Cursed

"I cannot think well of a man who sports with any woman's feelings; and there may often be a great deal more suffered than a stander-by can judge of."

Jane Austen

Paul's words were on my mind all day. I could not concentrate on anything else, not even the book I attempted to read. For once, I was not the one to suffer directly from one of his threats. Surely he would not do anything to Jesse. After all, what had Jesse done besides fall in love with me? You can't punish someone for falling in love.

The kitchen was empty, and my shallow breathing echoed around the stone room. This is where the servants eat as well as prepare our food. It was lonely and cold, despite the fire roaring in an alcove on the far wall. It was late, I knew that much. The sun had set hours ago. I contemplated sneaking out to see Jesse, to tell him of Paul's threat. But what would it acheive?

I had never felt so helpless as I did right then. I needed reassurance. I needed someone, anyone, to tell me that everything would turn out fine.

I pushed myself up from the uncomfortable wooden chair and walked back into the main part of the kitchen. I jumped slightly when i saw a small figure sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. I had not heard him enter. I could not see his face, but the mop of bright red hair that sat atop his head was enough to confirm his identity.

"David," I spoke, my voice soft so as not to startle him. His head jerked upright and I could see a wooden cup in his hands. When he saw me, his expression softened.

"Suze," he breathed, obviously shocked by my sudden appearance. "What are you doing here? Should you not be asleep?"

I laughed and sat on the floor next to him. I could see water inside the cup, telling me that he had snuck down from his room for a midnight snack.

"I tried," I told him. "But I could not. I have too many things on my mind."

"Do you want to talk?" he asked. "Talking can help. You really should get some sleep. You have not been looking well for a while now. Ever since Erroll Quinn arrived, actually."

I smiled. For a twelve-year-old, he is quite mature. More mature than his older brother, Brad, at least.

"For what I have to say," I whispered, "I cannot talk. Not to you, not to anyone. Not if I want to live."

One of his small hands reached out and gripped my own, squeezing it in a slightly reassuring manner.

"You know that anything you tell me will be for my ears only," he said. "I will not tell anyone if you do not wish me to."

We sat in silence for a few minutes as I thought about telling him. How would he react to hearing about Jesse? True, he had met him at the dance, but he thought that he was a rich Spanish rancher, not a poor blacksmith's assistant. He was too young to understand what I was feeling; the agony of being in love.

"Do you remember Hector?" I asked, using the name that Jesse had introduced himself with.

David nodded, gulping down some water as he waited patiently for me to continue.

"You love him, don't you?" he asked when I was silent for too long. I nodded in reply. "Then why don't you marry him? At least then Paul will leave you alone."

"It isn't as simple as that," I explained. "I want to marry him, I really do...but I can't. Not now, not ever."

David sighed as if I was being difficult, which I was not.

"Jack told me that Paul is up to something," he said. "Jack hates Paul, you know that, don't you? He likes you because you treated him like a person, not a burden or an obstacle. He hates Paul even more for what he puts you through. If you marry Hector, Paul will be forced to leave you alone. By law."

"David, I can't marry Hector!" I half-shouted. "I can't marry him because he is not rich."

David looked stunned. His red hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head violently.

"No, he is a rancher, he is rich! And of a high class!"

"He is not," I repeated. I could feel tears in my eyes, but I did not want to cry in front of David. "He ran away from that life when he was forced into an arranged marriage. He accidentally killed the man his fiancee sent to kill him, so he fled to this country for a new start. He works as Henry's assistant...Henry the blacksmith."

I lost control over my emotion and the tears started to flow freely. I felt David's hand on my back, but it felt uncertain.

"Suze," he whispered. "That can't be...oh, no. How do you get yourself into these situations?"

This just caused the tears to come harder and faster.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Paul only hired Quinn to scare me...and now innocent people are dying because of it. And he...I think that he is going to do something to Jesse."

"Do you want my advice?" David asked, though it was a rhetorical question. "Run away. I know that it is not the best answer, but it is your only choice. Either run away together or send Hec-Jesse away."

