soulofawitch_463-9e1.htm

by Soul Of A Witch (lit)

  ::Do as I say, Sinya. You promised to obey me, now do it.:: She turned to face him briefly, and in her eyes he caught the gleam of something silver.

  Before he could protest anymore, he felt himself being dragged back through the layers of Wes’s subconscious. Not a pleasant, floating sensation as previously, but more hurried, sluicing through the fog with an incredible speed. He felt heavier, disorientated, and all around him was the sudden sense of danger, of evil, and he couldn’t believe he was leaving Beulah behind.

  ::Petras! Stop! You must get Beulah! We can’t leave her alone, we--::

  ::I do as she commands,:: Petras replied without emotion.

  ::Will she be all right?::

  There was no answer.

  Suddenly they broke through a thick bank of grey fog, and in the distance he saw crimson flashes, like red lightning, and the rumble of fury. It was rising through the spiritual planes of Wes’s subconscious with menacing intent, and in the distance he heard the shrill, despairing cry of the girl.

  ::Nooooooo!:: He tried to struggle, but the tendrils were too thick. Then it was all over, as he broke free and tumbled back into his own subconscious, floating through tranquil white fog, the familiar yet long filed memories touching him softly before retreating again.

  The entity called Petras brought him still lower, ignoring his pleas to take him back, and suddenly he awoke with a jolt.

  Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at Beulah’s emotionless face. He was still clasping her hands over the still body of his brother. Around him were the walls of the hut, and outside he heard the voices of Drake and Franc.

  He was back in the hut.

  And Beulah was in a spiritual plane facing a menace whose memory still made him shiver.

  Desperately he closed his eyes, trying to will himself back to her, to concentrate, but after several minutes, he knew it was no use. He couldn’t get back without her help.

  There was someone else he could try. "Petras?"

  No answer.

  "Petras, Beulah is in danger. Take me back to her."

  Nothing stirred the stillness of the hut.

  Looking down into his brother’s still face, Sinya swallowed, fear inside him. If Beulah died in the spirit plane, he would have lost both her and Wes. He knew it instinctively. Whispering prayers he hadn’t said in a long, long time, he kept a tight grip on Beulah’s hands and waited.

  Four

  Watching the little black blob grow more and more frantic, Beulah knew that whatever was coming, was bad. More than bad. Evil. The atmosphere reverberated with evil, she could almost smell the stench. The wisps of fog moved quicker, breaking up, little droplets of water appearing in the air in glittering arrays to vanish quickly.

  ::Aria! Come to me. Now!::

  ::No! No!:: The girl whimpered, shuddering.

  ::Who invades the sanctuary of another’s plane?:: Beulah demanded.

  ::Ah, someone else powerful enough to do this.:: The voice was male, sneering. ::But not as strong as me. Never as strong as me.::

  ::Name yourself,:: Beulah ordered.

  A mocking laugh sounded, coming closer.

  The black blob slithered away, disappearing deeper into the fog.

  And then it was there. Evil burst through her senses, making Beulah wince and stagger back a few feet, as she looked up at the threatening wall of black that towered above her. Red lightning fractured the wisps of fog, and seared the edges of Wes’s subconscious. Dimly she heard a faint cry, recognized it as a boy’s voice, and knew Wes felt the pain of so many invaders in his sanctuary--and especially this one.

  ::Leave this place,:: she demanded.

  Laughter came from the wall, and suddenly it surrounded her. The lightning split the darkness, and formed a face in the middle of the blackness. The face was male, the features sharp, and his eyes burned with unholy light.

  ::I am Hortra. I hold power such as you could never imagine. More power is what I seek. My sister is what I seek. And she is here.:: The head twisted to the side, black tendrils clinging to it, before swivelling around to face her again. ::For her to seek shelter in this plane, the owner must be powerful indeed.::

  ::He is just a boy.:: Beulah recognized the greed that filled Hortra’s eyes. ::Nothing of consequence.::

  ::No? So why are you here?::

  ::To help him.::

  ::I will help him.:: Hortra stated laughing again. ::He can come with me--::

  ::No.::

  ::No?:: Hortra stopped laughing, but amusement was evident in his face. ::You cannot stop me, woman. I claim the boy as well as my sister.::

  ::You have no rights to claim the boy. Take your sister and go.::

  From far away she heard a girl’s despairing cry, then it trailed off.

