Wesley could have told her that nothing was going to happen, but Miranda needed to learn on her own. And just maybe, after she accepted that Barnaby didn’t exist, the two of them could come to an agreement. He really didn’t mind that she believed in other-worldly things, it was Barnaby that had come between them. After she returned to Hollybrook Park, unscathed, maybe she’d finally admit that perhaps she had imagined him and that her imagination was overactive.
And, maybe, just maybe they could still have a future. Wesley would confess his heart and pray she loved him as well, and possibly marry him. That would certainly settle the issue between the two villages and they could even sign another agreement.
Further, marriage to Miranda would make him happy. Very happy, and he’d be able to go about filling the nursery as his grandmother hoped.
All they needed to do was walk to Bocka Morrow, deliver the message and return. Given it was only still morning, their future might be resolved by luncheon.
And, just as he was about to step forward and suggest they hurry, because he was now anxious to be done with this mission, the air filled with the most nauseating stench such that Wesley had to turn away, gagging, his stomach revolting. For a moment he thought he was going to toss up his accounts.
“Oh God,” Miss Miranda gasped, a gloved hand over her face. “Just go away, Barnaby.”
As she said the words, dark smoke rose from the ground, twirling and swirling like the clouds of a storm.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she yelled.
“You should have stayed away,” a rasped voice responded just before the most gruesome creature with black eyes materialized.
For a moment, Wesley could not move or speak, too transfixed by what he was seeing.
This was not possible.
It was a trick. It had to be. Yet, there were no magicians about.
It was at that moment, terrifying fear shot through his being.
Chapter 16
Panic filled Miranda as Barnaby lunged for her. She skirted his reach, but barely.
“I told you not to return,” he roared.
“I’m sorry,” Miranda cried. “I’ll go home. I’ll stay home,” she pleaded and promised.
“Too late!” He reached out a scorched, scarred and blackened hand toward her throat.
Epworth rushed forward but Barnaby struck him in the chest, sending him flying.
He lay crumpled on the ground and Miranda ran toward him, only to be pulled back by her hair.
She screamed in pain as Epworth rose from the road and rushed forward again, only to be struck again, Barnaby’s touch burning Epworth’s clothing. Just as he was burning her hair. It was a stench Miranda knew all too well from the heating irons. However, better her hair than her neck.
Terror filled her being, but she managed to pull away and ran toward Hollybrook Park only to have Barnaby materialize before her, blocking the way.
“Please!” she begged, backing away, trying to remain out of his reach and glancing left and right for an escape. Epworth rushed from behind Barnaby and grabbed him, only to let go instantly and cursed, shaking his hands as if trying to cool them.
Epworth had been injured because she wanted to be brave.
“Please let go. Leave us alone,” she cried. “I’ll never return. I promise.” Tears from fear or stench filled her eyes and Miranda swiped them away as she tried to find an escape, but Barnaby lunged for her again.
At that moment, Uncle Jonathan appeared between them.
“Leave my niece be,” Uncle Jonathan ordered. “Or, I will see you in hell.”
“We are in hell, Captain,” Barnaby retorted as he reached right through Uncle Jonathan and grabbed Miranda’s wrist.
Searing, dizzying pain spread from his touch, so intense that Miranda’s knees gave out and her stomach churned. It was at this point that Miranda was certain that she was about to die, even though Epworth continued to try and beat Barnaby off with his fists, wincing and jumping back with each touch, but returning in an effort to save her.
“You bloody bastard,” Uncle Jonathan roared. “You’ll soon pay.”
Barnaby’s only response was his malevolent laugh as he knew as well as Miranda that Uncle Jonathan was helpless against him.
Through it all, Epworth kept trying to save her and each time he was burned, or his clothing began to smoke, and she feared he’d catch fire if he didn’t stop.
Tears clouded her vision from pain and panic. She wanted to tell Epworth to save himself, but panic and pain had tightened her throat and it