Fairy Tale Romance Collection

  The bells began to toll, announcing curfew. Moncore waited, to make sure no one in the house was likely to hear or see him emerge from the tiny cellar. Finally, he crept up the steps.

  A spider’s web caught him across the mouth. He angrily clawed it away, cursing the spider under his breath. He moved silently, bending down to keep from bumping his head on the low ceiling as he crossed the floor toward the front of the house. He peeked out the window that faced the street and immediately saw two guards. They looked to the right and left of them, peering down the alley between the buildings across the street. One of them rested his hand on the handle of the sword at his hip.

  Moncore ducked away from the window as they came closer. He smiled maliciously. He could wait a few days, until the watchfulness of the guards began to slacken. Then he would make his move, and no one in either the Duke of Hagenheim’s family, or the Duke of Marienberg’s, would ever feel safe again.

  Chapter

  26

  Rose picked up the bucket and opened the door, hunching her shoulders and bracing herself against the cold wind. Wolfie jumped up from his corner and followed her out. He seemed exhilarated by the bitter cold, standing with his face to the wind then running around in circles, jumping and barking. The cold had the opposite effect on Rose. Most days, after taking her noon meal in the kitchen, she longed to curl up with a blanket and take a nap. Sleep was the only friend that could temporarily take away the pain of losing Wilhelm’s love.

  She was still sleeping in Frau Geruscha’s room, only going inside her own chamber in the light of day to get her clothes. Even walking past the door made her shiver as she remembered the horrible night she had seen the demonic creature by her bed. Whether it was merely a dream or not, she wasn’t sure. She only knew she never wanted to see it again.

  She reached the well, let the bucket down, and drew it up again, dripping with ice-cold water. She pulled it off the side of the stone wall and it tilted more than she had intended, spilling a big splash onto her shoe. The icy water immediately soaked through to her foot.

  Rose sucked in a quick breath as the aching cold bit into her toes.

  Wolfie barked, as though to encourage her. She lugged the heavy bucket back to the tower.

  “Oh, child.” Frau Geruscha emerged from the storage room. “You didn’t have to get the water. Let me find a stable boy to do that chore for us, now that it’s winter.”

  Rose shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? I have nothing else to do.” She pulled off her wet shoe and rubbed her half-frozen foot.

  “Why don’t you write another story? You could give it to Lady Osanna, and it would cheer her. She’s been so low since her father’s death. Laughter is what she needs now. The Proverbs say, ‘A merry heart doeth good like medicine.’”

  “Yes, but the Proverbs also say, ‘Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful; and the end of that mirth is heaviness.’”

  “Oh, Rose, you love to best me with the Scriptures.” Frau Geruscha smiled and shook her head.

  Rose felt a prick of guilt. “Do I do that?”

  Her mistress laughed good-naturedly. “No, child. I mind it not. The Word of God has an answer for everything, and you have a fine head for remembering it.”

  Why was Frau Geruscha always in such an infernal good mood lately?

  Moncore hid in a cart that had stopped in the Marktplatz, as he’d overheard its owner say that his destination was the castle. The guard recognized the owner and waved him on through. Once inside the gate, Moncore slipped out unnoticed. He stood watching Rose fetch water from the well, and he cursed her faithful dog. If it weren’t for that animal, he would dash in now and wreak his havoc on her world. Well, he’d simply have to find a way to separate dog from girl.

  He couldn’t wait. He wanted to hurt her, to hurt them all, and he was ready to do it now.

  It had been a week since Wilhelm had chased the man who looked like Moncore, and no sightings of him had been made since. Perhaps he had found a way to escape over the town wall. Wilhelm himself had, every day, stood at either the castle gate or the town gate watching the guards check every person coming in and going out, but the effort so far had been fruitless.

  Wilhelm, Sir Georg, and Sir Christoff strode to the stable where they would get on their horses and go patrol the town. As he passed the window in the Great Hall, Wilhelm’s eyes darted to Frau Geruscha’s chamber door. He stopped short when Rose appeared with Wolfie and her bucket. He watched her turn the windlass and then struggle with the full bucket of water. An urge pressed him to go to her and carry her load for her, but he held back. It would make for an awkward moment for both of them. They hadn’t spoken since his proposal. And besides, by the time he reached her she would be almost to her door.

