This is the final part of this story.
The Devil's Daughter
Part 2
Isabelle sat in front of the mirror, rhythmically brushing her long, dark hair. She felt an immense sense of satisfaction. She had Scott Lancer and his family exactly where she wanted them. Tonight they would celebrate their engagement. In a few days, they would be married and Scott would be lost for all eternity. And the sweetest thing would be opening his eyes to his fate when it was too late for him to avoid it. Would Johnny continue to put up a fight? She smiled sweetly at her reflection. She had her contingency plans in place, just in case.
As the day wore on, she began to feel a twinge of anxiety. She had expected Scott to arrive well before now to escort her to Lancer. If that brother of his had interfered again… She wished she could just kill him, but her instructions were clear. She could damage him, cause as much pain as she wished, but he was to be alive at the moment Scott surrendered his soul.
Her emerald green gown clung to her body, the color highlighting her eyes. She had taken even more care than usual with her appearance. This was an important night. She could feel the presence of her two bodyguards, fallen angels assigned to protect her. Their faces were so strikingly beautiful that the sight of them would drive anyone insane. When they walked among mere mortals they veiled themselves, except when she ordered them to unleash their full force on an unsuspecting man or woman. They had fallen from grace when they had chosen to mate with mortal women. Their children were demons, damned for the actions of their parents. Their inhuman strength made them useful in a more primitive fashion, and Johnny had already been on the receiving end of their cruel delight in inflicting pain.
A frown marred her normally smooth forehead. Gazing into the mirror she summoned her allies. Something felt wrong. Anger coursed through her and she sent out a silent order. Within five minutes her buggy had been harnessed and she was on her way to Lancer.
LLLLL
The brothers had spent the day away from the house, working on a section of damaged fencing, and talking. Neither was naïve enough to think that it would be easy to convince their father or Teresa of what was happening. Although Murdoch had been a witness to the events in Mexico, he had never acknowledged it as being anything other than a scheme devised by an evil man. He had been openly scornful of Don Pedro, the owner of the land, for failing to fight against the Priest and his followers. From the moment they had reached the end of the pass through the mountains on their way home Murdoch had firmly discouraged any mention of Aztec gods – or the Devil.
Val might be more receptive, but Isabelle's grip on the townsfolk was strong, and any misjudgement now could prove fatal. Try as they might, they couldn't think of an easy way to dispose of the problem. Neither was yet ready to acknowledge the unspoken solution. Both felt a reluctance to return home, but neither wanted to leave their family unprotected. They rode into the yard to find Isabelle's buggy already there. Two men stood beside it, faces blurred. Johnny recognized them by their general build as being the two thugs who'd attacked him in town, and could feel them watching him with a keen anticipation.
The brothers entered the great room side by side. A bottle of champagne sat on one of the tables, surrounded by four glasses. Murdoch glowered at them from his place by the fire. Isabelle looked up from an intent discussion with Teresa and her brilliant smile lit up the room.
"I've been waiting for you, Scott. Your father is anxious to toast our engagement. And, we have so much to discuss…"
"Guess I ain't invited," Johnny interrupted rudely, stepping further into the room and interposing himself between the woman and his brother.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
"Giving Scott some moral support," Johnny smirked. "And, this is my home. You're not welcome, so I suggest you leave."
Scott remained by the door, looking uncomfortable. She stood up and glided gracefully across to him, taking his arm. "Scott? Are you going to let him talk to me like that? This is your home too."
Johnny held his breath. Would Scott be able to resist her? He saw his brother tense and then move away from her touch. "Johnny's right." Scott looked at his brother, and Johnny nodded encouragingly. "I'm afraid it was all a mistake. I can't marry you."
Green eyes narrowed. "Can't, or won't?"
"I have no excuse for my behavior," Scott continued. "I could say that I was carried away by your beauty…"
"But, that would be a lie," Johnny finished for him. "Did you really think I wouldn't be able to convince him? You've lost, just like the Priest did last year. Personally, I don't have any objection to you ending up with a knife in your gut, same as him. But, we're gonna give you the chance to walk away."
Isabelle walked slowly toward the large window behind the desk. There was an ominous silence as she looked out over the land – land that all the Lancers had killed to protect. When she turned, her face was sorrowful. Framed by the light she fixed all her attention on the blond Lancer. Scott took a hesitant step forward and Johnny's strong fingers dug into his arm.
"Keep away from her, Brother."
"You poor deluded boy," Isabelle said pityingly.
With one click of her fingers she summoned Murdoch and Teresa to her side. Both looked expressionlessly at the brothers, leaving them in no doubt that there was only one course of action left open to them.
"We will be married," Isabelle continued placidly, "because if you refuse me, your brother will die in the most exquisite agony. Only, it will be nothing compared to the suffering that awaits him after his death."
Johnny went for his gun. "Don't listen…Dios!" The oath tumbled out as he sank to his knees.
"Johnny!" Scott knelt, reaching with shaking hands for his brother. "Let him go," he pleaded.
Isabelle stared fixedly at the young man writhing on the floor, barely able to breathe and incapable of speech. "I want your word, Scott, or I'll stop his heart now and you'll spend the rest of your life with his death upon your conscience."
LLLLL
"You need to listen to her, Son." Murdoch stepped away from Isabelle, leaning down to draw Scott to his feet. He didn't even spare a glance for the son lying in tormented agony on the rug.
The grip on Scott's arm was bruising. He looked from his brother to Isabelle in anguish. "Alright. Make it stop."
Her laughter rang around the house. "You know what you are giving up? Is he worth it?"
"Yes, he is."
"Scott…don't. Not for me." Johnny's words came in short bursts.
Murdoch aimed a kick, catching Johnny in the side. "Be quiet."
"What are you doing?" Scott yelled. "You're his father! You should be protecting him." The grip on his arm tightened as he tried to twist away.
