Garden of Stone

Garden of Stone Melinda Barron All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2008 Melinda Barron

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ISBN: 978-1-59596-920-0

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Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

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Garden of Stone Melinda Barron Trapped for one hundred twenty-one years… in a garden of stone. In 1887, Ursel Seagrove wanted nothing more than to save her lover from an evil warlock. Ogden Butcher was stealing the powers of witches and warlocks in Victorian England, and Ursel’s lover was determined to stop him. Instead, he was killed and she was trapped in stone. For years, Remington Chase has fantasized about the manor, using its creepy garden as a playground for his fertile imagination. Now, armed with the deed to the house, the best-selling horror novelist can’t wait to use the setting for his next book. He’s drawn to the statues and one in particular. The stone woman is everything he’s ever dreamed about. When Remington comes across a strange book of spells, his words bring Ursel back to life and she steals his heart with a single kiss. Unable to let his dream woman go, he vows to join her in a dangerous search to destroy Ogden before the warlock can strike again. Ursel never expected Remington to help her on her quest. Something in the man calls to her, makes her feel things she never thought possible again. It’s almost like she already knows him…

Chapter One July 1887 Seaton Court Outside London, England “Your garden really is lovely. So -- unique.” “You mean so crowded? Yes, several people have told me that. I just ignore them.” “As you’ll ignore me?” Ursel Seagrove turned to the handsome man standing behind her. He stood near the fountain, his hands on his hips, his attraction to her obvious in the tenting of his trousers. “No one could ignore one as beautiful as you, my dear.” Ogden Butcher took a step nearer and her stomach roiled. She must remember why she was here. She must stay calm. “Shall we make love in the garden? The grass will provide a soft blanket for us.” “It’s such an interesting display,” she said, ignoring his question. “You seem to have it separated into four parts. Do they represent the seasons?” “No, not exactly.” He stepped closer and caressed her shoulder. “I classify them according to how they pleased me.” She turned toward him. “What?” His smile sent chills up her spine. “The fountain in the center, of course, is me. It’s the heart of the garden, as I’m the heart of Seaton Court. Then, the main part of the garden is separated into four parts, yes. From the left: we have boring with little talent; dull with talent; mildly entertaining and very talented; and orgasmic and brilliant. Further down are ones I’ve yet to place. As you said, the statuary is so crowded.” This time his smile was menacing. “I don’t understand.” She took a step back, narrowing her eyes at him.

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“No, you and your little coven never understood. You knew your members were disappearing but you didn’t know how. Only that they vanished after visiting me. That’s why you sent that simpleton here.” He straightened and gave her a mock concerned look. “Oh, I’m sorry. That simpleton was your lover, wasn’t he?” The word was made her heart beat faster. “Where is he?” “Oh, I had such trouble placing him. He had a very talented tongue.” Butcher licked his lips and Ursel hissed. “But his magical powers were sorely lacking. Did you choose him simply because of his beauty, or the endowment he has between his legs? Or was it his brute strength? Did you think he could physically overpower me to get me to talk? Or did you believe I would let him go, because he had no real talent to contribute to me?” Ursel stretched out her hands, energy shooting between her fingers. “Take me to him.” “With pleasure. In the end I put him in the orgasmic part of the garden, since he provided me with such bliss with his tight little -- sorry, you don’t want to hear the details, I’m sure. Come.” He rounded the fountain and took a trail that led through a double line of columnar yews. Ursel followed him, the smell of sweet peas wafting over her. He came to a stone archway, taking a key from his pocket to unlock the wooden door. “I have to keep my children under wraps, so they’re well protected. Especially this group.” He shivered in delight and then laughed at her sneer. “It’s a pity you’re not more amiable to me. If we mixed our powers together we would be invincible, you and I. Are you sure you won’t reconsider my earlier offer? I am a powerful lover.” She wanted to rail at him, to scream that she would never align herself with a warlock as dark as he. But she was afraid if she did, he wouldn’t lead her to Cadman. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she could do something to save him. After all, if Butcher was keeping him under wraps he must still be alive. “Where is he?”

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“Very well.” He pushed open the door and stepped back. “After you, my lovely one.” Inside the gate, the smell of sweet peas grew stronger. She stepped into a large circle, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges. In the moonlight she counted seven statues. Ogden went to the bench in the center of the enclosure and sat down, crossing his legs and smiling at her. “See anyone you know?” She frowned at him, and then gasped as realization dawned. She rushed to the first statue, that of a woman in partial dress. She placed her hand on the woman’s chest. The faint thud of a heartbeat greeted her. “She’s alive.” “Of course she is. If she dies, her power dies with her. And it was her power that I wanted. It’s all mine, now. And if I want to take her out to play…” He hissed in delight. “She was quite talented, and gave me mind-blowing orgasms. Hence her position in the orgasmic section of the garden.” “You evil bastard.” She ran to the second statue, this one bearing the face of someone she knew. “Kendra.” “Yes, also a very talented little minx. She also thought she could best me. I have to give you credit, Ursel. Everyone who has come before you has tried to lure me with their bodies. Your refusal to do so is a testament to your love for Cadman.” He nodded toward the far end of the circle. Ursel picked up her skirts and ran. Cadman’s statue was on a pedestal, his handsome features encased in stone. She touched his thighs. She could feel his heartbeat, feel the faint thud of his life force. Tears welled in her eyes. “Cadman, my love.” “How touching. Should I free him? Perhaps the two of you could fuck while I watched.” She wheeled on him, energy shooting from her fingers. He barely moved as the bolts zinged past him and struck the trees in the background. “I’d heard you were powerful. I see that it’s true.”

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She took aim again. This time he had to move quickly, throwing up an invisible shield that captured the energy and then cracked into brilliant light. “Careful, little one. You’ll destroy one of my children, and that would make me very unhappy. I’m in control here. You will behave, or you will join your friends.” “You think you frighten me? I won’t lie with you. You’ll be forced to take me.” “I don’t have to force myself upon you. I can take your powers without it. True, sex does make the transference more enjoyable. But it’s not necessary. And with you, well, as I said, I might make an exception. Join me. Together we can be the most powerful warlocks in England. We can control everyone.” “Never.” Power arced between her fingers again. She had to wait for just the right moment to strike, try to catch him off his guard. “Come now, you know that power excites you, as it does us all.” He started to walk toward her and she held out her hand, blue energy at the ready. “Try it again, and I’ll kill him.” Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t kidding, she was sure of it. She had to find a way to stop him that would catch him unawares, use a spell that would bind his powers before he could hurt the people in this garden any more. But how? How could she do it? She needed time, time to think. She closed her fist and Butcher laughed. “Love will be your downfall, sweet Ursel.” He took another step toward her and she stepped to the left, away from Cadman’s statue. If she could just kill Butcher, then she could find a way to release the souls he had trapped here. “Love will stop you, Ogden. It will be your downfall.” “Never. Love gets me what I want.” She laughed. “Do you call it love? When you have sex with someone, then imprison them in stone? I feel sorry for you.” An emotion she couldn’t decipher crossed his face quickly. Was it rage, or selfpity? If she pushed him further would she distract him enough to gain just a piece of control over him? Could she hurt him enough to summon help?

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He had wards placed around his home; she knew that. Getting through them would be tough. But if he were hurt, if he were angry, perhaps the wards would waver somewhat and she could summon the rest of her coven. Together, they could take Butcher down. “What bothers you the most? Is it the fact you have no love to give? Or is it that you do not receive love? When you summon a ‘toy’ out of the statue, you know they do not love you; they only fear you, fear that you will cause their death.” “Fear is a powerful emotion, little one. One you’re feeling right now.” “I don’t fear you. You’re too pitiful to fear. That’s what you are, a pitiful old man. How long have you been doing this? Is it worth it, to spend eternity alone?” “But I’m not alone. I have all my friends.” He held out his arms as if to pull the statues closer to him. “Friends?” Ursel laughed. “You call them your friends? Why, because you seduced them, then destroyed them? Given a chance any one of them would kill you. As I will.” She flexed her fingers and a double-edged knife appeared in her hand. “Such a small weapon. I prefer this.” He waved his fingers and an ancient broadsword appeared. He laughed at her, then turned and flung the sword at the statue of Cadman. “Come forth!” The sword struck the statue the minute the stone disappeared and Cadman appeared. It speared his stomach and he doubled over, blood spewing from the wound. “No!” She ran to him, dropping her knife in the process. She caught him as he fell, lowering him to the ground, holding his hand in her own. “Ursel. Forgive me.” She touched the sword and Butcher’s power singed her fingers. She pulled back, pain shooting through her. “My love. Don’t leave me.” “I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. “Love you… not protect… sor --”

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“No!” She felt his life force leave his body, the physical form growing heavy. “Don’t leave me. I love you. Come back to me.” She massaged his shoulders, and then let out a cry of anguish. She laid him down gently, and then wheeled on Ogden. “Spawn of the devil.” She shot an energy bolt at him, which he easily deflected. He caught the second one in his hand and hissed in delight. “That’s it. Give them all to me. Give me your power.” “You’re not a warlock, you’re worse. You’re a demon. But not for long.” She held out both hands, then gasped as rings of energy surrounded her body. “You think not?” His voice sounded bored and lazy. Ursel flew through the air, landing on the stone bench in the center of the circle. The wind left her body as she hit, her arms falling down by her sides. When she’d recovered her breath she bent her legs in an effort to stand, but Ogden held out his hand. Her body felt heavy, her feet felt as if they were strapped to the bench. She screamed in fury as her clothing disappeared. “Such a seductive pose. A woman lounging on a bench, waiting for her lover.” He looked back at Cadman’s body. “What a pity. I did so enjoy his body. And getting rid of his physical form will be messy, and smelly. But I’ll make sure I do it in front of you, so you can see.” The heaviness in her body increased. “Let me -- go.” He straddled her and held out his hands, whispering under his breath. She felt her powers bundle together, then lift from her body. She fought to pull them back, but she couldn’t lift her head, nor her hands. Her skin was slowly turning to stone, her body becoming heavier and heavier with each second. “No.” The word was little more than a murmur, and then her mouth was frozen in place. “Yes, my love.” His body glowed as he absorbed her powers. His hands were on his cock. Seconds later his warm seed spread over her now cold, stone body. Then, he sighed deeply and bent to her, his lips near her ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll visit you every night, and I’ll introduce you to each of my new toys. I promise.”

Chapter Two July 2008 Seaton Court Outside London, England “The first thing we have to do is get rid of all these statues. They look like something that came out of one of your books.” Remington Chase stared dumbstruck at Jude Hyde, the designer his best friend had recommended, and shook his head. “No. No, and no. They stay.” “Remington, darling. You’re kidding me, right? Did you hire me to redo these gardens, or do you want to? You have to trust me. The statues will fetch some money at auction that we can use for more picturesque ones, like lions, or tigers.” “This isn’t a zoo,” Remington said, standing up straighter. “I don’t want lions and tigers. I want the statues that are here. Period.” Especially the one in the south garden. Jude sighed heavily, and then turned to Remington, his arms crossed over his chest. “People will laugh at you if you keep them. You want your home and your gardens to be your showcase. Do I see you inside, telling the interior designer what she can and can’t do? No. I must have total control. End of story.” “Fine. Then you’re fired and I’ll find someone else to do the gardens.” Remington started toward the main house and Jude’s hail made him stop. “Now, let’s not be hasty. Maybe we can come to a compromise. You have to admit, there are too many here. I counted twenty-three in the four segments around the fountain alone. Who knows what’s in the outer reaches.” Remington cocked his head. He’d be damned if he’d let any designer browbeat him. He wanted beautiful gardens, yes, but he also wanted to keep some of the statues that held such memories for him.