I laughed at his innocence. He believed that running away would solve all of my problems. I believed that, too, when I was his age. But if I ran away, they would only search for me. They would comb the globe if that is what it took to find me. I would never truly be free of them.

"No offence David," I said, standing up. "But I prefer to solve my problems, not run from them. If anyone asks, I am sleeping and do not wish to be disturbed."

I brushed invisible dirt from my skirt before exiting the kitchen and slipping out of the mansion, hoping that nobody was out of bed this late.

I know that I promised Jesse that I would not visit him at night if the risk was too high, but I needed to see him. I needed to warn him, after Paul's cryptic threat. There were no carriages available this late, so I saddled one of the horses (a task I have become skilled at since meeting Jesse) and rode into the village myself.

The streets wee empty, making it easy for me to ride around unseen. Even the witchfinders were absent tonight. They were rarely seen in the village lately, on account of Quinn's belief that witches work in woodland. I have never rode on my own this late at night, and I never wanted to again. I am sure that the unpleasant chill was not due to the breeze.

I reached Jesse's house in almost no time at all and knocked on the door lightly. I ran my fingers through my hair and adjusted my dress, suddenly concerned about my image. I knocked again after a few minutes when the door did not open.

After the fourth knock, I began to worry. Jesse always rushes to the door when he knows that it will be me.

Assuming that he must be sleeping, I snuck around the side of the house and climbed through one of the windows. This was difficult and I ripped my skirt when it caught on a nail protruding from the window pane, but I eventually got through. His house seemed to be in perfect condition. The bookself in the corner was filled with books, as usual, and the books that would not fit onto the shelves were piled on a small wooden table next to them. I made my way to the bedroom, the cold stone floor icy against my bare feet.

"Jesse?"

There was no answer. Maybe he was a deep sleeper.

But when I reached his bed, I found that it was empty. Jesse wasn't here.

I did not think much of this, though I do not know why. I guess that I was in denial. Nothing could have happened to him, could it? Paul could not have acted so quickly.

I sighed and sat on the edge of his small bed. The covers were straight and undisturbed, so he had obviously not been sleeping in it. I ran a hand over the rough material of his blankets to find that they were cool to the touch. He had most definitely not lain here tonight.

My lack of sleep caught up with me and I stifled a small yawn. Jesse could return any minute, I could not afford to return home to sleep. Instead, I curled up on Jesse's sheets and buried my face into his pillows. I could smell him on them. I could smell his intoxicating, indescribable scent and I breathed deeply, inhaling as much of it as I could. It comforted me like nothing else could. I could imagine him lying beside me, an arm draped across me, holding me close to him.

I lay there for a few minutes before I felt the atmosphere change. I was suddenly aware of a presence by the side of the bed, but I did not open my eyes. It was not Jesse, I knew that much. Jesse was not dead.

"Susannah," Marianne spoke, her voice soft and cautious. I could detect something in her voice, something she was trying to hide, but I could not think of what it was.

"Susannah," she repeated when I did not reply. "I know that you are awake. There has...something has happened. Jesse won't be coming home tonight."

I allowed my eyes to open slowly, the light from Marianne's glow hurting my eyes. I raised a hand to shield my eyes and pushed myself upright.

"What do you mean?" I asked, still unable to recognise the emotion in her voice.

She sat beside me and ran a hand through her long hair, shaking with every pointless breath she took. She seemed unable to speak.

"I...I decided to watch over Jesse after Paul's threat, and..." She paused to breathe, though she did not need to. "He was arrested a few hours ago for the murder of the witchfinders you both killed."

Her words cut me deep. Unable to move, I felt phantom tears welling up in my eyes. I have cried so much lately that I guess I can't cry anymore.

I felt Marianne's arm come around me, but I did not react. I did not need any pity; I had no one to blame but myself.

I stood up, passing through Marianne out of carelessness and stumbled towards the window I had used to enter the house, my dress snagging again on the same nail. I was barely aware of my surroundings as I climbed back onto my horse and took off towards the jail.

Midnight was obviously long gone, as the icy wind that swirled around me indicated. The wind tugged at my clothes, ripping my shawl from my shoulders and dragging it into the night. The saddle bit into my thighs and he reigns were beginning to restrict the bloow flow to my hands, but I continued to ride, the wind finally causing my eyes to flood with tears.

