Acknowledgments
Sending a shout out to my team: My PA Becky Hodges, Lizzy, Shoshanah, Justinn, Sean, Jen, and Therese. You all keep me sane–relatively, because, let's be honest, what is even sanity for an author–and on track. Thank you so much for all the things you do for me.
I want to thank my ARC/Proofer team for finding all those pesky typos. And I want to especially send a shout out to those typos that–despite everyone's best efforts–still sneak through. There aren't many, but every once in a while the tenacious things pop up.
Dear readers, thank you so much for your reviews, the time you take to devour my books, and the messages asking for more. I appreciate you more than you can ever know.
Stay safe out there.
Chapter 1
Price
Aaron looked so happy and carefree as he kicked the soccer ball, encouraging the kids he coached as they ran around the field. The morning was relatively cool, and I'd gotten up to spend a little time with him. Aaron wasn't about to turn me into a morning person, but I could certainly make the effort now and again. I admired the way his lean muscles were so perfectly defined, and I couldn't help my imagination as I mentally undressed him, just a little bit. He didn't go around shirtless much, selfconscious of the white markings on his dark skin, signs of his angelic blood, but I'd seen it enough to want more.
Of course, the kids had given him all sorts of crap for bringing his 'girlfriend' to the practice. He'd taken it well.
We were getting a late breakfast after practice. Then I had to swing by my restaurant for a few hours and get some paperwork done. Then, this evening, Mal, my official boyfriend, and I were going to get Sabian back.
A month and a half ago I'd been happily alone, just running my pizza shop and keeping myself happy with my vibrator. Then Darius, my very complicated sorta best friend, had wandered back into my life with a problem he couldn't solve. An exorcism he couldn't handle. See, I'm an exorcist. Probably one of the best. He's no slouch, but I'm better. He's the one that dragged me into the occult life when we were both teens. He still blamed himself for all the chaos and complications, good times and heartache that had followed. Truth be told, it wasn't all his fault, and I didn't regret most of it.
With Darius back in my life, things had gone from simple to complicated in hours. I'd needed a spell to help exorcise the demon from the charm and
that search had led me straight into the arms of Malak Naji. Turns out he's a damn fine lover, and a vampire. He'd worked his way into my pants and my heart courtesy of Sabian, the demon we'd had to exorcise from the charm. He turned out to be an incubus. A starving one.
Long story short, Darius had decided we needed Sabian's help and left him with me. The incubus had also worked his way into my heart, and then I'd accidently banished him back to hell in a fight with a demon prince. See, I'd nearly died. To save me, Sabian's Prince, Ezra, had possessed me. Yeah, that's right, an exorcist who's been possessed. It didn't entirely suck, because of the circumstances. Ezra had promised to behave while he saved my life, and he'd delivered. Maybe a little too well, because I missed him, too. Still, Sabian was my demon and I wanted him back. Fortunately, so did Mal. Despite my assurances to Darius that I wasn't going to call Sabian back, well, I'd lied. The fight with the demon prince had drained me pretty badly, and I'd needed some time to recover before I did any magic, let alone something as complicated as summoning a specific demon. I just hoped he wanted to be here. I thought he did, but I had no way of knowing for sure until I brought him back.
Aaron was a Nephilim, though he hadn't known until a few weeks ago that he had angel blood. The bad guys had tried to use him to summon a prince that they could bind into service. We'd gotten there just in time to save him and stop their plan. Now he and I were slowly exploring the possibilities of a relationship together. We liked each other and, as Mal had said, surrounding myself with powerful men wasn't necessarily a bad idea. So, I got to date multiple guys. Mal, Sabian when we got him back, Aaron, and Ezra a small voice whispered, adding the demon prince to my list. I shied away from the idea of the demon prince. Surely that was simply too crazy, even for me.
Still, something was coming. Something big. We needed to be prepared for whatever it was. Aaron's resistance to most demonic powers would be really useful. Mal was a vampire and an occultist. Sabian was an incubus, and while he wasn't super useful in a fight, he knew more about the demons we might encounter than anyone else. Ezra was a powerful prince, and if nothing else, he was on our side in this coming conflict.
Me, well, I was a wild card. I had untapped abilities Mal wanted to help me learn to use, and I was an exorcist. Somehow, we'd defeat whatever came our way. Hopefully.
A younger kid, belonging to one of the parents watching their children from the bleachers a short distance away, ran up to me.
"Can I pet your dog?"
"Dog? Oh, Mayhem. Yeah, sure. Come here, buddy."
The small yellow Pomeranian trotted over and let the kid pet him. Did I forget to mention Prince Ezra had gifted me with a hellhound? A demonic dog who had chosen a puffball as his earthly form. I had no idea why. Still, his hellhound form was much more impressive, and he packed a punch in a fight.
The parents were taking turns giving me some serious side-eye. I'd taken the time to spike up my bleached blond hair in a small mohawk. The sides were shaved close, and I wore a tank top that showed off a lot of my ink. I had protective runes worked in with the newer knotwork designs and the older punk symbols all over my arms and torso. My acid washed, ripped up jeans covered the runes on my legs, and I currently sat on my new leather jacket. It was a light one, gifted to me by my employees at the pizza parlor. It was almost identical to the one the demons had shredded last month, with the anarchy symbol on the front and the pizza logo for my restaurant on the back. This one had the updated logo though. After I'd banished a demon in front of most of my employees, they'd changed the décor a bit. This logo had an upside-down pentagram emblazoned on the pizza. I'd let them run with it, and now the shop had both an 80's theme–just like the owner–and a slightly demonic one.
I owned my throwback to the 80's punk scene and didn't care what the parents thought. Hopefully, Aaron didn't care, either, because I suspected at least a few of the parents were going to object to me. Whatever.
Aaron wiped some sweat from his brow and called the kids over. They huddled, cheered, and slapped hands, and then dispersed. Parents collected their kids and I stood and went over to Aaron to help him pack up the cones and other gear they'd used.
"I don't think the parents like me, mate," I said when I got over to him.
Aaron shrugged, and I admired his tall, muscular frame. He wore a Tshirt that covered the white eye markings that stood out sharply against his dark skin. He also had wing "tattoos" on his back. They weren't actually tattoos, but it was what he told anyone who asked. They were the physical clues to his angelic blood. He also had some undisclosed abilities, along with the ability to tell if people were lying or not.
"They probably wouldn't approve of me, if they knew I wasn't just a scientist and a soccer coach. They'll get over it."
"Especially if they knew you were consorting with demons and vampires." I grinned.
"And exorcists." He pulled me into a quick hug despite the sweat that slicked his skin and I leaned into him.
"Bored out of your mind yet?" he asked.
"Naw, I enjoyed watching you run around playing sportsball."
He chuckled and stepped away. "Here, you try." He kicked the ball over to me.
I vaguely remembered some stuff from school gym classes, but I'd never been much into team sports. Track relay teams were as close as I'd gotten. Still, I managed to stop the ball and kick it back to him.
He laughed. "Let me show you."
"Mmm, getting coached now. Excellent." I gave him a suggestive look. His laugh deepened. Aaron gave me a few instructions, and pretty soon we were kicking the ball back and forth, laughing until the morning sun got too hot and I held up my hands for mercy. "Let's get food before we get too sweaty to be in public."
Aaron gave me a suggestive look. "Or we could get sweaty not in public."
"I'd be down," I returned his banter. We weren't sleeping together yet. I think Aaron was still trying to get used to the idea that Mal didn't mind. To be fair, I was still trying to get used to the idea that Mal didn't mind. It was easier to believe that Sabian wouldn't care. Incubus and all. Mal was a centuries old–he still hadn't fessed up on how old he really was–Arabic vampire. Who, somehow, was probably more liberal than I was in a lot of ways.
Aaron leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. I'd have deepened it, but I figured it was possible some of the parents were still around. They got weird about shit like that.
"So, breakfast? Where are you taking me?" I nudged him as we gathered the rest of the equipment.
Fortunately, there was a small locker area at the park that the club used for storage. Otherwise, when Aaron's house had burned down when the bad guys had tried to sacrifice him, they would have lost all their gear.
"How about The Back Porch?"
"Yeah, sounds good. Love that place. I'm just not usually awake early enough to go."
Aaron chuckled. "Well, I'm not trying to change you, Chris. But maybe once in a while I can convince you to get up early."
"I can probably manage that," I agreed. "I love their crepes."
Aaron nodded. "Best in town."
We headed over to his car after stowing the gear and I got into the passenger seat. Mayhem hopped onto my lap and I really hoped he was using whatever ability he had to avoid notice. I really didn't want people to think I was that person. Why had he chosen a purse dog form? Why... Oh well.
We weren't far from our destination and Mayhem was clearly doing his invisible dog thing, because no one noticed when he followed us into the restaurant.
The hostess was older, and openly stared at me and Aaron with something akin to horror on her face. I had to laugh because I couldn't tell what part of me and Aaron had her most horrified. It was probably my hair, though.
"Price, that you?"
"None other, mate." I turned toward the voice and grinned at Charles, the owner of this place. Most of the small restaurant owners in this area knew each other at least somewhat.