"He's corrupted you," Murdoch replied flatly.
Scott turned his furious glare on Isabelle. "I've given my word! Leave Johnny and my father out of it!"
"Oh, I can't do that. Weddings are a family occasion after all."
"You bitch!"
The backhanded blow caught Scott across the mouth and snapped his head around. "Your behaviour is shameful!" Murdoch roared.
"I think it would be wise to keep them apart until the ceremony," Isabelle suggested sweetly. "I'm sure Scott will come to his senses – given time and the proper encouragement. Can I trust you to keep him safe for me?"
Murdoch's other hand landed hard on Scott's shoulder. "He'll be here when you need him."
"Good." Isabelle crossed the room and looked thoughtfully down at Johnny, who glared back in silent defiance. "The wedding will take place in two days. I'll send word to tell you where."
Scott tried to back up as she approached him, only he was held fast. She put her arms around his neck and gazed deeply into his eyes. "Our wedding night will be an experience you will never forget," she promised.
She pulled his head down so that he couldn't avoid her passionate kiss. His body betrayed him, stirring in response. His struggles to free himself took on a new urgency. He ignored the feeble pleas from his brother. He wanted this woman…needed her in his bed. As the kiss ended he gasped for air, the words of love just waiting to be spoken. He looked at her beautiful face and saw…evil…hastily recoiling as she laughed at him.
"I'll see you in two days," she assured him. "In the meantime, I'll make sure that Johnny is looked after – just so you don't try to get out of our bargain."
"I'm not letting you take my brother." Scott fought with everything he had to get free and return to Johnny's side.
"You don't have a choice."
Johnny pushed himself painfully to his knees. "Yes, you do. Tell her to go back to Hell."
Isabelle licked her lips, a vicious smile contorting her features. "I see you both need another demonstration of my power."
"No!" Scott screamed as he saw Johnny clutching his chest, gasping for breath. He couldn't meet his brother's pain-filled eyes. "I'm sorry, Johnny," he whispered. "I can't let her hurt you."
Isabelle's two men appeared by her side. One lifted Johnny to his feet, brushing away his feeble attempts to free himself.
"Put him in the buggy," she ordered. "As for you," she caressed Scott's cheek. "I think, my darling, that you should be safely locked away until I'm ready for you."
"I'll see to it," Murdoch assured her.
Her smile made Scott feel sick. His protests and pleas were ignored as his father hauled him from the room.
LLLLL
Scott spent the night in a deep and peaceful sleep. It hadn't been his choice, but was the inevitable result of a forcibly administered sleeping draft. When he woke his first thought was that it had all been a bad dream. The locked door, however, quickly dashed that fragile hope.
Worry for his brother rendered him almost incapable of rational thought. Common sense told him that this couldn't be happening. Only, he'd seen Isabelle's power - graphically demonstrated to cause Johnny unimaginable pain.
The key rattled in the lock and he pushed himself to his feet. His grim-faced father watched him coldly and threw a pair of manacles onto the bed. "Put them on," Murdoch instructed.
Scott stood his ground. "No."
"It's your choice." Murdoch appeared unconcerned with Scott's defiance. "You can stay in here, or put those on and come downstairs for breakfast."
The cold metal gleamed in the early morning light, taunting and teasing him with memories of his time in Libby. Gritting his teeth he nodded his acquiescence. He couldn't achieve anything locked in his room. With even a limited amount of freedom he might be able to find a means to slip away and check on Johnny. He snapped the shackles around his wrists and waited passively while Murdoch checked their security.
"That's better." Murdoch visibly relaxed, laying an arm around Scott's shoulders. "It's good to see you coming to your senses, Son."
Down in the kitchen Teresa and Maria were preparing breakfast. With his heightened sense of anxiety the smell repelled Scott. He looked at the back door as he entered the room. His father followed his gaze, smiled and steered him to the chair farthest away from that dubious route to freedom.
"Your breakfast will be ready in a minute," Teresa called brightly.
When the plate was laid in front of him Scott smiled wryly. He was being trusted with a fork, but not a knife.
Teresa filled his coffee cup before plopping down on the seat opposite him. "It's so exciting," she babbled. "I know you only want a small wedding, but we'll make sure that everything is perfect."
"I don't want a wedding at all," Scott responded in a low voice as he fumbled to scoop up some eggs.
Murdoch's fist hit the table, causing the china to rattle. "You chose to propose to the girl," he thundered. "I intend to make sure that you honor your promise."
"And Johnny?" Scott challenged. "When do you intend to stop her torturing your son?"
Murdoch leaned forward intently. "Your brother has been filling your head with lies." He glanced at Teresa and lowered his voice. "We both know he's been drinking too much. It's made him aggressive and unpredictable. Your lovely fiancée offered to help."
"She isn't helping," Scott hissed. "She's tormenting Johnny for her own amusement. You have to get him back…bring him home."
"That isn't a good idea, Scott."
"I'll keep away from him," Scott offered, "and I've already given my word that I'll marry Isabelle. Please, Murdoch, I just want to know that he's safe."
His father patted him encouragingly on the shoulder. "I'll see what I can do. But, Scott, a lot depends on Johnny. His behavior recently has been unacceptable. Unless he shows a willingness to change – well, it might be better for all of us if he went back to being a gunfighter."
Shocked disbelief rendered Scott temporarily speechless. He heard a shaken intake of breath from behind him. Maria! Was it possible that she remained unaffected by Isabelle's power?
"You would be condemning him to death." Scott's mouth was dry. Johnny was still fast, probably the fastest man with a gun he had ever seen, but he'd lost his edge. Eighteen months as a rancher had ensured that.
Murdoch nodded sadly. "I know, but he chose his path a long time ago."
"He changed. You gave him a chance to get out and he took it."
"And now, he's throwing it away. No, Scott, you have to face facts. All Johnny has to look forward to is an eternity of hellfire and damnation."
