soulofawitch_463-9e1.htm

by Soul Of A Witch (lit)

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, he saw Phemar reach out with one hand, and Beulah stretched out her arm without hesitation, and clasped his hand in hers. Deep inside his subconscious, Sinya cringed, remembering the lumps of rotten flesh that had dripped from Phemar’s fingers. But that was in the physical form. In the spirit form, it’s so much different. I hope.

  Now he could see coming from between them, a pale blue glow on Beulah’s side, and a pale grey glow from Phemar’s side. The glows grew, converged, becoming a sparkling net of blue and grey intermingled. It stretched up, growing higher and wider.

  Orange eyes burning furiously, the fireball roared and it threw itself at the two figures.

  They stood their ground, the glow from the fireball nearly obliterating them.

  Sinya let out a strangled cry of denial, sure they were going to burn alive. "Beulah, no! Get back!"

  It was too late.

  Sinya started to lurch to his feet, but the restraints on the chair held him back.

  "Look!" Drake grabbed his arm.

  Heart in his throat, Sinya followed the direction of his friend’s pointing finger.

  The net had grown, spreading wide enough to encompass the fireball, going around it--top, bottom and sides. But the fire tongues were leaking out, reaching out for the two figures with long, burning tendrils.

  The fireball was roaring in rage now, a continuous sound that made Sinya’s ears ring. If the roaring was so loud inside the ship from a distance, what must it be like next to it?

  The fireball was fighting the net, bursts of flame coming through the net. It swelled.

  Beulah and Phemar held their ground, their joined hands held high. Each had their free arm spread wide, fingers splayed out. The shield stayed before them, while the net spread out from the converged shield and wrapped around the fireball. More and more netting seemed to appear, wrapping over the fireball.

  And now Sinya could see that the fireball was getting smaller, the glow dimming as the netting tightened. For the first time, he wondered if they were going to make it.

  Then he saw Phemar stagger, slumping, and the netting on one side burst. It was only a small burst, but it was enough for the fireball to flare out a long tongue of ferocious fire. The netting popped on that side.

  Beulah didn’t falter, nor did she release the hand of Phemar. Staying where she was, she kept her side of the net intact.

  The tongue of the fireball was trying to find a way past her shield, and it found the weakness in Phemar. It licked at the edges of the shield on his side.

  Sinya was sure all was lost, when a dark shadow appeared beside Phemar. Huge, it seemed to blend in with the space, but Sinya caught sight of several disturbing things at once. A flash of horns atop the monstrous head, a muzzle, red gleaming eyes. It stood upright, but the heavy legs were almost animal-like, and where the feet should be, were hoofs. He caught barely a glimpse before the images disappeared into space.

  "What the hell is that?" Drake yelled above the roaring in the cabin.

  "It’s almost like a demon!" Ephim shouted over the intercom. "I think!"

  A demon. Yes, it looks like a demon. But Sinya could see space through it. It was almost as though it were there, but not. This time a different bellowing joined in the roaring, and the half visible entity reached out and grabbed Phemar’s shoulder, sending a shaft of grey light into him.

  Immediately Phemar straightened, and flung out his fist.

  The net on his side clamped shut, forcing the tongue of flame back inside and sealing tight.

  The fireball screeched in fury, fighting the net which drew tighter and tighter, forcing it into a smaller ball, smaller and smaller, until it was half its size. Even then it was still huge.

  The screeching fury turned to fear, screaming out. Tension crackled through Sinya, audible in the cabin, and suddenly everything exploded outside.

  Yellow, orange and red flame burst from the net in searing heat, exploding in a frenzy of heat and fury. Flames shot in every direction, swallowed by space, extinguished as soon as it left the protection of the bigger ball.

  Sinya had to shield his eyes, throwing his arms up to block out the blinding light. The noise was tremendous, pressing against his eardrums, and it seemed to go on forever.

  The brightness faded, and cautiously he lowered his arms, peering gingerly out of the space shield. The silence was almost deafening, his ears still rang from the noise. The fireball was gone, and so was the demon entity. The only things in space were the two figures. Phemar and Beulah.

  As he watched, they drifted apart, releasing their hold on each other. They drifted further apart. Something was wrong. They were drifting away from the ships.

