didn’t know.” He paused. “What I want to know is, if Roxane is truly the one guiding you, what her purpose in doing so would be. I find it unlikely that someone from my line would be reaching out to you.” He regarded her steadily. “However, there is a way we could find out who is.” He paused. “But you would have to trust me.”
Her eyes were pools of haunting memories as she looked at him. “But why me? I’m no one of importance. I have no great social standing.”
“Perhaps not, but you can’t deny that you were sent here for a purpose, whether you want to admit it or not.” He watched her closely. “The advertisement you replied to in the paper was coded so that only someone of a special perception would be able to understand it. And now you are the one standing here in front of me.” He tilted his head to the side. “I believe you have a special gift. While I don’t believe you are a witch, I do think you possess some sort of clairvoyant abilities that are obviously of great interest to him.” He waved a hand at Roxane’s painting. “I feel he is trying to manipulate your mind, a test to see how far he can get with you.” His voice dropped. “I don’t believe he will give up easily.”
“I see.” Marlene uttered the words, but she didn’t really understand at all. She had to be dreaming. That was the only logical explanation. Things like this just didn’t happen. She didn’t believe in parlor tricks, and this went far beyond that.
Until now she’d always imagined that witches were something from folklore. She had heard of their existence through the years, but never believed in their true form. She stood silent for a moment, trying to decide whether she should run from the room and leave this place as fast and far as she could manage, or dare to remain here and become embroiled in something she had never imagined was possible. She eventually settled on the latter, because something told her this Hector Corinth was a foe that she wasn’t prepared to face alone.
Marlene put a hand to her forehead. She shook her head and moved away from him, unease settling into her core. She feared she was going to be sick. “I shouldn’t be here.”
He walked over and grasped her upper arms. His voice was fervent when he spoke. “This is exactly where you should be. Hector is a dangerous adversary. I’ve faced him in the past, and God only knows how much stronger he is now. He has the ability to change his appearance at will. You would never know if you were free of him.” His gaze softened. “If you stay here, I can protect you. But not if you leave.”
Marlene couldn’t recall the last time her head spun with this much information. She had come to the moors in Yorkshire, believing it was the only place she could start anew, but now Sir Gothry was saying things that were impossible. There was nothing special about her. And yet, the same could not be said for him.
Witch. Wicca. Whatever he chose to call himself, it was dangerous to be anywhere near those who claimed such power. People had been sent to the gallows by association alone. She could already feel the hemp rope starting to tighten about her neck, biting into her skin…
“Other than the passage in the portrait gallery and the music room, and your experience in the orangery, have you had any other unusual experiences?”
She thought of the key hidden in the lantern, and the episode that had happened in the village and decided she would omit both for now. Just as he didn’t fully trust her, she wasn’t sure she could do the same with him. “That’s all.”
“You’re certain?”
