The Ferryman (The Guardians Series 1 Book 2) Read online

  The Ferryman

  By

  Wendy Saunders

  Also By Wendy Saunders

  The Guardians Series 1

  Mercy

  The Ferryman

  Download Boothe’s Hollow, an exclusive FREE book by Wendy Saunders

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  This book is the intellectual property of the author and as such cannot be reproduced in whole or in part in any medium without the express written permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2016 Wendy Saunders

  All rights reserved.

  For my mother, Isobel

  Who never made me feel anything less than completely loved..

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 1

  Chapter 2 6

  Chapter 3 14

  Chapter 4 24

  Chapter 5 33

  Chapter 6 46

  Chapter 7 53

  Chapter 8 61

  Chapter 9 68

  Chapter 10 74

  Chapter 11 83

  Chapter 12 89

  Chapter 13 97

  Chapter 14 106

  Chapter 15 113

  Chapter 16 121

  Chapter 17 128

  Chapter 18 137

  Chapter 19 144

  Chapter 20 151

  Chapter 21 157

  Chapter 22 163

  Chapter 23 170

  Chapter 24 177

  Chapter 25 185

  Coming soon 191

  Author The Author 195

  Chapter 1

  Olivia sat restlessly in the old armchair, her legs curled under her. Even staring into the flames in the small fireplace in her room watching the strands of red and gold didn’t soothe her, she still couldn’t sleep. She glanced over to the bed to where Theo sprawled naked and tangled up in the sheets, one arm stretched across her side of the bed reaching out to her even in his sleep.

  She sighed and turned back to the fire. It had been a month since that night in the woods and there was still no sign of her mother or the demon Nathaniel. It had been almost too quiet and that was what worried her. After the last murder life had pretty much returned to normal in Mercy. The case had been conveniently pushed to the back of the shelf and marked unsolved. Thomas Walcott had been laid to rest in Mercy cemetery. He’d had no surviving family and few friends, being a very private man, which should have ensured him a pauper’s grave but at the last minute the funeral had been paid for by an anonymous patron. Olivia had a pretty good idea who’d paid for Walcott’s funeral. She shook her head resolutely as if trying to rid herself of the thought. She was still mad at her father and she didn’t want to think of him doing something so kind for the man he’d once called brother, despite what Thomas Walcott had become in the end. Even the Mayor had stepped in at the last minute and pulled some strings to get him buried next to James Talbot, the man he had loved so desperately. She only hoped he was at peace now and maybe somehow they would find each other in whatever afterlife they believed in.

  Unfortunately thinking about Thomas Walcott drew her thoughts back to her father. She’d been dodging him for weeks; in fact she’d been dodging everyone. Her agent Mags had been calling her almost non-stop after she returned to Boston. She’d only seen Louisa when medically necessary as her shoulder was healing well apart from a little lingering stiffness. After the initial round of statements and the police investigation into Thomas Walcott’s death she’d even managed to avoid Mac and Jake. She’d pretty much holed up in the house licking her wounds and brooding. Theo was the only one whose presence she seemed able to tolerate. He was the calm at the eye of the storm while chaos raged around her. He soothed her in a way she’d never experienced before and wasn’t ready to examine in intimate detail just yet.

  Suddenly she heard a deep chiming somewhere in the house. She listened as the chimes struck three o’clock, before it occurred to her how weird that was. She didn’t have a grandfather clock in the house but that was exactly what it had sounded like. She dropped her legs to the floor, and stood slowly. The small carriage clock sitting on the mantle above the fireplace also read three a.m. Frowning to herself she headed out the door. Beau, sensing her move, stretched and yawned before trotting out of the room behind her.

  She moved down the stairs slowly but was barely half way down when she shuddered uncontrollably. It was freezing and a shiver danced up her spine making the tiny little hairs on the back of her neck rise. She kept moving but the further down the stairs she went the colder it was. Her fingers and toes were starting to feel numb and her breath was expelled from her mouth as a vaporous mist.

  She moved warily down the hallway, her bare feet flinching as they touched the floor. She felt a rush of icy air coming from the kitchen, brushing against her face and wafting her hair back. She could still hear the monotonous ticking of the grandfather clock she didn’t own. It seemed to be everywhere. Beau cowered behind her which was unusual for him. She approached the kitchen apprehensively and as she reached the doorway she could see that the back door stood wide open and wet footprints trailed across the floor into the house.

  Theo tossed restlessly in his sleep, a frown creasing his brow. He was standing on the shore of the icy lake looking out across the dark waters which were shrouded in a mist so thin it looked like lace. The sky was black as pitch, lit only by the pale full moon.

  He saw a figure standing on the shore gazing out over the restless water and opened his mouth to speak but found he could make no sound. The figure turned, her hood falling back to reveal a face so heartbreaking similar to his beloved his heart clenched. His fists tightened in anger as he beheld the woman who had caused Olivia so much pain.

  Isabel West’s gaze swept past without seeing him. Her coldly beautiful face fixed upon the two figures in front of her. The demon Nathaniel returned her stare, his eyes burning in equal measures of pure hate and reluctant obedience. His face resembled a mis-matched assemblage of the men Isabel had murdered in order to build him a mortal body but Theo knew it was him. He would always recognise the demon regardless of whose face he was wearing.