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“Do you know why I bought this house?” “Because you’re a millionaire author with nothing better to do?” A laugh escaped Remington’s lips. “Hardly. I have a great deal to do. But I grew up near here, and my friends and I used to sneak onto the grounds and play around these statues. I’ve used quite a few of them as muses for my work.” Jude shivered. “Yes, I can imagine. I’m sorry but your brand of, um, literature doesn’t appeal to me.” “It may not, but I know my money does.” He waited for the designer to disagree. When he didn’t, Remington smiled. “The creepiness of this house will fuel many new books for me. The more books I write, the more money I make, and the more I have to spend on renovations, and new additions to the gardens. And if I add on I’ll need designers, and contractors.” Remington let his words hang in the air. The implication was clear: do as I want or I’ll spend my money with someone else. “Very well. May I at least move them around?” “All but one.” Remington took off toward the south garden, stepping between the yews, the designer hot on his heels. He stepped through the stone portal and stopped in front of the reclining woman on the bench. “Oh my lord, how disgusting.” Jude stepped back. “She’s covered in grime. And she looks like she’s just seen a ghost.” “Exactly. When I was younger, she fueled my imagination, and inspired my first ghost story. I owe my career to her.” “You act as if she’s alive.” “To me, she is.” Remy stroked her hair, which flowed back and dangled off the bench on which she reclined. “She stays here. Everything else can be moved, as long as it’s not sold or given away. I’ll even let you bring in a lion or two.” “You’re very gracious,” Jude said, sneering at the statue. “I would think a man making as much money as you would learn to be more grateful to his employer.”

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“Forgive me.” Jude pasted a tight smile on his face. “Shall we visit the rest of the gardens?” “No. You go. I have work to do.” The designer scurried away and Remington stared at the woman, her face locked in anguish. What would cause a carver to produce a statue that looked to be in such pain? He’d often wondered about it. When he was a boy, he’d wandered in here while he and his friends explored the supposedly haunted manor. He’d called them all in to look at the naked lady, who reclined on the bench as if waiting for a lover. They’d all marveled at her breasts, but Remington had pushed away their hands when they’d tried to touch her. She was his. He’d found her, therefore the statue belonged to him, and no one else could touch her. When he was in secondary school, he’d snuck into the gardens to stare at her, and had used her to think of a story to meet Mrs. Walsh’s requirements. He’d written of the stone-carver, who caught his wife cheating on him. When he found her in the garden, waiting for her lover, he’d covered her in cement, encasing her forever. But the woman had her revenge, coming to life at night and killing the man who had doomed her to a life of stone. Mrs. Walsh had been horrified that he’d written about a cheating wife, and killed off the main character in the end. She’d called his parents to convey her concerns, and he’d been restricted to the house for a month. But he’d always managed to find a way to sneak out and find his way to Seaton Court. When he was older, he’d come here to fuel his fantasies, bringing himself to orgasm as he imagined sliding in and out of the woman who reclined on the bench. He swore to himself that he’d own this house one day. And now, at the age of thirty-two, his dream had come true. He crouched down and stroked the statue’s hair again, his cock stirring to life. What would a psychiatrist say, he wondered, if he let it be known that a fake woman was not only his muse for his work, but made him harder than any flesh-and-blood woman ever had?

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Tonight would be his first full night in the house, now that a few rooms were habitable. They’d redone the kitchen and dining room, and one bathroom. He’d chosen the largest room on the second floor for his bedroom. It too was ready for him, complete with a huge tester bed with old-fashioned bed curtains in deep blue. He knew the house still needed a lot of work, since it had sat empty since the 1920s, but he’d insisted on those rooms being done, so he could live here while the work was going on. His editor had called this morning, to remind Remington that his new novel was due in less than a month. He’d barely started it, but since it was set in a house much like Seaton Court, he wanted to be here while he wrote it, to absorb the ambiance of the house into the pages of his latest horror novel. Remington stood and adjusted his pants. His cock pushed against his briefs, eager to be let free. He was sorely tempted to relieve himself. The only thing that stopped him was the idea that one of the workers would wander in. Wouldn’t that make great headlines for the journalists? Horror novelist caught masturbating. Film at eleven. Yet, he didn’t want to leave her. She made his juices flow in so many ways. Maybe he should have her moved into the house, into his bedroom. He shook his head at the thought. That was a little strange, even for him. If he caught himself trying to mount her, he would have to have himself committed. Which would give him even more fodder for his novels. Still, it was a beautiful day outside and he could do some work here. That’s what laptops were for, right? He headed to the house, stopping at the archway and turning back. “I’ll be back later. Don’t go anywhere.” He laughed at his joke, and then headed for the house, glad to have this glorious day to spend in his new garden.

*** “Are you going to sit here all day?”

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Remy started to stand, then regretted his quick action. As was usual after a day at the computer, his lower back hurt. He sat back down, then stood more slowly. “It’s only been a few hours.” He sat down on the stone bench across from the statue. His statue. Truth be told, he’d spent much of the afternoon fantasizing about the stone woman, and how she would suck his cock into her mouth if she were alive. His balls ached from need of relief. When Kresley was gone, he planned to take care of business. “Did you bring food?” “I did, but I’m not your mother, you know. Since you missed tea I figured you’d be hungry. I have some sandwiches, crisps, some biscuits and water.” Kresley Dodd, one of his best friends, set a box down on the bench. “And it’s been more than a few hours. It’s after six, and I don’t want to miss the last train. So I’m leaving. And you’ll be all alone in this monstrosity.” “I know. Don’t you love it?” “No. Tomorrow I’m bringing an exorcist and a large jar of holy water with me. That is if I come back at all.” “Kres, please. I know it’s dark, but --” “Dark? Remy, this house is more than dark. It’s frightening. A case in point, the items I brought you in this box.” “You mean my food? Did you poison it in an effort to break your contract to renovate my new home?” “No. I’m talking about the book and the other items that a worker brought me, right before he packed up his tools and left. For good.” Remy sat back down and pawed through the box. He lifted the leather-clad tome and gently flipped through the worn pages. “It looks like a diary of some sort.” “It’s a spell book. I read part of it and it scared the daylights out of me.” “Really?” Remy stopped flipping to examine a page, his excitement obvious. “Listen to this: Seed of life will let me take; the powers that inside you quake; make them mine forevermore; as long as I’m to the fore.”

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“To the fore? What does that mean?” “It means as long as I’m still alive. It’s an archaic term.” “You’re sick, and that’s dangerous.” “If you believe in it, I suppose so. But I don’t, so what does it matter?” He lifted his gaze to hers, and then lowered it back to the book. “Which room did they find this in?” “The third floor, one near the back. It’s the only one that’s unlocked if you’re going searching for the devil tonight.” Silence lingered for several minutes, then Kresley sighed. “I’m off. Don’t forget your food.” “I won’t. Thanks.” She walked through the arch, and then came back through. “Come with me. Let me introduce you to the new girl at work. Her name’s Lorna. Very pretty. Big knockers. Just your type.” “Thank you, but no.” “Come on, Remy. What do you plan to do, wank off all your life? You need to find a woman.” “If I recall, you’re not married, either.” “No, but I have had steadies. You on the other hand have had a series of bad one-night stands. Come on. Live a little.” “Thanks for the invite, but no. I want to celebrate my first night here in my new home. You can stay, if you like.” “Not on your life. I’m leaving before the sun sets and Beelzebub sends his minions out to run footraces down the garden path. Goodnight.” “Shall I drive you to the station?” “No thanks, the walk will do me good. Take care and I’ll see you in the morning. Hopefully. But I’m warning you, if I walk in and find you dead, I’m kicking you in the bum. Understand?”

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“Got it. I’m sure the coroner will love the clue of your footprint.” He winked at her. “Take care.” He watched her leave, feeling just a little bad for not going with her to the station. She was his oldest friend, but she’d never understood his fascination with Seaton Court. Sometimes he wondered about it himself. After all, it was just a house, wasn’t it? Of course worse than the house was his fascination with the statue in front of him. It had fueled many a fantasy. Was that normal, to fantasize about a statue? To think about making love to something made of stone? Was there a fetish for that? Should he get counseling? Not a bad idea, but what would he tell the counselor? I’ve fantasized about a piece of stone since I was a teenager, can you help me? I know, I know, it gives a whole new meaning to the term rock hard. He put down the spell book he’d been reading and walked to the statue. She lay on her back, one leg bent at the knee, the other lying flat. Her arms hung down, her long hair flowing over the sides of the bench. The look on her face was hard to read. She was either in great pain, or in the throes of orgasm. He’d always thought it was the latter, and he’d fantasized that he’d induced her orgasm. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open as if in mid-scream, or mid-moan. He stared down at her and closed his eyes. In his fantasy she was alive, reclining on the bench, waiting for him. Her hair was red and her eyes green. She moaned softly and he did the same. His hands went to the fly of his jeans. His cock, aching since he’d stepped in front of the statue that morning, leapt free of its bonds and into his hands. He pumped softly at first, imagining her watching him, her eyes wide with fascination. She licked her lips in appreciation and flicked her tongue toward him. “Yes, oh yes.” He pumped harder, his moans echoing off the trees. He’d done this very thing so many times in this garden, but he’d never stood this close to her

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before. He’d always stayed near the hedges, watching her as he stroked himself to orgasm. But this time he wanted to be closer. She belonged to him now. The house was his. The grounds were his. The gardens were his. He increased his movements, wishing he’d brought some lotion down from the house with him. He stopped for a moment, his chest heaving. Then he licked the palms of his hands and started again. This time her legs were spread wide and she was begging him to mount her, to fuck her. He slowed his strokes, seeking to prolong his pleasure. What had the book said? Something about the seed of life taking powers. Why did it take? Wasn’t the seed of life supposed to give things? He imagined bringing her to life, imagined making love to her. All he had to do was change a few words around. He quickened his pace and stared into her face. “Seed of life let me give; breath to you that you may live; make you mine forever more; as long as I’m to the fore.” He gave several hard strokes and his cum shot out, landing on her stomach and breasts. “Oh fuck. Yeah, fuck. Oh Chase, you’ve lost it!” He stepped back and bent over, trying to catch his breath. The softness of a woman’s moaning filled his ears. What the hell? Had Kresley come back? Bugger me. “Cadman. Come back. Don’t leave me.” “What?” He stood, then backed up, his eyes widening. She was sitting up, her hands going to her face. Her skin was pale, almost ashen. Her hands shook. He stared at her for several long minutes, wondering if he should call for the men in the white coats, before she lifted her eyes, her green eyes, to him. Then she ran her fingers through her dark red hair. “Don’t leave me. Come and love me. Help me to live again.” She reached out her hand and he stepped toward her, sure the illusion would fade the closer he got to the bench. Instead, the woman touched him. Her hands were ice cold. He grasped them between his own, rubbing them together, then knelt down in front of her.

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He knew he should say something. Instead he just stared at her. Her hands became warmer, and color appeared on her cheeks. She smiled at him, then licked her lips. He licked his own in response, then leaned over and kissed her. He expected to meet cold stone. Instead he met lips, soft and pliant, not as warm as his own, but not as cold as the stone would be. She lifted her shaking hand to his neck and caressed it, pulling him closer to her. He deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and pushing breath into her. She sucked it deep, moaning as she pressed her tongue against his. They broke apart long enough for him to take several deep breaths, and then they started again. This time her lips were as warm as his, her hands as steady as his own. She grasped him firmly and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She was his deepest fantasy come to life, and he didn’t intend to waste one minute of it. He stroked her side, his hand cupping her breast. She threw her head back and groaned. Then she locked gazes with him and stroked his cheek. “My Cadman, you’ve freed me.” “What? No. My name’s Remington. I --” “I love you.” She swayed, and then she fainted in his arms.

