Extra sentinels had been posted to make certain her husband didn’t try to take his leave while they should have been looking for the culprit truly responsible for Rhodes’s death.
She shook her head. She was safe in her village, though she couldn’t help but think she’d feel safer if Slatter was with her. She would remember that the next time she was summoned late.
“You should have come to me right away when this happened,” Willow scolded, after having a look at Brent’s wound.
Brent wasn’t a tall man but he was thick in girth with good strength.
“I took care of it just like your mum did the last time I got a gash. I put honey on it and wrapped it,” he argued.
“It’s good that you tried but this gash is deeper than the last one and needs to be tended differently,” Willow explained, not wanting to discourage him from ignoring an injury like most men did. “I’ll get it cleaned and wrapped, and you need to stay off your leg for a few days so it can start to heal.” She raised her hand when he went to argue. “Don’t bother to tell me you can’t. I’m going to speak to James and let him know you’re not to work. Besides, with this snow there’ll be little work to do.”
Brent grumbled but finally agreed.
It didn’t take long for Willow to finish.
“It’s feeling better already,” Brent said with a smile as Willow slipped on her cloak. “You’ve got the healing touch just like your mum.”
His words touched her heart to be thought as skilled as her mum had been. “That’s nice of you to say, Brent.”
“It’s the truth,” Brent said with a firm nod. “You watch your step in that snow now.”
Willow stepped out of the cottage to find the snow falling more heavily and the wind having grown stronger, whipping sharply at her and reminded herself to pay heed to Brent’s warning and watch her step. She shivered, straining to see the keep through the swirling snow and having difficulty spotting it.
She pulled her hood up and stepped away from the cottage eager to hurry back to the keep and her husband. The swirling snow didn’t allow for a hurried pace and she watched her steps as she wound her way back to the keep.
“You called on me,” the deep sinister voice said.
Willow halted and turned, but could barely make out a shadow alongside a nearby cottage.
“Who’s there? I’ve called out for no one,” Willow said.
“You sent your message through the trees,” the deep voice said impatiently.
Willow locked away the gasp that shot up to spew from her mouth. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. “You’re the Slayer?”
“What do you want from me?” he demanded.
She didn’t have to think. She knew what she wanted and she didn’t hesitate to say. “I want the culprit caught who pretends to be Slatter so that my husband is freed of the false accusations brought against him, and I want the one responsible punished.”
“You will owe me for this,” he said, though it was more a warning.
“What will I owe you?” Willow asked.
“Whatever I ask of you.”
“That could be anything,” she argued.
“You summoned me, therefore, you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing unless I agree, and your terms are unreasonable,” she argued.
“You summoned me, therefore, you owe me,” he repeated as if it was done and could not be undone.
Frustrated, Willow stepped toward the shadow, wanting to confront whoever hid in the shadows. There was no one there.
“I will collect my debt when the deed is done.”
The foreboding voice seemed to be carried on the falling snow as it fell around her, and she shivered at what that debt might be. But did it matter? As long as her husband was safe, that was all that mattered. Besides, she refused to believe she had just spoken to a demon. It had been a man. A man who she would negotiate with when the deed was done, if it was done.
She hurried off, even more eager to speak with her husband, though she wondered if it was wise to tell him. Though, it might be unwise not to. She would have to think about it.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Willow jumped, her hand flying to her chest.” “You frightened me, Walcott.”
“The snowstorm is too nasty, the night too late for you to be out here alone,” he warned. “Danger lurks in the dark.”
“I appreciate the warning, Walcott. I’ll be in the safety of the keep in a few short steps. And you should be sleeping. You leave at sunrise.”
“I am fine. Hurry and be safe,” he said.
She rushed off, feeling a bit unnerved, thinking it strange that Walcott had suddenly shown up. Could he be the Slayer? Just as that thought caught her, she caught sight of a cloaked figure running to the keep. He was hunched over. Did he disguise his true height? He made his way around the back of the keep toward the kitchen.