LLLLL
A man can only take so much pain before he gives up and begs for death. Johnny didn't have that luxury. Death for him meant greater agony than anything Isabelle could devise. And then there was his pride. Even had he been capable of speech, he would not have begged her to end his misery. His throat was raw from hours of screaming, helpless to defend himself, and incapable of keeping the promise he had made to himself to suffer in silence.
Isabelle hadn't even bothered to have him bound, a fact which only emphasized the hopelessness of his plight. His muscles were in constant spasm and he lay on the cold cellar floor, too weak to move. Through it all…through his hoarse screams…he had heard her voice in his head, promising an eternity of damnation for him and his brother.
He hadn't been able to understand why no-one had come to his aid, until he remembered her powers. It was likely that her neighbors hadn't even heard his cries for help. A feeble grunt escaped him as one of the men kicked him in the ribs. It was the first time any of them had touched him. The pain had all come from inside, striking at his heart, lungs, stomach. At times, a violent fever had raged through his body, only to be doused by a wave of cold more intense than Johnny had ever experienced before. Strength had drained from him until he could no longer even lift his head a few inches from the floor.
Isabelle leaned down until her mouth was right by his ear. "It's been fun," she told him, "but now I need you to sleep and recover some of your strength. I don't want Scott to be too distracted with worry on our wedding day."
Sleep – yes, that would be wonderful. The pain left him and Johnny gratefully closed his eyes. Then, he knew he couldn't sleep. He had to find a way to kill her. That was the only thing that would guarantee Scott's survival.
"Don't you want to rest?" she asked sweetly as he forced his eyes to open again. "I thought you might still have some fight left in you. I've asked Dr. Jenkins to call. It can be hard for a body to cope with the sudden deprivation of alcohol or drugs, and everyone in town knows how dependent you have become on whiskey. I'm sure when he sees the pain you are in that he'll agree that a dose of morphine is the answer."
Strong hands lifted him from the ground and he was slung over someone's shoulder like a sack of grain. The jostling further unsettled his stomach which had long ago been emptied of its contents. Bile filled his throat and he gagged, choking and coughing miserably.
When he was deposited in a clean, soft bed he almost moaned with sheer pleasure. His soiled clothing was stripped away while Isabelle watched with an intensity, which would have been embarrassing had Johnny had the energy to care. A brightly patterned cover was tucked around him while he lay with eyes half open, apprehensively awaiting the next blast of pain.
Isabelle made herself comfortable in a chair by his bedside, gazing at him solicitously. "You need to accept that this is one fight you can't win."
"Don't," Johnny choked on the words. Forming any sounds was agonizing. "Don't be so sure."
"I'm not going to make the mistake of underestimating you or Scott," she continued. "As long as I have you, he will do as he is told. How does it feel to have a brother who will give up everything for you? I can't understand how a man like you can inspire so much devotion."
Johnny felt his anger rising in response to her taunts. He had spent too many years doubting his self-worth. He'd had no trouble accepting his reputation as a gunfighter – that was earned with blood and sweat. But, what kind of a man was he? He'd asked himself that question over and over during his years of wandering, and had finally received his answer when he had found not only a brother, but also a friend. Scott respected him because of who he was, rather than because of his prowess with a gun. And his sense of self-respect had grown. He was humbled by Scott's willing sacrifice, but wasn't going to diminish it by claiming that he wasn't worthy of his brother's love.
Johnny would have laughed at the look on Isabelle's beautiful face if he'd been capable of it. She'd been expecting him to crumble under a heavy load of guilt. Well, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He couldn't maintain eye contact for long, he was too tired for that, but it was enough.
She left his bed-side then and the door slammed closed behind her. Alone and unguarded for the first time since being removed from Lancer, he tried to move. A sob caught in his throat as he attempted to force his body into motion. A slight twitch of his fingers was the best he could manage before the door opened again and Sam bustled in.
"S…Sam. Gotta h…help me." His throat closed at the sight of Isabelle standing behind the doctor with a hand on his shoulder.
"That's why I'm here, young man." The tone was disapproving. "Isabelle tells me you've had another collapse. I'm surprised at you, Johnny. You have a good life at Lancer. Your father took you back, despite your reprehensible behavior and this is how you repay him."
Sam rummaged in his bag, withdrawing a long slender box and a small bottle. Johnny watched helplessly as the syringe was filled. Sam held it up to the light, flicking a finger against the vial. "Your body needs time to recover, and you've demonstrated often enough your contempt for my advice." He reached for Johnny's arm. "So, I'm going to sedate you for your own protection."
"D…don't," Johnny gasped as the needle penetrated his skin. Isabelle's smile was the last thing he saw before the darkness closed in.
LLLLL
Silently berating himself, Scott tried again to force his right hand through the tight metal restraints. Hearing his father condemn Johnny had provoked an outburst which had been both passionate – and very unwise.
Murdoch's face had turned purple with rage, the veins throbbing in his forehead. Scott had braced himself for a blow, only it appeared he was to remain untouched. He supposed bitterly that Isabelle didn't want him showing up to the wedding with a split lip or black eye.
Now, he was back in his room, wrists secured behind his back. This, according to Murdoch, was his punishment for standing up for his 'worthless' brother. When the door opened again, he looked up from his task defiantly. Maria entered, carrying a tray which she set down on the nightstand.
"I have brought your lunch, Senor."
Scott looked at the doorway where Murdoch was waiting. "I'll be back in twenty minutes," the rancher announced coldly. The door closed and the key turned in the lock.
"Maria…" he began, stopping as she laid a finger on his lips.
"I will have to feed you, Senor," she told him, a shade too loudly. "I have not been trusted with the key to the shackles."
He nodded his understanding as she uncovered a bowl of soup. For several minutes, she fed him spoonfuls of the beef broth in silence. Finally, she laid the bowl down and leaned closer.