Chapter Three Remington paced in front of the bed. She’d been sleeping for five hours now. The moon shone in through the open curtains, providing the only light in the room. He stared at her, his heart racing. When his mother warned him about masturbation making him go blind, she’d said nothing about bringing statues to life. He ran his hands down his face, then let out a sigh of frustration. “Wake up,” he whispered. “Tell me what in hell is going on here.” Hell. Oh Lord, what if Kresley was right. What if the house was possessed? What if the woman was a demon who’d overtaken that which his heart desired? Horror novelist or not, the idea of living in a possessed house was not appealing. He turned to the box, which sat near a chair. It had been his only trip from the room after he carried her upstairs. He’d hurried back to the garden to collect it. And to prove to himself that the statue was gone. After he’d stared at the empty bench for several moments, he gathered the box and rushed back upstairs. Unfortunately, the box held nothing of interest, or nothing that would tell him what was happening. It had the book, a mortar and pestle, a large metal pentagram, some black candles and a knife with a black handle. “Come on, wake up!” He moved back to the bed and she stirred. She moaned the name Cadman again. Remington rounded the bed and sat down, covering her now warm hand with his own. “Wake up, talk to me.” “You saved me. My love.” “No, I’m not your love. I’m a writer, I… who are you?” “Ursel, my love. It’s me.” She stared at him, then blinked. “You look the same. Dark curly hair, deep piercing eyes, high cheekbones, and those lips… Kiss me.”

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Go ahead, yeah. He leaned toward her. No, no! Have you lost your mind? He pulled back and stood. “Listen, we need to talk. My name’s not Cadman. It’s Remington. And you’re, um, I…” “Remington? It fits you. What is the year?” “The year? 2008.” She sat bolt upright and threw out her arms, her finger extended. She let out a cry of disgust, then flexed her hands again. “The bastard still lives.” “Who? Cadman? He’s a bastard?” “No. Cadman was my life, my love. He is you. Butcher still lives. He still has my powers.” “Right. I’m going downstairs to find my phone, and then I’m going to call the village doctor. He’s known me since I was a kid and always said I was a little off. He’ll give me some Xanex for, well, for me or you, or maybe for both of us, and then --” He started toward the door, flying into the wall when she tackled him from behind. Her lips worked their way over his back, hampered by the T-shirt he wore. “I want you naked,” she said. “So many times when you came to me, I dreamed it was me holding your shaft, not you. Me stroking it, taking it inside me. Come and love me, Remington. Don’t leave me. I ache for you.” She wrapped her arms around him, her hands settling on his crotch. His already hard cock pulsed under her stroking and he leaned his head into the wall. “Take me,” she whispered. “Bury yourself deep inside my quim. I am wet for you.” His mind and body battled, with his body finally winning. He pushed back and gathered her in his arms, taking her to the bed and laying her down. He left long enough to strip out of his pants. He fell next to her, his lips going to her breasts. Her perfect breasts. They were high and pert, large and full, the nipples taut in welcome. He captured one in his mouth and suckled hard, nipping it with his teeth. For a second he thought that it was too

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rough, that for their first time together he should go slower, be more tender. Then he sucked her in deeper, his fingers finding the other nub and twisting it gently. “Yes, you remember. Yes! Harder.” She moaned under him as he released one nipple from his mouth and turned to the other, sucking it in deeply. “Yes! Oh, my love.” He gathered her breasts together and sucked both nipples into his mouth, biting them as one as she groaned under him. Her hand snaked down his belly and captured his cock, tugging on it over and over. “Fuck me! Now. I want you inside me. Take me.” He suckled her harder as she stroked him. Thoughts passed in and out of his mind. What if she were a demon? What if sex just fueled her, made her stronger? She’d said something about powers earlier. What exactly did that mean? Who cares, moron? She’s a woman; she’s warm and she wants you to fuck her. Do it! He lifted his head from her chest and stared down at her. The look she gave him was full of love, full of desire. Did he need a condom? Could demons get pregnant? Could they spread disease? She parted her legs and he fell between them, his cock pounding with need. She still had her hand on him, stroking him from balls to tip. She moved him to her sweet entrance and lifted her hips. “Fuck me.” His mind screamed no, but his body screamed yes. He pushed inside, her warmth and wetness swallowing him. He groaned and slid in further. Her hands were on his hips now, encouraging him to hurry, to enter her fully. Part of him was screaming that it was wrong, that he knew nothing about her. He didn’t even know if she was real. He shook his head, trying to clear the battling factions of himself. When she wrapped her legs around his, pulling him closer, he lost it. He pushed himself in fully and began to fuck her in hard, even strokes. She lifted her hips to meet each thrust, her legs holding him close.

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Then, as if unsatisfied with the pace he’d set, she unwrapped her legs, pushed on his chest and flipped him off her. He landed on his back and she mounted him, taking him inside her in one quick movement. She rode him hard, bouncing up and down as her hands roamed over her breasts, tweaking her nipples. She cried out in pleasure and his balls tightened. No. Not yet. Too soon. He slid his hand over her abdomen, her skin soft and firm. He tried to still her movements with one hand while the other probed her wet slit. He pushed inside, his thumb finding her clit, pushing it hard into her body, keeping the pressure tight as she screamed out in orgasm. How did I know she’d like that? He pulled back slightly and then pushed again. “Cadman!” Her body shivered on top of his and her pussy clenched his cock, sending him over the edge. He thrust harder and harder, flooding her insides. She collapsed on top of him, her heart beating wildly against his chest. “You always were magnificent. Even in this incarnation, you know just how to touch me, just how to stroke me.” “While I appreciate the compliment, I don’t know how to tell you that I’m not who you think I am.” Her tinkle of laughter sent chills up his spine. “Think you not? Take off your shirt.” “What?” “Your covering. Take it off so I can see your markings.” “Don’t you think I should know your name first? I mean I’ve been inside you. The least you could do is tell me who you are.” “I’m Ursel.” “Yeah, you said that, but, who are you? How did you get here?” She laughed and stroked his chest. “I do believe you spilled your life seed on me.” Remington’s insides went cold. Seed of life, let me give breath to you that you might live. He’d made it up after reading the book. After seeing the phrase about taking

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powers with the seed of life. “Holy shit.” He tried to sit up but she pushed him back down. “Your marking. It’s a U, correct, interwoven with Celtic knots?” “I drew the design when I was thirteen. I had it done on my eighteenth birthday.” She leaned down and traced his lips with hers, snaking her tongue out to lick his lower lip when she pulled away. Then she stood and turned her back to him. There, on her lower left hip, was a tattoo. The only difference from the one he had was the letter was C, instead of a U.

Chapter Four “This is delicious. Is there more?” “Yeah, look in the fridge.” Remington stared out the window at the gardens. The sun was just now peeking over the horizon. They’d barely slept all night. After Ursel had told him her story of her entrapment, he’d sat, dumbfounded, until her stomach had growled. He’d led her to the kitchen where he now stood, speechless, while she ate from a plate of sandwiches Kresley had left in the refrigerator. “The gleaming box?” “Yeah, the box. Take whatever you like. Kresley stocked it yesterday. There’s no telling what’s inside.” “Kresley. Is she the woman that was in the garden yesterday? Is she your lover?” “No, just a friend.” “Ah. Good.” She jumped down from the stool and padded to the refrigerator. She was wearing one of his old buttoned-down shirts, which hit her just below her wellrounded backside. He watched her open the refrigerator and bend, her tantalizing bare rump now upturned for his perusal. His cock jerked in response and he shook his head. There on her hip was the tattoo that was so like the one on his left shoulder. He swallowed hard and pressed down on his cock. “Down, boy.” Her giggle made him grow harder. “Would you like to take me this way? You used to love it, as did I.” She looked over her shoulder at him and batted her eyes in invitation. “You’re an evil little minx.”

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Her smile grew and she shut the door, walking toward him. He stayed in place, his now hard cock parting the folds of his robe. She pushed the material away and dropped to her knees in front of him, taking his cock into her mouth and sucking hard. Her fingers tickled his balls, trailing down to the sensitive spot just below, teasing the ridge that ran to his anus. He shivered in delight as she sucked him in and out. He stroked her hair and for just a second thought he should stop her. Despite what she believed, he barely knew her. Truthfully she could just be a very vivid hallucination. But what a hallucination. Her hand was now working in conjunction with her mouth, stroking that part of his shaft that she couldn’t get into her mouth. Of course he had no trouble believing in reincarnation. Who was to say he wasn’t Cadman, the man that she’d loved who’d failed to save her from the bad guy? He’d taken a sword to the gut and died, leaving her by herself. Maybe this was his chance to make things better. He’d felt great pain for her when she’d gushed tears as she’d described how Butcher had dismembered him, then burned his body in front of her. Maybe the world had worked to give him a second chance to protect the woman he loved. “Stop, stop!” He pushed on her. She looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. “Do I not please you?” “Very much, but I need -- we need -- oh hell’s bells.” She’d taken him back into her mouth, sucking him harder this time, her free hand gently cupping his balls. She pulled back and tongued the head of his cock, gently parting the slit, while her hand worked her saliva up and down his shaft. He slowly undulated under her ministrations before stepping back from her. “Stand up.” She didn’t question him, and when he moved her to the island in the center of the kitchen, she reached over it and grabbed the other side, lifting her to just the right height. He took her hips and drove himself into her, her cries of joy echoing off the kitchen walls. He started to pound into her, harder and harder until he thought she might break under his thrusts.

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“More. More. Oh, Remington, more.” They grunted together with each thrust, until he heard her soft mews of pleasure. He moved one hand from her hip and traced her slit. “Will you come for me? Will you?” She slid her hand down to join his, guiding him inside her wetness. Together they stroked her clit as he began to thrust again. When she came, she clenched him so hard he thought she might break him off. Instead, he felt his swollen cock jerk inside her, sending stream after stream of himself deep into her womb. “Bloody hell, I did it again. No condom.” “What is this condom?” “To prevent pregnancy.” He didn’t think he needed to worry about disease. After all, she had either been trapped in stone for a hundred and twenty years, or was a figment of his imagination. A very soft, very welcoming figment, but a figment just the same. She moaned under him. “Does it matter? I would welcome your child with open arms.” He licked her back, her sweat salty on his tongue. She shivered under him, her laughter making him laugh. “I love you so.” “How can you love me? You don’t even know me.” He stepped back, setting her on her feet and turning her toward him. He stroked her cheeks. “But I do know you.” “If I’m this Cadman, how could you ever forgive me? I failed you.” “No, you never could. You were so early in your training. Even I couldn’t defeat Butcher.” She kissed him again. “Someone did. He’s dead, obviously.” “No, he’s alive.” “The last owner was a man named Nash. I researched it when I was a teen.”

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“That was him, but he’s not dead. If he were dead I would have my powers. The spell he cast gave him my powers only until his death. Then they would revert back to me. And to the others in the garden.” Remington stepped back from her. “Others? The other statues are…”

“Well, it looks like someone had a good time last night.”

Remington turned to the doorway where Kresley stood, a bag of food in her

hand. “I brought croissants and jam.” She held up the other hand. “And holy water, as promised. No exorcist, though. Should I go back and get him?”