"Who's your friend?" Charles was an older, portly man, with a kind smile and an easy way about him that had always made me comfortable.
"Charles, this is Aaron. Charles owns the place," I explained.
"The food here is wonderful. I come in a lot," Aaron said, shaking Charles' hand.
"I'm glad to hear it. I keep trying to get Chris to join us for breakfast, but she claims she's never awake."
"It's true. Made a special exception for today."
"She must like you then," Charles said to Aaron.
Aaron ducked his head, a pleased grin on his face. "It seems she does."
"Well, I'll let you two get settled. I just wanted to say hi since I had a moment."
"Nice to see you, Charles."
"You, too, Price. I'll come by sometime soon. Hear you redecorated."
My eyes widened in shock and I sorta choked on a reply I couldn't quite make before I found my voice. "Um, yeah. Billy did, anyway."
"The kids were telling me about it. They love it. It'll probably get some interesting reactions from the older crowd."
"You know me. Don't give a damn what other people think."
Charles chuckled. "One of your more refreshing qualities."
"Thanks for that."
He waved and headed back into the kitchen.
Aaron chuckled and held my seat out for me. I let him. The hostess seemed to have gotten her dislike under control and had a neutral expression on her face now. She handed over our menus and left us alone.
"Do you get that a lot?" Aaron asked.
"Knowing the other restaurant folks, or the weird looks from the older crowd?"
"Well, both I guess."
I laughed. "Yes to the first. Most of us in the downtown area know each other, and to the latter, yeah, but the horror factor goes up if I do my hair."
Aaron smiled. "I like it."
"Good thing."
He nodded agreement.
Our waiter came over and we ordered and pretty soon I was enjoying some of the best crepes in town and sneaking a few bites to the damn hellhound.
"Looking forward to having Sabian back?" Aaron asked once we were mostly done with our breakfast.
"Yeah. I just hope we can pull it off. Neither of us have, uh, done this before." I stopped myself before admitting I was about to try and summon a demon in public. There were people close enough they could possibly overhear. It would be awkward enough if it got out that I was an exorcist. Though at the rate things were going, that was probably inevitable.
Aaron nodded. "I miss him, too. He's fun to have around."
"You going to stick around tonight?"
He nodded. "Just in case you need some of my…" He hesitated glancing around and shaking his head. "Abilities."
"Good. Hopefully won't be necessary but always good to have you around."
The waiter brought us our check and I grabbed it before Aaron could. He accepted my claiming of the bill, and I went to pay.
"I'll leave the tip then," Aaron offered, throwing cash on the table.
I nodded and after I took care of the bill we headed back out. The heat was building, and I considered taking off my jacket, but no, the last one had saved me enough times, I'd deal with the sweat.
"You still want to run by your restaurant?"
I needed to, but I kind of just wanted to go home for a few minutes first. I could grab my car and then Aaron wouldn't be stuck waiting on me.
"Let's go home first."
"Sounds good."
We fell into a comfortable silence while Aaron drove a little way out of town back to my place. He was living with me while they worked on rebuilding his house. He'd offered to pay rent. I'd told him to keep the pantry stocked and we'd call it even. The house was paid for, so money wasn't really an issue.
I saw Mal's car in the driveway sitting next to mine when we pulled in. Then I saw Mal.
"Oh, that's not fair," I muttered, as my ovaries wept with joy and I cursed the hours before I might have a chance to get him all to myself.
"What is he doing?"
"Sword forms." Not only was my nerdy warrior vampire doing sword forms, but he was doing them shirtless, and I had to tear my eyes away from the view before I drooled on myself.
"Your boyfriend is a scary son of a bitch," Aaron stated as he parked the car.
"Yeah, probably a good thing he likes us."
"Yeah," Aaron agreed quietly.
Shit. Here I was drooling over the view, and Aaron was intimidated. I was so not good at this relationship stuff. Still, I could try.
We got out and I went over to Aaron and slid my arm around his waist. He hugged me back a bit hesitantly.
Mal finished his form and glanced over at us, his face lighting up in a broad smile. Aaron loosened his hold on me, but I kept my arm around him. Mal didn't even act like he noticed, just coming over and slapping Aaron–and clearly ignoring the shock Aaron's angelic nature caused the vampire
when he touched the other man–on the shoulder before giving me a quick kiss on the forehead.
We followed him inside the blessed air conditioning, and he put his sword down on the table by the front door. I didn't know a ton about swords, but that didn't look like a practice blade.
"Swords now?" I asked as I unashamedly stared at his ass while I followed him further into the house.
"I'm out of practice." He shrugged, the muscles in his back rippling with the motion. "If things keep going the way they have been, it wouldn't hurt to brush up on my sword work."
I was itching to make a dirty joke about sword work, but I refrained. I also managed to keep my hands off him, though I did sigh in disappointment when he pulled a T-shirt on that he'd left in the living room.
Mal glanced at me, arching an eyebrow.
I shrugged helplessly. Sabian's incubus charms weren't even responsible at the moment. Still, between the eye candy Aaron presented and Mal's presence, I couldn't be blamed for being turned on all the time. Could I?
The vampire grinned at me, certainly knowing exactly what was going on in my head. His extra senses could pick up on so much that a normal person would have missed.
"Have a good breakfast?" Mal asked when I stepped away from Aaron to go get a glass of water from the kitchen.
"Yeah, delicious," I answered.
Aaron sat in the armchair he preferred, and I brought him a glass of water, as well.
"Thanks, Chris."
"Sure, mate."
"So, what are you up to for the rest of the day, Aaron?" Mal sank down onto the couch.
I curled up on the other end, not completely sure I'd keep my hands off of Mal if I got too close.
"I've got to deal with the insurance company some more." Aaron sighed. "Why, what's up?"
"Thought I might see if you wanted to learn to use a sword. Could come in handy."
Aaron raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure. That sounds really interesting."
My heart skipped a beat. Wouldn't that be delicious to watch.
Mal shot a sly smirk my way before he turned his attention back to Aaron. "We can start this afternoon. I need to head into the shop for a little while, anyway."
Mal co-owned an occult store with a woman named Olivia. I was supposed to go hang out with her at some point soon, but I'd been avoiding that. She was pretty awesome, but I still felt weird about it. No idea why. Olivia did most of the work at the shop but Mal did spend some time there.
"That sounds great, Mal. Thank you," Aaron said.
"Cool. I gotta head to the restaurant for a bit. You boys have fun and I'll see you in a few hours."
I got up, telling my ovaries to shut it for a while, and headed back outside.
The trip to work was short and did nothing to curb my desire, but the flashing red and blue lights at the shop cooled my ardor pretty fast. What the hell now?
Chapter 2
Price
There was an ambulance, a fire truck, and a cop car all crammed into the parking lot. It looked like some sort of medical thing, as a few paramedics were crouched over someone prone on the ground.
I parked quickly and hurried over.
"What happened?" I didn't see Billy and thought that was strange. Normally he would have been around for something like this.
My phone vibrated and I pulled it out. It was Billy's number.
"Who are you?" The paramedic gave me an appraising look.
"Owner. Just got here."
"We're not sure. We just got here a few minutes ago. Seems like the guy passed out at the doorway."
"Oh." Oh, shit. The wards.
Billy ran outside, keeping me between him and the unconscious guy on the ground.
Yeah, that guy was probably possessed or something.
"Hey, Boss. Yeah, so that guy just kinda acted like he bounced off of nothing then passed out on the ground." He twisted his hands together. Billy knew what that meant. So did the rest of my staff. That's probably why they'd been hiding inside.
I nodded and knelt next to the unconscious dude. Mayhem was at my side and he must have done something because the paramedics didn't question me as I murmured a reveal spell, just in case it was one of the delinquents from last month sporting a demon imbued charm. I didn't have the normal components of the spell, but it worked, anyway. The spell
tugged my hand toward the guy's wrist. Bingo. I yanked the bracelet off, though the host didn't react.
Since the last time I'd done this had put me in pretty close contact with the demon inside the charm, I'd increased my personal wards with Mal's help to prevent that from happening again. I could feel the demon squirming around inside the charm, but it couldn't contact me otherwise unless I allowed it.
The paramedics, oblivious to my interference, got the guy on the stretcher and rolled him toward the ambulance.
"Thanks, Mayhem."
The Pomeranian shaped hellhound wagged his tail.
I slipped the charm inside a silk lined bag and shoved it in my jacket pocket. Right next to the holy water.
Now I wished I'd gotten a chance to find out the easier way to get Prince Ezra's demons out of these charms. He'd said he had a better way, but I hadn't had the time to follow up on that conversation. Maybe I'd just ask Aaron to melt the thing. His angelic nature put a serious hurt on the charms, and it was easier than sacrificing a crystal to the cause. Especially since I didn't have any handy. Of course, I seemed to recall Aaron saying it hurt like a bitch, so maybe I should have Mal bring some crystals home with him. Then we'd have options.
"So, that's it then?" Billy asked once the paramedics had left. "Just take a bracelet off of him and he's good?"
"Yeah, this is one of the creeps sporting a demon in a charm. I'll take care of the actual demon when I'm done here."
