Lorna followed her brother but she did it grinning at Cassandra who went with her.
Leaving them with Angus who announced, “Always the way.”
“What’s always the way?” Jack asked when he knew he shouldn’t.
“The quiet ones,” Angus replied.
“Pardon?” Jack queried.
“It’s always the quiet ones who manage it. Before you know it even began to happen, you’re already wrapped so tight around their finger, you can’t get loose.”
This was absolutely true.
“Good thing is, you don’t want to,” Angus finished softly, grinned his manic grin, turned on a whirl of his kilt and stomped out.
“Do I?” Belle asked softly and Jack looked from the door to her.
“Have me wrapped around your finger?” Jack asked back and she nodded. His arms got tighter as he answered, “Absolutely.”
“How did I manage to wrap criminally handsome James Bennett around my finger?”
Criminally handsome James Bennett?
Jack smiled through his response. “If you don’t know, poppet, it’s not me who’s going to tell you.”
Her eyes drifted to his shoulder as she murmured, “I’ll ask Mom.”
Rachel wouldn’t know.
Jensen would.
Jack didn’t tell her that either.
He gathered her closer, dipped his head and at the tightening of his arms, hers tipped back.
Then he kissed her.
She kissed him back, she did it without delay, it got heated to the point she moaned sweetly into his mouth and in so doing Belle Abbot wound Jack Bennett even tighter.
* * * * *
Lewis and Myrtle
“Lewis! What’s happening?” Myrtle screeched as, powerless, they were pulled from their hiding place and they materialised in the eastern turret, Lewis standing strong, his arms wrapped tight around his quivering little sister.
She had her face tucked in his neck but Lewis looked around.
The witch was there. The Scot too, in his kilt. Two others were there, a brother and sister, like him and Myrtle, Lewis could tell.
And Belle.
They were all staring at Lewis and Myrtle, gentle looks on their faces.
But Lewis felt it coming from the red-headed siblings. The man was standing, feet planted apart, arms crossed on his broad chest. The woman had her hands on her hips. But Lewis felt their power.
They were holding him and Myrtle there.
When they arrived, though, it was only Belle who moved.
Coming toward them and crouching down, her pretty, soft grey eyes on Lewis’s, she whispered in her musical voice, “Hello, my darlings.”
Lewis closed his eyes because her talking to him in that voice, that look on her face, it reminded him of…
“Belle.”
That was Myrtle. Lewis felt her turn her head and rest her cheek against his collarbone. He opened his eyes and tipped his chin down to see his sister shyly looking at Belle.
“Yes, Myrtle. I’m Belle. I know who you are and I know who Lewis is. What I want you to know is, you’re safe. All these people,” she threw her arm out, “and I are here to help you.”
“We know,” Lewis told her.
She dropped to her knees then rested her bottom on her calves as she tipped her head to the side and asked, “You know?”
Lewis nodded.
“If you know we’re here to help, why have you been hiding?” she went on gently and Lewis pulled his sister closer.
Then he looked to the red-headed woman before his eyes went to the man. “Let Myrtle go.”
“Lewis, darling, we need to talk to you,” Belle stated and he looked to her. “Don’t be scared. We’d never, ever harm you. Not one of us.”
“Please,” he whispered, “let Myrtle go.”
“I want to stay,” Myrtle said quietly.
“She has to go,” Lewis demanded, his back going straight, his gaze moving again to the red-headed man.
The man stared him straight in the eyes then looked to his sister and nodded.
Myrtle disintegrated in his arms.
Lewis drew in a ghostly breath.
“You’re protecting her, right, laddie?” the older Scot asked and Lewis nodded again. “She doesn’t know you saw him,” the Scot went on and Lewis nodded again.
“Who is he, sweetheart?” Belle asked and Lewis looked back at her.
“The bad man.”
She scooted forward on her knees toward him, he held his place and she settled again. “Who’s the bad man, Lewis?”
“You know,” he replied.
He watched her pull in a soft breath then she queried, “Miles?” and Lewis’s ghostly brows came together in confusion.
“Miles?”
“Is he the bad man?”
Lewis shook his head and Belle’s eyes darted amongst the others in the turret before coming back to him. “Who’s the bad man, then, darling?”
Lewis looked to the floor, shuffled his see-through toe through the floorboards and muttered, “Hurt Mum. On the cliff. Saw it. Watched it. But Myrtle and me were already dead.”
“Oh sweetheart,” Belle whispered, her voice trembling with an ache that felt a lot like what Lewis felt deep inside whenever he thought of it the many, many, many, many times he remembered it over the years.
“Matey,” he heard and his eyes went to the witch, “was Miles there the night the bad man hurt Belle?”
Lewis kept her gaze and nodded but replied, “Shimmered through.”
“The bad man took control,” the witch said. “He took control of Miles.”
Lewis nodded yet again.
“You saw him, through Miles,” she pressed and Lewis nodded again.
“Shimmered through,” he repeated. “And he saw me.”
“Oh God,” Belle whispered and Lewis looked to her then leaned into her with ghostly, childish fervour.
“I wanted to help,” he whispered back fiercely and her face melted in a way that both hurt to look at and made him feel really nice. “I wanted to help, I tried but there was nothing I could do.”
“I know you did, sweetheart.”
“He took your baby away.” Lewis kept whispering and this time Belle nodded. “I’m sorry,” he finished so quiet, he could barely hear his ethereal words.
“Me too,” she returned in a whisper just as quiet and he saw her eyes get wet. Then he watched her pull in another breath, this one trembling and she continued, “But we’re not here about that. We’re here to help you. We just don’t know how and we need you to help us help you.”