  ::Hmm, it seems Aria is not happy that you would hand her over to me.:: Hortra grinned.

  ::She is of no concern to me. The boy is my concern.::

  ::He is not your concern any longer.::

  ::The boy is claimed already, by his brother and by me. You have no claim on him. Go.::

  A sudden swirl of power rippled through the blackness, and a wind whipped around Beulah, tearing at her clothes and sending wisps of hair flying free from the bun at her nape.

  Calmly Beulah raised her hand, and the wind stopped. ::Your theatrics are not welcome here, Hortra. Go.::

  ::Ah, you have some power, witch. I should have recognized you as such a one.:: One black hand materialized out of the blackness. ::Let us see just how powerful you are.::

  The hand made a sudden swiping motion at her, and she warded it off with another lift of her hand, mentally forming a protective shield around herself.

  The amusement left Hortra’s face. He made a fist, and struck out, which Beulah again warded off with ease. A low growl filled the air, and a streak of lightning sparked against the mental shield, seeking a way inside. As Hortra grew angrier, more red streaks sizzled and snapped at the shield.

  Beulah felt the power of Hortra, the evilness that attacked her mental shield, the way he strove to get inside her mind. He was dangerous, more dangerous than any she’d ever met.

  Bracing her feet, she stood her ground.

  Then it sounded, a low buzzing outside the mental shield, an attack on her senses, as the black fist battered at her shield, the red lightning tried to crack through the protective layer, and the buzzing became an angry swarm of intense pain pricks that sought to find their way in and prick her skin.

  Still she held her ground. ::Give up, Hortra. I have no time for this. Go now, and leave the boy in peace.::

  ::You are strong, witch, but are you strong enough to protect both you and the boy’s sanctuary?:: Hortra gave a low laugh, aggressive and challenging.

  With one sweep of his hand, he sent the lightning streaking through the planes of Wes’s subconscious, searing the protective fog, burning the safe haven. Tearing through the spiritual layers and causing intense pain to the owner.

  Wes’s scream was ear splitting, cracking the very foundation of Beulah’s protective shield, and she saw it splinter around her. But her own safety was not paramount right now--it was Wes she strove to save.

  ::Hortra!:: Calling the powers of the shield to her hands, she focused on the faint blue light forming around her fists, then threw the light with all her might at the blackness.

  The blue light seared threw the blackness, splitting the face, shattering the image and fragmenting the evil to pieces that whirled around with a cry of mingled surprise and rage.

  Wes cried out, and faintly behind it was Aria’s voice.

  The wind was wild, the shattered black fragments seeking to twine together and reform Hortra’s face. Beulah wouldn’t allow it, concentrating on keeping the blue light spearing the darkness, keeping the blackness fragmented.

  ::I’ll kill you for this, witch!:: Hortra howled. ::You will die--and I will have the boy!::

  Jagged lightning came from every direction, striking Beulah, spearing holes in her
spiritual body. She cried out, but stood her ground. She could feel Hortra weakening, heard him cry out in despair and rage.

  Then she felt it, a younger power joining with hers, seeking out Hortra. For a split second she saw a faint image of Wes, his pale face haggard, his black eyes wide and pleading, but determination on his face. He threw up his hand, and the white fog swirled suddenly, swallowing up the black fragments, dissolving them quickly.

  ::Nnnoooooo!:: Hortra screamed, the black slip that remained of himself hurtling backwards into the distance. ::Nooooo!::

  He was gone. Beulah lowered her hands and staggered. Looking across the void, she saw Wes standing and looking at her. His spiritual form showed holes, small, but dangerously visible.

  ::Wes, you are not well. I am here to help you. I--:: She ended in a scream, flung backward by the lightning bolt that rent from the void beyond to sear through her.