Chapter Five “Um, good morning. You’re early.” “Yes. I have things to do. Looks like I’m not the only one.” There was mischief in her eyes. She set down her bag and held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Kresley, the moron’s long-suffering friend. And you are?” “Ursel.” She stared at the hand, then shook it. She’d never greeted a woman like this before, but she supposed that things had changed. She looked up at Remington, who smiled and nodded. “The least you could have done is let her keep her own clothes, Remy,” Kresley said. “Yes, about that. Did you take the train today?” “No. I drove. Why?” “Ursel needs some clothing. Her, um, baggage was lost on her, well, her trip, here.” “I see. Well, the shops aren’t open yet, but I think I can swing a trip into town later this morning. Until then, she has the clothing she arrived in, right?” Ursel shook her head. “No, I don’t.” “You arrived naked?” Ursel’s yes sounded at the same time as Remington’s no. Kresley shot them both annoyed looks. “Oh spare me. Just say you destroyed them in a fit of passion and be done with it. Hold on. You’re a bit thinner than I, but I think I have something in the boot that might work for now.” She slammed out the door and Remington looked down at Ursel. “I think she likes you. I’ll be right back.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then followed Kresley out the door.

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Ursel watched him leave, then climbed onto the stool she’d sat on earlier. Everything was so different. The magical item that kept things cold, and the other, that produced fire with no matches. Remington had used it when he’d fixed them tea. Of course she wasn’t totally ignorant of things. Butcher had kept his promise to visit her every day. Some times he sat and talked, telling her of the changes in the world, of Queen Victoria’s death, of King Edward, and then of King George. He’d described in great detail the start of the world war. At the beginning of each new year, he’d appear and tell her what year it was, remind her of how long she’d been his prisoner. The last New Year’s Day he’d appeared had been 1924. Several months later, he’d simply disappeared. At first she’d been frightened, wondering what would happen to her. Then, when no one came, she simply lay there, sleeping most of the time. She didn’t have to contend with Butcher’s taunts any longer. She no longer had to watch him mate with innocent witches, both male and female, and then take their powers before turning them to stone. Her breath caught as she thought of the others, still trapped inside their prisons. She had to find a way to help them. But, without her powers, what could she do? She had to convince Cadman, no, Remington, that they had to search for Butcher. They had to find him and kill him. But how would she do that? She couldn’t kill him when she had her powers. How would she do it now, without them? And Remington. She knew he had powers, although he’d yet to discover them. How else could he have freed her? She wondered if he believed the truth, that he was a reincarnation of Cadman, that he was drawn to Seaton Court because she was there, because it had played such an integral part of his past life. Something had happened to Butcher to drive him off. She needed to figure out what that was, and to see if there was a way to trace him. Perhaps there was a coven nearby, descendants of her former coven mates who could tell her where to start. She needed to ask Remington.

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Her stomach growled as the back door opened.

“Well, didn’t he feed you? Typical man.”

“No, he did. I’m just ravenous.”

“Very well.” Kresley handed her a few articles of clothing. “Go put these on and

I’ll fry up some eggs, sausages, and tomatoes. Would you like beans?” “Yes, please.” “Good. It’ll be ready when you get back down.” “Where is Ca -- Remington?” “He went tearing after the gardener. He’ll be back when he smells the food, don’t worry. Now, chop chop. Get a move on. I dislike staring at a naked woman.” Ursel started for the stairs, stopping when Kresley’s sniff of disgust turned into a laugh. “My lord, didn’t he at least take you to the bed? What a beast.” “I’m afraid the kitchen thing was my fault. I couldn’t keep my hands off him.” “Really?” Kresley gave her a shocked look. “Well, to each his own, I suppose. I never did see what women saw in him, other than the fact that he can be sweet. Not my type.” “That’s good to hear,” Ursel said. “He’s always been mine.”

*** Ursel twirled in front of the mirror, the skirt spreading out as she twirled faster and faster. “My legs feel so free.” She laughed and ran to Remington, throwing her arms around him. “Are you sure it’s legal for me to go to the church wearing something so scandalous?” Remington laughed. “You’re not scandalous. This is how women dress nowadays.” Her eyes widened. “Truly? They go in public in so short a skirt, with no corset?” “It’s not that short. It hits your knee.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “So, we’ll go to the church, then?” “Why? Do you want me to make an honest woman out of you?”

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She gave him a confused look, then shook her head. “We need to search the registry, to see if there is news of Butcher. We have to find him and kill him. Only then can I get my powers back and try to help everyone else in the garden.” He took a few steps back and she wondered if he was going to tell her that he thought she was ready for the asylum. “Everyone else in the garden. I forgot about them. We need to take a walk, take an inventory. On the other matter, I have a better way of searching. Most records are computerized now, and on the Internet.” She wrinkled her brow. “What does that mean?” “It means we can check them from here. We don’t have to go to the church, or to the registry office. We can even search newspapers and Google Butcher to see what we come up with.” “Google? No, his name is Ogden.” Remington laughed. “No. Google is a search engine we can use to find information on him.” “An engine? We must take the train? Are we going to London?” His laughter made her stomach flip. “You’re making fun of me.” “No, I’m not laughing at you. I promise. It’s just things have changed since 1887. We have a thing called a computer. You can store information in it, and anyone can access it through a thing called the Internet. It’s hard to explain, but you use things called search engines to find what you want. For instance, I’ll put in Butcher’s name and see what we come up with.” She stared at him, the hurt look still on her face. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise. My laptop’s downstairs. Let’s go and do some searching.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Ready to surf the information superhighway?” Her frown increased. When she saw the teasing glint in his eyes, she smiled. “You’re a naughty boy. You must explain to me all these terms I don’t understand.”

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“Sure. We’ll go for a ride later and have a nice long chat.” They moved into the hallway, heading for the stairs. “I’m not very good with horses. I would prefer a carriage.” “I’m talking about in the car.” Her confusion soon turned to wonder. “A car. Is this a horseless carriage? Butcher told me of these.” Remington pulled her to a stop. “He did?” “Yes. He visited me daily, sometimes twice a day, to taunt me. To tell me of new inventions and creations.” Sadness filled her. “He also had sex with his new ‘toys’ and turned them in front of me.” “Ursel.” Remington pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry.” Tears leaked from her eyes onto the softness of his shirt. “It was horrible to watch. Knowing the witch would soon be imprisoned as I was. We must help them.” “We will.” His kiss was gentle, and when his lips moved to the corner of her mouth, and onto her cheek, she sighed. His tongue followed the path of her tears and she clasped her hands in his shirt. He kissed her one more time, his tongue gently invading her mouth. Then they silently walked to the kitchen where Kresley stood talking to a small man she didn’t know. The man left as soon as they entered, and Kresley closed some large books that were on the counter. “Fabric samples,” she said. “And carpeting. We need to talk, Remy.” “We will. Later.” He took a small machine in his hands and lifted the lid, pressing some buttons. A whizzing sound filled the air, and then bells tinkled. Ursel looked around for the source. Not finding it, she turned to the machine which now had an image of rolling hills on it. “What is that?” “Switzerland. I went there for vacation last year. I’ll take you there.” “I would like that.” She smiled at him, then watched as he started to stroke the buttons on the machine. “This will tell us where Butcher is? Is it magic?”

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“No. Modern technology. And it might give us a clue.” She sighed. “If it doesn’t work then we can always find the local coven. Perhaps they can help.” Ursel let out an angry burst as water spread over her head, soaking into her hair. She stepped back, shaking the droplets free from her hair. “Kres? What in hell are you doing?” Remington had moved the machine back and was now staring at his friend. Kresley held up the empty bottle that had contained the holy water. “Just checking.”

Chapter Six Ursel sank into Remington’s chest, the hot water swirling around them. “This is magic. Water that heats without fire?” “It has fire,” Remy replied. “In a thing called a water heater. Then it travels through pipes.” The claw-footed tub was large enough for the both of them. He held her close and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry we didn’t get more information today.” They’d spent hours searching for Butcher’s name. There were no birth or death records, and no record that he’d ever owned Seaton Court. Of course Remington already knew that. The last known owner was a man named Oliver Nash. Nash had lost the house to the government for taxes, and it had sat empty until Remington had bought it. “ ’Twas as if he didn’t exist,” she said softly. “We must find the coven tomorrow. They will know.” “I’m not sure how we’re going to do that.” His hands traced the swells of her breasts. “There are rumors of witches, true. But I don’t think they’re listed with the tourist authority.” “I know where to find them. They’ll be in the same place they’ve been for centuries. Bright Hall.” “Bright Hall? The Larhue sisters live there. Spinsters, they say. Of French descent.” “Norman descent. Their family has been around for ages. They will believe me, and I owe it to them to tell them where their loved ones are.” Remington stroked her hair. “I believe you.”

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“No, you don’t. You like me, and my body. But deep inside you don’t believe you are Cadman, and you don’t believe you possess powers that could destroy Butcher.” “I can repeat words and spill my cum on a statue, that doesn’t mean I have powers. And I don’t believe in reincarnation. And I more than like you. I’ve been in love with you since I was a teen.” She settled more firmly into him, his cock pressing against her bottom. “Tell me about you. I want to know everything.” He kissed her temple, then traced his lips down to her ear. “There’s not much to tell. I finished my A-levels and wrote a book. It sold so I wrote another one. And another one after that. There’ve been seven in total, with another one on the way.” She feathered her hands over his forearms as he continued to kiss her. “These books, are they books of love?” “No. They’re dark books of horror, with demons and other evil things.” A light laugh escaped her lips. “Demons, like Kresley believes me to be, or real demons?” “Real ones.” He moved his lips back to her temple, his hands moving down to cup her breasts. “Like Butcher.” “Yes, I suppose so.” He found her nipples, pulling them taut between his fingers. She moaned and rocked her ass against his cock, grinding her soft flesh into his hardness. “What do you think makes you write of demons?” “My mother says it’s the devil’s work. She’s been encouraging me to write about sweet things, love stories. Or even a spy novel. She didn’t complain too much, though, when I bought her a new Jag, a very expensive horseless carriage, for Christmas last year.” “You have a talent, and your gift of stories may have been fueled by things you saw in a previous life, don’t you think?”

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“Well, I’ve never written a story about a warlock trapping people’s bodies in stone while he captured their powers, if that’s what you’re asking. I did write a story about a demon who could suck the life out of people.” She turned toward him, water spilling over the sides as she moved. He cupped her breasts, then lifted one to his mouth, sucking her in deeply. “Do you know what Cadman could do?” “Could he make you orgasm like I do?” “Yes.” She laughed at his frown. “But you are one and the same, so that shouldn’t surprise you.” He recaptured her nipple, gently nibbling on it as she rubbed against his cock. “He had just discovered his powers when Butcher took him. He could move things with his mind.” He teased her nipple with his teeth until she hissed. “Telekinesis?” He captured the other one, nibbling on it. “Yes. He came into his powers late, when he met me. I taught him to use them. Would you like to know how?” He popped the other nipple from his mouth. “Yes.” “We tried an experiment. It involved tying him to a chair. Then I had him fuck me with a candle. Using only his mind.” Remington’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding me?” “Not at all. He was more than happy to try, I can assure you. What about you? Would you like to try?” She grabbed his cock and stroked it, her hand running from base to tip and back. “If you succeed, I’ll give you the same reward that Cadman asked for.” “And what was that?” “He wanted to bind me, and I let him. I know that’s what you want, also.” Remington’s cock pulsed in her hands. “Are you afraid to try, Remy? Are you afraid to let me bind you?” “I’m not afraid of anything.”

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She giggled and stood, water sliding over her. “Then come with me.”