"It's safe?"
"The bag I put it in is sealed with a containment spell. It'll stay isolated in there until I can release it later. Send it back to hell and all." I shrugged.
Billy shook his head. "That is so cool."
"Naw, it's bloody scary is what it is."
"You're not scared," he pointed out.
"Got a good poker face. Come on, let's look at that paperwork you wanted to show me."
He nodded, not questioning me further. "Oh, Chris, the new shirts came in. I've been handing them out."
"Great. Any of the customers freak out yet?"
Billy chuckled and shook his head. "Think we'll get a few, but most everyone loves it."
"I'm sure I'm going to hell for a lot of things I've done, but this might be the icing on the cake."
Billy shot me a concerned look. I shrugged in reply.
I followed Billy inside, hoping that the containment spell on the bag I'd put the charm in worked as advertised and I wasn't about to get zapped by my own wards. Fortunately, I'd done my job and I passed inside to the blessed air conditioning with no issue.
The smell of marinara, garlic, and yeasty dough chased the dry desert scents away, lifting me up and making my stomach grumble as if I hadn't eaten a huge breakfast not that long ago.
I waved to a few of my staff and caught a few curious looks from some of the customers who probably weren't regulars as we went through the dining area and into the kitchen.
The cooks worked with a cheerful banter and other than a quick wave, I left them to it. The restaurant was busy with the early lunch crowd.
"Hey, where's Sabian. We haven't seen in him in a while and were concerned."
I used to have a rule about not bringing people I was seeing around the shop. Part of that was my questionable taste in men, and part of it was that I knew nothing would be permanent, anyway, so why have them come around. That had changed with Sabian, Mal, and Aaron and I was pretty sure the staff had figured out that I was seeing all of them, and that the guys didn't mind. Especially since we all ate here often enough together as it was. Well, Mal just drank whatever struck his fancy, being a vampire and all. Sadly, pizza didn't agree with him. His one shortcoming so far.
"Sabian had a family emergency. He will hopefully be back soon." I crossed my fingers that soon would be tonight as we headed into the office I shared with Billy. He was doing more and more of the administrative stuff I hated, and I'd given him an appropriate raise to make up for it. He said he didn't mind. I couldn't understand how he liked doing it, but as long as it got done and Billy was happy, that was the important part.
"Here." Billy tossed a shirt at me.
It was my size, one of the V-necked cuts, and black with a pepperoni pizza on the chest and an upside-down pentagram emblazoned on the pizza.
I laughed. "These are perfect. Hang on a sec, I'm going to throw this on real quick."
Yep, definitely going to hell, but at least I was going to look unique doing it.
I slipped out to the bathroom, did a quick change, and came back. "What do you think?"
Billy grinned approval. "It's great, Boss. Okay, here are the numbers." He thrust some paperwork at me, and I did my best not to let my eyes glaze over.
∞ ∞ ∞
When I got home, I got the eye candy I had not so secretly hoped for. I wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve a man, or vampire, like Mal in my life, but he had not failed on his promise to teach Aaron about swords.
And Aaron was as fine a sight as Mal, just in different ways. Muscular, but tall and lean, his dark skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. He'd even shed his shirt in the relative privacy of my front yard and the white wing markings draped down his back just begged me to run my fingers, or maybe my tongue, over them. The eyes on his pecs and biceps were a little creepy, but still pretty awesome.
Mal was showing Aaron what I gathered were the basics and he seemed like he had picked it up quickly. They flowed through a few positions before Mal called a halt to the lesson.
Sometime during my admiration of the eye candy, I'd managed to get parked and get out of my car, and they both came over to me. Mal hung back and I pulled Aaron down for a kiss before going over to Mal and doing the same with him.
"Having fun?" I asked Aaron.
"Yeah. Mal's a good teacher." Aaron grinned at the vampire. "He puts up with my fumbles."
Mal shrugged. "Aaron, you've never held a sword before. You're doing quite well. Better than most, in fact. You may have some innate abilities from your angelic blood that give you an edge with a sword."
I chuckled.
Mal gave me a long-suffering look. "No pun intended." Aaron grinned and nodded, accepting Mal's assessment.
"I still need to talk to my folks about that one," Aaron muttered. "Good luck with that," I replied.
Aaron hunched his shoulders.
"Oh," I added as we went inside, Mayhem on my heels. "I got another demon charm we need to get rid of." I'd forgotten to text Mal about bringing crystals home. Damn it. "I'm going to go put it in the basement. We'll have to take care of that before we try to summon Sabian back."
Neither of them replied right away and I headed for the basement. Since I'd dug up all of my occult tools, the basement looked a little different than it had a few weeks ago.
Mal had put some heavy-duty wards on the workspace and it had a quiet quality I'd not been able to achieve on my own. Though I knew the vampire had centuries of practice under his belt, it bugged me that his wards were so much better than mine. Still, I was grateful.
Aaron had found a few antique bookshelves and a workbench for me somewhere and they fit right into the workspace. I'd happily placed my collection of books and tools on the shelves and in the cabinet Mal had turned up with.
I scanned the workspace, making sure I didn't notice anything out of place, then stepped over the silver circle inlayed into the concrete floor. I had sealed the concrete so that I could easily draw on it and remove the markings later. Sealing it also made up for some of the porous nature of the material and made it safer to work. I tugged the bag out of my pocket and opened it, cracking the seal on the spell. I'd have to reset it, but it had done its job quite well.
As soon as the seal opened, exposing the demon imbued charm to the protective circle, I felt the protections snap to life. I shook the charm, a simple solid circle of silver, out on the workbench and left it there. I could pass through the circle with only minor disruption because I no longer held the charm.
"I'll be back down to set you straight in a few, demon," I said, not knowing if the creature could hear me, and hoping it wanted to go home.
Throwing the bag on the other work bench, the one outside the protective circle, I made a mental note to recharge it. I did have a couple more that I'd prepared and now that I knew they worked like a charm–ha ha–I would make others. I took one of the intact pouches and put it in my pocket in case I needed it and headed upstairs.
Mal, bless him, had started something for dinner and I thought I heard the guest room shower running. Aaron, cleaning up.
I headed for the kitchen.
Mal had not put his shirt on, and he was standing in front of the oven, cooking something delicious smelling on the stovetop.
There was no way I could sneak up on him, so I didn't hesitate to come up behind the vampire, slide my arms around him, and press myself against his muscular back.
He rumbled in pleasure, trapping my hands with one of his.
I leaned against him for a few moments, just taking in his scent, spicy incense combined with the scent of old books, and let it soothe me.
"Ready for tonight?" he asked quietly while he stirred whatever he was cooking.
"Yeah, I am." I was surprised to find that was the truth. I'd recovered from getting blasted with Ezra's energy during the fight and, while I'd done a few small things like the spells on the bags, I hadn't really stretched my magical muscles since then. It was time.
I'd also almost managed to admit to myself that whatever I was doing was magic. I still shied away from that label, but it was getting harder to deny that I had magical talents. The ability to perform an exorcism wasn't innately tied to magic, I didn't think, but because I had that extra something running through my veins, it made me better at it.
When I'd gotten into the occult as a teen, I hadn't really thought about magic as anything other than something out of a fantasy novel. I wondered what some of my old crowd would think if they knew. Sure, I'd learned a few spells over the years, and I'd even called it magic, but I hadn't really thought of it in those terms, if that made any sense.
Mal took one of my hands from his waist and kissed my wrist. "You're thinking awfully hard."
"Sorry, just want my incubus back," I replied. "Guess I'm nervous."
He nipped at my wrist gently and I groaned in response as my body, already hot and bothered from being wrapped around my vampire, tightened in all sorts of interesting places.
"Hungry?" I managed, voice gone hoarse.
"Mmm, maybe later," Mal replied. "Just teasing you right now."
"It's working."
"I know." The certainty in his voice was so intoxicating.
"I can't just get a quicky, can I?"
"Not if you want dinner to turn out better than your last attempt at cooking."
"I hit the wrong button on the toaster. I can cook, Malak."
He chuckled. "I believe you, my dear exorcist. You do own a pizza parlor, after all."
"I make a damn fine pizza," I grumbled into his back, whimpering as he bit me again. This time I felt fang. "Fuck, mate, you're going to have to deliver if you're going to tease me like that." I nearly dropped my free hand down to the front of his pants to tease him back, but I thought I heard the door to the guest room open.
"I intend to," Mal answered, voice low. He released my hand and I slowly unwrapped myself from the vampire. "Dinner," he whispered softly, "then some demon summoning, then some hopefully celebratory sex. I'm sure Sabian won't mind."
I laughed and headed for the cabinet where the dishes were so I could set the table. Mayhem trotted along behind me, my constant shadow these days.
Aaron came into the kitchen just as I was putting out plates for both of us.
"Anything I can do to help?" he offered.
"Think I've got everything," I said.
Mal brought over the pan and set something creamy looking on a hot pad. He put a bowl down for Mayhem, too. Obviously not food for a regular dog but so far our hellhound seemed happy to eat whatever we were having for a meal.
"Mal, why do you know how to cook?" Aaron asked once we were all seated.