  Isabel’s gaze dropped to the dirty and bloodied figure held tightly by Nathaniel. ‘Where is she?’ Isabel asked coldly.

  The captive man raised his head, fixing her with dark eyes, his lip bloodied and torn.

  ‘I know what it is you seek Witch,’ he spat contemptuously; ‘you will not find it this way.’

  ‘Where is she?’ she repeated calmly.

  He clamped his lips together and stared at her, his eyes burning with hatred.

  ‘Very well’ she whispered as she leaned in close, her lips almost brushing his intimately, ‘we’ll do this the hard way.’

  He laughed, a cold humourless sound.

  ‘There is nothing you can do to force an answer from me Isabel West.’

  Her eyes locked on his as she casually appraised him.

  ‘I’m not the only one who knows who you are and what it is you seek,’ he warned. ‘You are being watched.’

  ‘It makes no difference,’ her mouth curved in amusement, ‘let them watch.’

  ‘Release me.’

  ‘Oh I don’t think so; you have some information I want.’

  ‘And I told you I will not give you what you want, despite your pet demon.’

  Nathaniel growled at the insult and twisted the man’s arms tighter, until he hissed in pain.

  ‘Not quite as untouchable as you thought are you?’ she smiled, before looking back to Nathaniel.

  ‘Bring him,’ she commanded.

  ‘Stupid woman,’ the captive laug
hed derisively, ‘you cannot take me from the lake.’

  He watched as her hand disappeared into the fold of her jacket and she drew out a large thick black metal ring. Deep blue letters were etched into its face and it glowed as the moonlight caught its shiny surface.

  ‘Where did you get that filthy thing?’ he hissed.

  ‘Let’s just say I have friends in not so high places’ she smiled as she swung it nonchalantly from her fingertips.

  ‘I can’t give you what you want.’

  ‘We’ll just see about that.’

  She headed towards him slowly and as she took the ring in her hands it separated to form two halves.

  ‘No!’ he inched back trying desperately to get away from her but Nathaniel simply laughed and held him tighter. ‘NO!’

  He struggled and fought desperately but it was no good. Nathaniel held him firm and as Isabel placed the metal ring around his neck it fused back into one to form a thick metallic collar. Nathaniel let him go and he dropped helplessly to the ground. He tried to raise his head but it was as if the collar was simply too heavy for him to move, pinning him to the freezing snow covered ground.

  ‘You can’t do this,’ he gasped as if every breath was a struggle.

  ‘I already have,’ she replied sharply. ‘That’s the difference between us. I take what I want, whereas you…for all your power you are still nothing more than a servant.’

  ‘If you take me from the lake the doorway will remain open,’ he panted. ‘You have no idea of the chaos you will unleash.’

  ‘Tell me what I want to know,’ she spread her hands innocently, ‘and you may go free.’

  ‘I can’t,’ he growled clawing desperately at the ground, trying to return to the waters of the lake.

  Nathaniel laughed mercilessly and grasped his ankle, dragging him away from the water.

  ‘Please,’ his eyes met hers, his voice an exhausted whisper. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done.’

  ‘Bring him.’

  Nathaniel grabbed the nearly unconscious man and effortlessly hauled him over his shoulder before disappearing into the darkness.

  Isabel turned and took one last look at the lake as thin misty insubstantial figures began to rise from the depths. Hovering above the churning water they began to drift ominously towards the shore.

  Theo woke with a start, his body drenched with a cold clammy sweat. In his panic the last vestige of the dream was almost forgotten. Reaching out for Olivia his eyes widened as he realised she was no longer there. Hauling himself out of bed he pulled on his sweatpants and t-shirt and headed down the stairs, his disturbing dream all but forgotten as he went in search of her.

  Olivia stepped into the kitchen and her heart lurched in her chest. She could barely breathe, her breath catching in her throat as every muscle in her body froze.

  A girl stood motionless with her back to her. She wore a thin white muslin shift; wet, torn and streaked with mud. Her black hair hung in thick wet tangles down her back and her skin was chalky white. Olivia blinked and the girl was suddenly facing her, the pupils of her eyes white and lifeless and the shadows under her eyes like dark purple bruises. She looked no more than eighteen years old. Suddenly she stepped towards Olivia, a strange twitchy movement like she was watching an old film reel.

  Olivia couldn’t move, it was like her muscles had been petrified. She could feel her hair standing on end and she just couldn’t make her voice work. The girl was now standing barely a foot in front of her, just staring. She slowly opened her mouth as if to speak but instead dirty water spilled from her lips in a huge gush.

  ‘What the hell?’

  Theo’s voice split the atmosphere and the girl simply turned to water and dropped to the floor like someone had just emptied a bucket. Water sloshed across the kitchen floor butting up against the cupboards like mini waves.

  Olivia knelt down and scooped up some of the water, examining it thoughtfully and letting it pour from her palm back to the floor.

  ‘It’s lake water,’ she looked up at Theo

  ‘Was that what I think it was?’

  Olivia nodded in confirmation. ‘She was a spirit.’

