Those Who Dwell in the Thorns Read online

  Those Who Dwell in the Thorns

  By Nicolette Andrews

  Copyright 2013 Nicolette Andrews

  Smashwords edition

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Other Works by the Author

  Foreword

  As always I must first start by praising my husband and children for their understanding and love as I chase my dreams. I must also send a nod to the rest of my family for always supporting me and to my readers for their continual interest and to Nadica for her amazing covers and Pauline for her unerring editing skills.

  Chapter One

  The coach lurched, and Catherine grasped the edge of her seat, white knuckled. Across from her, Edward, her husband, startled awake and blinked at her, bleary eyed. He drew back the curtains on the coach door. Gray mist melted into the dark night outside the coach window.

  “I cannot see a thing past this mist. Though I am certain we are nearly there.” He eased back in his seat and smiled at her.

  “I am glad,” she replied.

  The coach continued to jostle and threw its occupants about the compartment. One particularly tumultuous movement flung Catherine across the space and into her husband’s lap. She blushed crimson before muttering an apology under her breath and quickly returned to her side of the compartment to study the closed curtain. She hoped he would not think her forward for falling into his lap in such an undignified fashion.

  As the lurching motion subsided, it became readily apparent they had stopped. The horses screeched, and the thud of their hooves as they pawed the ground replaced the creak of the carriage wheels.

  “Why have we stopped?” Edward mused aloud.

  Catherine, thinking her added commentary would be unwanted, remained silent.

  An animal howl echoed outside that sent gooseflesh rising along Catherine’s arms. She squeaked in alarm before clamping a hand over her mouth to stop the offending noise. The creature howled once more. Catherine shuddered. Growing up close to town had not prepared her for the wilds of country living.

  “I am going to speak with the driver.” Edward reached for the door handle. He seemed unafraid of the baying creatures of the night.

  Catherine reached for him, thinking to stop him; who knew what kind of terrible things could be lurking out in that mist. Propriety, however, dictated that she obey her husband and not try to command him on their second day of marriage. She let her husband step out of the coach. Her hand fell limply in her lap. The mist from outside blew into the coach, and a chill crept up her spine. I should call out to him, she thought. There is no need to speak with the coachmen. I am certain everything is fine.

  Yet another howl ripped through the night air, this time accompanied by a scream of terror. Catherine’s heart beat in her chest, and she pressed her knuckles to her mouth to suppress her startled cry.

  Silence hung heavy on the air.

  “Edward?” she called.

  Something sniffed around the door. She caught only the barest glimpse of an indiscernible shape through the mist before it disappeared from view. Catherine scooted along the seat and towards the door.

  “Edward, say something.”

  A moan echoed from within the mist. Catherine stood hunched over in the door to the coach, squinting into the darkness, one ear cocked for the howling creature.

  The coach rocked, and Catherine fumbled, losing her balance. She grasped the doorway for support and found it wet. She pulled her hand away, and a thick, dark liquid covered it. As if she had summoned it, the mist parted, and a gibbous moon shone down on her, illuminating the red blood. Catherine screamed and fell backwards onto the floor of the coach. She stared at the blood on her hand. Why is there blood? Oh God, please tell me this is a nightmare. She hastily wiped the warm liquid onto the jacket Edward had left draped over the coach seat. Was that Edward’s blood?

  An accompanying howl greeted her shouts, and she backed further into the carriage, fearing the howling creature and the owner of the blood alike. The creature, however, had other plans, and the carriage began to rattle and shake. The creature’s heavy breathing just on the other side of the carriage wall that Catherine had her back up against sent her heart racing. In a rash and foolish decision, she fled the carriage, hoping the mist would hide her from the creature’s attentions.

  She managed only a few panicked feet before stumbling and falling. She rose to her knees. A giving substance met her grasping hands, and she prayed silently that it was not what she feared.

  Despite great hesitance, she looked down at the profile of the footman, his throat opened and skin peeled back.

  Too terrified to scream, she scuttled away from the corpse. All sound seemed lodged in her throat.

  A flash of shadow in the night drew her eye, and she watched a lumbering figure move through the mist. The gait of it was humanoid but hunched forward, its hands almost dragging upon the ground. The clouds moved in front of the moon, blocking her view just as the creature let out a guttural howl.

  I will be next! she thought.

  Without seeing it, she could sense the creature pacing her, circling, waiting for the kill. Too late she realized she should never have left the relative safety of the carriage. Dear god, help me. She prayed.

  The crunch of footsteps on the gravel alerted her to its presence, and she twirled to face the creature. Like a rabbit before the fox, she stood entranced by the beast. The figure loomed closer, seemingly losing some of its grandeur before it stumbled forward out of the mist, and she raised her hands to protect herself.

  It collapsed beside her, the gravel crunched beneath it, and Catherine opened her eyes to see Edward lying face down. He seemed whole but for a tear on his sleeve and a long gash beneath it.