Mal joined us as usual, a mug of coffee cradled in his hands.
"I enjoy it." He shrugged. "I guess I got into the habit years back when I was looking after a friend of mine for quite a while. He was human but couldn't cook for himself. Since my sense of smell is so good, I can tell when things are done and spiced properly and all of that. It's nice to have people to cook for."
"Well, yay for vampire senses of smell, because this is delicious."
"Yes, thank you," Aaron agreed with my assessment. "I haven't eaten this well consistently, since, well, since I moved out of my parents' house when
I was eighteen."
Mal ducked his head as if embarrassed by the praise. "You're welcome."
"Speaking of my parents," Aaron continued hesitantly. "I kind of mentioned I was seeing someone, and they want to meet you, Chris. Any chance I can talk you into coming down to Albuquerque with me sometime soon? You're welcome, too, Mal. I didn't exactly tell them about you, but I'll have to at some point."
I chuckled. "Going to bring the whole lot of us down then? Sabian, too, assuming we get him back properly tonight?"
Aaron shrugged. "Sure, why not."
Shaking my head, I took a drink of my tea. "Your parents must be a lot more accepting than mine ever were."
"It's more that if they don't accept it, then they'll just have to deal because it's my life, not theirs." Aaron hunched his shoulders for a moment as if he wasn't as comfortable with that declaration as he made it out to be, but he also seemed like he'd stand by it.
"You gonna tell them about the angel thing?" I grinned. Aaron smiled in reply. "I may hit them with that revelation another time."
"Shock them with me first?" I winked. "Angel thing will be easy to deal with after that."
Aaron shook his head. "Don't sell yourself short, Chris."
"Eh, I'm used to it," I deflected.
"So, will you come?"
"Yeah, mate."
Aaron shifted his gaze to Mal, who raised his eyebrows.
"You want me to come?" Mal leaned back in his chair, still holding his coffee.
"Yes. If nothing else, from the purely practical aspect of not wanting my parents to run across the two of you together and getting the wrong idea. They do come up this way now and again, and it's completely obvious you two are into each other whenever you're together. Besides, I like you."
Mal's eyes glinted with amusement. "Then I'll come. Just try not to make it a dinner get together. That can get awkward."
"Deal. We're also having a work picnic in a few weeks if you both want to come. Might be boring, bunch of scientists talking about work at a
picnic, but you're welcome. I know it's a food thing, but it's a lot easier to get away with not eating at a large picnic."
I laughed. "Yeah, I'll come assuming nothing crazy is going on. Remind me when it's closer."
Aaron nodded, looking pleased.
Mal gave a noncommittal shrug, but that wasn't a no.
"You sure you don't want kids and a white picket fence?" I blurted out, then cursed myself. This was not the direction I had hoped to take the conversation.
Aaron tilted his head, blinking a few times before he raised his eyebrows in understanding. Slowly, he slid the sleeve of his T-shirt up to reveal the white eye that stood out in stark relief to his dark skin on his bicep. "Never had much luck with anyone finding out I had weird abilities. Usually drives people off."
"It's likely we're going to end up even deeper involved with the demons than we already are," I said. "It's going to get dangerous."
"It's already dangerous. Hell, you've already died once." Aaron shuddered.
"Yeah, exactly. Coulda been you."
"You want me to walk away?" Aaron crossed his arms.
"No. I really don't. I just want you to be sure you want to stay involved."
"Then I'd rather be with you, and Mal, and Sabian, than on my own in all this and I'm sure I'm going to be involved one way or another. How many Nephilim do you think are wandering the earth?"
"Not many," Mal interjected.
I nodded. "Okay then. Well, let's finish dinner then go summon an incubus."
That seemed to settle everything. I was sure it wasn't the last discussion any of us would have on the topic, but for now, everyone seemed happy.
Mal triple checked the sigils he'd traced on my concrete floor both inside and outside the protective circle. "I think we're ready, but we should deal with this other demon first," he said.
Mayhem woofed softly from the corner of the room he'd curled up in to watch us.
"Yeah, good idea." I glanced at Aaron.
He tilted his head, then shrugged. "If you want me to melt the charm, I will."
"Hurts though, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, but it's really not that bad."
"I don't have the stuff for the ritual and Ezra never got a chance to teach me the easier way."
"I believe I could come up with a crystal to sacrifice," Mal offered. "I'd just have to go get it."
Aaron shook his head. "No, this is fine. It's painful but I should get more used to doing stuff like this. You know, using my powers and all. Even if this one is kind of passive."
"Okay. So, you should be immune to possession. Just stand in the circle and don't mar any of the sigils and stay there once you release the demon," I ordered him.
"Should be?" Aaron cocked an eyebrow.
"Well, according to Ezra you are. Would take one hell of a demon to possess an angel."
Apparently, Aaron trusted me, because he stepped over the circle and, after making sure he wasn't touching any of the markings, he put his hand out to grab the charm and glanced at me.
I nodded that I was ready.
Aaron grabbed the charm and hissed as it melted between his fingers. He held his hand over the table and the molten metal landed on the slate top.
The charm's destruction released the demon in a swirling vapor of visible energy. It was tinged red, and it howled in anger, swirling around the containment circle before zeroing in on Aaron.
"Just stay put," I warned, and hoped Ezra was right.
Aaron nodded, eyes wide, breath coming fast.
As the swirl of angry demon energy zeroed in on Aaron, my half angel began to glow. Almost imperceptibly at first, but then with increasing intensity. As the demon approached, Aaron emitted a harsh, white light.
Mal shielded his eyes and stepped back. I squinted and the demon recoiled.
Aaron's glow faded enough that I could look at him again.
"That didn't happen last time," Aaron declared.
"Yeah, maybe because the demons weren't actually going to hurt you. This time, I'm sure that was the plan."
The swirl of energy stayed on the far side of the circle and seemed to turn its attention to me. Obviously, this was a demon that needed a host to properly manifest. I kind of wanted to know what kind of demon it was, but I also kind of didn't.
"You ready to go home?" I asked the swirl. It was a rhetorical question. There was no way it would be sticking around. Still, it seemed polite to warn the creature first.
Whoa, Price, getting polite with the demons now? Seriously?
I sighed. It didn't act like it was objecting, so, forgoing the normal squirt of holy water, I began the exorcism. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..."
The energy signature of the demon shivered as my words compelled it, but it didn't fight me, and as I spoke the last words of the rite, the demon vanished with a small clap of displaced air.
"It's so much easier when they don't fight," I said, not even experiencing the normal wave of tiredness I usually got after an exorcism.
"Is it safe to come out now?" Aaron stared at his hands, which, like the rest of him, were no longer glowing.
"Yeah, you're good."
Aaron carefully stepped over the chalk drawings and breathed a sigh of relief once he was clear.
I went over to him and wrapped him in a hug. "You're pretty amazing," I stated.
He hugged me back. "Thanks," he replied, his deep voice rumbling through me. "So are you."
I didn't reply, uncomfortable at the praise I didn't feel I had earned. I pulled Aaron back over to Mal's side and we looked at the vampire. He was the one in charge of the summoning as he'd done most of the research. I knew what we were up to, tonight, but he was more expert in this area of the occult than I was. Not that either of us had ever summoned a demon. Mal had summoned helpful spirits from time to time, so that put him far ahead of me.
My old crowd had wanted to get into demon summoning, but I'd backed out before they'd gone that far. I just hoped they'd been smart enough not to
go down that path. Their intentions had been far less pure than mine tonight.
Mal nodded that he was ready, took a lighter from my other workbench and set about lighting all the candles he had placed around the room. Then he flipped on the lamps he had brought down and turned off the harsher overhead light.
I shivered at the, well demonic, ambiance.
Aaron blew air out between his teeth. "Well, it certainly feels like a demon summoning," he breathed.
Mal nodded and took his place around the circle. I fell in where he directed me, and Aaron did the same.
We were too far apart to physically join hands, but we held them out, palms up. If we were closer to each other, we would have been touching palm to palm.
Mal started the incantation. It was in Latin and I followed along as he set the expectations of the rite with his initial statements. I could feel the energy that responded to his commands flow through us, could imagine I saw sparks of blue energy from myself, white from Aaron, and earthy red from Mal, twine together in a spinning circle and Mal called out the next phase of the summoning. We directed the power flowing through us down into the sigils inside and outside the containment circle. They lit up with orange light.
Aaron exclaimed wordlessly and I had to admit, I was seriously impressed. I'd seen some crazy stuff in my time, but most of it was so off the cuff, even my own magic. Mal's efforts were so precise and controlled. Everything proceeded exactly as he had detailed, and he intoned the last of the incantation. Then all three of us called out Sabian's full name.
"Sabianamon," we called in unison three times.
At the last utterance of his name, all of the candles flared brightly then went out.
"Fuck," I growled as soon as my vision cleared. There was no naked, or even clothed, incubus in our circle. The summoning had gone exactly right. Even having never done one before, I somehow instinctively knew that it should have worked.
"What's that?" Aaron pointed at a red oval object that had appeared in the middle of the circle.