  Instantly dismissing Phemar from his thoughts, Sinya focused on Beulah. Her arms and legs were limp, and she slowly turned in space. Unconscious? Could a spirit become unconscious?

  It was her spirit, wasn’t it? Heart in his throat, Sinya released the restraints and flung himself from his chair.

  "See if you can start the engines," he snapped out to Drake. "Don’t let Beulah out of your sight!"

  He ran down the passage to the staircase, and took the steps three at a time. Bolting down the corridor of the sleeping cabins, he skidded to a halt before Beulah’s cabin, and flung the door open.

  It was empty.

  "Oh my God," he whispered. "Oh, my God, no."

  Frantically he looked in the bathing cabin. Going back into the corridor, he saw his crew coming from their cabins. They looked at him with dazed expressions.

  "What the hell just happened?" one asked shakily.

  "Where’s Beulah?" Sinya snapped. "Have you seen her?"

  "Not since you made her go to her cabin," one of the pirates replied.

  "Has she been out since?"

  "No. My door’s been open the whole time, and I’d know if she passed my cabin."

  His fears were founded, but still he had to be certain. "Search the ship for Beulah--now! And make it fast! Move it!"

  The pirates scattered in different directions.

  Sinya yelled, "Drake, are the engines working?"

  "Like a dream," Drake replied, relieved.

  "Lock onto Beulah’s position, and start to close in on her," Sinya ordered.

  By the time he got down to the cargo hold, the reports were coming in from over the ship. There was no sign of Beulah on board.

  "That’s because she’s out there," Ephim’s voice came from the laser gun pit. "She’s been out there the whole time."

  "There’s something wrong with her," another pirate’s voice came over the intercom. "Why isn’t she coming back?"

  "She’s unconscious," Sinya said grimly. "I’m suiting up to go out. Drake, get the ship above her. I’m bringing her in through the ramp. Franc, come down here. I need your help."

  Slipping on the silver suit, he zipped it up. Franc entered, his long face worried. Picking up the space helmet, he held it ready.

  "That was some scarey shit," he said softly. "I don’t know if I could live through that again."

  Sinya looked at him seriously. "No one asks you to, Franc. If you can’t take it, I’ll drop you off on the nearest planet."

  "Hey, boy. Listen up. I said I didn’t know if I could live through that again. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to be by your side if it does happen again. It just means I might drop dead during the next episode of this mad life we’re currently living."

  Sinya gave a grim smile. "You and me both."

  Going to the wall, he pressed the lever, and it slid open to show six space sleds. Each sled had two seats, one behind the other.

  Swinging his leg over the back seat, Sinya sat down and took the helmet from Franc. "I need you to drive."

  Franc didn’t hesitate. "Sure." He suited up quickly, then took the front seat of the space sled.

  Sinya felt it thrum silently to life, and placed his feet on the running board as it lifted into the sir and Franc steered it out into the hold. Once the
y reached the closed ramp, they came to a stop.

  "Bring the cargo hold space shield down now, Drake," Sinya instructed.

  He didn’t have to look back to know that a clear space shield had slid down to cut off half the cargo hold to space.

  "How near are we to Beulah?" Sinya asked.

  "Not far. She’s drifting slowly."

  "Let’s go," Sinya said to Franc.

  They pulled on their helmets, then Franc pulled the lever beside the ramp. The ramp lowered slowly, and beyond them they saw the space stretched out. In the distance was the slowly turning figure of Beulah.

  Franc gunned the engine, and the space sled shot out of the cargo hold and into space. He headed straight for Beulah.

  Sinya glanced around to see Fredrico’s ship advancing slowly to Phemar’s body. As he looked, he saw the same half invisible shape appear beside Phemar’s body. A huge, clawed hand latched onto Phemar’s body and started to tow him back towards Fredrico’s ship.

  Looking back, Sinya saw the ramp to Fredrico’s ship open, waiting for the arrival of Phemar’s body... and the strange entity that was, now he saw it fully, four times as big as Phemar himself was.

  Fredrico was mixing in some serious shit.

  Then again, he couldn’t point the finger. So was he.

  "Uh-oh," Franc’s voice came through the radio link in the helmets. "We’ve got company, Cap’n."

