soulofawitch_463-9e1.htm

by Soul Of A Witch (lit)

  Even Wes’s terror was gone.

  Nodding to herself, Beulah stood up and crossed to the potted plant. Bending down, she noted the deeper green of the leaves, and rubbed one of the leaves gently between thumb and finger.

  "I see my sisters have energized you, my little plant. Come, I will take you to visit with my plant, and bring you back later."

  Grabbing the pot, she grunted as she tried to lift it. It was heavy, and she felt a twinge in her back.

  "Ouch." Grimacing, she straightened up. "I think I need some help." Glancing out into the corridor, she spotted Drake leaving a cabin three doors up. "Drake!"

  The lean man jumped as though she’d shot him. His head swivelled around and he stared at her apprehensively.

  Beulah couldn’t help but grin. "Could you help me, please?"

  Drake looked around almost frantically, but there was no one else in sight. Swallowing, he started slowly towards her. "What do you want?"

  "Some of your blood."

  His pale face went even paler, and he stumbled to a halt.

  "I’m kidding!" Beulah shook her head, laughter bubbling up inside her. "Drake, I’m kidding. Honestly."

  He didn’t look totally convinced, but started forward again. "Sinya said we were to help you if you wanted it. So I guess I have to."

  "I like it when you do it of your own free will." She grinned and gestured inside the cabin. "Can you help me lift that plant?"

  Looking at the pot in the corner, Drake scratched his head. "Where to?"

  "My cabin. I’m taking it to visit with my plant."

  Drake looked down at her for several seconds, then nodded slowly "Right. Of course. Visiting plants."

  "You can visit with them, too, if you like." Beulah kept her face expressionless.

  "I think I’ll bypass that honor."

  "If you’re sure."

  "Never been surer."

  Drake tried to heave the big potted plant up, and Beulah could see the strain in his face. The pot was heavy, no doubt about it.

  "Here, let me help."

  "No, I’m fine," Drake puffed out quickly.

  "Don’t be silly." She grabbed one side of the pot.

  "I’d rather you didn’t," Drake said. "I can carry it."

  "Don’t argue. Now lift with me."

  "Ladies don’t lift heavy things," Drake returned stiffly.

  "I’m not a lady. I’m a witch." Highly entertained, she watched the array of emotions play across the pale pirate’s handsome face.

  Finally, he shook his head. "You’re still a woman."

  "Nice of you to notice. Now lift."

  "No, I must insist--"

  "Drake."

  He looked at her.

  Leaning across the plant, she waved her hand in a slow arc before him. "I insist."

  Nervously, he cleared his throat and glanced around them. "All right."

  She grinned at him.

  Between the two of them, they hefted the big potted plant up and shuffled from Wes’s cabin and into the one assigned to her. Setting it down in the middle of the floor, they straightened.

  "That’s fine, thank you." Beulah smiled at Drake.

  He couldn’t leave fast enough, and was out the door before she’d finished speaking.

  Laughing, Beulah picked up her little potted plant and placed it beside the big plant.

  ~ * ~

  Sinya wondered if Beulah would tell him what she’d been doing in his brother’s room, but she said nothing to him when he came to escort her to the dining cabin.

  Admittedly, when Franc had come to inform him that the witch was demanding to be let into his brother’s room, his first reaction had been to say ‘no’. It was instinctive. His brother’s room was private. But then common sense had kicked in. After all, that’s what Beulah was on his ship for--to help Wes. If that involved going into Wes’s cabin, so be it.

  He was still dying of curiosity, though. What had she found? He decided to wait and see if she’d tell him over the meal.

  She said nothing. Instead, she ate her meal quietly, a pretty presence that seemed to fade into the background. His crew, nervous to start with her in their midst, seemed to forget about her, and gradually their stilted words and tense silences returned to their normal free conversation and relaxed ways.