  ::I won’t leave alone, witch!:: Hortra’s voice snarled dimly. ::You will go, too!::

  It struck her so hard and fast, she had no time to think, to shield herself, and she slammed through the layers of spiritual planes and back into her body with bruising force.

  ~ * ~

  Beulah’s hands were wrenched from Sinya’s grip, and he watched, dumbfounded, as she was flung from her chair to crash back against the wall on the far side of the hut. She slid with seeming lifelessness down the wall to the floor, and lay still.

  "Beulah!" Rushing to her side, Sinya dropped down to one knee. "Beulah, are you all right?"

  She was so still, fear filled him, and it was with relief that he noticed the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the loose gown she wore. Gently touching her face, he turned her head up to inspect her face. Her lashes fluttered, then lifted, and he found himself staring down into pain-filled eyes.

  "What happened?" he asked worriedly.

  "He’s gone." She placed one hand to her forehead and blinked rapidly.

  His stomach clenched. "Wes?" Sinya glanced across at the still body of his brother.

  "No. Hortra. The presence that was there." Wincing, she braced one hand on the floor and started to push upright.

  "Stay still for a minute," Sinya ordered. Even though he worried for his brother, Beulah was also a cause for concern right now. Her pale face seemed even paler, when seemingly dominated by dark, pain-filled eyes.

  "I’m all right." She attempted to push upright again.

  Wrapping one arm around her waist, Sinya gently assisted her to her feet, holding her when she swayed. Leading her over to the table, he pulled a chair out with his foot and eased her down carefully into it.

  "Thanks." Closing her eyes, Beulah rubbed her temples.

  He couldn’t help but notice the pinched look of her lips. Pouring a glass of water from the urn by the sink, he took it back to the table and placed it in front of Beulah, then sat opposite her.

  The silence stretched, and he glanced across at his brother. Wes lay unconscious, and Sinya wondered what the hell was going on inside him... or in the spirit plane that his brother had sought shelter in.

  Returning his gaze to Beulah, he noticed the tremor in her hands as she rubbed at her eyes. In that instance she looked incredibly young, younger than he’d perceived her to be, and Sinya blinked.

  Taking her hands from her eyes, she looked directly at him. "Did you recognize either of those two presences that have invaded Wes’s spiritual plane?"

  "No." His thoughts immediately returned to his brother. "I don’t understand what is happening, Beulah. Explain it to me."

  Taking a deep breath, she stood. "I need some fresh air. Come, we’ll talk outside."

  "Wes...?"

  "His condition won’t change, and for now, the worst of the presences has been banished from his spiritual plane." Touching him on the shoulder, Beulah gave him a small, reassuring smile. "We need to gather our strength."

  Following her from the hut, Sinya saw her stagger slightly in the doorway, and reached out to steady her. "You’re not well, Beulah, are you? What happened?"

  "I’m all right," she repeated. Going down the steps, she tipped her face up to the sunshine and breathed deeply. "Nature is what I need right now."

  Catching sight of Drake and Ephim near the spaceship, Sinya shook his head at them in a silent command not to approach, and they nodded their understanding. No, Sinya had questions for Beulah, and he wanted to be alone with her.

  Falling into step beside her on the path to the river, Sinya glanced sideways at her. Her face was still pale, but a touch of color had brushed her cheeks. Her lips still had a pinched appearance, though. His gaze narrowed a little as he noticed the tendrils of hair blowing softly about her face, when there was no wind to do so. She inclined her head a little, a small smile curving her lips.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  He had no doubt that she didn’t speak to him, and now he also had no doubt to whom she was speaking. "Petras is your invisible familiar?"

  Lifting her hand, Beulah stroked something he couldn’t see. "Petras is my companion, my pet, a part of me."

  "What is Petras?"

  "I am me." The voice brushed his ear, and he felt a nothingness brush past his cheek, making him shiver at the unexpectedness of it.

  A chuckle sounded in his other ear, and his hair was ruffled at his neck. Clapping his hand to the nape of his neck, he swung around but there was no one there.

  "You can’t see Petras." Beulah gave a tsking sound. "Petras, behave yourself."

