Belle stopped breathing.
Jack did not. He kept talking.
“So, as you can see, I’ll have no chance in the future to be bored, not, poppet, that you would ever,” his arms gave her a fierce squeeze, “bore me because you won’t. I can only imagine what Lila and Rachel have in their heads about their only grandchild and child’s wedding, not to mention my mother. And then we might, might have a brief respite before I hope to God we fill that house with children. Then, we’ll have decades of God knows what before we retire on an island, perhaps in Greece. By that time we’ll be old and decrepit but, my guess is, you’ll still be beautiful and definitely you’ll be well-dressed.”
After his spectacular, amazing and beautiful speech, Belle blurted, “I love you, James Bennett,” and his face dipped even closer.
“I know, Belle Abbot,” he whispered.
“And, in future, when you ask me to marry you as in officially, just for your information, the answer is yes,” she told him.
“Good to know,” he muttered, his lips a breath from hers.
“And thank you,” she whispered and she felt his eyes look deep into hers through the dark.
“For what, poppet?”
“For being all that’s you.”
Belle barely finished the word “you” before her mouth was taken in a deep kiss while two strong arms closed tight around her. She returned the kiss, her arms closing tight around Jack’s shoulders.
And after Jack broke their kiss, he turned them toward home.
Their walk with the dogs was done.
And they walked back to The Point a lot faster.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Omen
Jack
Jack walked into the austere room. A room in the old servants quarters that hadn’t been used in decades. A room that had nothing but a table draped in scarves, cluttered with vials, scales, jars and bottles and holding burning incense and candles, more candles burned in all the corners and last, there was a bed on which his brother was tied with rope.
And when Jack walked into the room and took all this in, his throat closed.
He swallowed against it, locked eyes with Miles and strode directly to the bed.
“You don’t have to do this,” he told him quietly.
“I do,” Miles returned firmly.
“Miles –”
“Jack, we’ve discussed this. Repeatedly. I need him out,” Miles gritted then his eyes shot to Cassandra who had moved to stand on the other side of the bed.
If it was possible, which Jack wouldn’t have thought it would be until he witnessed it, she was wearing more scarves and more silver. Apparently, Wiccan ceremonial regalia included significantly over-accessorising.
“The time is nigh,” she said softly.
Jack’s eyes sliced back to his brother. “Give it more time. You’ve said you’ve felt more yourself. You’ve lost no time. Give it until the next waning of the moon. We’ll do it then if you’re so f**king determined to do this.”
“No,” Miles stated curtly.
“Miles, you could end up not you,” Jack reminded him, his voice harsh with concern.
“And how’s it been, Jack, living with me being me?” Miles returned.
Jack closed his eyes and only opened them when Miles spoke again.
“I must do this and you know it.”
Jack pulled in a sharp breath before he nodded. There was nothing more he could do. He’d talked himself sick, so had Joy as had Yasmin and, even once, Belle.
Miles was determined.
With nothing for it, he took a step away from the bed.
“You know the plan, mate?” Lachlan, who’d moved in silently beside Jack, asked and Jack jerked his chin up.
In the weeks between Miles’s realisation that he was possessed by the spirit of a murderer and his understanding of all that was happening at The Point, Miles had had an idea. An idea unfortunately or, perhaps, if it worked, fortunately he shared with Cassandra and Angus. An idea they thought was brilliant but, as usual with this group, Jack was not entirely sure.
The plan was, once they tore the spirit of Caleb Caldwell free of Miles Bennett, they were going to capture it and tether it to this world for long enough to interrogate it before they dispelled it forever.
The entirety of the quartet assured him that Caldwell would not break free of these tethers to wreak havoc on his home and loved ones. Or, more havoc than he already had.
Nevertheless, Jack was taking no chances. This meant everyone, including his dogs, was somewhere else. Joy and Lila were at Yasmin’s. Belle, Rachel, Jenson and the dogs were at Belle’s cottage.
“Is everyone ready?” Cassandra asked.
“Aye, Cass,” Angus answered, moving to the foot of the bed.
“Aye,” Lachlan stated, putting a hand to Jack’s back and they moved closer to the side.
“Aye,” Lorna muttered, coming to stand a few feet away from Cassandra at the other side.
Cassandra looked down at Miles and whispered, “You are brave and I am sorry.”
Jack didn’t think that was a good start and he felt his body get tight.
Without delay, Cassandra lifted both her hands to the ceiling, arms out in a Y, one hand holding a twig. Her neck bent well back so her long hair and the ends of the scarf tied tight around her scalp fell down her back and she started murmuring.
Jack couldn’t hear her until her voice grew stronger and the volume higher. It was mostly rhymes, not gibberish but mad all the same.
The entire thing was mad and he couldn’t believe he was there at the same time he hoped to God this worked and his brother came out of it healthy and sane.
Jack watched as Cassandra spoke more, stronger and stronger, louder and louder.
And this went on for some time. So long, his eyes moved to Lorna who was listening, swaying to the rhyme and grinning like she was at some strange concert and enjoying the hell out of the vibe.
Entirely mad.
“Uh…” Miles muttered and Jack tore his eyes from Lorna to look down at his brother and he saw Miles staring at Cassandra like he didn’t know whether to swear or burst out laughing, “Seriously?”
Jack felt his lips twitch right before Cassandra cried, “So mote it be!” and her arms arced down.
She pointed the twig at Miles and Jack froze solid when a heavy, glittering stream of sparks shot right out of its tip and blasted Miles in the chest. The instant it hit, Mile’s body arched unnaturally from the bed, his back at such an angle Jack feared his spine would snap. His wrists and ankles were straining fiercely against their bounds. His neck was bowed back so far his head was well beyond his shoulders. And a painful, guttural, appalling, loud noise streamed constantly from his throat.