*** Remington tugged gently on his bonds. He knew that all it would take was a good, hard pull and he would be free. They’d decided to use the kitchen. Ursel had insisted that all the lights be off. She’d scouted the house for candles, finding more than a few that Kresley had left under the sink for power outage emergencies. Most of them were votives. She’d lit those and placed them strategically around the kitchen. They produced a seductive glow inside the darkened house. After lighting the candles she examined the tapers she’d found, looking them over carefully before selecting one that was about eight inches in length, and about two inches in diameter. “This will work.” She knelt in front of him and he ached to touch her breasts. When she bent her head toward his cock he groaned. She licked the tip of him, sliding her tongue slowly along his slit before sucking him deep into her mouth. “You’re distracting me.” “I’m giving you incentive. Work your magic on me and I will reward you.” She stood and moved to the table, lying down so that her backside was flush with the end. She spread her legs wide, planting her feet as near the edge as she could. Then she slid the candle through her slit. “This is exactly as it happened before. Can you see it in your mind’s eye? Can you feel Cadman’s excitement as he watched me?” “I can feel mine.” He fought to control his breathing. “Did he start off with this? Maybe we should --” “Shush.” She moaned and slid the candle inside her, moving it in and out of her wetness. “Remington, I’m wet for you.” His cock bobbed in response. He ached to touch it, to break free of his bonds and run to her, pushing the candle away and sliding home. What if she were right? What if he really was Cadman reincarnated? It would explain his fascination with Seaton Court, his fascination with the statue that became Ursel.

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Garden of Stone

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If Cadman had died violently here in 1887, it was only right that his spirit would be drawn back here, no matter what form it took. Then again, he wasn’t sure if he believed in rebirth. He’d done research on it, true. The subject was fascinating, but he’d never been totally convinced. What he was convinced of was that a beautiful woman lay just feet away from him, sliding a candle in and out of her pussy, moaning his name. “Ursel. Untie me.” Lord. He wanted to try her experiment so much, wanted to know whether or not he could do the things she thought he could. But he also wanted to touch her. To fuck her. Now. “No.” She moved her hands from the candle. It stayed in place so he could only guess that she was gripping it with her inner muscles. “Fuck me with it, Remington. Use your mind. Use your abilities. Move the candle in and out of my wetness.” He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his mission. But instead of the candle sliding in and out of Ursel, he saw himself, planted deeply inside her, pumping back and forth until they both yelled in ecstasy. “Ursel.” “My love. Do it for me, I’m begging you.” He opened his eyes. In the candlelight he could see her hands roaming over her breasts, tweaking her nipples. He lowered his gaze to the candle. One of the characters in his third book had been telekinetic. What had the books said? That all things on earth were made of energy and could be manipulated. Moving things with your mind was simply imagining a link between the object you wanted to move, and your hand. Then, you would use your own energy to move the object in question. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to ignore his throbbing cock. He wrote about these things all the time, why shouldn’t he believe in them? Why shouldn’t he think he could do it?

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He saw his hand reach out and grasp the candle, taking it firmly in hand. Then he began to move it, sliding it in and out of her pussy, back and forth against her soft, warm folds. “Yes, yes, that’s it. Faster, my love, faster.” For fuck’s sake, I’m doing it. I’m doing it. He focused harder, his efforts rewarded with Ursel’s heavy moans. “So good, oh my love. That’s it. That’s it.” “Stroke yourself. I want you to come while I’m fucking you with my mind.” His heavy breathing matched her own. He felt flush with power, infused by Ursel’s declarations of love as her fingers pierced her slit and found her clit. “Faster, oh, so good. Oh, my love. So very good. I, oh -- Remington!” she screamed his name over and over. A few times the name Cadman slipped out but Remington didn’t care. He might not have believed her before, might have thought she was a very, very vivid dream, but he believed her now. He believed every word she’d told him. It all made sense now. His fascination with the house, with the statue. His love of the occult, even if he’d thought most of it was hogwash. He knew better now. He knew what he’d had, and what he’d lost. He knew he had to face Butcher again. This time he wouldn’t fail. This time he would kill the warlock with his own hands.

Chapter Seven His bonds broke with two hard tugs. He pushed the chair away as he stood. It went sliding across the floor as he advanced on Ursel. He picked her up and brought her to him in a fierce hug, claiming her lips in a punishing kiss. She responded by laughing deep inside her throat. She pulled her face back from his and brought her fingers to her lips, tasting her juices as he watched. “You are perfect, my love. So very perfect. As you always are.” “It all came back. I could feel it.” She caressed his cheek as they stood. “Tomorrow we go to the coven,” she said. “They’ll help us find Butcher and together, we’ll defeat him this time. Last time he conjured a sword. This time we’ll be ready for that.” “How? I don’t think they make sword-proof vests.” “We know what he’ll do. He won’t know that you know, or that you have powers. We’ll succeed this time. You’ll see.” Remington swallowed hard. He wanted to believe her, wanted to know this time would be different. He’d let her down before; he didn’t want that to happen again. “I’m surprised you’re not running to claim your prize.” “Well, I’m thrilled at the thought, believe me. But I don’t exactly have the equipment for it.” “You have no more rope?” “No. I suppose we could search the rooms, see if the workers left any behind. Or, we could take a ride in my horseless carriage and go visit some shops in London.” She squealed with delight. “May I take the reins?” “Um. No.” “Please?”

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“You have to have a license to drive, and you don’t.” Remington frowned at her dejected look. “But I’ll let you try your hand at it when we get back, once we’re on my land again.”

*** Ursel stared at the myriad of items in front of her. She’d seen dildos before, but they’d been made of polished wood, leather, or carved from ivory. The items in front of her looked almost lifelike. She picked up a package and examined it. Veins ran along the shaft toward the tip of the fake penis. “Is this dildo made of human flesh?” She leaned into Remington’s shoulder, upset when he laughed. “No, baby. It’s plastic. Or latex, I’m not sure which. Besides, that’s not a dildo per se. It’s a vibrator. It moves like a penis.” “What?” Her loud voice brought stares from several of the customers, but Ursel didn’t care. Tonight had been fascinating. Riding in Remington’s “car” had been an incredible experience. The speed with which they’d traveled, and the numerous other carriages on the roadway, had fascinated her. London did not look like she remembered. It was larger, and the streetlights made it seem glamorous. The shop he’d taken her to was in Soho, but on the way there he’d taken her by many places she remembered, including Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and The Tower. “Some things never change,” she said. “These places look just like they did when I saw them last.” When she’d seen the Centennial Wheel, she’d made him promise to take her for a ride before they went back to Seaton Court. He’d agreed, but wanted to do his shopping first. He now had several packages of rope in his hand, along with other items that she could not see fully. She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “May we buy one?” “Of course, you naughty little vixen. Pick one out.” She held fast to “Mr. Johnson,” the one that had fascinated her so.

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“Tell me something, were you this sexually curious in 1887?” He took the package and gave her a lecherous grin. “Of course. You taught me everything.” “Figures. Why can’t I remember that?” When they went to pay for their purchases, the man behind the counter asked if they needed “batteries.” Ursel frowned, happy when Remington nodded. “What are batteries?” she whispered in his ear. “Energy providers.” “Oh.” She nodded, then watched carefully as Remington handed the clerk a small square. When the man ran it through a machine, and handed it back to Remington, she snatched it from his hand, running her fingers over the upraised letters. “What is this? Money?” She ignored the strange look the clerk gave her as he handed Remington a slip of paper that he signed. “No. It’s a credit card. I charge things on it, and then pay the bank at the end of the month.” “You don’t use coin?” “Sometimes. But when I don’t have enough, I use this.” He put it into the small pouch he carried in his pants and she frowned. “ ’Tis like a bank draft?” “Yes, exactly.” “Have a good time,” the clerk said, leering at Ursel. “Oh, we shall, thank you.” She smiled at him and Remington pulled her toward the door. “Did I say something wrong?” “No.” He helped her into the car and handed her the package. She immediately tore through it, taking the dildo from its strange wrappings and waving it at him as he climbed inside. “You’re right, it moves.” “Baby, put that down.” He tried to take it from her but she jerked it toward the door.

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“Why? It is ours. We did not steal it.” “I know, but someone might be watching and get the wrong idea. Put it down until we get to the house.” He made another grab for it and Ursel pulled it away again. She stared at it, wiggling it around again so that it jiggled in her hands. Then she stuck out her tongue and licked it. “Ursel. Give me that.” Remington dove for it but she held firm to her new toy.

“It tastes strange, not like flesh at all.”

From outside the car she heard men making loud noises.

“No. Give me that.” He took the dildo and hit a button on the car door. A loud

sound ricocheted through the interior at the same time someone knocked on her window. She turned to find a man standing there. “Can I play, too?” His voice was loud and he tried, but failed, to open the door. “Get the fuck away,” Remington said, starting the vehicle. “Might start a frigging riot.” “You want me to go away?” She stared at him, tears forming in her eyes. “No, not you; the man who wanted to get in the car. Baby, it’s OK. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not mad at you.” “You’re sure.” “Positive.” “Good. Then may I drive?”

*** “Why can I not drive?”

“Because, baby, you don’t know how. Tomorrow I’ll teach you the basics. But

tonight, I know you want to get home and play with your new toy.” She wagged the vibrator at him. “I want to play with it now.” “Fine. Open the battery package that’s in the sack.” She found the energy providers Remington had purchased.

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“You’ll need two of them. Look on the bottom of the dildo. It unscrews. Just twist it to the left.” She wrapped her hands around the head and twisted. “No, baby, the other end.” His smile made her feel better. Despite what he said, she knew he’d been angry when they’d left the store. She knew she’d done something wrong, something that didn’t fit in with his time. But it was her time now, too. She was going to have to learn how to live in 2008. She twisted the other end of the dildo and a piece of it fell off. “I’ve broken the penis.” “No, baby. That’s where the batteries go.” He turned on a light above her and she stared at it in wonder. “There are lights everywhere.” “You want to drive? Can you hold the wheel straight?” “Of course. I’m not a child.” “No, obviously not. This is a fairly straight stretch of road. You take the wheel and hold it and I’ll put the batteries in the vibrator.” She nodded with enthusiasm, then moved right next to him. “Lean over and put one hand on either side near the top. When I try to take it back, let go.” “I understand. May I push the pedals, too?” “No. Not tonight. Just hold it straight.” She placed her hands near his and he let go. Laughter welled up inside her as she held the wheel. “I’m driving!” “Yes, you are. Good. Just keep it straight.” She could hear him working behind her, and seconds later, a faint whir unlike anything she’d ever heard before. She hissed when Remington touched the moving penis to her neck. The car jerked and he grabbed the wheel. “Like that?” “Oh yes, it feels good.”