  Her bun raveled free before Sinya’s astonished gaze, the white strands waving around her shoulders before dropping in a shining fall to her waist. Beulah didn’t miss a step as she strode serenely onwards, and her hair quickly twisted itself back into a bun.

  "Petras likes to amuse itself," she explained, glancing back at Sinya with a twinkle in her dull eyes.

  It was the dullness of her eyes that made Sinya swallow his surprise and come up beside her swiftly. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to a stop and turned her to face him. "What’s wrong, Beulah? You look ill."

  "I’ll be all right. Wes is my concern now."

  "What’s going on? I don’t understand any of this. I thought it was pretty straight forward--find Wes, convince him to return to reality, train him to control his powers." Folding his arms, Sinya frowned down at Beulah. "It’s not that simple now, is it?"

  Backing up to the tree behind her, Beulah leaned against the rough bark and met his gaze gravely. "It was never going to be a simple task, Sinya."

  "I know that."

  "What we encountered I haven’t come across before in anyone."

  "So what do we do?"

  "I have to consult with those more powerful than I in this area."

  "And who are they?"

  Her lashes lowered, shadowing her eyes. "That is not your concern."

  Stepping forward, he tilted her chin up with one hand. "Wes is my concern, Beulah, and what involves him, concerns me as well. Who are these people you consult?"

  "The dead." Petras wrapped itself briefly around his neck, trailing tendrils across his shoulders before pulling away.

  Chills chased down Sinya’s spine. "The dead?"

  "Who better to talk to about the spiritual plane, than those who occupy it the most?" Placing one finger against the side of his hand, Beulah pushed his hand firmly away from her face.

  He didn’t move back. "I thought Wes’s spiritual plane was only occupied by him alone?"

  "It should be, but the dead know what happens in places we cannot see. I will talk to those who will help me, and find out more about what is happening."

  "Will Wes be all right? Did you feel him? See him?"

  "That question is one I should be asking of you. Did you sense your brother, Sinya?"

  His jaw clenched. "No."

  "He is hiding well."

  "But he’s in danger."

  "Yes."

  He started, although he shouldn’t have been surprised. "Isn’t there anything we can d
o?"

  "I’m trying, Sinya." She made as though to reach up, her hand lifting, but then she hesitated and withdrew it. Looking up at him, she stated, "I will give all I have to bring him back, to protect him, to do what I must." Straightening, she slid past him. "Now, I must be alone. Feel free to sit with your brother, get something to eat, or rest."

  "Where are you going?"

  "I need to walk amongst nature for a while. Recharge myself, you might say." She strode away.

  Sinya watched her go. Her strides were sure and steady, her back straight, yet there was something abut her. Something almost... vulnerable?

  Shaking his head, he rubbed his chin, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. No, the witch-woman had been in pain, and he didn’t know what one did with a witch in pain. For that matter, he didn’t know why she was in pain. What had happened after she’d forced him out of Wes’s subconscious? Worriedly, he tugged the end of his goatee and watched her disappear amongst the trees near the rivers edge.

  ~ * ~

  Once out of sight of the pirates, Beulah staggered and fell to her knees. Pain exploded through her, and she allowed it to surge forth, knowing she had to let it run its course, to sear through her and force its way out of her body.

  No physical pain, this was the spiritual pain that tore through her, caused by the lightning bolt thrown at her from the other entity inside Wes’s subconscious.

  "Beulah!" Petras floated agitatedly around her, stroking her face with a gentle gust of wind. "Oh, Beulah!"

  "It’s all right... my pet," Beulah gasped out. "I just... need... to..."

  "To what?" Petras pressed itself against her, trying to offer comfort. "What do you need, Beulah?"

  She couldn’t answer as another wave of pain ripped through her, and she pressed her hand to her heart, grimacing.

  Dimly she registered the curse from behind her, and the presence of a body hurrying nearer.

  "Oh no!" She squeezed her eyes shut. "Petras, tell him to go away!"

  Immediately Petras did as directed, and she heard it call out, "No! Go back! Beulah says for you to go!"

  "Like hell," Sinya growled. Dropping down beside Beulah, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "What’s wrong?"