“Protecting you is my job. You’re a material witness. I have to keep you alive.”
Maria nodded. “Yes. Of course,” she agreed. “I know that you’re only doing your job.”
Finding her had never been just a job to him. She was so much more than that … So much more than he had ever realized before meeting her. Was Maria really what everyone claimed she was? Was she really a witch?
“I could do my job more easily if you stopped lying to me and told me everything you know.” He touched her again, tipping up her chin to make her meet his gaze.
Her thick black lashes fluttered as she blinked—as if trying to shield her thoughts and feelings from him. Could she sense his feelings?
Could she feel his desire for her? His madness …
LISA CHILDS writes paranormal and contemporary romance for Mills & Boon. She lives on thirty acres in Michigan with her two daughters, a talkative Siamese and a long-haired Chihuahua who thinks she’s a rottweiler. Lisa loves hearing from readers, who can contact her through her website, lisachilds.com, or snail-mail address, PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435, USA.
Cursed
Lisa Childs
MILLS & BOON
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With great appreciation to
Tara Gavin and Ann Leslie Tuttle
for letting me share Maria’s story
and revisit The Witch Hunt series.
Thank you!
Contents
Europe, 1655
Strong hands closed over her shoulders, shaking her awake. Elena Durikken blinked her eyes open, but the darkness remained thick, impenetrable.
“Child, awaken. Quickly.”
“Mama?” She blinked again, bringing a shadow into focus. A shadow with long curly hair. “Mama.”
“Rise up. Hurry. You have to go.” Her mother’s hands dragged back the blankets, letting the cold air steal across Elena’s skin.
“Go? Where are we going?” She couldn’t remember being awake in such blackness before. Usually a fire flickered in the hearth, the dying embers casting a glow over their small home. Or her mother burned candles, chanting to herself as she fixed her potions from the dried herbs and flowers strung from the rafters.
“Only you, child. You must go alone.” Mama’s words, the final way she spoke, chilled Elena more than the cold night air.
“Mama...” Tears stung her eyes and ran down her face.
“There’s no time. They will come soon. For me. And if you are still here, they will take you, too.”
“Mama, you are scaring me.” It was not the first time. She had scared Elena many times before, with the things she saw, the things she knew were coming before they ever happened.
Like the fire.
“Is this...is this because of the fire, Mama?”
Mama didn’t answer, just pulled a cape over Elena’s head, lifting the hood over her hair. Then she slid Elena’s feet into her boots, lacing them up as if she were a small dependent child, not a thirteen-year-old girl she was sending alone into the night. Mama pressed the neck of a satchel against Elena’s palm. “Ration the food and water. Keep to the woods, child. Run. Keep running...”
“How can they blame you for the fire?” she cried. “You warned them.”
Even