  He couldn’t help recalling another time when he had taken the bucket from her, when he had gone to get his stitches out. He wished he could injure himself again just so he’d have another excuse to be with her.

  He let out a sigh of disgust. He had to stop thinking about Rose. He was getting married in two weeks, meeting his bride in seven days, and he didn’t want adultery—lusting after Rose in his heart—to be his first sin against the wife God was giving him.

  Rose disappeared inside the chamber.

  “Your Grace?”

  Wilhelm turned. Georg and Christoff stood behind him.

  “Ready to set out?” Sir Georg asked.

  Wilhelm nodded and led the way.

  Moncore’s joints stiffened as he crouched behind the blacksmith’s stall. His extremities felt nearly frozen. The voices in his head attacked and mocked him. He had to get his revenge now—now—or it would be too late.

  A potter with his cart stopped in the middle of the courtyard and called out to the guard. He decided it was as much distraction as he could hope for. He had to act, to stop the voices.

  He stood and began walking at a normal pace toward the southwest tower. He reached the door without anyone acknowledging him. He opened it barely a crack and peeked in.

  Good. He didn’t see anyone inside except the dog. He leered at the animal, hoping it would take the bait and come to him.

  The dog laid his ears back and growled low in his throat. Moncore taunted him with a menacing stare. Finally, the shaggy animal stood and crept toward him, crouching low and growling quietly as he went.

  That’s it. Just a little farther.

  When the dog was almost to the door, Moncore jumped back. The dog leapt out the door, lunging for Moncore’s throat. Moncore sidestepped the animal then jumped inside, closing the door in the dog’s snarling face. He bolted it from the inside, the ferocious barking muffled on the other side.

  Moncore was in. The dog was out. But the voices intensified. He breathed hard, a gasp of laughter escaping his throat.

  He whirled around and saw Rose, standing across the room, her mouth open. He leapt toward her. She turned to flee but he caught her by her long hair and yanked her head back.

  She screamed.

  He jerked her against his chest and clamped his hand over her mouth while he fished out a vial of poison. He spoke the ancient incantation, then jerked the cork out with his teeth. Hooking his arm around her shoulder, he pinched her nose with one hand and poked the vial into her mouth with the other. He poured its contents down her throat.

  She gagged, choked, and clawed at his hand. But he held her fast against him, covering her nose with one hand and pinning her arms with the other.

  The voices in his head screamed with laughter.

  Her thrashing and twisting grew weaker until she collapsed into a faint. When he let go, her body slumped to the floor.

  Geruscha came hurrying down the steps and burst into the room. When she saw Moncore she shrieked and came running at him, her fists up. He had to laugh at the picture she made, a small woman, barely as high as his chest, her wimple bobbing up and down, her fists flailing. As if she could stop him. He caught her hands and pushed, sending her sprawling to the floor with an Oof.
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  “What did you do to her?” she said hoarsely, staring at the girl.

  At that moment a loud pounding came from behind him, someone beating at the door, shouting and demanding entrance.

  Curse that dog. His barks had brought the ever watchful Duke Wilhelm, no doubt.

  Trapped, trapped, trapped. The voices taunted him. Don’t let them take you alive. Fight and live, or fight and die!

  The pounding on the door was so mighty, it shook the whole tower. Only a battering ram could do such violence. They would soon break the crossbar.

  He turned and seized Geruscha by the neck and under her arm, hauling her to her feet. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and held it to the woman’s throat, dragging her to the door, yanking her when her feet slipped. He flipped up the crossbar and stepped aside. Duke Wilhelm and two of his men crashed through.

  He held Frau Geruscha in front of him like a shield, pressing the blade of his dagger against her throat. Exultation rose up inside him. He smiled.

  Wilhelm drew his sword the minute the door flew open.

  Moncore stood with a knife to Frau Geruscha’s throat. But where was Rose?