  Sinya was more than aware of her seated across from him. Covertly, he watched her raise the spoon to her lips and sip delicately at the hot soup. She savored the food with obvious curiosity and enjoyment, but made a small moue of dislike at the flavor of a man-made delicacy. Placing it on the side of her plate, she picked up a peach and bit into it with relish. Closing her eyes, she smiled.

  Her lisp were moist with the juice. Full lips. Rosy. Now sweetly flavored.

  Bloody hell! Hurriedly, Sinya glanced away. What’s wrong with me? She’s a witch, by the suns of Coxyn. Here to help Wes, not for me to stare at and think lustful thoughts. I must be more tired than I thought.

  Convincing himself that lack of sleep was befuddling his senses, he turned his attention to his friends, hoping their conversation would take his mind off the witch-woman sitting across from him.

  He could see her from the corner of his eye, sucking the juice delicately from her fingers. One at a time, she popped them into her mouth, closed those luscious lips around them, and drew them out slowly.

  He would wager a king’s ransom in jewelry that Beulah could suck a man’s--God Almighty!

  Grabbing his cup of hot una, he gulped it down quickly. His friends didn’t notice, but when he glanced across at Beulah, he saw that her cheeks had grown pink.

  The witch was blushing.

  Had he given himself away somehow?

  Beulah stood up suddenly, and the crew stopped speaking and looked at her.

  "I thank you for your hospitality, gentlemen," she said. "I’m going to retire for the night. I bid you sweet dreams."

  She left before Sinya could even get off his stool. It was a probably a good thing. The front of his pants were a little strained.

  I need sleep more than I thought I did.

  Seven

  Wandering into the dining cabin late at night wasn’t something Sinya did often, but a faint stirring of unease had prodded him from sleep. Thinking it was his own worried thoughts for his brother, he decided to get a drink.

  The uneasiness still plagued him. Standing there with a mug of steaming una in his hand, he scratched his bare belly with the other hand and yawned. Restless, he decided to go for a walk.

  Bare-footed, he padded along the gleaming floor. He took pride in his ship, and insisted it be kept clean. After all, he had to live here, and there was no way he was going to live in a pigstye. He’d informed his crew of such when they first joined him, and Drake had agreed wholeheartedly. The others had looked a bit askance, but he noticed that now they seemed to take as much pride in the ship. What they did with their own cabins wasn’t his concern.

  The soft grey of the walls was soothing, and he took a deep breath. If only Wes was here, safe and sound, he could be truly happy.

  Couldn’t I?

  Sinya frowned. What had brought that thought on? Wes was his only concern. Had always been his only concern since the day he’d been born fourteen years ago.

  Quietly he went down the staircase to the under part of the ship. It was wide and open, made to his specifications. He wanted no corners, just openness. Here he stored their stolen treasures, here they wrestled boisterously during long trips, exercised, had some breathing space away from each other. It was also the entrance and exit to the ship. He hated enclosed spaces, which was why he’d had wide corridors and open living areas made, as well as roomy cabins.

  Reaching the end of the staircase, he stepped down onto the floor and immediately became aware of a figure in the gloom. Switching on the light, he beheld Beulah standing in the middle of the long corridor. Her back was to him.

  "Beulah?" He started forward. "Are you all right? Do you feel something wrong?"


  She didn’t answer, and a cold hand gripped him.

  Placing the mug of hot una on the floor, he hurried across to her. Placing one hand on her shoulder, he asked again. "Beulah?"

  She was breathing heavily. Was she in a trance? Should he call her again?

  Cautiously Sinya walked around to face her, and saw the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Eyes closed, she was rubbing her hands in agitation.

  "Beulah?" he called softly, hesitatingly.

  Her eyes opened, and he was shocked to see anxiety reflected in the black depths. "Sinya," she whispered. Her teeth started chattering, and she was shaking.

  He took her hands in his. "What’s wrong? Wes?"

  "It’s not Wes. It’s me." She shook her head, her hands tightening around his.

  "You’re sick?" He leaned down to look closely into her face.

  "No. Maybe." She gave a tremulous little laugh. "No."