When I arrived at the jail, I shooed the horse around the side of the building so that I could easily sneak inside.

The jail is a very small building which contained a simple table and a passageway to the underground cells. There were only three cells as their inhabitants were often executed shortly after their arrest. Since the witch trials began, there have been almost no crimes worthy of imprisonment or execution. This was one of the reasons why the gallows were brought down and replaced with the platform upon which many women had burned to death. Our governer turned his back on hangings and decided that burning was the only way to cleanse these 'witches' of their sins.

"The jailor is never present after dark."

My body jerked violently from the shock and I spun around to chastise Marianne for scaring me.

She smiled sweetly and gestured towards the half-open door to the jail. I did not hesitate and ran inside, hoping and praying that nobody saw me.

As soon as I stepped inside, a vile damp, musky smell invaded my senses. I clasped a hand to my nose and mouth to block out the smell and ventured down to the cells. It is strange how the closer I got to the cells, the more pleasant the smell became. It was almost bearable. I guess that the guards sweat more than the prisoners.

As I reached the last step a fat, black rat scurried across my feet. I let out a little squeal and backed into one of the damp, grime-covered stone walls. The rat simply ignored me and scurried through a crevice in the stone, it's thick tail swaying carelessly behind it.

I tore my eyes away from the hole it had disappeared into and turned towards the cells, lowering my hand from my face.

Only one of the cells was inhabited and its occupant sat upright with his back to the wall, his head buried in his hands. When my eyes fell upon him, I rushed towards his cell, my heels clacking loudly on the stone ground.

"Jesse!" I exclaimed, falling to my knees in front of his cell, gripping the bars with my dirt-encrusted hands for support. As soon as I spoke, his head jerked upright and I could see that he had been crying. This disturbed me; I have never known a man to cry before. Not openly.

"Querida!" He gasped and threw himself towards me, his fingers wrapping around mine tightly. I would have complained about the pain he was causing me but right now all I wanted was to be near him. By pressing our foreheads between bars, we were able to draw close enough together for our lips to meet. It was a brief kiss, but it was amazing nonetheless.

"I feared the worst when they took me in," he breathed, our foreheads still touching. "I thought that they would have arrested you, too. Being a woman, they would...I dare not think about what they would do to you."

I sniffled, though my tears had dried up.

"It was Paul," I informed him. "I should have warned you as soon as he approached me. I am sorry."

I closed my eyes again, willing the tears to come so that I had some release from this pain, but they did not. I sighed when I felt the hand that Jesse had slipped between the bars gently stroke my cheek.

"Susannah, this is not your fault," he assured me. "They...they are building new gallows and I am to be executed when construction is complete...they say three days. They charged me with murder and they won't even allow me to have a trial."

"Slater," I snarled. Only the governer's family had the power to refuse a trial. This knowledge caused a fresh wave of hatred to wash over me but instead of ignoring it like I usually did, I allowed it to consume me. Paul would pay for what he has done. I will make sure of that.

"It won't come to that," I told Jesse. "I will get you out of here if I have to break you out. I promise."

I hated eveything at that moment; the witchfinders for chasing me, the bars for separating us, Paul for turning Jesse in... But most of all, I blamed myself. I should not have allowed it to come to this.

I remained with Jesse until dawn and left for Andy's mansion as the sun rose, leaving him wit hthe promise that I would sort everything out. But how was I to do that? Paul wanted him dead, and when Paul Slater wanted something, he got it. I am the only exception to that.

-+-

The mood in the manison remained the same as always, though everything seemed much darker to me now. I blamed it on the hatred that I could still feel consuming me. I held on to it, tighter than I held on to my own life, hoping that when the time came, I could give Paul all that he deserved.

As I hurtled down the staircase in my new, clean dress, I could hear the servants busying themselves with breakfast. I checked my reflection in the rusted suit of armor that once belonged to Andy's father as I passed and smoothed my hair down, hoping that nobody would notice the small specks of dirt that clung to it.