"You cannot marry her. She is the spawn of the Devil."
"It's the only way to protect Johnny," he argued.
"You think you will buy his life with your sacrifice?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then you underestimate your opponent. You must find a way to get him away from here."
"No, you're wrong." Scott finally saw his path laid out clearly before him. "I know what I have to do."
No amount of argument was going to dissuade Scott once his mind was made up. As the key turned in the lock again, Maria laid a hand on his cheek. "May God protect you, Senor Scott."
"Gracias, Maria. Be careful that they don't suspect you."
By the time the door opened, she was occupied with tidying up. With a final fond look at him, she lowered her head and hurried from the room.
"Murdoch, wait," Scott called as his father began to pull the door closed. "I want to apologize."
"I'm listening." The tall rancher stood with folded arms and an unfriendly expression.
"You were right – about Johnny. But, you have to understand how close Johnny and I have become. It isn't easy for me to accept that he's turned bad. I thought," he stopped, choosing his words carefully. "I thought he'd put all that behind him."
"He was raised in wickedness. His mother trapped me into marriage. As soon as I realized what she had done, I threw them both out."
Scott's breath caught in his throat. Murdoch was living with a distorted image of his past, the truth having been twisted out of all recognition. "Yet, you gave him a second chance." Scott almost gagged on the words. "You did what any loving father would do."
Murdoch moved further into the room, his aggression gone to be replaced by an eager need to explain. "Yes, and to have that love hurled back in my face is painful, Son. And, to watch him corrupting you – well, I almost felt like shooting him myself."
"You need to send him away," Scott counseled. "You don't want to soil your hands with his blood. He isn't worth it."
Murdoch fumbled in his vest pocket and Scott saw that his father was now holding the key to the handcuffs. He swiveled around, barely breathing. The knot in his stomach tightened as Murdoch hesitated. "I've given my word. Have you ever known me to break a promise?"
"No, Scott."
The metal around his left wrist snapped open and then both hands were free. He hissed as his shoulders protested. His eyes were hooded as he bent to rub the circulation back into his leaden arms.
"A message came from Isabelle," Murdoch informed him. "The wedding will be celebrated at midnight tomorrow, at her house."
"The time can't come soon enough," Scott spoke truthfully. His direct gaze sought his father. "If it's possible, I'd like to go outside. I don't feel comfortable being closed in. Those twelve months in Libby left their mark." He withstood the searching scrutiny without flinching.
"You won't try to leave Lancer?"
"No."
Murdoch nodded and stood aside. Scott collected his longer brown jacket and pulled it on. Although his father followed him downstairs, he made no move to follow him outside. However, watchful eyes were on him whichever way he turned. Men and women went about their work in silence, each ready to stop him if he tried to ride away without permission.
Hours of solitary thought had convinced him that he would stand no chance of spiriting Johnny away beyond Isabelle's reach. His plan now was quite different. He spent a long time standing by the corral, before entering the barn and gathering together the implements necessary to groom his horse. Once he had finished, he turned his attention to Barranca, who was fretting at Johnny's absence.
Men came and went as he concentrated on his task. When he was sure that he was alone, he unlocked the tack room and began his search. His smile was cold and calculating as his fingers closed over the cloth-wrapped bundle. He gave thanks for Johnny's predictability.
After unwrapping the gun, he checked that it was loaded. He stuck it in the waistband of his pants, certain that the back of his jacket would conceal it. After tidying up, he walked confidently back to the house.
LLLLL
Johnny drifted on a wave of well-being, neither awake nor asleep. Each time he felt reality tugging at him, there would be a pressure on his arm and he would sink back into his twilight world. It was a comfortable existence, and he had no urge to relinquish it. When he was finally allowed to wake up, he found Isabelle watching him and knew that the peace had only been an illusion.
Life flooded his body and he looked at her in puzzled enquiry. She had already shown that she was more than capable of keeping him passive. He edged cautiously up the bed, responding cynically to her slight smile as she looked at his bare chest. "Why not marry me instead?" he offered. "You said yourself that we were two of a kind."
She tilted her head to one side, eyes alight with mischief. "I'm sure it would be interesting, but your brother is a handsome man too – and he has something you no longer have."
Johnny did his best to look hurt. "Hey, that kind of remark ain't good for a man's self-esteem," he commented wryly. He could see that she was tempted, and allowed the blanket to fall lower. "And what happens after the wedding?"
"We all live happily ever after." Her laugh sent chills down Johnny's spine. "Well, to be brutally honest – I live happily ever after," she amended.
"What about Scott?"
"He'll be my devoted husband, until I get bored with him. Then I'll send him to my father. Don't you want to know what my plans are for you?"
Johnny shook his head. "Nope. I figure you'll get rid of me as soon as it suits you, but death don't scare me. I've had a long time to come to terms with the bargain I made. But, I'll tell you this, one day you'll stop being useful and then you'll get a taste of what you've been dishing out. I sure hope you're ready for that."
The look of loathing on Isabelle's face was tinged with fear. She walked quickly to the door and opened it. Johnny heard her giving instructions to someone outside. He stretched lazily and put his hands behind his head, lounging back against the headboard.
Underneath his calm manner, his mind was working furiously. There was little chance of getting his hands on a weapon, yet, Isabelle had to die if he was to save Scott. The idea of killing a woman was abhorrent to him. He'd never laid a hand on a woman in anger before. But, he couldn't think of her like that and still hold on to his resolve. Even knowing what she was, he couldn't deny the physical attraction. He had to get past his appreciation of her surface beauty and concentrate on the evil that lived beneath the skin.
The chill night air brushed gently across his chest and he shivered. He'd feel a damn sight more comfortable if he had some clothes on. As if in answer to his wish, Isabelle returned and dumped an armful of clothing on the bed.