Mal grabbed me before I could cross the circle, his arms tight around me. "Wait a minute," he whispered. "Let's make sure it's not some sort of trap first."
"Sabian wouldn't send a trap," I argued, not fighting against Mal. There was no way I could win that one anyway, and he was right even though I objected.
"No, but if Sabian wasn't in some sort of trouble, he would have answered our summons. He wants to be here, and even if he didn't, that ritual would have called him without some sort of powerful interference."
I sighed, taking a deep breath, and turning my head so I could bury my face in his shoulder for a minute.
Mal focused his energy and attention completely on me, doing that thing he did that made me feel like the center of his world. I melted a little, though my heart still clenched at our failure.
Mal kissed my neck. "Let's do a reveal spell on it." His breath tickled my skin and I shivered in reaction.
"Okay."
The vampire released me and stepped back. I studied the object that had appeared in the middle of my protective circle. It looked like a rock. That, more than anything, made me think it was from Sabian. He'd given me a desert rose–a barite crystal–not long before I'd accidently sent him back to hell.
This rock looked more like a flattened sphere, and was a deep orangish red, but I couldn't tell more than that in the low light. All of the candles had melted to nothing in the last flare of energy and the only light we had was the low light from the lamps.
"Want to flip on the light for my poor human grade eyeballs?"
Mal did so, not commenting on my quip. I had to stand there blinking in the harsh overhead light for a moment or two before I could see again.
The brighter lights revealed that the stone was translucent and polished. It was beautiful and I had to blink a few tears out of my eyes. I'd rather have Sabian, but this was a nice gift. What did it mean?
After I'd studied the smooth crystal for a few moments I went over and grabbed some incense off of my workbench and lit it.
As soon as it was burning properly, I blew the flame out then went over to the circle and waved the smoke toward the stone as the words to the reveal spell sprang to my lips.
The smoke drifted in an unnatural line toward the object of my spell and settled around it, swirling then dissipating. If there had been anything nefarious about the stone, or even friendly, the smoke would have clung to it and then I could have investigated further.
I glanced at Mal for his opinion and he nodded, so I crossed the circle and scooped up the rock.
It was warm to the touch, about the size of my palm, and fit very comfortably in my hand. I traced my fingers over the smooth top before flipping it over and seeing something etched in the bottom. I ran my fingers over the grooves. The markings were some sort of symbol.
I came out of the circle and showed it to Mal and Aaron.
"It's a word, I think," Mal said. "I don't know what it says, though."
"Yeah, no idea," Aaron replied. "But it does look like a word."
Sagging, I might have collapsed to the floor in despair, but Aaron put his arms around me, and I leaned back against his solid warmth.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure it doesn't say 'leave me alone,'" Mal said, brushing his knuckles along my cheek. "This is one word. Best guess, he's asking for help, but I have no idea what we can do."
"What about your demon prince?" Aaron suggested. "Can he help? Sabian is his subject, or whatever. Right? He'll want to get the incubus out of trouble I would hope."
"I got no idea how to contact him in hell," I answered. "And we can't summon him without some sort of pretty significant sacrifice. I love Sabian, but I'm not going there."
"He wouldn't want you to," Mal agreed. "So, that's the next step. Figure out how to contact Ezra."
"So, this might be off the wall, but isn't that what séances are for?" Aaron asked.
Mal and I glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.
"Now, there's an idea," Mal said slowly, thinking while he talked. "Not exactly, but maybe we could do something like that."
I frowned, something tugging at my memory. Something from one of my older occult books. Nothing like Mal's collection, but I had a few gems I'd come across over the years and I went over to my bookshelf and grabbed the book I was thinking of. I flipped it open and scanned the pages until I found what I was looking for.
It was a communication across the planes spell, probably intended for the very thing Aaron had suggested, but maybe we could adapt it somehow. I showed it to Mal.
Aaron looked over our shoulders. "Is that Latin?"
"Yeah, mate."
Mal ran his fingers down the text, muttering under his breath as he studied the incantation.
"You know Latin?" Aaron gave me a surprised look.
"Yeah. I'm fluent in Latin. I know a smattering of a few other ancient languages but most of the occult stuff that isn't already translated into English is in Latin. I don't like the translations much, though. I always worry someone got it wrong." I shrugged.
"A fair concern," Mal said absently.
"That's impressive," Aaron marveled.
I glanced up at him. "Might not be a doctor of physics but I know a few things."
Aaron's eyebrows rose. "I did not intend to even imply anything of the sort. Your knowledge base is just so different from mine that you're going to surprise me from time to time."
"Nice save." I nudged him to hopefully take any sting out of the words.
He sighed. "Truly not what I meant."
"S'okay."
"This will work. Come here and let's see if we can get a hold of Ezra," Mal interrupted. "It's more like a request than summons. He'll be able to ignore us if he wants. Assuming we get this right."
Mal crossed the circle and put the book on my workbench. "Let's clean this up first so we don't cross contaminate."
Aaron set about picking up all the stubs of the candles. I got a couple of damp cloths and Mal and I cleaned up the sigils he'd drawn. Mal also scraped the melted silver off the work bench and transferred it to the table outside the circle.
Then he picked up my heavy ass slate covered metal work bench like it was nothing and moved it out of the circle as well.
"Damn dude," Aaron breathed.
"Yeah, make sure you put that back. Takes like four of us puny humans to get that thing to move."
Mal glanced at me. "It's not that heavy."
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rose Cottage
This ebook isforthe useof anyone anywherein theUnitedStatesandmostotherpartsofthe world at no costand withalmostno restrictions whatsoever. Youmaycopy it,giveitawayor re-use it underthe termsoftheProject Gutenberg License includedwith this ebookoronline at www.gutenberg.org. If you are notlocated in theUnited States, you willhave tocheck thelawsof thecountry where youare located before using this eBook.
Title: RoseCottage A story
Author:Eleanora H. Stooke
Release date:January 18, 2024[eBook #72752]
Language: English
Originalpublication:London: Galland Inglis, 1900
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
With what pleasure the boy presented his mother with his first week's earnings.
CHAPTER I.
THE NEW ARRIVALS.
SUNLEIGH was a beautifully situated little village lying between two hills, with a rippling stream flowing close by through fertile meadow lands, now golden with daffodils. In the most sheltered hedges, white violets and primroses were peeping through beds of moss, and ferns were unfolding their tender green fronds to the welcome warmth of the kindly March sun.
Yet, it felt keenly still in the shade, and Marian Morris, the vicar's only daughter, drew her fur boa closer around her throat as she walked up the village street, pausing for a moment at the baker's, and then passing on to Mrs. Mugford's establishment, the post-office and general shop of the place.
One could buy almost anything at Mrs. Mugford's—drapery, grocery, stationery, ironmongery, and, in fact, nearly every commodity one was likely to require. Whilst making her purchases, Miss Morris was entertained by Mrs. Mugford with all the latest village news.
The owner of the village shop was a large, red-faced woman, with bright brown eyes like a robin's, and sleek, neatly banded iron-grey hair. She was a bit of a gossip, it is true, but a very kindly one. Never was there a case of distress in the parish that did not reach her ears, and receive a sympathetic hearing, and such help as she could give.
"I have new neighbours," she told Miss Morris, nodding towards a pretty thatched cottage on the opposite side of the street. "Rose Cottage has been taken by a family called Lethbridge—father, mother, and four children. They moved in only yesterday."
"Lethbridge!" said Miss Morris thoughtfully. "I don't think I know the name."
"No, miss. They come from a distance. The man was groom in some gentleman's stables, I hear."
"Has he work in the village, then?" in interested tones.
"Mr. Talbot at the Hall has engaged him as under stableman. The wife's a sickly-looking, pale-faced poor body; but there are two sturdy boys, a little girl and a baby. I went across last night to see if there was anything I could do for them, but Mrs. Lethbridge didn't ask me in," she added in slightly aggrieved accents.
"Perhaps she wants to get her new home in good order before seeing strangers," suggested Miss Morris, smiling, for she guessed Mrs. Mugford would have liked to have found out more about her neighbours.
"Yes, miss, I daresay. I'm glad to see Rose Cottage inhabited, anyway. I think an unoccupied house looks so depressing. What else can I do for you, miss?"
"That's all I want to-day, thank you, Mrs. Mugford; good afternoon."
With a nod and a smile, Miss Morris stepped into the street again, just as the door of Rose Cottage opened, and a pale-faced woman came out with a baby in her arms, and a little girl of about eight years old at her side. The woman looked weary, but as she glanced at
the vicar's daughter, an expression of interest crossed her face. Acting on the impulse of the moment, Marian went across the road.
"Good morning," she said brightly. "You are Mrs. Lethbridge, are you not? I am Marian Morris, the vicar's daughter, and I have now heard that you have come to live in our village. I hope you will soon feel at home. I always think Rose Cottage so very pretty."
"Yes, miss," with a slight flush, and a somewhat timid smile.
"What a dear little girl!" Marian exclaimed in sudden admiration, as a pair of blue eyes were raised to meet hers, and a delicately-tinted face, crowned with a mass of golden curls, became suddenly illuminated with a sweet smile. "What is your name, little one?"