  “Welcome, Duke Wilhelm. As you can see, you’re too late. I’ve just made sure that your precious maiden will have demons to keep her company for the rest of her life. She’ll never be any use to anyone—unless you want a mad woman for a wife.” He laughed as if crazed.

  Wilhelm stepped farther into the room and saw Rose crumpled on the floor behind Moncore. His blood ran cold as a calm presence of mind overtook him. “What did you do to her?”

  “I demonized her, precisely as I promised I would.” He leered with an evil grin. “You see, I have powerful friends in the spirit world, dark forces much more powerful than you, and certainly more powerful than the impotent Duke of Marienberg. I swore I would avenge myself on him, and I have succeeded. And now I curse you, Wilhelm Gerstenberg, I curse you! May your house be left to you desolate!”

  It took all Wilhelm’s willpower not to lunge forward and slice into him. But he couldn’t risk Geruscha’s life. His mind raced through all the possibilities while he held his sword poised and ready.

  “I will be leaving you now to tend your pathetic future wife.” Moncore jerked Frau Geruscha forward as he started toward the door. “Stand aside and order your men to do so as well.”

  The evil man’s voice shook, and so did the hand in which he held the dagger. Wilhelm nodded to his men and they moved aside, their faces twisted in ruthless glares.

  Moncore slowly dragged Frau Geruscha out the door. Frau Geruscha’s expression was defiant.

  Wilhelm wouldn’t let him hurt her, and he wouldn’t let him get away, either. He would kill him for what he had done to Rose, whatever he had done.

  Surely God would heal her. But he couldn’t think about that now.

  As Moncore slowly backed through the courtyard with Frau Geruscha, Wilhelm came after him, matching him step for step, Georg at his left, Christoff at his right.

  “Get back, I say!” The fiend pressed the knife against Frau Geruscha’s throat, forcing her head back. “Let me leave the city now or I’ll kill her.”

  Wilhelm kept moving forward.

  “Get back!”

  Wilhelm’s eyes locked with Frau Geruscha’s. She pressed her lips together. Her whole body sank straight down in one swift movement, startling Moncore. He grabbed for her and missed.

  The knife cut her neck when she went down. Blood appeared under her chin and dripped onto her dress. She darted to her left and Wilhelm lunged forward, taking Moncore’s attention away from Frau Geruscha, allowing her to run out of his reach.

  “Give up!” Wilhelm yelled.

  “You will have to kill me!”

  He guessed what Moncore was about to do—launch a dagger at his heart. As it flew through the air, Wilhelm leapt to his right, and the dagger sliced through his shirt sleeve. He landed hard on his hip. He felt the cut on his arm but ignored it.

  Georg and Christoff drove forward with their drawn swords. But instead of running away as expected, Moncore stood his ground. Wilhelm watched as the conjurer began babbling, “Fight and live or fight and die. Fight and live or fight and die.” As he spoke, he reached inside his cloak, surely reaching for another weapon.

  Christoff reached the evil man first, his sword poised for the kill. Moncore, eyes wild, drew out a flask and flung powder in Christoff’s face. Christoff lunged forward blindly, striking the conjurer in the chest.

  Moncore sank to his knees, gurgling and coughing. He fell to his side, clutching the sword, which stuck out through his chest and back. “They’re coming for me!” he cried. “No, no, don’t take me!” Blood gushed out of his nose and mouth. He held his hands up before his face, as though to ward off an attacker.

  Wilhelm and his knights stared in silence at the man dying before them. They all crossed themselves at the same time.

  A strange mist began swirling above Moncore as he lay on the hard-packed dirt of the courtyard. The mist congealed into several ethereal heads, shoulders and arms, all reaching out toward the bleeding, gasping man. Wilhelm raised his sword. He focused his eyes on the evil spirits, for that was all he could think to call them. Their faces contorted, they looked only at Moncore. They seemed to claw at him while he screamed. Wilhelm held his breath, chills racing over his arms and down his back as he watched, half-disbelieving his own eyes.