  “Edward,” she shook him, “wake up.” It went against her every instinct to command her husband in such a way, but the will to survive superseded propriety in this case.

  He mumbled something she could not make out because the creature howled again. Its stumbling gait thundered around them, crunching the gravel on the road. She whipped her head around, catching brief snatches of the creature, the gleam of a yellow eye and a human-like hand covered entirely in fur.

  Catherine tried to urge Edward to his feet, but he moved as if he’d had too many spirits.

  “The monster,” he moaned as he leaned on Catherine’s shoulder. “Father warned me, but I never listened.”

  Catherine paid no mind to his ravings because the creature drew closer. She cast about for a place to escape. The carriage was not far, and if she could just get Edward inside, perhaps they could stave off the monster’s attacks until someone came to their rescue. But who will save us? she thought desperately.

  She tugged at her fumbling husband. He fell to his knees and collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The creature brushed past them in the mist, and she felt the bristled fur along her hand. The rattle of the creature’s breath crept over her skin. She looked down at Edward, thinking to abandon him or prepare to die together.
The pale light coming from the light behind the clouds silhouetted the creature as it loped away before turning back and stalking closer to them.

  It is playing with us, she realized. It tilted its head back, howling once more, and Catherine closed her eyes. If the monster had enough time to taunt them, then there was no way to escape. She slumped to the ground in defeat. A sharp yelp of pain surprised her, however, and she opened her eyes.

  A second figure stood between Catherine, Edward and the monster. He twirled a staff in front of him as he and the monster sidestepped one another.

  The new figure jabbed at the monster with his staff while skirting a swipe of the human-like appendages, which glinted with elongated nails. The creature snarled and lunged for the man, for it was clear he was a man. He twirled away from the creature like a dancer she had once seen at a show in town.

  The monster snarled, revealing a row of pointed teeth. Catherine tried not to imagine those teeth tearing into her flesh and devouring her. The man continued to sidestep in front of Catherine and Edward. The monster launched itself at him, and he spun away and struck the monster on the back. It lost its balance and skidded on the gravel of the road.

  It landed with all its appendages on the ground, back arched and teeth bared. The monster roared, and it seemed to echo inside her skull. The man spread his legs in a defensive stance and prepared for the monster’s attack. As it had done before, the animal lunged towards him, this time he did not move out of its path. They met and the force of the impact threw the man backwards by a few feet, though he did not lose his balance. He pushed the creature back, and it landed on its legs in a crouch as if preparing for another assault.

  The man, seemingly tired of games, struck the creature first. The blows landed in quick succession to its abdomen, the head and the ribs. The creature reared back and roared once more, but Catherine almost imagined she heard defeat in its tone and not challenge. Sure enough, it eyed the man and then tilted its head as if hearing some silent message. It snarled in their direction before backing up and disappearing into the mist.

  Catherine watched it disappear but could hardly believe her eyes. The howl sounded in the distance, and she allowed herself to relax by a measure. Their savior turned his attention back to Edward and her. He walked over to them, the stick slung over his shoulder. His shirt appeared unruffled and his person untaxed by the exertion. The moon chose once more to illuminate the scene and revealed a slender man with long, dark hair pulled into a tail at the base of his neck. His olive skin was exotic to her eye, and a pearl-drop earring glinted at his left earlobe.

  The moon illuminated his features, and he grinned rakishly. Catherine lowered her gaze, thinking it improper to stare and hoping he had not seen her surveying him.

  “Miss, are you injured?” he asked, kneeling beside her and the unconscious Edward.

  “Fine, thank you.” She bit her lip. Now that they were in no immediate danger, she felt unsure and embarrassed. Before this gypsy, for that is what she assumed him to be, arrived, she had been thinking of abandoning her husband to the beast.

  “That’s good and him?” He motioned towards Edward as if reading her thoughts.

  She could not help but note the fluid way in which he moved. How can you admire this stranger when your husband lay unconscious!

  “I believe he is fine. Though, we should seek medical aid. But the coachman and footman—” Her stomach constricted upon realizing, and she could not finish her sentence. It did not seem to matter, however, because the gypsy man was gazing into the mist, and she feared the creature had returned.

  “They’ll come for you soon, but you should be safe here for now.”

  Not normally one to speak out of turn, she could not help but do so, given the circumstances. “Should we not go for help immediately? My husband is injured, and those men are—dead.”

  “You’ll be safer here,” he repeated, “haven’t you heard the old saying: you should never go travelling on the night of a Thorn Dwellers’ moon?”

  She furrowed her brows and tried to say she had never heard such a thing, but a strange wooziness had overcome her.

  “Time to sleep now, miss, and you’ll feel much better.”

  The stranger grew fuzzy as Catherine struggled to keep her eyes open. Now was hardly the time for a nap. Edward needed medical attention, and that monster could still be skulking about.