  ‘Has this ever happened before?’ Theo asked a little wild eyed and she couldn’t really blame him. Her own heart was still hammering in her chest.

  She shook her head, ‘I’ve never see anything like this before.’

  ‘Shouldn’t the protective wards have kept her out?’

  ‘I guess not,’ Olivia murmured thoughtfully, ‘I wonder what she wanted?’

  ‘What she wanted?’ he repeated incredulously.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Olivia frowned, ‘don’t get me wrong she scared the shit out of me but I don’t think she was trying to hurt me. It felt like she was trying to tell me something.’

  Theo looked at the floor, an inch deep in dirty water.

  ‘I’ll go and find the mop,’ he turned and headed out into the laundry room where she kept her cleaning supplies.

  Olivia turned back to the kitchen and shivered. Realising the back door was still open she stepped forwards intending to close it, when Beau suddenly rushed past her barking madly as he disappeared into the darkness.

  ‘BEAU!’ she yelled after him. ‘Damn it!’

  She rushed to the door and yanked on the green rubber boots tucked neatly behind it. Grabbing her coat off the coat hook she pulled it on over her pyjamas and ran out after him.

  Halfway down towards the dock she realised she should have brought a torch. She reached down inside herself for the light and heat of her magic. She flicked her hand irritably and one of her dragonflies appeared, burning brightly and composed entirely of flames. It hovered over her shoulder, lighting her way. Hearing Beau bark down by the lake she took off, trudging as quickly as she could through the snowdrift and shivering against the cold wind.

  She could see a small form on the jetty. Trying to move quickly but carefully she headed towards him. Her feet slipped beneath her on the wet wood and she slowed even more, knowing the last thing she needed was to fall into the icy waters of the lake.

  ‘Beau,’ she scooped him up into her arms as he continued to bark madly at something.

  She looked up and through the pale moonlight she could see the lake was shrouded by a thick fog. For a second she thought she saw a light out on the water, a small orange glow. She unconsciously took a step forward as she peered out, and as the fog parted momentarily she saw a small wooden skiff drifting on the water. It was empty; at one end mounted on a pole was an old fashioned lamp which burned in the darkness. This must have been the light she’d seen. Another roll of fog swept in and the small boat once again disappeared from view.

  Frowning to herself she turned to leave but her gaze was caught by something floating in the water lapping up against the jetty. Putting Beau down carefully and telling him firmly to stay, she knelt down on the damp wood and leaned over the edge. Her dragonfly hovered above her, highlighting the shape in the water. At first she thought it was just a piece of driftwood, maybe a stray branch, but as it drifted into the light she could make out some sort of carving on it.

  Unable to resist she stretched for it, frustrated when it bobbed just out of her reach. Now she was determined to have it and she leaned out further. It lapped against her hand in the icy water, not once but twice, but as her fingers finally wrapped around it, a chalky white hand shot out of the water and grabbed her wrist.

  Letting out a bloodcurdling scream she felt herself pitch forwards towards the water.

  Suddenly familiar arms wrapped around her and yanked her backwards. Both she and Theo tumbled back against the jetty. Her heart pounded wildly in her throat as she fought to suck in a deep breath, aware that her fingers were still wrapped tightly around the piece of wood she had found floating in the water.

  ‘Livy, what the hell were you doing?’ Theo shouted angrily.

  ‘Sorry,’ she breathed heavily, ‘grab Beau befo
re he falls in would you.’

  Theo stood and scooped the puppy up, tucking him under one arm safely while he reached down and hauled Olivia to her feet.

  ‘We’d better get back to the house before you end up with a fever, its freezing out here.’

  She realised it was better not to argue with him after all she’d probably just scared another ten years off his life. At this rate she’d probably turn the poor guy prematurely grey.

  They struggled through the snow back to the house, shutting and locking the door behind them.

  ‘Why are you holding a stick?’ Theo asked in confusion.

  ‘I don’t think it is just a stick,’ she replied as she pulled her coat off and hung it on the rack. Turning it over in the bright light of the kitchen she studied it. It was about three feet long and quite thick. There was a gnarled knot at the top although she couldn’t quite tell if it was part of the wood or whether it had been chiselled that way. In fact she couldn’t even tell what kind of wood it was. But it was the engravings that ran the length of it that fascinated her.

  ‘Are those letters?’ Theo looked closer, ‘I don’t recognise them.’

  ‘I think they might be Greek,’ Olivia mumbled thoughtfully.

  Theo picked up the mop and turned to clean up the wet floor.

  ‘Here I’ll do that,’ she dropped the stick down on the island and took the mop from him. ‘Where’s Beau?’

  ‘He’s thawing out in front of the fire.’

  ‘I think he’s got the right idea,’ Olivia replied, before yelping and dropping the mop as Theo scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

  ‘You don’t need to worry; I’ll thaw you out.’

  Olivia laughed as he carried her out of the kitchen, the mop forgotten on the floor as he flipped off the light switch on their way towards the bedroom. But as their laughter drifted down from the stairs, forgotten on the island in the darkness of the kitchen, the strange ancient lettering on the staff began to glow pure silver.