  Moncore continued to scream as the demons hovered above him. Finally, his voice gave out. His head fell back, his eyes closed. And the spirits disappeared.

  Wilhelm shot a look at his men. They glanced back at him, their faces as gray and sickly as newly shorn sheep.

  “Holy Jesus, save us,” Georg whispered hoarsely.

  Christoff’s throat bobbed convulsively, and both knights crossed themselves again.

  Rose. Wilhelm sheathed his sword and ran back to the healer’s chamber.

  When he entered the room, Geruscha was kneeling at Rose’s side, supporting her head. Black liquid dribbled out of the corner of her mouth.

  O God, let her not be dead.

  Wilhelm crossed the floor and dropped to his knees by her side. “What did he do to her?”

  “Some kind of potion.” She swept her finger over Rose’s tongue, continuing to remove any of the poison that had not gone down her throat.

  Rose moaned. Then her arms and legs began to thrash around weakly.

  “Rose.” Wilhelm leaned over her. Please don’t die. Please open your eyes.

  “Get her up on the bed,” Geruscha said. The cut under the healer’s chin looked like it had stopped bleeding, although red drops stained her dress front.

  Wilhelm picked Rose up and placed her on the bed. He gently brushed back the long strands of hair that had fallen across her face. She stopped moving.

  Frau Geruscha went into the storage room and came back with an empty bucket and a cup of some liquid. “Lift her up.”

  He slid his arm beneath her and held her in a sitting position. Her head lolled on his shoulder. Frau Geruscha tried to get her to drink the cup of liquid, but most of it spilled out of her mouth and onto her chest. Finally, Rose moaned softly and parted her lips. She took a big gulp. As soon as she did, she leaned over and vomited. Frau Geruscha was ready with the bucket.

  Rose’s eyes were wide open now, but she didn’t seem to see either Frau Geruscha or Wilhelm as Geruscha wiped her face with a wet cloth. Instead, her eyes were wild and searching, darting from one end of the room to the other, her mouth twisted in a look of absolute terror and horror.

  “Rose, what’s wrong?” Wilhelm asked.

  She began babbling incoherently, cringing and staring at something over Wilhelm’s shoulder. “What?” He turned and tried to see what she was looking at, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly they were the only three people in the room. So what was she staring at?

  Wilhelm leaned over her. “Rose? Look at me! What is it? Do you see something?”


  She took no notice of him, but shrank back on the bed, as though something monstrous was coming at her. She screamed, throwing her hands over her face.

  Wilhelm’s heart raced and the hair on the back of his neck tingled, sending a crawling sensation across his shoulders. He turned to Geruscha. “What is it?” Had Moncore done as he’d boasted? Had he driven her mad with his potion? Had he sent demons to torment her?

  Frau Geruscha’s face was stricken and pale. She put her face so close that Rose couldn’t avoid seeing her. “Rose. What is it? What’s wrong? Rose, look at me. Rose.” Frau Geruscha persisted. “Do you see me?”

  Rose half-gasped, half-sobbed as she finally made eye contact with Frau Geruscha. Then she seemed to try to talk, opening her mouth. Nothing came out at first, then a few sounds that could have passed for words—if they had made any sense.

  What could be terrifying her? It was as though she were having a nightmare, but her eyes were wide open. She saw something that Wilhelm and Geruscha could not see. But what?

  Wilhelm leaned toward Frau Geruscha, his brain bursting with anxiety. “Don’t you have some herb, some remedy to help her?”

  Rose screamed again. Dear God, he couldn’t bear it! There had to be something he could do besides stand around helpless, watching her suffer, hearing her scream.

  Frau Geruscha turned suddenly and grabbed Wilhelm’s arm. Her

  eyes grew wide. “Demons. That fiend said he would demonize her. There must be demons in the room.”

  “Why can’t we see them?”

  “Perhaps she can see them because of the poison Moncore gave her.”

  He drew nearer to Rose. She shuddered and shrank back, her face full of horror. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “It’s me. Rose, don’t look at me like that. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  He looked around the room and shook his fists. He glanced back at Geruscha. “How do I fight demons?”

  “You must cast them out.”