"Suze!" A voice called from behind me. I coughed and straightened my dress before turning to face my step-father.

"Suze, what on earth are you wearing on your feet?" he asked, looking at my shoes in disgust. My eyes dropped and I gasped when I realised that I was wearing the same shoes that I had worn last night. They were almost brown, though they should have been light green and the tiniest paw-print was visible on the toe of my right shoe. I swallowed hard and searched desperately for a reasonable excuse.

"Oh, I was planning on taking a walk in the gardens," I lied. "I do not wish to scuff my new shoes."

Andy eyed me suspiciously before nodding. He shook his head at me then walked off towards the dining room, pausing to make sure that I was going into the gardens. So I had no choice but to duck through the door and into the elaborate gardens that connected our mansion wit the governer's.

The courtyard that I walked out onto was made entirely out of stone, even the pillars that supported the upper floors of the house.

When my mother and I first moved here, I used to love sitting out in the gardens for hours. I would read and sometimes just sit and listen to the gossip of the gardeners. That was until I became acquainted with Paul. Every time i would sneak out in to the gardens for a bit of peace and quiet, he would appear, seemingly out of nowhere. Sometimes he would not even speak, he would just sit on the bench opposite and stare at me until I became so unnerved that I had to return to the house.

When I stepped out into the misty gardens, I was counting on him being there. Both of our families would be occupied with breakfast and the morning chores, so nobody could interrupt us. I did not want anyone to witness what I would do to him. I myslelf did not know what I had planned, but I could tell that it would not be pretty by the way that my fingernails involuntarily dug into the palms of my hands when I saw him strolling casually past the fountain.

I wasted no time and marched up to him, my fingernails breaking the skin and drawing the tiniest amout of blood.

"Why, hello, Susannah," Paul sang, grinning cheerfully. He continued to grin even as my bony knuckles collided with his near-perfect features, causing his head to turn ninety degrees.

"You bastard," I spat, embracing the hatred that flared with a vengeance inside of me. "This is not a game! He is a human being, a person. And now he is sentenced to death because of you!"

Instead of trying to calm me down, as I expected him to do, he smiled back at me, wiping the blood from the small gash in his lip that my fist had left.

"I warned you, Susie," he told me, his voice becoming intimidating and his expression hardening. "I told you not to mess with me, but you did. And now another person will pay for your mistake."

He said all the right words, and I felt my hatred evaporating, the hurt bubbling to the surface. I tried desperately to cling on to some of the anger, the tiniest trace of fury, but it was futile. I broke down infront of him, and he showed no pity. He did not attempt to comfort me and when he drew closer to me, his hand gripping my arm loosely, it was cold. His lips drew closer to my ear and I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

"But I could get my father to grant him clemency," he whispered, his fingers moving against my arm, bringing a new emotion to the whirlwind that was raging inside of me...fear. "All I ask for is one night..."

His lips moved back, grazing the skin beside my earlobe. I shook involuntarily and pulled away from him.

"If you think that I-" I started, but Paul interrupted me with a laugh before turning to walk away.

"Would you rather that Jesse die?" he asked, smiling that conniving, all-knowing smile that everyone has begun to associate with him. Because he knew that he had me. He was forcing me to choose between two things that he knew would tear me apart. Either I stand back and let Jesse die or I lose my virginity to the one person I loathed.

I fell to my knees as he walked away, not caring that the woman he supposedly loved (though I did not believe that to be true) was falling to pieces because of his actions.

I clenched my fists once more, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. The pain felt so good right then; it reassured me that I was alive and not in some sort of hell. I breathed in and out slowly in an attempt to calm myself down. I could not afford to lose my mind right now. Jesse needed me.

I took one deep breath and rose to my feet.

There had to be another way out of this...there just had to.

AN - It is a few minutes to midnight and unfortunately I have school in the morning, so I don't have time to check for mistakes, so I apologise for any :).

I have a confession to make...my addiction to reviews has got worse...so please review :). We are half way through now! Almost...unless I get a new idea...which is likely...

Disclaimer - All characters, etc. related to the Mediator belong to Meg Cabot.