"Molly, please, miss."
"Will you give me a kiss, little Molly?"
No answer, except the same smile, wholly sweet, but with a certain appealing weakness in it that went straight to Marian's kind heart. She bent down and kissed the child, and then turned to the mother who was watching her earnestly.
"Our Molly is not quite like other children, miss," Mrs. Lethbridge said, with a break in her voice. "We sometimes think she is not right here," indicating her forehead with a quick motion of her hand.
Marian felt shocked. She looked again at the little girl, and was conscious of a somewhat vacant expression in the clear, blue eyes that had escaped her notice at first.
"She is not very bad," the mother continued hastily; "but she can't learn. We have to send her to school; but she doesn't remember anything. She's an affectionate, obedient child, but strange—very. It does seem hard she should be different to other children," in slightly aggrieved tones; "the only girl, too! My boys are right in mind and body; but Molly why, she don't know more now than a child of five years old ought, and she's eight."
"God has given you a heavy trouble to bear," Marian said, sympathetically.
"He has, indeed, miss. Sometimes I wonder what will become of Molly when she grows up. If anything happened to her father or me, whatever would she do?"
"Her Father in heaven would provide for her, Mrs. Lethbridge."
The poor mother brushed the back of one work-hardened hand across her eyes, and tried to smile.
"We didn't notice anything wrong with her until a year or so ago," she said, encouraged by the kindly interest on Marian's face to continue the conversation. "We thought her backward-like; and James—that's my husband—don't like to think she isn't like other children even now, he's that fond of her."
"I can understand it. Perhaps her mind will strengthen as she grows older. She is in God's hands, and He will take care of her. You must always remember that."
Mrs. Lethbridge made no answer, but she sighed, and the tears welled up into her eyes again. She began to sway the baby to and fro on her arm. He was a bright looking child, and he crowed merrily, and laughed in his mother's face.
"Will you please step inside, miss?" Mrs. Lethbridge asked.
"Not to-day, thank you; but I will come to see you soon, when you are really settled in your new home, and make the acquaintance of your other children."
"The boys are gone to school, miss. I sent them at once to keep them out of mischief."
Marian laughed, and at that moment Molly, who had wandered a few steps down the street, returned to her mother's side, and stood looking up at her new acquaintance, with her sweet, wavering smile.
"She seems very happy!" Marian said, softly, to Mrs. Lethbridge.
"Yes, miss; there's one comfort, she's always happy. She never cries, or is cross and fretty like some children."
"That is a great blessing, is it not?"
"It is, indeed, miss."
After a little more conversation, the vicar's daughter passed on her way down the street, leaving Mrs. Lethbridge gazing after her with a look of interest and approval on her face.
Presently the boys returned from school, and their mother went in to prepare their tea, placing the baby in Molly's arms to nurse.
The little girl sat on the doorstep in the sunshine. Baby was heavy, but she held him firmly. The village children, curious at the sight of a strange face, paused outside Rose Cottage to stare at Molly, but she did not mind, only smiled at them in her usual friendly fashion.
One little girl spoke to her at length, asking—
"What's your name, eh?"
"Molly," still smiling.
"What else?" Then, receiving no answer, "Where do you come from?"
Still no answer, except a shake of the golden head.
"I believe she's silly!" cried out one sharp-looking little girl, whereupon there was a general laugh, which Mrs. Lethbridge heard. She came out, and immediately dispersed the children.
But the sharp young eyes had noticed something unusual about Molly, and when, a few days later, she appeared at the village school, the children, with the thoughtlessness of youth, were ready to tease her unmercifully. They called her "crazy Molly," but they soon found she was not resentful in the least, and to all their laughs and taunts she listened in silence, only sometimes her sweet, weak smile faded into an expression of astonishment and pain.
CHAPTER II.
"WE DIDN'T MEAN."
"I AM ashamed of you all!"
It was Marian Morris' clear voice, raised in accents of indignation as she came upon a group of children in the street, surrounding Molly Lethbridge, who was on her way home from school.
The vicar's daughter had arrived upon the scene in time to see one pull Molly's hair, another hustle her roughly, whilst the others were laughing with great enjoyment. In one moment Marian had pushed her way to Molly's side, and had taken her hand in a protecting clasp, whilst the child looked up at her with troubled, wistful eyes.
"Shame on you to tease and worry one who cannot protect herself; to take delight in tormenting one whom God has made weaker than yourselves! Do you forget that He sees you, that He hears every jeering laugh, every mocking word?"
The children scuttled away hastily, leaving Molly alone with her friend. Still holding the child by the hand Marian took her home.
Rose Cottage looked as pretty as usual outside, but inside, everything was povertystricken. Marian was not surprised, for she had learnt that the money James Lethbridge should have given to his wife was spent mostly at the "White Hart," as the village inn was named. He had lost his former situation through his drunken habits, and seemed in the way of losing his new post if he continued the life he was leading.
The baby was asleep in the cradle, and Mrs. Lethbridge was engaged in ironing. She dusted a chair, and offered it to her visitor, who begged her to continue her occupation.
"I have brought Molly home," Marian explained, as she sat down. "The children were teasing her. I fear they make her unhappy."
The mother glanced sadly at her little daughter, who had gone to the cradle, and was now imprinting a tender kiss on the baby's rosy cheek.
"It seems a pity you are bound to send her to school," Marian continued, "for she learns but little, I think you told me?"
"Almost nothing, miss; she knows her letters, and that's about all. But, of course, she must go to school. I should be glad enough to keep her at home to mind baby. I expect the children will leave off teasing her when they find she doesn't mind."
"I think she does mind, but she is evidently not resentful. You don't send her to Sundayschool, Mrs. Lethbridge, do you?"
"No, miss; I'm not bound to send her there, you see."
"I think it is a pity she should not go. But perhaps you teach her on Sundays at home?"
The mother shook her head, and looked a trifle ashamed as she said, hastily
"I've no time to spare, and it's so difficult to make her understand, and she asks such questions! Of course, I make her say her prayers every night."
Molly was still standing by the cradle, rocking it gently.
Marian spoke to her—
"Molly, will you come here, dear?"
The child moved to her side, and stood looking up into her face, expectantly.
"You love baby very much, do you not, Molly?"
A nod in response.
"And who else do you love?"
"Father," after a moment's anxious thought.
"Anyone else, my dear?"
"Mother and the boys," the blue eyes glancing at the figure at the table busily plying the iron.
"There is someone else surely, Molly?"
"You, miss."
Marian bent down, and impulsively kissed the little upturned face as she whispered—
"Don't you love Jesus, darling? Don't you?"
"No, miss."
"She doesn't understand," Mrs. Lethbridge put in hastily.
"I see she does not, but I think one could teach her. Will you let her come to Sundayschool, Mrs. Lethbridge, if I manage to take her in my class? I will call for her every Sunday."
"Oh, miss, how truly good of you to think of it! I should be that glad." Mrs. Lethbridge put down her iron, and, sinking into a chair, burst into tears.
Marian went to her side, and laid her hand sympathetically on the poor woman's heaving shoulder.
"What is it?" she asked, gently. "I fear something is wrong. I think it helps one to bear a trouble if one can speak of it, and perhaps I could assist you in some way."
"I am very foolish," Mrs. Lethbridge said, as she hastily dried her eyes, "but I have a lot to try me, and a deal to put up with. I know I've not taught Molly all she ought to know; but after she was born, things went very wrong with us. My husband took to drink, and neglected his home for bad companions; and that has made me feel wicked and bitter; and many has been the time that I've thought God has forsaken us!"
"Oh, dear," Marian cried, "just when you want Him for your friend so much! You know, Jesus promised never to forsake His people!"
"Yes, miss; but sometimes I haven't been able to think it."
"It is God's own promise, Mrs. Lethbridge. If we ask Him, He will help us to bear our troubles; you must cast yours all on Him, for He careth for you."
"When I hear you speak, miss, I seem to feel it is all true; but when you're gone and my husband returns the worse for drink, and swears at the children and me, maybe I shall doubt again. He is not a bad man when he's sober; but that isn't often towards the end of the day," she said bitterly
"You must ask God to show him his sin. Pray for him."
"I don't believe it would be any good, miss."
"Try," earnestly, "do try. Will you promise me?"
"Yes, I will," in brighter tones.
"And I'll call for Molly next Sunday. Please let her be ready by two o'clock."
"Thank you, miss. I do feel very grateful to you for taking such an interest in her. Oh, here come the boys."
They were fine, healthy little fellows, and their mother's eyes rested on them with loving pride. The elder was Jim, and the younger Dick, she explained.
Marian discovered two pennies in her pocket, which she presented to them to spend as they thought fit, and a further search found another penny for Molly. Mrs. Lethbridge smiled her gratitude, and Marian laughed as the children ran out of the cottage, and across the road to the shop to invest their money in sweets.
"I never mind so long as Molly is with the boys," the mother explained; "they think a deal of their sister."
"That is as it should be," Marian responded. "Well, Mrs. Lethbridge, I must be going now. I'm afraid I've been hindering you in your work."
"I'm glad you should, miss. I was that miserable when you came in; and now, I declare, what with your kind thought for my little maid, and all you've said to me, I feel a different woman!"
