Roses & Haunts Read online

  Mayor Henry Caprice vanished the night of the ‘strange rainless thunderstorm’ that had blown out all the lanterns and lights within the whole village. Alynia and Linnet and Iowin honestly had no idea what had happened to the old man. They’d left him in the tender care of newly promoted Captain Conrad Muller and the Hessian brotherhood. The story went that he’d run away from his responsibilities and his debts to the von Knyphausen family. When she was alone, Conrad gently urged her to stay away from the old mausoleum outside of the village. It was a dangerous place, he’d heard tell.

  One never knew what one would find in old places, and it was never very pleasant.

  As the days wore on and a new Mayor was elected, people spoke of ghosts roaming the territory. Their favorite was of the bony old man running as fast as he could towards the river west of village, a headless rider in black fast on his heels. The story went that as soon as they crossed the riverbank, they vanished into thin air. Some speculated in hushed whispers around fireplaces that the rider in black was one of the very Hessians that lived in their village, and the bony old man the one that had wronged him. Had sent him to battle and he’d lost his head to a cannonball blast.

  As a last act before leaving for Europe, a private party was hosted at the Caprice Inn celebrating the marriage of Jerrick to Linnet, further cementing the Hessian’s ties to the new world. Alynia wore the green dress again, and Iowin his waistcoat and breeches. And nothing existed in the world but the music of the violins and the love that had saved them not once, but twice now.

  “Ready?”

  Alynia sighed contentedly, stepping into the circle in the center of the garden, and taking her husband’s hand. Around them stood the remaining brotherhood, with Linnet standing in their center. She’d be protected for the rest of her life, and Alynia truly wished her well.

  “You could always stay,” Linnet tried one last time, no real earnestness in her voice, knowing their minds were made up. “There’s so much work to be done in Tarrytown. We could use your talents.”

  “No, but thank you,” Alynia smiled. “Our place is in the future. You could always come with us.”

  Linnet let her eyes travel across Alynia’s stained T-shirt and ripped jeans, her steel-toed combat boots and rapidly shook her head. “No, thank you, though,” she grinned. “I don’t think your modern America would agree with my constitution.”

  “Then this is goodbye, dear cousin.”

  “So it is,” Linnet’s bottom lip quivered. “Think of us often and fondly.”

  “Oh stars, don’t cry,” Alynia sniffled. “Dammit, I’m going to cry again, too. And I hate crying.”

  Above their heads, their husbands rolled eyes or sighed beneath their breaths.

  “Take care of my ward,” Jerrick clasped hands with Iowin. “She is precious to me, though I know she can more than handle herself.”

  “I will, you have my word,” Iowin swore solemnly. “She’s the love of my life, Jerrick. I think you can understand that.”

  “Ja, that I do. Take care of yourself, too, Iowin Tintreach. May Odin light your path to greater glory.”

  “I’ll settle for him lighting my path home, thank you.”

  Jerrick grinned. Iowin grinned. Linnet put up a brave face, tears shining on her rosy cheeks as she handed each of them a bundle of cloth.

  And then Alynia slipped an arm around her husband, said the words, and time wound forward in a blur of images. And quite possibly her own tears.

  It was only five minutes past noon when they climbed into the 1985 Plymouth Voyager, the folded bundles of cloth Linnet had given them tucked securely under their arms. His contained the spell book and his fancy clothes from the party. Hers contained the pale green dress, and a carefully wrapped black-bladed dagger. Her badge of honor as a Hessian warrior.

  The coffee she’d purchased a lifetime ago and yet just that morning was still warm in its non-biodegradable styrofoam cup. The leftover cheese on his breakfast burrito wrapper still pliable. They sat in the worn cloth seats for a long while without saying a word. Both too emotionally drained to say anything, the bond muted but companionably silent.

  “I’m really going to miss them,” Alynia said quietly, brushing at her eyes.

  Iowin reached over, rubbing the back of her neck. “Me, too,” he said just as quietly.

  Another long moment. Another tear-filled stare.

  “Fuck it,” she sighed, scrubbing angrily at her eyes. “Music?”

  His groan of agreement was nearly palpable. “Music,” he nodded.

  She fished around in the cup holders and, yup, there was the iPod. She jammed the cassette adapter into the radio and hit play. DMX blasted through the speakers, the bass line shaking the old windows in their frames. He took her hand in his, kissing her palm before putting the old van in gear.

  They drove down the highway, each lost in their own thoughts until Mom Stop 27 came into view.

  Iowin hit pause on the playlist. “You know, something’s been bothering me since this whole thing began.”

  “Only one thing bothered you?”

  “Ha. Ha. I’m serious. It’s a name from the past.”

  “Which name?”

  “Well, yours actually. Alynia isn’t that common. In fact, aside from you, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone with that name.”

  She shrugged a shoulder, fingertips floating over the brand just above her heart. “I don’t know what to tell you. I was named after my—-Oh, son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  Alynia pursed her lips, muttering to herself. “You have to promise me you won’t laugh.”

  “That’s not fair. I don’t know what you’re going to say.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “I was named after my great, great Aunt Alynia. The one who had a twin brother named Jonas. Guess who they were named after?”

  He thought about that a moment, and started to grin. That grin turned into a guffaw that turned into to great belly-shaking laughter. “You’re telling me that you’re named after yourself? That Linnet and Jerrick had twins and named them after you and Jonas Kraus? You know what else that means, then, right?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That I get to punch you for laughing at me when I asked you not to do that?”

  “That you were meant to go back in time. That’s why the time stop only affected us on the road, and why the Horseman missed you with his spell, hitting our car instead. You had to go back in time to be named after yourself. And,” he held up a finger, grinning widely. “You and your family are descendants of the real, originally meant-to-be Headless Horseman.”

  Her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed again. And she joined him in laughing until tears ran down her face. All around them along the road, lavender amnesia roses spontaneously blossomed into existence. And a certain blue-white shimmer kept pace with them through the trees, his smile wide and wild, his head fully intact when he wanted it to be. Beside him rode five other rather familiar spirits, united in a brotherhood, watching over the last living Hessian of their company.

  One streak in particular watching over his great granddaughter.

  Because sometimes a curse wasn’t a curse, and legends lived forever as long as there were those left to remember.

  Up Next:

  Miriam Caprice gets her story in:

  DIRT & DESIRE

  Available November 2016

  About the Author

  Selena Page is the author of the Caprice Chronicles, a paranormal romance series centered around a family of cursed witches and warlocks. Her heroes are hot, her heroines are sassy, and the spellbinding chemistry that results will blow your mind.

  A foodie, knitter, and lover of daring bodice rippers, Selena writes from her beachfront home in Galveston, TX, and spends her spare time relaxing in the sand and playing in the waves with her viking husband and her three corgis by her side.

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