  "You’re shaking." Concerned, he slid his arms around her and drew her to him, pulling her firmly against his chest. What could be wrong? He could feel the tremors coursing through her body.

  "I need air," she whispered.

  "Air? There’s oxygen in the ship, Beulah."

  "I mean... I need to be outside."

  Hell. That wasn’t a good thing. "I’m afraid that’s impossible right now, sweetheart."

  "I know. That’s why I’m shaking. I think." She pressed a little closer, her breath warm against his neck as she spoke.

  "Is there anything I can do for you? Can’t you center yourself or something?" Sinya desperately cast about in his mind for a solution.

  "I’ve tried. I’ve not been in this situation before."

  Her words struck him, and he pulled back a little to look down into her face.

  She tipped her head back to meet his gaze.

  "You mean you’ve never been in a spaceship before?"

  "Right."

  "Ever?"

  "Not ever. That I remember, anyway."

  Sinya had a hard time digesting that bit of information. When he did, all he could think was that it was a little late to find out now that she couldn’t handle space travel.

  She must have seen something in his expression, for she pulled back out of his arms and started to turn away. "I’ll be fine."

  "Beulah, wait." He caught her arm, stopping her retreat. "I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so collected, so together. Seeing you like this, well, it threw me."

  "I’m not infallible, Sinya." Her expression was grave, her eyes still holding a slightly panicked expression. "Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I am."

  "I’m sorry."

  "No need to be. Goodnight." Quickly she strode to the staircase.

  There was no way he was going to allow her to disappear in the state she was in. For some reason, the uneasiness he’d felt was linked to Beulah. Besides which, he had a sudden idea.

  Catching up to her at the staircase, he started up it beside her. "Beulah, I can’t take you into the open right now, not while we’re in space. But there is something that might help you."

  She ran her shaking fingertips across her brow. "What?"

  "Come with me, and you’ll see."

  Taking her hand, he led her up the staircase into the living area, and into the control cabin. Opening a door she hadn’t realize was there, he led her up yet another staircase, this one narrower, so they had to go up single-file.

  The corridor Sinya led her into was narrower than the previous ones, and he felt her withdrawal, the slight tugging of her hand in his.

  "Easy, sweetheart," he said softly. "Just trust me. A couple more minutes and you’ll be fine."

  In answer, her hand tightened.

  A warmth flooded through him when he felt it, and he resisted the temptation to pull her to him and give her a hug. The feeling surprised him but he assured himself it was just a comfort thing.

  An open door on the left led into the front laser gun pit. Two chairs were before the control panel. The pit was surrounded by thick glass, and all around there was just the stars and space.

  "Sit down, Beulah." Sinya handed her into one of the chairs. "Look around."

  She did as bidden, taking a deep breath and sighing.

  "Nothing but space all around." Crossing his arms on the back of the chair, Sinya leaned on it. "Relax and look around, sweet."

  He felt her shift as she obeyed. Reaching above him, he flicked a switch, and a draft of air came through the vents. It rushed past him to brush over Beulah’s hair and into her face.

  "Ohh." She tipped her head back slightly and breathed deep.

  A white lock of her hair blew across his chin, tangling in his goatee before drifting free to tickle his nose. The scent of night blossoms drifted through his senses, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine himself back in her valley, where the night blossoms grew abundantly.

  "It’s so lovely up here," Beulah said, but her voice was still a little breathless.

  Looking down, Sinya saw that she was looking out into space, as he’d instructed. He could also feel the tension emanating from her. He had to try and divert her attention.

  Placing one hand on her shoulder, he pointed to the stars winking to the right. "Your planet is in that cluster."

  "It is?" She looked across to the stars. "Which one?"

  "That one, shining blue."

  "Home," she said wistfully.

  Quickly Sinya drew her attention to another section of the universe abut them. This time he pointed to the left. "That is the direction is which we’re going. Deeper into the Outlaw Sector."

  Silently she contemplated the stars.