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“You take the vibrator and I’ll take the wheel. Go back to your side of the car and I’ll try not to kill us while I’m watching you play with it, when I should be watching the road.” “What should I do with it?” “Whatever feels best. But touching it on your tight little clit will provide great sensations. You can twist the end, where the batteries are, to adjust the speed.” She did that, adjusting it back and forth, delighting in the change in speeds. When it was on high, she touched it to her tongue. “Careful of your teeth.” She moved it down to her nipple, groaning as sensation shot through her. It was not as wonderful as Remington’s hands, but it felt good, very good. She jumped when the seat moved, the back sliding down. “Hush, I’m just reclining the seat for you. Lie back, baby. Lie back and enjoy it.” His hand left the wheel and caressed her naked thigh. “I like this clothing. So easy to get to things.” “Very.” Ursel slid the vibrator between her thighs, moving it over her slit. She was very wet and the vibrating shaft parted her folds easily. When it touched her clit, she gasped. “Oh. Oh, my.” “You like that?” “Oh, yes.” She moved it around, running it back and forth over her clitoris. The little bundle of nerves danced under the vibrations and Ursel knew she was on the edge of orgasm. But she didn’t want the sensations to end so quickly. She loved her new toy, and wanted to enjoy it for as long as she could. “Remington.” She put her hand on his thigh. He captured it and moved it to his crotch, where she could feel his shaft throbbing under the material of his trousers. “Fuck yourself with it, baby. Slide it in and out.” Ursel did as he said, losing herself in a sea of sensations. When she moved it back to her clitoris, she knew she wouldn’t last long. She gripped Remington’s shaft as her

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orgasm ripped through her. His muttered “oh fuck” barely registered as she rode wave after wave of bliss. She felt the car move over, and then over again as a second orgasm ripped through her. “Remington! Please.” “Do it, baby. Fuck yourself. Come on, do it. Hard, do it harder.” Ursel thought she would explode. She felt the car shift onto a different road, and then pull further over, slowing down. Soon there was the crunch of rocks where smooth road had been. “Are we home?” She felt drained, and completely sated. Yet she wanted more. She wanted Remington’s shaft inside her. “Not yet. Just a little out of the way spot for us to play.” The car came to a halt and he opened his door. “Come here, baby. Climb over here to me.” Remington led her from the vehicle. Not far away, she could hear the whizzing she’d come to associate with horseless carriages. Remington turned her so that her stomach was near the car, and then came up behind her. She smiled at the sound of his clothing coming undone. “Do you want me, or the vibrator?” “You.” She had the vibrator in her hand, but her body, happy from the orgasms she’d already had, still wanted more. “Take me.” “Say it loud.” A car drove by and she gasped. Remington grasped her hips and pulled her back into him. “Say it, say it for everyone to hear.” “Take me. Take me now!” “No. Say fuck me. Say it.” “Oh, fuck me.” She groaned as the tip of his penis slipped inside her, then slipped back out. “Again.” “Fuck me!” He slid in deeper, then slid back out.

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“One more time.” “Fuck me, Remington, fuck me!” This time he entered her fully. One hand grasped her hip while the other guided her hand, and the vibrator, back to her clitoris. The machine was still whirling as he touched it to her now aching bud. “Leave it there.” He grasped her with both hands and began to pound, his shaft sliding in and out of her wetness with a ferocious intensity she’d never felt before. “One more time, baby. Send yourself over the edge.” “I cannot.” Ursel laid her head against the carriage as he rode her. She felt full and complete. “Yes, you can. For me. Do it for me.” Ursel swirled the vibrator around her bud. The nub tightened in protest, but still shook under her urging. She could feel another orgasm building, this one promising to beat both of the others in intensity. Remington’s deep thrusts added to the sensation of the vibrator, and were almost too much to handle. When she heard his breathing intensify she knew he was near the edge. She centered the head of the vibrator directly over her clitoris. Stars appeared before her eyes as her body tightened in release. Her walls clenched around Remington’s throbbing shaft and she heard him scream, but couldn’t quite make out the words. He eased back from her and turned her gently. She collapsed into his arms, vaguely aware of his lips on hers. “I love you,” he whispered. “Whether I’m Remington, or Cadman. I love you, my Ursel.” “And I you, my love. Always.”

Chapter Eight Remington knew something was wrong the minute he pulled up in the drive. He’d made sure to leave a light on in the kitchen, but there were lights on all three floors. He knew Kresley wasn’t here. There was no way she would stay after dark. He parked in a clump of trees about two hundred feet from the house. In addition to the house, lights danced around in the gardens and he sat, his hands clutching the wheel. “Someone’s here.” Ursel’s voice held trepidation, but she didn’t sound overly scared. “Should I call the constable, or should I go and see what is what?” He’d said it more to himself than to her, so he was surprised when she replied. “Whoever it is means no harm.” “I think you’re right. If they’d meant to surprise me, they would have not announced their presence. You should stay here, though. I’ll walk the rest of the way.” “No. We’re together, remember? If it is something bad, we need to face it as a team.” He exhaled and then nodded, putting the car back into gear and heading for the front of the house. He stopped in his regular parking space and a woman walked out onto the porch. She looked to be about fifty, and was wearing jeans and a sweater. Her dark hair, liberally streaked with gray, hung around her shoulders. Two men stepped out of the house behind her, one black, the other white. Both of them muscular and menacing. “Stay here until I figure out --” But Ursel was already out of the car, heading toward his uninvited guests. Remington stepped from the car and tried to catch her.

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“Ursel, wait.” He put his hand on her arm and she stopped. Then he tilted back his head. “What are you doing in my house?” The woman looked at him, then turned her gaze to Ursel. Silence stretched out and finally, she sighed. “Your portraits don’t do you justice, Ursel Seagrove. You’re quite enchanting.” “Who are you?” Remington stepped in front of Ursel. He kept his arm behind him, holding her hand. “My name is Sydney Upton, and I mean you no harm. Until today, no member of my coven could step foot near Seaton Manor. When you broke the spell around Ursel, you broke the wards around the house. Something we have tried to do for three generations now. You must be very powerful.” “No, I just…” …masturbated on a statue. “It was love that broke the spell. True and pure love,” Ursel said. She tipped her head at Sydney. “We were coming to see you, tomorrow.” “There’s no time for that. He will be here by then.” She turned and started to walk back inside, her guards turning with her. “Wait,” Remington said, pushing in front of her despite protests from the guards. “Who will be here?” “Butcher. He felt the tear in the veil when Ursel awakened, just as we did. My spies tell me he boarded a plane several hours ago, but it has been delayed in Newark. Still, he will be here tomorrow. We’ve not much time to prepare you for the battle.”

*** Remington pushed away the teapot a young woman had pushed toward him. “Thank you, but no. I’ve had enough.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Ursel. Sydney sat on the other side of her, staring at Remington. “I’m not ready for this. I just found out --” “Whether you’re ready or not matters little. Butcher will not wait for us to train you in the proper use of your powers. He will come, ready for blood.”

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“If you’ve known where he was all this time, why haven’t you done something about it?” “We’ve tried. He is too powerful. He has continued his reign of terror in America, but each time we got close, he would assume another identity, cloak his essence enough that it would take us a while to track him. By then he would have killed three or four witches, and stolen their powers.” Ursel let out a cry of anguish. “Were they also turned to stone?” “No. He has perfected his spell now. He can kill the witches, and keep their powers alive in him.” “Why hasn’t he come back here, to destroy the statues?” Remington pulled his teacup toward him and stared into it. It was empty. The young woman who’d tried to fill it returned and he let her pour this time. “Because, here he is vulnerable. He placed wards around the house and grounds, yes, but we placed them everywhere else. He would not have been able to make it to safety before we found him.” Ursel smiled. “You drove him away in the 1920s, didn’t you?” “Not me. My grandmother and other members of her generation did that. They’d hoped to draw him out and kill him, thereby sending your powers back to you and breaking the spells. He eluded us and they did not find him again until after the Second World War.” “There was another world war? Why did you not tell me this?” Ursel turned to Remington. “We haven’t exactly been talking about history.” He threw up his hands. “Forgive me.” “You don’t have to be sarcastic,” Ursel replied. “I’m not complaining about what we have been doing.” “I should think not,” Sydney replied with a wink. “Lovers reunited and all.” The back door flew open and a young man walked in. “We count twenty-four statues.”

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Remington shook his head. “No. That’s not right. There were thirty-three of them the last I checked.” “There are only twenty-four now,” the man replied. “Did you check the back gardens?” The man gave him a curt nod and Remington slapped his hand on the table. “That sneaky little thief.” He took his phone from his pocket and dialed. “Kres! I don’t give a damn what time it is. Where can I find Jude? Why? Because he stole from me, that’s why.” “You know what, I don’t care what time it is. You wake the little shit up and tell him I want my statues back. Now.” He snapped the phone shut and then began to pace. “Why don’t we just meet him at the airport and stick a knife in his gut.” “Tempting, but it won’t work,” Sydney said calmly. “You’ll have to kill him here. My coven mates have been upstairs, destroying items of his that they’ve found.” “They’ve been destroying things in my house? That’s nice.” His sarcasm was heavy. “Don’t worry, they’ve destroyed nothing of yours. Everything that held an essence of Butcher is gone, except for one box.” “I hope they didn’t touch my stuff. The girlie magazines alone are worth a fortune.” He stopped behind Ursel and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve been strangely quiet.” “Nothing will kill him. I’ve tried before and he repelled everything. I’m sure he’s more powerful now than he was when he imprisoned me.” “Yes, he is,” Sydney said. “But Remington is strong. His memories drew him here and he’s fed on the house’s energy.” Remington held up his hand. “Excuse me, fed on its energy? I just learned to move a candle tonight. I don’t think I’m up to killing a warlock.” “You will be,” Ursel said softly. “Just remember what I said. He uses a sword.”

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“Great. Maybe I can summon a candle and stick it in his mouth. That way he won’t be able to speak a spell and I can kill him with a knife I’ll keep hidden in my boot. Or throw it in the air and he can slice it with his sword while I go in for the kill.” “Remington, listen to me. The powerful do not always win. Sometimes it takes emotions, strong emotions, to make a person tough enough to face that which could destroy him.” “He killed me last time, or has that escaped your knowledge? And look what happened to Ursel, to all those people in the garden.” Remington sat down in a chair and swallowed hard. Then he slapped his thighs. “Stay calm, right? You’ll tutor me this afternoon, and you’ll all be there, so things will go fine.” Sydney gave him a sad smile. “We won’t be there. Just you. This is your destiny.” He felt as if someone had sucker punched him, knocking every bit of wind from his lungs. He gasped several times, trying to draw in air. Ursel stepped behind him and caressed his shoulders. “I will be with you, my love.” “No,” Sydney said. “Butcher would play the two of you off each other. Remington must face Butcher alone.” Remington turned to Sydney. “You said one box was left? Would that be the box with his book of spells, and the black-handled knife?” “Yes.” She gave him a knowing smile, and then crooked two fingers at a woman standing nearby. The woman placed the box on the table and Remington took out the book, and the knife. He started to flip through the pages, searching for something, even though he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Sydney stood and held out her arm. “We will give you time alone. Come, Ursel. This is no longer your battle.”

Chapter Nine “Who are all these people?” Kresley slammed her purse down on the table. “Do I need to get more holy water? And what in hell did you think you were doing calling me and screaming at me at two in the morning?” “Forgive me. I was just --” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you speak to Jude?” “I did. There seems to be a bit of a muck-up.” “What?” “He says you told him he could take a few statues.” “No. I told him he could move a few. It’s not the same thing at all.” “Well, the problem is he’s already sold, well, more than a few. Seven of them.” “What? That sneaky little bastard. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the statues. He knew they would be worth money. I’m going to tear him a new --” “He said he’d give you the money, and he’s bringing back the two he hasn’t sold.” “I don’t want the money. I want the statues back. Today.” “I think some of them were cash sales. He has no idea where they’ve gone.” Kresley’s voice was soft. “Remington, I love you like my brother. Please tell me what’s wrong.” She sat down and put her hand over his. “I’ve never seen you like this. Is it your new friend? Did she leave because of what I did yesterday?” “No. She’s upstairs, with other friends.”

“Then what? Please talk to me.”

He snorted, then cut his eyes to her, his expression softening. “Do you remember

the first time I told you a story of demons and evil spirits?” “I couldn’t sleep for a week.” She laughed nervously.

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“Well, this time you won’t be able to sleep for a month.”

