Spirited Brides by McCabe Amanda

Author:McCabe, Amanda [McCabe, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, Fiction
Publisher: Penguin Group Inc.
Published: 2009-01-08T23:00:00+00:00

Sarah stared across the muddy village at the nightmarish sight of Mrs. Hamilton and Mary Ann tumbling to the ground. A knife shone brightly against the gray and brown of the rain and the muck. The two women rolled down the slope from the stable, coming to a stop near the edge of the leather-worker’s shop, Mrs. Hamilton rearing up above Mary Ann.

Mr. Hamilton appeared in the doorway of the stable, and called out his wife’s name, but he was too far away to do anything to stop the forward momentum of the terrible events. Sarah was also too far away—she knew this truly, but she was possessed with the need to go to her baby sister. She broke away from Miles’s arms and raced across the village, her boots slipping in the mud, her tears mingling with the rain on her face.

Miles and Mr. O’Riley were right behind her, all of them running to save Mary Ann, to end this madness. Miles lifted her up when she fell, carrying her forward. But she had the horrible sense that time had slowed down, that she was too leaden and earthbound to change anything. So many things flashed through her mind—Mary Ann as a tiny baby, wrapped in frills and lace, placed in Sarah’s small, trembling arms; Mary Ann toddling across a spring meadow, dark curls shining in the light. It was to Sarah she had always run, on her chubby baby legs, not to their mother or the nanny, to Sarah.

“No,” she sobbed. “No.”

She would not let this happen.

Help me. Help me.

A fork of lightning split the air, turning the sky and all their surroundings a purple-blue. Thunder shook the very ruins a second later, deafeningly.

Mrs. Hamilton looked up from Mary Ann’s prone figure, past Sarah and Miles and Mr. O’Riley. Sarah was near enough to see her wildly shining eyes widen, her mouth open in a shocked “O.”

“What is it?” Mrs. Hamilton cried. “What is it!”

Sarah glanced behind her to see what had so taken Mrs. Hamilton aback. She squinted, but could discern nothing in the storm.

Then another bolt of lightning split the sky. There, beneath a spreading tree, was a figure. A woman, tall and slim, clad in a white, chemiselike garment. Her gown and her long, wild dark hair blew in the wind. She held up a scamasax, whole and perfect and shining, like the wrath of some god—Thor or Odin.

Another lightning flashed, and Sarah saw the silver bandeau that held the woman’s hair back, the unearthly glow in her eyes.

And then she was gone.

“Thora,” Sarah whispered.

“No!” Mrs. Hamilton shrieked.

Sarah whipped back around to see that Mrs. Hamilton had stood up, her knife falling from her limp fingers. Mary Ann crawled away from her, and was caught up in Mr. O’Riley’s arms, safe.

Mr. Hamilton rushed towards his wife, his hand outstretched. But she screamed again, backing away from him, away from them all.

“Emmeline, please,” he shouted.

“She is here to take me away,” Mrs. Hamilton said. She pointed her shaking finger toward the tree.

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