As she left the cottage Marian glanced across to Mrs. Mugford's shop, and saw Molly and her brothers making their purchases, the boys holding an animated conversation with Mrs. Mugford herself. Marian smiled, knowing well that the kind woman would give the children good worth for their pennies.
On her way home she encountered some of the children she had surprised teasing Molly an hour before, and stopped to speak a few words of remonstrance about their behaviour. She saw by their flushed cheeks and bowed heads that they were ashamed of themselves; and when she told them how they ought to protect one whom God had made unable to protect herself, instead of mocking her, a bright little girl, who had been one of the ringleaders of Molly's tormentors, said, with real penitence in her voice:
"We didn't mean to be unkind, Miss Morris. It was only fun, and we didn't think. I'll stand up for crazy Molly, and never laugh at her again!" CHAPTER III.
JIM GETS WORK.
IT had been March when the Lethbridge family arrived at Rose Cottage. And by the time the June roses bloomed around its walls, the villagers had lost all curiosity about the newcomers, for the simple reason that they knew all there was to know about them. The mother was a quiet, hardworking woman everyone agreed, and did the best she possibly could for her home; whereas the father was a drinker, and it was a wonder, everyone said, that Mr. Talbot retained him in his service. Then people began to whisper that James Lethbridge did a little night poaching by setting wires for rabbits—but that was only a whisper as yet.
Scantily clothed and fed though they were, the Lethbridge children flourished. The boys were nice little fellows, and when Mrs. Mugford engaged Jim to deliver her customers' purchases out of school hours, everyone said his good fortune was no more than he deserved.
With what pleasure the boy presented his mother with his first week's earnings, and with what pride she received the money!
"Why, Jim," she said, quite brightly, a happy smile lighting up her thin, worn face, "you'll soon be a man. Fancy you able to help me like this!"
"When I'm a man, mother," the boy answered fondly, "I'll work for you so that you won't need to slave like you do now. I mean to save my money, and grow rich. It must be grand to be rich, I think."
"Money doesn't always bring happiness, Jim. When I was in service as a girl, I lived with some very rich people, and they were most miserable—never helped others, or gave to the poor. Of course, all rich folks ain't like that."
"Miss Morris, for instance, mother?"
"Oh, I don't think she's at all well off, Jim. I've heard tell that the vicar has as much as he can do to make both ends meet."
"Why, mother, I thought he must be rich! And Miss Morris somehow looks rich, don't you think?"
Mrs. Lethbridge smiled at her little son's astonishment, and, after a few moment's thought, she said—
"Well, Jim, perhaps you're right in one way. I think, somehow, Miss Morris does look rich, and I'll tell you why I believe it is. She is rich in love, for where is there one in the parish who doesn't bless her for her sweet ways, and love her dearly? I think she's one of those the vicar preached about last Sunday, who lay up for themselves treasures in heaven, and that's what gives her that happy, contented look that makes one think she's got everything she wants."
"Maybe that's it," Jim agreed.
The other children had gone to bed, and Mrs. Lethbridge and her elder son were alone. They had their frugal supper, and, glancing at the clock, the mother saw it was nearly ten.
"I think you had better go to bed, my boy," she remarked, "for you must be very tired, I know."
"Shan't I wait up with you till father comes, mother?"
"No; it will be more than an hour before then. He is sure to be late," she added with a sigh.
"It's a shame," Jim grumbled, "that father should keep you waiting for him like this, when he's only amusing himself at the 'White Hart,' and he'll stay there till they turn him out at eleven o'clock. He's always the last to go. Do let me sit up with you for company, mother."
"No, Jim," with decision in her tones, "I shall be a great deal happier to know you're in bed resting. Remember, one hour's sleep before twelve, is better than two after, and boys like you should have long nights."
"Ain't you very tired, mother?"
"Well, a little, my dear. Kiss me now, like a good lad, and be off to bed."
Jim complied, somewhat reluctantly, and then stole softly upstairs, so as not to awaken the sleeping children, and into the little room he shared with his brother.
He really was more tired than he had ever been in his short life before. He was but a small boy, and Mrs. Mugford's baskets of groceries and other commodities had weighed heavily His arms and shoulders ached, but there was an exultant feeling in his brave young heart that he had had his start in life, and that he must work hard to help his mother. He was not long undressing, then he knelt down by the side of his bed to say his prayers, to ask God to bless all those he loved, and make him a good boy. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and scarcely a moment after his head touched the pillow, he was asleep.
The next morning he awoke rather later than usual, to find his brother had already arisen. His arms were stiff, and he felt still tired, but after a good wash, he was considerably refreshed, and, quickly dressing, went downstairs.
Breakfast was ready, and the children gathered around the table to partake of weak tea, and bread and dripping. Mrs. Lethbridge looked heavy-eyed, and was somewhat silent, but the boys were in excellent spirits, and kept the conversation going, whilst Molly, smiling as usual, put in a word now and again in her hesitating fashion. The father had not appeared; and the children knew well enough that he was upstairs, sleeping off the effects of last night's dissipation, and asked no questions.
The boys were the only inmates of Rose Cottage who went to church that Sunday morning, so whilst the sweet church bells were ringing their invitation to come and worship and praise God in His house of prayer, Molly took the baby in her arms, and seated herself on the doorstep in the warm June sunshine. She made a pretty picture, her fair face bent over her infant brother; and the roses that twined around the porch formed a lovely setting of colour, and filled the air with the fragrance of their scent.
At first baby was lively, and his sister played with him, but presently he became drowsy, and lay quietly with his blue eyes staring up at the roses. People passing nodded at Molly, and she nodded back at them.
Presently she heard her father's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and he came and placed a chair just inside the open door and sat down. He would be at home all day, for it was so arranged by Mr. Talbot that he should have every alternate Sunday free from work at the
Hall, and this was one of the Sundays on which he was his own master, to do as he pleased.
"Well, Molly," he said, with a yawn, "don't you find it too hot out there in the sunshine?"
"Oh, no, father."
"How my head does ache, to be sure," he continued; "the sound of those bells makes it worse!"
Molly was silent for a moment, then she said:
"Do you know what they say, father?"
"They don't say anything, child, but just keep on that incessant chiming."
"Oh, yes, they do!" the child insisted. "Miss Morris told me what they said."
"What is it, dearie?" her mother asked, coming to the door, and taking the baby out of Molly's arms as she spoke. "Is it the bells you're speaking of?"
"Yes, mother; don't you hear what they are saying?"
Mrs. Lethbridge listened a moment, to satisfy the child, and shook her head.
"Father, don't you hear?" appealing to him again.
"No, I'm sure I don't!" he said, laughing.
Molly lifted up her finger, and with her head on one side, as though the better to hear the chiming of the bells, she chanted: "Will—you—come—and—sing—and—pra-ay!" softly, several times, her voice rising and falling with the notes of the bells. "Mother, don't you hear it now?"
Husband and wife glanced at each other quickly, and the latter made answer: "Yes, Molly, I think I do."
CHAPTER IV.
THE GOOD SHEPHERD.
MOLLY had grown to look forward, to Sunday afternoons, for, true to her promise, the vicar's daughter always called for the little girl on her way to the Sunday-school, and the two were firm friends. Molly learned slowly, indeed, but once she grasped an idea she retained it. She had come to know that Jesus was her Saviour, and that He loved, and watched over her. Praying was talking to Jesus, and she might tell Him anything; she might speak to Him anywhere, and He would always hear and understand. When she went to church, it was to sing His praises, and join with others who loved Him in worshipping in His house of prayer.
So much had Marian Morris succeeded in teaching Molly, when the child surprised her parents by repeating to them the message of the bells.
That same afternoon, as the little girl tripped along by Marian's side, she continually chanted to herself
"Will—you—come—and—sing—and—pra-ay?" in a monotonous undertone.
Till her companion remarked—"I did not see you at church this morning, my dear."
"No, miss," the child answered. "Mother could not leave, 'cause of baby."
"Who generally looks after baby when mother and you go to church?"
"Father, miss."
"That is kind of your father."
Molly nodded, and in a minute abruptly volunteered a startling piece of information.
"Father was drunk last night," she said.
Marian was silent, grieved at the news; shocked that Molly should know her father's weakness, and filled with pity for poor Mrs. Lethbridge.
"Mother cries when father gets drunk," the child continued, with a somewhat wistful look on her pretty face; "and Jim is cross."
"I hear Jim is Mrs. Mugford's errand-boy, now," Marian interposed hastily, feeling she could not discuss the father's sin and its consequences with the child, and desiring to change the conversation; "that is a very good thing for him, I should think."
"He carries big baskets," Molly said, eagerly; "such big baskets! And Mrs. Mugford gives him pennies—lots of pennies!"
"I expect Jim works hard for his pennies, and well deserves them, my dear."
"Jim will soon be a man," the little girl remarked, quaintly repeating a remark she had heard from her mother's lips.
Marian, as she thought of Jim, and his short life of eleven years, laughed.