Johnny smiled insolently. "How about a little privacy while I get dressed? Or…" He shifted invitingly on the bed.
He watched her preen herself, so confident in the power of her charms that she didn't see the danger. "I should go and get ready." She twirled a lock of dark hair between her fingers and looked at him hungrily.
"Don't I deserve a little fun?" he asked. "You've won – we both know it and I haven't lived this long by backing lost causes."
She moved slowly toward the bed and he held out a hand to her. "Just think how much you'll enjoy telling Scott that you slept with me before the wedding. It should appeal to your twisted sense of humor."
For a moment, he thought he'd gone too far, but she laughed delightedly and came into his waiting arms. He kissed her with a desperate passion, twinning his fingers in her hair. Pulling her head back, he gazed deeply into her enchanting green eyes. Running his right hand down the side of her neck, he felt her shiver as he caressed her smooth skin. "Dios, you're beautiful," he gasped.
Her satisfied smile changed to a look of abject terror as he swiftly wrapped his hands around her neck, and squeezed.
LLLLL
Scott looked at himself in the mirror. He had chosen to wear a dark suit and white shirt, and knew he made a striking figure. The gun rested comfortingly in the waistband at the back of his pants. In the last twenty-four hours, he had cleaned and oiled it, checking over and over that it was in working order. He had also claimed one further piece of property. Johnny's crucifix, recovered from where it had dropped when his brother was taken, rested against his chest and it was his intention to give it back as soon as he could.
He had been left largely to his own devices since Murdoch had released him from his room, and had worked hard not to arouse any suspicion. The uncertainty about Johnny's condition was killing him, yet he managed to maintain his act. In a few minutes, it would be time for him to leave for his wedding. It wasn't exactly the happy occasion he had envisaged while growing up. In fact, if everything went according to plan, he would end the day as a widower and probably facing a hanging, for the crime of cold-blooded pre-meditated murder.
He took a last look around his room, feeling surprisingly calm. He hoped that Johnny would understand. It was doubtful that anyone else would, and he spared a thought for his grandfather back in Boston. Harlan Garrett would be devastated, yet that gave him no pause. Saving Johnny was all that mattered.
He reached behind his back and fleetingly gripped the handle of the gun. Then he rearranged his jacket, brushed a stray strand of blond hair back into place and left the room. His father and Teresa were waiting for him in the great room, each dressed in their Sunday best. Would Isabelle allow them to understand what was happening? He hoped not.
Scott's heart sank when his father held out the handcuffs. "Those won't be necessary, Sir."
Murdoch looked apologetic. "This isn't a matter of choice, Son."
For just a second, Scott saw confusion on his father's face, but the look was gone almost before it could register. "There's always a choice, Murdoch. Does any of this feel right to you? Isabelle is holding Johnny hostage for my good behavior. You've been keeping me here against my will. Think about it…fight it. I need your help to free my brother." He paused for a heartbeat before adding, "Your son."
"Oh, Scott." Murdoch shook his head sadly. "Johnny has poisoned your mind to the truth. It was wrong of me to bring him here, but I can make things right, if you'll let me."
Scott backed away as his father walked toward him. He couldn't allow himself to be bound, and neither could he betray the fact that he was armed. Murdoch's gun was resting in its holster on the hat rack by the front door. Scott lunged for it, pulling it clear and pointing it with shaking hands.
Murdoch stopped, a look of fury on his face. Scott continued to retreat until he felt the wood of the door pressing against his back. He fumbled behind him for the handle. "I'm sorry, Murdoch. I'll go through with the wedding, but I can't let you put those shackles on me."
Once he was outside, he raced for Murdoch's horse which was waiting placidly beside the buggy. Flinging himself into the saddle, he hurled the gun away. Murdoch and Teresa arrived at the front door in time to see it arching away into the darkness. Hopefully, they would tell Isabelle that he had relinquished it, and it wouldn't occur to her that he might be armed with another weapon. He urged the horse into motion, desperate now to see Johnny and bring this nightmare to an end.
LLLLL
Scott slid from the saddle as soon as the horse stopped outside Isabelle's house. The door opened as he approached and he entered without breaking stride. The hallway was dimly lit with candles and he walked quickly from room to room, calling Johnny's name and becoming more frantic with each passing second. With a rustle of silk, Isabelle was by his side. He could smell her perfume, sense her presence and every nerve in his body screamed out in a mixture of desire and revulsion.
When he turned, he found she was dressed in a deep crimson gown – the color of blood. It clung to her body, providing a stark contrast to the creamy skin of her breasts and arms. A matching scarf circled her neck and trailed seductively across her cleavage. Without any volition on his part, he traced the hollow between her breasts, feeling her tremble in response to his touch.
"I left orders." Her voice was husky. "You were to be brought to me in chains."
Scott slipped one arm around her waist and rested the other hand on the back of her neck. He bent his head until his mouth was only inches from hers. "Then I wouldn't have been able to hold you like this." His lips fastened on Isabelle's and he pulled her against him, allowing her to feel and savor his desire…his need.
When he pulled gently away, it was only so that he could whisper in her ear. "What are we waiting for?"
Her fingers entwined with his and she led him to the steps disappearing down into the cellar. The room blazed with light from dozens of candles. Strange and unsettling symbols had been chalked on the floor, but Scott saw none of it. All he saw was his brother, arms chained above his head, sagging against the far wall. Johnny's chin was resting on his chest, his dark hair falling around his face and hiding his features. Scott couldn't even tell if he was still breathing.
"What have you done?" Scott asked, aghast.
Her fingers dug into his arm as he turned to look at her. "He tried to kill me." She ripped the scarf from around her throat, the bruising standing out starkly against her perfect skin. "He had to be punished."
LLLLL
"Johnny?" Scott gently tipped his brother's face up, the movement causing the chains tethering him to the wall to rattle
Eyelids fluttered open to reveal dull blue eyes. "Don't…" The word emerged as a whisper.
