Curse of Stigmata (The Judas Reflections) by Aiden James, Michelle Wright Read Free Book Online Page B

down, glad of the reprieve. Rachel seemed unperturbed to be alone with two men in the dead of night. She curled into a ball near the fire we made, and fell asleep almost immediately.
    Her face was so much older than the young woman she should be. Too many lines etched in her forehead, under the eyes and around her mouth. I watched her sleep, wondering if she ever had a moment’s blessing. Juan lay quietly, his eyes staring at the roof. Neither of us spoke, not being able to sleep didn’t mean we had to talk. Often both of us benefited from silence. By dawn’s light, the rain had mercifully stopped. After waking Rachel, we ate a small meal and moved on. But less than five minutes from the hut, trouble appeared.
    “Who goes there? What’s your business on my land?’ A man stood firmly in our path, musket in hand, demanding an answer.
    “We were under the impression this is a public footpath for everyone. We’re passing through, good sir, and mean no harm.” I smiled, in hopes he would lower the gun and its presumed hostility.
    “It’s you, Witch be gone! Do not cross my land and mark me for death.” His eyes were set on Rachel, who was trying to disguise her face with a shawl. I couldn’t understand why he was so terrified by her presence, even going so far as to step backwards. But then saw the rash of sours upon his face and neck.
    “We’ve been charged with the responsibility of taking this mad girl across the border to meet her punishment. She’s wanted in Spain, you’ll never see her again,” I replied, hoping a lie would suffice for a quick resolution. There was a possibility of my yarn unraveling and putting us all in trouble.
    “Be gone then, all of you!’
    I took his order as a sign to grab Rachel harshly by the arm and move her along with Juan in hot pursuit.
    “That was interesting,” I said, after he was no longer in earshot.
    “I did nothing to you, mountain man, nor your family. I’m not the one responsible for their deaths. I claim my innocence!” Rachel called back to the man, defending herself in defiance. The last thing we needed.
    “Shut up and keep walking,” I whispered harshly “We can ill afford to attract attention because of a stupid girl who imagines she’s bleeding the wounds of Christ!”
    “I need to defend myself and admonish any guilt laid at my feet!” she hissed back at me. “Did you hear what he called me? I’m being wrongly accused as a witch. I’m also hurt you perceive me as nothing more than a cheap liar. Are you so honest Emmanuel? No, you are nothing more than a cold blooded murderer.”
    This was the gratitude I received for saving her hide from vicious beatings by a man who treated her like a slave-girl?
    “Be grateful we are not leaving you to the lions,” I replied coldly.
    “Where’s your father girl? Does Isaac know you being taken out of the country against your will?”
    The man had followed in our wake, demanding an explanation.
    “She claims to be a stigmatic and has bothered many folks around here. Her father requested she be taken to a madhouse, as far away as possible,” said Juan, offering a demure smile to the man.
    “Why take the wench to Spain when we have places for her in France?” Our nuisance raised his rifle while eyeing us suspiciously.
    “Because her father insisted she be gone, far away. He could no longer bear the shame.”
    “Is he paying you well?”
    “Well enough,” I replied, hoping he’d tire of the conversation and go.
    “Isaac believed in burying his gold, it’s surprising to hear he paid you to take his daughter away. He parted with no monies if he could help it.”
    “He paid us,” Juan assured him.
    Buried his gold? Suddenly I had the feeling he may have buried my coins alongside it. But where? The terrain was extensive and full of rocks. Without a firm location, it would be an impossible task, unless Rachel knew the location.
    “Can we now be on our way without hindrance?” I asked. “We need to