Meeting the blue eyes of her little companion at that moment, she wondered if Molly's smile was really less weak and vacant than usual, or if she was merely becoming accustomed to the expression. Although Mrs. Lethbridge had intimated that Molly was not right in her mind, the vicar's daughter had come to the conclusion that she had more understanding than she was accredited with. Slow and backward she undoubtedly was; shy at first with strangers, and reserved with other children. To teach her anything one had first to win her heart, and appeal to her affections, for all learning was laborious to her, and fraught with great difficulty. But she would do anything for one she loved, and for Marian Morris, Molly did her best. The vicar's daughter was often surprised to find how much the child was learning, and thus encouraged, she exerted herself still more to teach her.
After the children had all gone to Sunday-school that same afternoon, and Mrs. Lethbridge had washed up the dinner things, she sat down by the open window to take a little rest. Opposite, her husband was asleep in his chair, and as her eyes rested on his face, she
could not help noticing the marks that his drinking habits were leaving on his once goodlooking countenance. For nearly an hour she sat thus, brooding over the difficulties of her life; but presently her thoughts turned to her children. They were such obedient, good children, and she had great hopes for them—even for little Molly! The dear child had improved so much of late!
By-and-bye, James Lethbridge awoke, and looked surprised to see his wife seated quietly at the other side of the window.
"Why, Jenny," he said, "it's not often I see you idle, even on a Sunday!"
"I was thinking, James," she answered. "I wonder if you have noticed how our little maid has altered—and for the better, too! I think it's Miss Morris' doing; she's been doing her utmost to teach her, I know. I do think the child is sharper than she used to be."
"Perhaps she is; but I haven't been noticing her much. You know I never would allow that she wasn't all right."
"No, but you know she's not quite like other children of her age. Weren't you struck by what she said about the bells this morning? I was. It set me thinking, James, and looking back on our courting days, when we used to go to church regular."
The husband made no response, only cast a surprised look at his wife. But at that moment Miss Morris was saying good-bye to Molly outside the door, and the brief conversation was at an end.
Molly came in with glowing cheeks and shining eyes. She ran up to her mother, and kissed her pale, tired face.
"Haven't you a kiss for your poor old father, too, Molly?"
The little girl turned towards him, and, springing upon his knee, put her arms around his neck with a loving embrace.
"And what have you been learning at Sunday-school to-day, my dear?" her mother enquired.
"About the Good Shepherd," Molly answered promptly.
"Tell us about Him, dearie."
Molly sat on her father's knee, with his arm around her, whilst she tried to collect her thoughts. It was an effort, and for a moment her face was clouded, then a glimmer of brightness drove away the gloom.
"He is the King of love," she said, nodding her head and smiling.
"Who?" Mrs. Lethbridge asked gently.
"The Good Shepherd—Jesus, you know. He had a lot of sheep, no one can count how many; and He loved them very much. Some did as they were told, and were good. But there was one—I think it was a lamb—because of the picture."
Molly paused, glancing from one listener's face to the other, but meeting her mother's encouraging smile, continued more fluently
"There was one little lamb that wouldn't listen to the Good Shepherd, and was very naughty, and was lost!"
A troubled look crossed the child's face; the ready tears welled up into her blue eyes, but in a moment the shadow had fled again, and she continued in quick, glad tones, "But Jesus found him at last, after a long, long while, and brought him home quite safe—the naughty little lamb! Father, did you ever hear about it all before?"
"Seems to me I have, Molly, years and years ago."
"Do you know how the Good Shepherd found the little lamb, father?"
"No, my dear, I don't."
"He went about calling the little lamb's name, and at last the little lamb heard. I 'spect he came running when he heard the Good Shepherd's voice. There's a picture of Jesus with the little lamb on His shoulder in Mrs. Mugford's shop, father. That's how I know 'twas such a weeny, weeny lamb."
"Is there?" said her father.
"Why, so there is, Molly," Mrs. Lethbridge said smiling. "I saw it in the window yesterday."
"I 'spect it would cost a lot of pennies to buy it; wouldn't it, mother?"
"I don't know, my dear. I daresay it would."
"I hope Mrs. Mugford will keep it there for a long, long time!"
"Why, my dear?" asked her mother.
"So that I can look at it every day."
"Bless me, child, what an idea!" her mother exclaimed. "Mrs. Mugford will sell the picture as soon as she possibly can, you may depend upon that. But there, look at it as much as you like, if it pleases you, and I don't suppose Mrs. Mugford will mind your looking."
"No, she's a good soul," Mr. Lethbridge said in grateful tones; "and she's so kind to Jim, too!"
"We sang such a pretty hymn this afternoon," Molly continued eagerly. "That was about the Good Shepherd too."
"Couldn't you sing it to us now, Molly?" the mother asked.
"I can't remember all," with a shake of the golden head; "I only know a little bit."
"Sing us the little bit, my dear. Your father and I would like to hear, eh father?"
James Lethbridge assented readily; so Molly complied with their request, her sweet, fresh voice singing the first verse of the hymn.
"The King of love my Shepherd is, Whose goodness faileth never; I nothing lack if I am his,
And He is mine for ever."
"I forget the rest, mother, but it's all about the Good Shepherd, and I'm going to learn every word some day. Miss Morris is going to teach me."
When Molly had gone upstairs to take off her hat, and put a pinafore over her best frock, Mrs. Lethbridge turned eagerly to her husband.
"James," she said, in more hopeful tones than he had heard from her lips for many a year, "don't you see now how the child is improving?"
He agreed with a short nod, but there was a look on his face that told of unspeakable thankfulness, and she was satisfied.
CHAPTER V.
A REQUEST.
IN Mrs. Mugford's shop window, in the midst of several other prints, in cheap wooden frames, was the one that had made such an impression on Molly's mind. The prints were all of little value, but to Molly they appeared grand pictures, and several times a day, she would pause to have another admiring gaze at the Good Shepherd.
At length, one afternoon, she took courage and ventured into the shop, where with her heart beating wildly, and her cheeks flushed with the thought of her boldness, she found herself face to face with Mrs. Mugford. The good woman smiled kindly as she leaned her hands on the counter, and surveyed the little girl out of her sharp brown eyes.
"Well, my dear," she remarked, in her brisk, business-like way, "has your mother sent you to do her shopping for her?"
"No, please, ma'am," Molly answered, shyly
"No? Then what is it, Molly?"
"If you please, ma'am, would you tell me how many pennies it would cost to buy a picture?"
"A picture! What picture? One of the prints in the window, I suppose?"
"Yes, ma'am. I mean the Good Shepherd."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Mugford, in great astonishment. "It's eighteen pence, and very cheap at that!"
"Eighteen pence!" said Molly, doubtfully. "Please, how many pennies is that?"
"Eighteen," Mrs. Mugford replied, with difficulty concealing an amused smile; then noticing the expression of dismay on the child's face, "Were you thinking of buying it?"
Molly nodded gravely. Mrs. Mugford surveyed her for a few minutes in puzzled silence.
"Now, I wonder what makes you want that picture?" she said at last, enquiringly.
"It is so beautiful! The Good Shepherd looking so glad 'cause He's found the little lamb!"
"Oh, you know all about it, I see," Mrs. Mugford said aloud, whilst inwardly she was saying, "This is the child folks say is not right. It strikes me she's right enough!"
"I go to Sunday-school," Molly continued, encouraged by the kindly look in the eyes that were watching her so sharply, "and Miss Morris told me all about Him. He is the King of love; the hymn says so."
"What hymn, my dear? Ah, I remember. Well, now, about this picture; how many pennies have you?"
"Only two, ma'am—one the vicar gave me last week, and one Jim gave me on Saturday."
"Ah! I'm afraid I can't sell it for that! Do you think you will ever be able to save eighteen pennies?"
"I don't know, ma'am."
"I think you'd better ask your father about it. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll keep that print in the window along with the others, but if anyone wants to buy it, I'll say it's bespoken. I'll keep it there a month, and by that time you'll know if there's any chance of your buying it."
"Oh, thank you, ma'am. You will let it stay in the window where I can see it?"
"Yes, I will."
"Oh, thank you, thank you," said Molly with great earnestness.
Molly's smile was like sunshine at that moment. Mrs. Mugford put a few mixed sweets into a screw of paper, and slipped the little packet into the child's hand, bidding her run along home, and was rewarded with a look full of deep gratitude.
That evening, when her father returned from his day's work at the Hall, Molly told him about what had taken place between her and Mrs. Mugford. He listened in silence. He would have much liked to give his little daughter the money for the picture, more especially as she rarely expressed a desire for anything she did not possess; and his conscience told him that if he would only deny himself a few drinks at the "White Hart," he could easily spare the eighteen pence; but at the same time, he was too selfish to make a sacrifice for even his dearly loved child.
"Why couldn't Mrs. Mugford give her the picture?" he said to his wife, later on, after the children had gone to bed.
"Why should she, James?" Mrs. Lethbridge replied, indignantly. "She's always giving Molly sweets, and sending across things to me. You know how good and kind she is. I expect," getting angry at her husband's ingratitude, "that she thinks you might give Molly this picture if you liked; no doubt she knows well enough how you spend your evenings, and what you throw away on drink!"
