“Are you sure about this?” Curtis hung back from the animal.
“Ya wanted a magick transport. This is the best I can do.” Maura continued to pet the horse. “Do ya ride?”
“I did.” Curtis still didn’t approach as he eyed the beast warily. “Once. It wasn’t pretty. Horses sense my vampire blood and act squirrelly.”
“My magick will keep him calm. Ya will be safe with me. I promise.” Maura moved to the stirrup and hoisted herself into the saddle. She ran her hand over the horse’s neck, letting her magick relax him. She then reached down to Curtis. “All ya have to do is hold on.”
Chapter Four
Injured or not, a man would have to be half dead not to notice a woman like Maura bouncing up and down in front of him as the horse trotted along a forest path. Curtis tried not to focus on the teasing brush of her body against his, or the smell of her hair, or the sound of her voice when she gave her soft commands. She was a hard woman to ignore, especially with their bodies crammed together in the same saddle. Thankfully the troll man had an ample backside which made for a roomier than a normal-sized saddle.
Since coming to Green Vallis, Curtis had been trying to keep his head down. All he wanted was to make enough money to live comfortably and take care of his mawmaw in her golden years. She’d given so much for him. He wanted to provide for her. Wisconsin was supposed to be a new start.
Maura sat in front of him, steering the animal. Whatever magick she used to keep the horse calm worked. He hadn’t been joking when he said the other time that he’d ridden hadn’t gone well. The horse had bucked him off and caused a stampede. The local fair had requested he not come back.
Curtis closed his eyes, feeling each place their bodies touched. His hand flexed as he thought about running his fingers through her hair and over her skin. He’d been so focused on work that he’d completely neglected his love life, and his erection chose now to remind him of it.
“Curtis?” Maura asked. “Did ya hear me?”
“Uh, no, sorry, what did you say?” He took a deep breath. It was a mistake. The scent of her hair filled him.
“Can ya check the saddlebags for clues, please?” Maura nudged the horse with her knee as it turned down a slight incline in the path. Trees flanked both sides, and the darkness made it impossible to see between them.
Curtis turned awkwardly in his seat to reach the bags hanging behind the saddle. He dug into one pocket and pulled out something covered in cloth.
“What’d ya find?” she asked.
Curtis unwrapped the material to find a torn loaf of hard bread and dried meat. “Dinner.” He sniffed the jerky. “Smells all right. Is troll food edible?”
“Let’s find out.” She reached over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers.
Curtis handed her a piece of jerky and then took one for himself. He shoved the bread back into the bag and came back out with a brown liquor bottle. He reached it around her and shook the liquor. “Got dessert here, too.”
“Mm, now you’re talking,” Maura said around a mouthful of jerky. “Find anything else?”
She pulled the cork on the bottle and sniffed it.
“Still looking.” Curtis checked the saddlebag on the other side. His fingers brushed against a stack of papers, and he began pulling the items out. “Letters. They have wax seals.” He set them between them so they wouldn’t fall and then reached back into the bag. “Knife. Pistol. Black powder single shot if I’m not mistaken.”
“I’m not sure we should drink the troll wine.” She handed the bottle back. “Smells off.”
Curtis gave Maura the letters and took the bottle for himself. He pulled the cork and sniffed, detecting a metallic scent. Frowning, he poured a little on the back of his wrist. Dark, thick liquid ran over his hand and down his fingers. The unmistakable tingle against his flesh filled him with awareness. Only one thing caused that kind of burning reaction. The horse tossed his head back in protest, and Maura quickly got the animal under control.
“I think it’s blood.” Curtis shoved the bottle back into the bag. He flicked his hand to get rid of the sensation.
Maura rubbed the tips of her fingers, causing them to glow. She held up the bundle of letters and used her fingers for light. Angling them so he could see, she said, “They are addressed to Sir Buford.”
Curtis frowned, correcting, “Sire Buford.”
She glanced at them again and nodded. “Aye. Sire.”
Curtis sighed. It was possible this reenactment of times gone by was done to satisfy the sadistic whim of a vampire. The modern age must have appeared boring to the satanic monster. At least he hoped that was all this was.
“I’m not sure we should keep going this direction,” Curtis said. “If this is a delivery for Buford, we’re heading straight for him.”
“Aye, I think ya might be—”
“Hold!” A dark shadow of a man suddenly stepped in front of them on the worn path.
Maura quickly extinguished her glowing fingers. The horse neighed and instantly came to a stop before pawing at the ground.
“What was that?” the man demanded, angling his rifle in warning. The country accent reminded Curtis of home.
Curtis detected the shape of the man’s hat and the style of his shirt. The rifleman didn’t appear to be anything more than human. It would seem the role-playing continued.
“Moonlight?” Maura responded.
“Keep quiet, sweetheart. No one’s talking to you.” The man spat on the ground.
Curtis grimaced and tensed. He lifted his hand as he began to rebuff the man’s dismissing tone when Maura touched his leg and squeezed lightly. In that slight caress, he felt her telling him to be calm just as she had the horse.
“You’re late.” The man came to stand near their legs. The dim light did not reveal much of the rifleman’s face, and Curtis had to assume the man couldn’t make out his features either. “Where’s the troll?”
“He got held up,” Curtis said.
A man shouted in the distance. The tone sounded more like a command than anything else, though he couldn’t make out the exact words.
The guard grumbled to himself. “Do you have the delivery? The master’s waiting.”
“Uh, yeah, sure…” Curtis reached into the saddlebag and handed the bottle down to the man. “We were told to give him this.”
Maura started to laugh but covered her mouth with her hand and coughed instead.
“This it? No letter?” The man took the bottle. “He’s not going to be happy about that.”
“The troll is coming behind us,” Maura answered.
The man grunted when Maura spoke. He put his thumb over the cork and shook the bottle several times. A second shout came from the distance, followed by a loud crack and a high-pitched scream.
“What’s going on?” Maura asked.
“Nothing to concern yourself over. You’re not to the sire’s taste.” The man pointed his rifle into the trees. “No horses allowed at the Big House. Stable it near the cabins.”
“Where’s that?” Curtis asked.
“Half mile that direction. Ask for Old Joe. Rest your horse, and then be on your way in the morning. Trust me. You don’t want to be running around these parts at night. Never know what’s going to jump up and bite you.” The man gave a small charge at them and cackled when they flinched in surprise.