"I told you to keep silent," Isabelle hissed.
Johnny convulsed against his chains, his breath coming in heaving gasps. Scott grabbed him and held him tight until the spasms passed and Johnny's head once more lolled forward.
"You immoral bitch! Did you think either of us would give up without a fight?" he yelled.
When Isabelle answered, there was a timbre to her voice that Scott hadn't heard previously, and it frightened him more profoundly than anything that had gone before. True, uncaring evil had invaded the house.
"I would have been disappointed if you hadn't fought me. I have collected enough souls of weak cringing fools."
Scott stepped away from his brother. "Then, let's get on with it."
"Scott!" The plaintive cry came from Johnny as he struggled to lift his head and get his feet under him.
"It's alright, Brother, I know what I'm doing."
"N…not for me."
The desperate plea touched Scott. "There was never any choice," he explained patiently. "Even if I don't go through with this I lose. How can I stand back and watch as you're tortured to death? Where would that leave my humanity…my soul?"
"She…" Johnny swallowed painfully. "She said I was your weakness."
"She was wrong," Scott assured him. "You're the reason I have the strength to do this."
A touch on his arm directed him to the center of the design laid out on the floor. Isabelle's two men had arrived, one taking up position by the stairs and the other standing beside Johnny. Murdoch and Teresa were also present, and Scott welcomed their lack of reaction. If would be a kindness if they never learned the truth.
He didn't flinch when Isabelle took his hand. Words – unintelligible, harsh words were tumbling from her lips. The air grew hot and oppressive. Sweat trickled down Scott's back and only the pressure of the gun in his waistband reassured him that he could still salvage something – the most important thing of all. He could still save his brother's life.
He had never understood why Don Pedro hadn't fought the Priest. Despite feeling sorry for the man, he'd also harbored a measure of contempt. The Mexican landowner had been willing to stand by and let Johnny be sacrificed. Murdoch had never forgiven the Don and only Johnny's intercession had protected the man from his father's wrath. Don Pedro said he had made that hard choice because he had believed it was the best thing for his people. Now, Scott had made his own choice, and he was at peace with himself.
A swirling darkness obscured his view of his brother, and a gust of wind extinguished the candles. When the light inexplicably returned, Scott saw that Isabelle was holding a knife. Shaken, he raised his eyes to her face.
"You recognize it," she stated.
Scott couldn't find his voice as he nodded. Johnny was staring in horrified fascination at the weapon that should have ended his life on the Aztec altar. The serrated blade was dark with blood – the Priest's blood, Scott realized.
"Give me your hand." Isabelle raised his left hand, palm facing upwards. "The time has come for you to surrender your soul."
For one dreadful moment, Scott thought she was going to kill him. The blade swept down and across his palm, opening a deep cut. He bit his bottom lip, hearing Johnny crying out. She released his hand and quickly drew the knife across her own palm.
She caught his hand with her own, their blood mingling. The wound burned and Scott waited. Surely he would feel something? Isabelle's expression of ecstasy faded, to be replaced with a look of puzzlement. Johnny strained against his chains, almost incoherent with rage and despair.
"Let him go." Even to Scott, his voice sounded strained. "I've done what you asked."
"Not yet. The marriage is not complete."
"You expect me to…?" Scott gasped.
Isabelle draped herself against him. "You can't deny you want me. Is it really such a bad way to seal your pact?"
She was the most perfectly beautiful woman Scott had ever seen – and the very last one he wanted to make love to. The thought of what he needed to do left him feeling debased and dirty. Johnny's voice had died away, only the sound of his harsh breathing breaking the silence.
Scott pulled away and walked over to his brother. He removed the crucifix from around his neck and slipped the chain over Johnny's head. No one tried to stop him and Johnny gave a soft sigh as the tiny cross settled against his bare chest.
He touched the cold metal encircling Johnny's wrists, wishing he could free his sibling from his fetters. "I'll be back for you, Brother," Scott promised. He turned back to Isabelle, indicating his father and Teresa. "You don't need them any longer. Send them home."
"You can go." She dismissed them without a thought. Holding out her hand to Scott she imperiously demanded his presence by her side.
LLLLL
The bedroom was surprisingly normal after the cloying unreality of the cellar. Scott finished unfastening the row of buttons at the back of Isabelle's dress and the material slid to the floor, forming a red pool around her feet. She was wearing no undergarments and he couldn't stifle the appreciative sound that started deep in his throat.
Pressing against her, he forced her backwards until she lay on the bed. He walked away and slowly undressed, careful to secrete the gun in the folds of his shirt, and laid his clothing on a chair by her dressing table.
It was disgusting that a part of him wanted to explore her body and take pleasure in it. When he lay down, he could feel the heat rising from her skin. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, allowing his baser instincts to drown out coherent thought. The blood from the deep cut to his hand stained her flesh, and her own bloody fingerprints marked him as her property.
As he dug his fingers into her soft flesh, she moaned with pleasure. He wasn't gentle, sinking to a level of violence that only seemed to arouse her to greater heights of passion. Pinning her to the mattress, he looked deeply into her eyes. "Is this what you want, bitch?" He thrust viciously again and again as she sobbed, raking his back with her nails.
"Yes," she gasped. "And you want it as much as I do."
The sudden stark recognition of what he was doing would have made him pull back, only it was far too late. Her sobs and moans reached a crescendo as he exploded inside her. His voice mingled with hers and then fell silent.
Filled with revulsion for what he had done, he rolled out of bed, shivering violently. He pulled on his clothes and still had his back to her when she finally spoke.
"There will be a child."
He bowed his head. "No." When he turned around he was pointing his gun at her. "I've paid my price by marrying you, but now it's over. As for wanting you," his laugh was harsh, "all I ever felt for you was contempt."