*** Ursel crept down the kitchen stairs. She stopped in the doorway and listened. Remington was talking with Kresley. The woman was telling him he’d lost his mind, that statues didn’t come to life, and witches didn’t exist, not in real life. “Believe what you want,” he said softly. “I know what I’ve seen. I know what’s real.” “It’s this house. I warned you, told you that something evil was here.” “What, the house is allowed to be evil but people aren’t? The house is allowed to take on a personality of its own but witches and warlocks don’t exist?” Before Kresley could answer, Ursel cleared her throat and stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning. I thought I’d fix tea.” “Yes, let’s have some tea,” Kresley replied sweetly. “While I call the asylum.” Remington slammed back from the table, sending the chair skidding across the floor. “Yes, let’s have tea, shall we? Let’s be civilized and enjoy our morning.” He held out his hand. The knob on the cooker turned and the flame under the kettle lit. Kresley’s eyes widened and she stepped away from him. “And tea?” He moved his hand toward the drawer, which flung open. The tea diffuser lifted from the drawer and flew toward Ursel’s outstretched hand. She caught it and stared at it, turning her wide eyes on Remington. “You did it. Your anger --” “Has made him strong,” said Sydney, stepping into the kitchen. “Be careful, Remington, it can be used to bring your powers to the forefront, but anger can also be misused. Remember that. Do no harm, except for the evil that threatens us all.” “Oh holy fuck,” Kresley said; then she promptly fainted. Remington moved to catch her, but one of Sydney’s friends was faster, shooting across the room and gathering her in his arms. “I’ll take her upstairs.” Sydney nodded, her attention focused on Remington.

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“So, it takes emotion to make my powers work? Yesterday it was lust, today anger.” “Butcher will know that. He will try to guide your emotions toward anger, toward jealousy. If he does that then your emotions may be your downfall. You must stay in control.” A young witch stepped inside the back door. “He is here, standing near the north ward, waiting for entry.” Sydney nodded. “Let him in.” Remington held out his hands and Ursel ran to him. She threw her arms around his neck and he lifted her into his arms. His kiss was strong and firm. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “I love you, too.” He kissed her again, his touch softer this time. He traced her lips with his tongue, sending shivers down her spine. Then he sat her down and kissed her forehead. “Take the rope from the package. We’re going to need it tonight.” He turned and picked up the book and knife. “You will not need the book,” Sydney said. “It will only give him power.” Remington nodded and placed it on the table. Then he left without looking back. Ursel sat at the table, tears streaming down her face. “We must help him.” “We cannot,” Sydney said. “In your heart you know that. He was brought back for this. He must succeed.”

Chapter Ten Remington stepped into the south garden, Ursel’s garden, and stopped. A man sat on the bench, studying his fingernails. “It’s not nice to keep your guests waiting.” He lifted his gaze to Remington. “I’m wondering where all my friends are. Only the one has been released. Where are the other statues?” “Moved, so that you can’t find them.” Butcher sighed, then turned his gaze to Remington. “You’re just as handsome as you were last time. Pity you have to die, but that’s what I do now.” “Yes, I’ve heard. You’ve moved on from torturing your victims to killing them.” “I have indeed. I’m famous. One of the most notorious serial killers in the United States. I even have my own website, but then again so do you, Remington Chase.” “Yes, I do. Although I’m more famous than infamous.” “Yes, a wordsmith, an artist, really. I’ve read your novels. You know, they say when an artist dies his work becomes more valuable. I wonder if that’s true for novels? I suppose we shall see.” “It’s worked for a few,” Remington replied, fighting down panic. “I won’t know for many years whether it’s true of me or not.” “You’re very good. Cool and calm. Ursel has taught you well. Where is my little beauty? I have missed her.” “You mean missed her since they ran you off? It’s a shame your powers didn’t help you then.” A flicker of anger crossed Butcher’s face. “My powers kept me alive; which is more than yours will do for you, today. Now, where is the little minx? I didn’t get to taste her last time. I intend to remedy that situation.”

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Remington stared at him, and kept his mouth closed. “Very well.” Butcher stood. “I’ll kill you first, and then take her. Although last time I had the pleasure of fucking you before I killed you. Perhaps we have time for a tumble?” His laughter made Remington’s blood boil. He was tempted to stab his chest with the knife. Then he remembered Sydney’s words about letting his emotions get the better of him. He continued to stare at Butcher until, to his delight, the other man appeared a little disconcerted. “You don’t want to fuck? Pity.” He moved out his left hand and a large broadsword appeared. “It’s the same one I used to kill you before. It’s a loyal and trusted friend.” “Perhaps I’ll frame it when you’re dead. A keepsake.” Remington wondered how his voice was so calm when his insides felt like someone was stomping all over them. “I do want my knife back, you know,” Butcher said. “So nice of you to bring it with you.” Remington looked down at the knife; then his head shot up at the sound of the sword sailing through the air. He slid the knife into the sheath he’d strapped to his hip, holding up his arm and stepping left. The sword grazed his biceps. “Too easy. You’re a child, a simpleton sent to do a man’s work. You always were weak.” Butcher held out his hand and his sword flew back into it. A second sword appeared in his other hand and he threw it at Remington’s feet. “Pick it up. I won’t let it be said that I bested an unarmed man.” “Never bothered you before.” “Perhaps not. But when you die, again, then your love will realize what a pitiful choice she made. Perhaps she will turn her attentions to me.” The sword lifted into Remington’s hand. “Very good. Perhaps you can be taught. Maybe I should keep you for a pet.”

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Garden of Stone

- 59 -

The men started to circle each other, their swords held at the ready in front of them. Remington thanked the stars for his fifth book, the story of a knight who came back to life seeking vengeance on the man who had wronged him. As part of his research he’d learned to use a sword. That research would come in handy now. “Pet? I think not.” Remington stopped and stared at him. “I’m wondering how I’m going to explain the flames tonight when we incinerate your body.” Butcher’s sneer made him smile. “Attack me.” “No. You first. I insist.” Stay calm. Stay calm. “Tell me, word boy, when you learned that I’d buggered you, then killed you in front of the woman who had loved you, until she learned you were a coward that is, didn’t it hurt your manhood just a bit?” Anger flashed behind Remington’s eyes. He knew he had to stay calm, but it was getting harder and harder the more Butcher spoke. Butcher knew that, of course, and was deliberately baiting him. “I remember how you quaked under me when I took you, begging for it. And that tongue. So very talented. Tell me, do you suck cock as well as you used to?” His anger increased, but he fought to hold it inside. “You’ll never know.” “Maybe not, but I’m sure I can teach the glorious Ursel to mimic her lover. I can almost feel her lips on me now.” Remington’s anger boiled over. Butcher could talk about him all he wanted, but the idea of Ursel’s lips on this man’s cock was more than he could take. He lunged forward, swinging the sword toward Butcher’s middle. Butcher sidestepped and brought his own blade down, the steel clashing together, the sound filling the enclosure. “What’s wrong, boy? Afraid she’ll find out I can give her more pleasure?” Their blades met again and again as they danced around each other. Butcher stepped back and aimed for Remington’s stomach. He caught the thrust with one of his own, sending the blade off to his right, gratified when the other man’s eyes widened in surprise.

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 60 -

“I’m sorry. Did you expect me to know nothing of sword fighting? Perhaps you should rethink your strategy.” Remington moved to the other side of the bench -Ursel’s bench. He and Butcher stared at each other, both of their chests heaving from exertion. “What’s wrong, Butcher? Afraid you underestimated me?” “No. Not at all.” Their blades met again, slamming together over and over above the bench. They swung left and right and when Butcher made another lunge for his midsection, Remington slapped his blade against the other man’s and the two blades dropped, crashing onto the bench. Magical sparks leapt into the air and the bench shattered, large pieces of granite falling where the stone had once stood. “They don’t make things like they used to,” Butcher said with a laugh. Then he turned a sneer on Remington. “You’re next. I tire of this game.” Remington followed him into the center of the circle, his sword at the ready. When he made to attack he hit an invisible wall, falling backward. The sword flew from his hands and the breath left his lungs as he slammed into the ground. Butcher moved over him, his sword pointing at Remington’s heart. “You did better than I expected. Don’t worry, I’ll give her a kiss for you.” Remington thought of Ursel, of the trusting way she’d kissed him before he’d left to come here, of the magical way she’d touched him when she’d awakened, and of the glorious way she’d met modern life head on, laughing at the dildo and begging to drive the car. Tears formed in his eyes as he realized that he’d failed her. “What are you waiting for?” “I want to savor my victory. Last time I killed you too quickly. This time I want it to last.” “That’s too bad,” Remington said, his mind reeling to try and find a way out of his situation. He thought of Kresley, and her friendship through the years. Would she be all right?

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 61 -

The older man twisted the sword as Remington thought about this morning, about the people that he loved. An image of the tea diffuser rushing through the air filled his mind. He looked at the pieces of the stone bench and smiled, focusing his energy on it. A piece shook, then rose, and he sent it crashing into the back of Butcher’s head just as the man lifted his sword to deliver the final blow. A second piece smashed into his back and Butcher stepped back, blood seeping down his neck. He dropped his sword and staggered, his hand going to his wound, his breath coming in short gasps. Remington quickly stood, his own breathing heavy. Then he pulled the blackhandled knife from the sheath. “No pithy comebacks? Cat got your tongue? You insufferable bastard.” He plunged the knife into Butcher’s heart, falling backward when wave after wave of energy flew out of the man’s body. Remington staggered and watched as Butcher fell to his knees, then toppled to his back. The energy continued to flow from him and Remington wondered if all the souls the bastard had killed would now find peace, if powers would be restored to everyone who’d suffered because of him. “Ursel.” “I’m here, my love.” She ran to him, dropping to her knees and pulling him close. He gathered her in his arms, kissing her over and over again until laughter bubbled out of his mouth. Remington turned to see Sydney standing in the archway, a smile on her face. “You did well, as I knew you would. In the end, it was love that was his undoing. Your love for Ursel and your friends gave you strength.” “You saw?” He turned his gaze to Ursel. “Not so much saw as felt it,” Ursel said. “One of Sydney’s friends is an empath. He gave us a blow-by-blow account. Oh, by the way, I think Kresley’s fainted again.”

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 62 -

Remington laughed, then struggled to his feet. He pulled Ursel close and kissed her temple. “Something tells me she’s going to start carrying her holy water in a spray bottle.” He turned to Sydney. “What happens now?” Ursel lifted to her tiptoes, kissed his lips, then flung out her hand. A blue ball of energy raced toward Butcher’s body, exploding above it and setting the carcass on fire. They all moved back as the flames grew, holding their arms in front of their noses. “We have to free the people in the statues,” Sydney said. “How? When I freed Ursel, I, um --” “Yes, I know,” Sydney said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. We have spells that will free them. And we will help them assimilate.” “What about the missing statues?” “We have to find them,” Ursel said. “Perhaps Jude can get them back.” “We’ll find them,” Sydney said. “Just wait and see.” They turned toward Butcher’s body, which continued to burn, hot and fast. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain the smoke to the fire brigade, which should be here any minute.” “No, they won’t,” Sydney replied. “It’s all taken care of. Butcher is gone. We will destroy his book, and it will be as if he never existed.” “Except for all those people he killed,” Remington replied. “Nothing can be done about that,” Sydney said. “But the poor souls encased in the statues will have the chance at a new life, just as you did. And we’ve found all but seven of the statues. We’ll search for them, and find them.” Sydney watched the couple as they cuddled together. “We’re going to work on freeing souls now. You should rest.” Sydney stepped toward the smoldering remains of Butcher’s body. She lifted the knife, which was in pristine condition, from the ashes and held it high. The ashes flew into the blade and Remington stared. There wasn’t even a scorch mark on the ground. She then left without saying a word.