  “I should not, I—” She yawned, and the stranger kneeled beside her once more, peering at her. He had dark liquid eyes that reminded her of twin forest pools.

  “You’re stronger than I thought you would be. This spell is supposed to be instantaneous. But I guess it’s no surprise, really.”

  She framed another question, her mouth circling preparing the syllables, but all that came out was a yawn, and the cloak of sleep enveloped her.

  Chapter Two

  Breakfast entailed a long table draped in white linen, with three footmen and the housekeeper standing over her as she ate. Catherine stared down at her platter. The eggs and toast she had selected had appeared much more appetizing when the footmen had first served them. However, when she picked up her fork, preparing to skewer her food, a funny notion came over her.

  She set down her fork and turned to look at the servants. The first footman rushed forward.

  “Is there anything you need, mistress?” he said with a disinterested tone.

  Catherine glanced down at her platter. The soft-boiled egg the servant ladled onto her plate had a broken yoke. Bright yellow bled over the blue pattern upon the china. I had a thought just now as if I were somewhere else, but I cannot recall.

  “Mistress?” the servant prompted once more with a hint of agitation in his voice.

  “Will Mr. Thornton be coming down to breakfast?” Catherine said after a long pause.

  The servant furrowed his brow and said, “The master never takes breakfast in the dining hall.”

  Catherine blushed, feeling a fool for asking something the servant considered obvious. There was still much to learn about her husband, she realized. Again, that funny sensation would not leave her. The footman had taken a step back as she said, “Is my husband well?”

  “Is he well, mistress?” the footman said with an arched brow.

  An image of Edward lying unconscious on the ground beside her flashed through her mind. Catherine shook the thought away, perhaps a lingering nightmare, nothing more. “I meant to say, it is not good for him to skip meals.”

  “He does not, mistress,” the head housekeeper said as she stepped into the dining hall. Her severe bun and long-sleeved, high-collared dress recalled a governess Catherine had been terrified of as a child.

  Catherine sank down in her chair as the woman surveyed her. “Pardon?” she squeaked.

  “The master eats his morning meal in the study, he does not skip meals.”

  Once again, Catherine felt shamed into foolishness. Of course he did not skip meals.

  The housekeeper continued, seemingly without noticing Catherine’s silent reproach of herself. “The master will be busy tending to his affairs today and wishes that you be at your leisure.” Her lip curled as if the very idea of relaxation was repulsive to her. “He asked that I send you his love, and he said he will join you for supper.”

  “That would be pleasing,” she said, hoping that would be an appropriate response. What did the wife of a gentleman of Edward’s stature do with her day? She peered at her eggs once more. She had no stomach for them after all.

  She pushed back her chair, or attempted to, as a servant ran forward and scooted it back for her. She fumbled, unprepared for the assistance, and the footman steadied her with a gloved hand.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He nodded and stepped back in line with the other two footmen. It would take some getting used to the servants. Back home, they had only the cook and one housemaid and Catherine still helped with a good amount of the light house chores—sewing and mending, meal planning and the like.
She wondered how Mother and Father were getting along without her.

  “If you are finished eating, mistress, why not take a walk in the gardens?” the housekeeper said, her arms folded over her chest.

  “I thought to speak with you on household management. What is expected of me?”

  Her expression gave nothing away, but her pause indicated she had not expected the inquiry. “Do not trouble yourself, mistress. I have always managed things here at Thornwood Manor. If there is an important decision on décor or china, I shall consult you.”

  I suspect she thinks little of my intellect. Only in her thoughts could Catherine dare to be so tart. She longed for the ability to speak her mind, but the moment passed, and the housekeeper, presumably, had better things to do and headed to the door.

  “Very well, I shall take a walk, then,” Catherine said to her retreating back.

  The housekeeper stopped at the door leading to the kitchen and said, “Make sure you stay clear of the woods by the south end. They are wild, and there’s no cleared path.”

  “Thank you for your kind advice.” Catherine made a note to stay clear of that area. She had never like wooded areas; they gave her an odd feeling.

  After donning a pair of boots and an outdoor coat provided and draped upon her shoulders by her maid, Catherine strolled along the well-maintained garden path. A lingering fog clung close to the ground, swirling about her ankles. The gravel path crunched beneath her boots. Gray dominated the scenery but for the green of the lawn and the shrubbery that fought the encroaching fog.

  The heavy fog tickled at her recollection, and that same odd feeling overcame her. She turned a corner, contemplating the notion, when the chatter of two women stopped her in her tracks.

  “I cannot understand it, Miss West. Why would someone of the master’s status marry such a girl?”

  “I have not the slightest, Miss Brown. The way I heard it, he got this funny idea in his head one day to visit his mother’s cousin. Then not a week later, he was off. Next we heard he’s married some girl!”

  “Have you seen her yet?” Miss Brown whispered.