She stretched languidly and smiled complacently. "You can't kill me. My father protects me, just as he will protect the child conceived tonight."
When Scott pulled the trigger her mouth opened in a soundless gasp of surprise. Blood spilled from the ugly hole in her chest and her face settled into an expression of horror.
"Your father can protect you in hell," Scott said coldly and fired again.
As the light faded from her eyes he heard a malevolent laugh and a sinister voice in his head. "Now, you belong to me."
LLLLL
Minutes before Johnny heard the shots, the two men guarding him simply faded. The manacles holding him to the wall snapped open and he slid to the ground. When the shots sounded, he knew what had happened as surely as if he had witnessed it. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together to stop them shaking, trying to hold back the tide of grief that threatened to destroy him. Almost immediately he heard unsteady footsteps on the wooden stairs. With a shuddering breath he looked up. Scott was deathly pale as he crossed the room and sank down on the cold floor. He drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Johnny edged over so that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, and waited.
"She's dead," Scott finally said. "That was what he wanted all along."
"I tried…" Johnny spoke hoarsely, clearing his throat. "I tried to kill her for you."
"I know. She didn't understand that she was to be the sacrifice." Scott closed his eyes momentarily, taking deep shuddering breaths. "I need…I need to tell Val. I shot her in cold blood. I murdered my wife."
Johnny had no doubt that his brother was in shock and put an arm around the older man's shoulders. "That was no marriage."
Scott shook his head. "It doesn't matter. No one will believe us."
"Where is she?"
"In her bed. We…" Scott's voice faltered and Johnny wondered if his brother was going to be sick. "She was terrified at the end, when she realized…"
Scott raised his left hand and looked at it with a puzzled frown. Johnny could see that it was still bleeding. "We need to get that cleaned up." He took hold of Scott's hand to examine it more closely. The edges were already red and inflamed. "We should ask Sam…" Johnny knew it was irrational, but he wasn't sure if he could ever trust the doctor again. However, regardless of his feelings, Scott needed medical attention.
"You're cold," Scott sounded surprised. He stripped off his jacket and Johnny gratefully pulled it on. Apart from a pair of trousers he had been left with no other clothes.
"My things'll probably still be upstairs."
"I don't want to go up there again."
Johnny didn't think he'd ever heard his brother sounding so uncertain and afraid. "We should check that she is dead before fetching Val." In truth, he needed to see for himself. He had to know that she was no longer a threat to his family. They'd figure the rest out later. He wasn't going to let Scott hang for killing a creature of such unadulterated evil.
"Help me up?" he asked. "I'm still feeling kinda weak." He had hoped that appeal would garner a reaction, and he wasn't disappointed. Scott was immediately on his feet offering support.
Although Johnny could feel the resistance in Scott's body, his brother accompanied him up to the top floor of the house. The bedroom door was closed. Whatever had happened in there had made a lasting impression and Johnny worried again for a minute that Scott was going to be physically ill.
Scott entered the room first, stopping abruptly as soon as he passed through the doorway. Johnny urged him forward until he, too, had a clear view of the room. The cross burned against his skin as he looked at the bed. It was neatly made – and empty.
LLLLL
They searched the house from top to bottom, finding nothing to indicate that Isabelle had ever existed. All clothes and personal possessions had disappeared as completely as her body.
"She was dead," Scott whispered brokenly. They were sitting in the parlor, trying to make sense of the inexplicable. "Her blood was all over the bed."
Johnny fought his rising panic. They weren't dealing with any natural force, so trying to come to a logical conclusion was likely to be a lost cause. "I guess her father took her back. Look on the bright side. If there's no body, you don't have to worry about a murder charge."
The sun was rising and Johnny could hear the sounds that indicated the town was coming back to life. He was feeling almost back to normal now that Isabelle's influence had been removed. He'd retrieved his clothes and his gun belt, breathing a sigh of relief as the familiar weight settled on his right hip.
"You need to see Sam," he reminded his brother.
Scott had barely spoken since finding that the body had disappeared. Johnny had no doubt that Isabelle was dead, but he would have liked to see that for himself. The main thing they had to establish now was whether or not any of her evil still permeated the valley. He remained apprehensive about seeing Sam, and even more so about returning to Lancer. It would take a long time for him to get past Murdoch's behavior toward him even knowing that it hadn't been voluntary.
Then, there was Scott. How would he cope with the knowledge of what he had done – of what he had surrendered? As a child, the significance of his bargain had been lost on Johnny. It had been brought back to the forefront of his mind with sickening force a year ago. His reprieve had led him to believe that some benevolent power had been watching over him. Now, his faith was shattered, but that wasn't going to prevent him offering support and compassion. If there was any way to undo the damage caused by Isabelle he would find it.
"Come on," he encouraged, helping Scott to his feet.
The short journey to Sam's house was accomplished in silence. The few townsfolk who were out that early looked curiously at the brothers, but Johnny felt no hint of the 'wrongness' that had hung over the town like a cloud. He reached for his cross, grasping the cool metal. The heat that had scorched him back in Isabelle's bedroom had gone. His hesitation was almost unnoticeable as he reached out to knock on the door. Sam answered immediately, exclaiming in surprise when he saw the state of Scott's hand.
"How did that happen?" He ushered Scott into his examination room and sat him on the couch. "You've got a nasty infection brewing in that wound. How do you feel?" He peered intently at his patient who, from where Johnny was sitting, looked as if he was about to pass out.
"It was an accident, Doc," Johnny explained, before adding in concern, "he doesn't look so good."
Scott's pale complexion took on a greenish tinge and Sam shoved a bowl under his chin. Johnny leapt to his feet and supported his brother while he was sick, then lowered him into a prone position on the couch. Scott closed his eyes and turned his face away.
"The infection's making him sick. How long ago did this happen?" Sam sat on a chair and began to clean out the wound.
"Not sure. What time is it?"