  "Go far enough in any direction, and you’ll come through into the Lawful Sector," Sinya continued. "The Daamens are at least eight weeks travel from the outskirts of the Lawful Sector. Remember them?"

  "A little hard to forget." Her answer held a touch of amusement.

  Sinya grinned a little. "Right you are there."

  She pointed at glittering red star that loomed largely. "What is that place?"

  "Vaksal. Nasty place." Sinya shook his head.

  "Ah." Beulah nodded. "I have heard of it."

  "From who?"

  "Someone," she replied vaguely.

  "Someone who came to you for help?" Curious, he leaned to the side to see more of her face.

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Yes."

  Interest about her rose to the fore. Moving to the chair next to her, Sinya sat down and swivelled it around to face her.

  She remained sitting in the original position he’d placed her in, gazing up at the stars.

  "Where are you from, Beulah?"

  "You know where from. We just left there."

  "Yes, but did you always live there?"

  "For as long as I can remember."

  "What about your folks? Your family?"

  "Petras is my family. The Accelis are my family."

  "Your mother and father?"

  She was silent for so long, he didn’t think she was going to answer. Finally she turned the chair around until she faced him. Five feet separated them, but when she leaned forward and fixed her gaze intently upon his face, suddenly it seemed as though it were only a few inches.

  "Why do you ask, Sinya?"

  "I’m curious," he answered bluntly.

  "And honest." She smiled slightly. "I like that."

  "An honest pirate?" He grinned. "There’s no such thing."

  "You have honesty inside you."

  "I doubt that."

  "And loyalty."

  "I’m honest and loyal?" He pulled a face. "In case you didn’t realize, witch-woman, I’m a pirate, feared and respected. How can I possibly be honest and loyal with it?"

  "You’re loyal to your crew."

  "Ah, yes, but they’re loyal to me, too."

  "And a part of your family."

  "True."

  "You helped Reya when she needed it."

&
nbsp; Sinya shrugged. "I owed her."

  "Betrayal doesn’t sit well with you."

  "It’s not something I was proud of." All traces of amusement fled, and he eyed Beulah seriously. "But for my little brother, I will do anything."

  "Be careful how far you go with your loyalty, Sinya. Loyalty can make and break families."

  That didn’t make sense. "Loyalty in family is everything."

  "Loyalty can lead to betrayal. What if you were loyal to two people, but both go in different directions--one lawful, one outlaw. Then your loyalty is stretched. What then?"

  "I remain impartial."

  "It’s not that easy."

  "I’m a devious pirate. I’ll find a way."

  Her black eyes twinkled at him. "You don’t give in easily, do you?"

  "If I gave in easily, I wouldn’t be sitting here today, talking to you."

  Beulah nodded, a small smile curving her lips.

  Sinya noticed her smile, and gave her an answering one in return. It was actually quite cozy, sitting in the cabin, stars around him, the scent of night blossoms drifting into his senses, a beautiful woman sitting beside him...

  There I go again! Shaking his head at his wayward thoughts, Sinya decided to turn the conversation back to the one he’d started. "So, where are your parents?"

  The smile faded from her face, and she regarded him intently. "More to the point, where are your parents?"

  Now here was a question he didn’t want to answer. "I thought we were going to talk about you."

  "I need to know, for Wes."

  "You know about Wes. He’s an empathic. You said so yourself."

  "I want background details. Your parents--which one had a link with empathy or anything else unusual you can think of?"

  Sinya frowned. He avoided thinking about his parents when he could. "Beulah, this is not something I care to discuss."

  "If this is too painful--"

  "It is. My parents are something I don’t care to dwell on." Bitterness slipped into his voice, and he angrily pushed to his feet.

  She followed quickly, stepping in front of him to lay her hand upon his arm and gaze up into his face. "For Wes?"

  "My parents were no help then, either. They’re gone now. Dead. Happy?" Just the memory made his voice harsh, made the anger and resentment spear through him. "I hope they rot in hell!"