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 63 -

Remington framed Ursel’s face in his hands and claimed her lips.

“You’re bleeding,” she said in between kisses.

“I don’t care,” he replied. “I just want to hold you forever.”

Their tongues danced around each other until she finally pulled back. “We

should help the others.” “We should go inside and make love.” “Tonight you will get your reward for learning how to use your powers so well. But now, there’s work to do. And you should talk with Kresley.” “Yeah, that’s not going to be pretty.” They walked through the archway arm in arm. When they were on the other side, Remington slammed the wooden door. “I’m going to get a lock for this.” “No need,” Ursel replied. She shot blue sparks into the latch and it smoldered. “Now, it’s locked.” “You know, that trick could come in handy for one of my books. Can I borrow it?”

Chapter Eleven “I’ve always wanted to do this, but never found anyone willing. I guess this says something about our level of trust.” Remington tugged on the knot that bound Ursel’s wrist to the bedpost. He’d already checked all the other bonds. Now she was spreadeagled on his bed. His cock pulsed in demand and he stroked it. She laughed and undulated her hips. “Take me, Remington. Make me yours.” “You’re already mine, and I’m already yours. We don’t have to rush. I want to play.” He traced his fingers across her breasts and she shivered. “You’re so bad.” “Am I? Seems to me like you were screaming your lungs out the last time we made love. Or was that just for show?” She shrugged and looked toward the wall. “You’ll never know.” “Won’t I? Shall I call the empath back? What was his name? Alistar? Algernon? Allie?” “His name was Alex.” She turned her face back to his, her voice full of mischief. “And if you need an empathic witch to tell you how I feel, we should be talking instead of playing.” He sat down on the footboard and studied her. “Well, let’s just consider it for a bit, shall we?” “Remington! Stop teasing me.” “If I wasn’t teasing you, what would I be doing?” “You could play with my quim. She adores you.” “As well she should.” He dropped his gaze and licked his lips. “She does look rather tasty.”

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 65 -

He swung his legs over the footboard and stepped to the other side of the bed, stalking around it until he was near her head. “Or you could take your clothes off. That is the point of this game, right?” “Me being naked? No, actually, the point is you being naked. And you are. Deliciously so.” She pouted. “I want you naked, too.” “Maybe. But later. Much, much later.” He leaned forward until his lips were inches away from hers. Then he shifted his gaze to the dresser. A large feather lifted from the top and drifted toward the bed. It swept across her breasts, teasing her nipples into tight little buds. “You are evil,” she hissed. “Stop that.” The feather worked its way down her stomach, stopping inches away from her soft curls before moving back up. “I rather like this ability.” The feather started to trace figure eights on her stomach. Ursel moaned under its soft touch. “Stop teasing me.” “No. I enjoy teasing you.” He studied the feather, then gave her a quizzical look. “Do you think our children will have both our powers, or only one?” She shivered and moaned under the feather’s caresses, squeezing her eyes shut. It was now on her breasts, tickling first one nipple, and then the other. “It varies. Sometimes, oh, um, yes, sometime --” “Yes? Sometimes?” “It will depend -- Remington! If you don’t -- OH!” Her eyes flew open. He had the vibrator in his hand, sliding it along her slit while it whirled on full speed. He pushed it past her outer lips, centering it on her clit and rubbing gently. The feather continued to stroke her nipples as the vibrator caressed her clitoris. Ursel’s hips shot off the bed as her orgasm sang through her. Ripples of pleasure ran down her limbs and small shocks of blue energy flew from her fingers.

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 66 -

“Oh, I like that,” Remington said. “We’ll have to be careful. Don’t want you to singe me.” “Love you. Oh, yes. Yes. Please take me now.” “I love you too, baby. But I’m nowhere near ready for that. I’m just getting started.” The feather fell flat on her stomach. Small aftershocks rang through her as she watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. “What are your plans, Mr. Chase?” “Well, future Mrs. Chase, I’m thinking I’m hungry. Very hungry.” The bed dipped under his weight. His fingers tickled her thighs and she tugged on her bindings. “Let me go.” “Never.” His tongue followed the same path the vibrator had, stroking up and down her slit until her soft moans turned into pleas of need. Then he parted her lips, flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit. She bucked against him as he licked, her clit tightening more and more. He varied the pressure, sometimes licking hard, and sometimes barely touching her. “You’re driving me insane.” He lifted his gaze to hers and grinned. “My evil plan is working.” He went back to his slow, rhythmic movements, sliding his tongue down her folds but stopping just short of her entrance. Finally, when her soft moans turned into whimpers he increased the pressure, pressing his tongue into her opening harder and harder until he was filling her with hard, swift thrusts. “Oh, yes, yes, yes!” She flew over the edge again, bucking into his face. “Remington! Remington, please! Take me. Take me.” He licked her slick folds, then sat up next to her. He didn’t speak as he caressed her thighs and untied her legs. When he stood without untying her arms, she pulled on them. “Did you forget something?” “No.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head. “Not that I know of.” When he was naked, he lay next to her, tracing his finger over her stomach. “Do you remember when I was younger?”

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 67 -

“You mean when you would come to visit me?” “Exactly. When I would get home at night, I would fantasize about you, dream about you coming into my house, into my bed. For a sixteen-year-old boy those fantasies were pretty heavy.” “Really? Lots of heavy sex?” “Lots of touching. Lots of playing.” He lifted himself over her, pushing her legs up so that she was totally open to him. “I would dream about being inside you, how soft you would be, how you would feel wrapped around me. And now, I can tell you that the reality far outweighs the fantasy.” He entered her slowly, pumping in and out in short thrusts, giving her a little bit more of himself each time. “And I would watch you, when you were older. I knew who you were, and I knew you would free me. Still, it was torture to see you and not be able to touch you.” He kissed her, then tugged on her ropes, freeing her hands. She flexed her muscles, then ran her hands along his chest and over his shoulders. “Roll over.” He kissed her neck, then caressed her bottom as she turned. “So beautiful. I’m glad that you liked the way I’d nibble on your nipples. You like things that are slightly different.” “You remember,” she replied. “I enjoy spice, as do you.” She wiggled her hips at him and he slapped her bum cheeks. “You like that?” He slapped it again, and again. “My love.” She arched her hips toward him, murmuring in delight when he slapped her bottom again and again. He cupped her flesh and squeezed, first one bum cheek and then the other. “Naughty little girl.” He slapped each cheek, then rubbed it. “Answer me.” “Yes. I like it.” “Were you my naughty little girl before?” “Oh yes, very naughty.” Her seductive laughter filled the room. When he caressed her orbs, then gently parted them, she groaned deep in her throat.

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 68 -

“Is this little rose for me?” Her answer was barely discernable and he slapped her ass again. “Well?” “Yes. Oh, please yes.” He ran his index finger against her puckered opening, then applied pressure with his thumb. Her moans let him know she enjoyed the attention, the feel of his fingers against her anus. He licked his finger and circled it again, applying more pressure. This time her moans were high and loud. She grasped the pillows with her hands and her hips undulated. “Remington, please.” “Please what, my love?” “Don’t tease me so.” She continued to move against his finger, pushing back so that he parted the little rosebud and his finger pushed inside. “Yes. Oh, yes.” He teased her for several minutes, pushing his finger inside her deeper and deeper until her cry of need made him stop. “Fill me, Remington. Please, I’m begging you.” Her hips bucked into his hands to back up her words and he murmured her name. “I think I know something you might like, a great deal. Would you like to try something new?” “With you? Of course.” He held out his hand and a drawer opened. A bottle of lube sailed toward him. When he had it in his hand he opened it and poured some onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the oily substance. When his fingers found her anus she gasped, then groaned again. His fingers slipped inside her easily and he probed her tight opening with first one, then two digits. “Is it butter? You always used butter before.” “You mean in the past? No. This is lubricant, cherry flavored. I would use it on my hands when I masturbated while thinking of you. It’s only fitting that I use it now, to prepare you for the vibrator.”

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 69 -

“Are you going to -- oh, yes.” The tip of the vibrator pushed against her anal opening. The warm lubricant, coupled with Remington’s probing fingers, had prepared her and she opened up, swallowing the head into her sensitive rosette. She tried to back into it but Remington slapped her bottom again. “Hold still. Once it’s fully inside I’m going to turn it on. Then I’m going to put my cock into your tight little pussy.” “Pussy.” Her giggle was infectious. “I like this new word for my quim.” She groaned as he started to work the vibrator inside her. When she was totally full, Remington turned the dial and the toy came on. “Oh, oh, yes. Oh, oh.” He began to fuck her with it, slowly at first and then faster and faster as she opened more for him. His free hand wandered to her clit, rubbing the nub until she screamed out in release. When her hips had settled somewhat he knelt behind her, pushed the vibrator fully inside her anus and pushed his cock inside her dripping pussy. He could feel the toy pulsing against his cock, the sensation gripping his balls and threatening to send him spiraling before the real fun began. He turned the speed down, which brought a grunt of dismay from Ursel. “Give me a minute to adjust, baby. If I’d left it on things would have gone round the bend too early.” Ursel settled her head against the pillow and Remington stroked her back. When the tension in his balls lessened he turned the vibrator back on, slow at first and then faster and faster to meet his thrusts until it was on high. He set an easy pace, his cock sliding into her pussy as the vibrator slid out of her ass, then sliding out as the vibrator slid in. He felt her pussy contract around him as she came again, her shoulders collapsing against the bed. “My Remington. It feels so good to have you inside me.” Her words were like a soft caress to him. He’d fantasized about her since he was a child. It was a miracle that she was under him, warm and willing and full of love. He increased his thrusting, leaving the vibrator fully inserted in her anus.

Melinda Barron

Garden of Stone

- 70 -

After several hard thrusts his balls tightened and he came, shooting his essence inside her as she clenched his cock with her softness. He collapsed next to her, the vibrator falling onto the bed as he pulled her into his chest. He didn’t care about anything else. Ursel was in his arms, and that was all that mattered to him. Later, when he woke, he went to the bathroom and brought back a warm cloth, bathing her pussy and her anus before gathering her in his arms again. This time their lovemaking was soft and gentle, neither of them in a hurry to finish, both of them content to be in each other’s arms. When he increased his thrusting she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him to go deeper inside her. She ran her fingers over his back as he thrust into her, their gazes locked. They came silently, and they came together, energy from their orgasms soaking into each other’s bodies. Afterward he kissed her lazily, over and over, his cock still firmly inside her. “I feel like I’ve come home, like I belong inside you.” “You do, my love. Every time you touch me it’s like a gift from heaven.” He kissed her deeply, his tongue gliding over her own until they both sighed. “I only want one thing from you,” she said as she rained soft kisses around his lips. “What’s that, my love?” “Teach me to drive, and then buy me a wildly expensive Jag, whatever that is.” His laughter filled the room. “With pleasure, my love. With extreme pleasure.”

Melinda Barron Melinda Barron loves to explore Egyptian tombs and temples, discover Mayan ruins, play in castle towers, and explore new cities and countries. She generally does it all from the comfort of her home by opening a book. Melinda is the fourth of five children born to an Army officer and his wife. A longtime newspaper journalist, Melinda has loved to read and write from an early age. Now she lives in the Texas Panhandle with two cats, Amelia and Pippin, and enough books to, according to her brother, open her own library. In addition to reading and writing Melinda enjoys travel, cross-stitching, watching movies and spending time with her friends and family. You can learn more about Melinda by visiting her blog at www.barron-chronicles.blogspot.com, and reach her at [email protected].