Sam shot him a puzzled look before pulling out his pocket watch. "It's seven thirty."
"Then it was about seven hours ago."
"Why didn't you bring him here right away? Surely you could see how serious it was?"
Johnny ducked his head. "Sorry, Sam. Neither of us could get away." He looked up at the doctor to see if there would be any reaction to that comment. When Sam continued to glower at him, he decided to press the issue further. "Scott was with Isabelle, you know?"
"Isabelle…Isabelle?" Sam's brow creased in thought. "Is that someone new in town?" He frowned severely. "Not that she can be very reputable if she's the sort of girl that would entertain a man all night."
Some of the tension drained out of Johnny. He'd suspected that the townsfolk would have no memory of Isabelle, and Sam's words had served to affirm that belief. "You don't have to worry about her, Doc. She's left town. I'll get Scott home as soon as you've patched him up."
Apart from the occasional sharp intake of breath Scott gave no sign that he was aware of what was happening around him. Johnny knew that his brother had retreated deep within himself, trying to block out the memory of all that had happened. He couldn't allow that. The emotional wound would fester more surely than the physical reminder of that travesty of a wedding.
Sam finished bandaging Scott's hand and indicated that Johnny should move out of earshot. "I'm concerned that he is so unresponsive. He is running a slight fever, but that wouldn't explain how he's acting. What exactly happened to him?"
"He'll be alright once the shock wears off. Trust me, Doc. I'll look after him."
"You're avoiding the question, young man."
"I guess I am. You'll just have to take it from me that there's nothing you, or any other doctor, can do to help Scott."
"Johnny?" Scott had finally turned to look at them, a wealth of sadness in his expressive eyes.
"Hey, Brother. Good to have you back with us. Sam was getting worried about you."
"I think you should stay here today and get some rest. And, perhaps you might like to tell me how you ended up with a cut like that. You're lucky that no permanent damage seems to have been done."
Johnny looked with concern at his brother as Scott gave a bitter laugh. Given his present state of mind it was quite likely that Scott would blurt out something that would lead the doctor to question his sanity. "You know, Sam, I think he'll do much better if I take him home."
"No!" Scott's refusal was emphatic. "Can't go home."
"Damn," Johnny murmured as he rapidly reassessed his intentions. Taking Scott back to Lancer before they had a chance to talk probably wasn't the wisest course of action to take. It was unlikely that Murdoch would remember what had happened, so he would doubtless demand an explanation that Johnny wasn't keen to supply. He couldn't leave Scott here either. He reached a decision and hurriedly crossed to the bed. "Time to go, Brother." He bent down so that only Scott could hear him. "How about we hole up at one of the line shacks for a few days? We'll go home when you're ready."
Scott looked at his brother in gratitude, nodding to signal his agreement. He co-operated with Johnny's efforts to get him to his feet, breathing deeply to keep the nausea at bay.
"I'm not happy about this," Sam complained. "He should be resting, and what's this nonsense about not going home?"
"It's personal, Doc," Johnny said, as he slipped his arm around his brother's waist for support. "Can you get word to Murdoch? We'll be gone for a couple of days. Tell him not to worry."
LLLLL
It was a beautiful sunset. Scott sat by the stream, listening to the water lapping gently at the reeds growing by the banks. The fish they had caught earlier was cooking on the spit and he could smell the coffee brewing. The first twenty-four hours had passed him by without him being aware of it. After leaving Sam's they'd ridden to the line shack in the far north end of the ranch. At this time of year it would be deserted as the cattle had already been moved closer to the hacienda for the winter. He'd slept off his fever, waking soaked in sweat in the early hours of the morning. He flexed his hand, staring at the bandage covering the deep cut. He couldn't control the shudder that wracked his body as he thought of his blood mingling with hers. Before the feeling could overwhelm him, he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder as Johnny came over to join him.
His brother hadn't asked any questions – he'd just been there, quietly supportive. Scott supposed that they had won a victory of sorts. Isabelle was dead and could no longer hurt anyone he cared about. He'd made his choice willingly, knowing what the cost would be. Now, he had to get back to living and making the most of the time left to him. He studied Johnny's profile, drawing strength from the quiet determination he saw there. Finally, he broke the silence. "I expected to feel different."
Johnny turned, a half-smile on his face. "When I was little, my mama used to talk about 'redemption.' She'd usually had too much to drink, and I never really understood what she meant. She'd say that if you were real sorry for doing something bad then God would forgive you. Reckon she was tryin' to convince herself mostly. Thing is, Scott, I did some bad things, but I also did things that just maybe'll count in the other side of the balance. If there wasn't a hope of redemption, I'd have died in front of a firing squad or on that altar in Mexico. What you did in town the other day wasn't done because you were selfish or greedy or wanted anything for yourself. It was probably the most unselfish thing I've ever seen. That has to mean something. I don't know about you, but I don't intend to go down without a fight. As far as I'm concerned, the Devil may think he has a right to our souls, but I'm not giving up hope of reclaiming them before this is all over."
Scott thought about that. He knew he wasn't a bad person at heart, and neither was Johnny. They had their failings like everyone else, while still trying to keep to their high moral standards. Was there a way to buy back their souls? Was that why he didn't feel empty inside? A small seed of hope took root. Maybe you only truly lost your soul if you gave up. Well, it wasn't in his nature to quit. He watched the sun sink below the horizon. The colors washed out of the sky as darkness descended. Johnny moved quietly from his side to tend to their meal, and the stars appeared as they ate.
"I'd like to go home tomorrow," Scott said later as they tidied up and prepared to return to the shelter of the line shack. "We owe Murdoch an explanation."
"I have a feeling he won't ask for one," Johnny replied. "And we'll only go back if you're sure you're ready."
"I did what I thought was right. I can live with that. Yes, I'm ready to go home."
The End.
Caroline
Oct 06