  Sinya peered over Franc’s shoulder, and what he saw turned him cold.

  A similar, demon-shaped entity was nearing Beulah. It reached out for her.

  "Not bloody likely," he swore, and reached down for the long-barreled laser fastened beside the running board.

  He hadn’t even touched it when he saw the entity jerk back from Beulah’s body. A spark had ignited where it had attempted to touch her, and now Sinya could see the faint yellow glow that surrounded her.

  Whatever mystical power it was, it kept her safe from the pressures of space, and from the demon-like entity.

  The demon swung it’s muzzled face towards them, and Sinya could just make out the gleam of red eyes, and the ivory of a horn, before it hissed with a flash of fangs and vanished.

  "You scared whatever the hell that thing is away, boy," Franc said. The words were cheerful, but Sinya could hear the underlying worry.

  The urgency was there between them. The urgency to retrieve Beulah and return to the relative safety of the ship.

  Franc steered the space sled alongside Beulah, where she floated, partly upright. Her arms drifted, one up above her, the other out to the side. The long, white hair swirled lazily around her head, one thick swath covering her face.

  Noting the yellow glow around her body, Sinya gingerly reached out, expecting any second to get the same sparking response that the demon entity had received.

  There was nothing. His hand felt the slight resistance of the yellow glow, and he found he was able to actually get a grip on it, curling his gloved hand around Beulah’s wrist. He couldn’t touch her skin, for the yellow glow was a barrier, but he could touch it.

  Carefully he pulled her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist as she neared so that he could ease her onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he nodded to Franc, who was watching over his shoulder.

  "Let’s go," Sinya said.

  Franc wheeled the space sled around, and flew back towards Sinya’s advancing ship.

  Steeling himself against impatience, Sinya held Beulah securely to him, refusing to give in to the need to see her face, to touch her, to search for a heart beat. Out in space was not the place for it. Once aboard ship, he could do anything. Out here, one mistake could cost all three of them their lives.

  They flew into the cargo hold, and the ramp rose and secured shut behind them. Oxygen poured into the hold, and the space shield lifted. Ephim and Ralfis were there to meet them, hurrying forward. Ralfis took Sinya and Franc’s helmets.

  "Hold her for me," Sinya said, standing up and handing Beulah into Ephim’s arms. "Just while I get out of this suit."

  Getting off the space sled, he unzipped his suit and stripped it off. Turning, he held out his arms for Beulah, only to stop, his mouth agape.

  His friends were standing in exactly the same position, with identical looks of incredulity on their faces.

  "What the..." Sinya stared at Beulah, who floated on her back between them.

  "She just floated right out of my arms." Ephim blinked.

  The yellow glow still surrounded her, and Sinya paced around her slowly. "It must be this glow thing. This barrier of sorts. It’s keeping her afloat."

  Beulah was floating waist-high to the men, and her hair had slid back off her face. Eyes closed, she looked almost as though she were asleep. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, and relief flooded through Sinya.

  "All right," he said. "I don’t understand what’s going on, but let’s get her back to her cabin."

  They all looked at each other, then Sinya placed his hand against the barrier at her feet and pushed slightly.

  She slid effortlessly through the air.

  Uncertain of anything except the fact that they couldn’t remain standing in the hold staring at a floating witch, Sinya instructed Franc to push Beulah, while he remained by her shoulders and guided her in the right direction.

  He would have laughed as he passed his crew on every floor if it hadn’t been so serious. They took one look at Beulah, and their jaws dropped in amazement. He would have laughed, except he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do now.

  Was she safe? Lost somewhere? How the hell had she gotten out of the ship?

  So many questions, and none could be answered until she awoke. If she awoke. A cold hand of fear squeezed his heart. What if, like Wes, her spirit was gone, and this was just her body left?

  What if he’d lost them both?

  ~ * ~

  Hortra slammed back into his body with a roar of pain and rage. The scattered fragments of his soul seared into him in agonizing shafts, making him writhe on the floor.

  Cursing, he rolled around, clenching his teeth. When the pain finally died down, and he was whole again, he got to his knees. Sweat soaked him, and he stumbled to his feet, swaying. Ripping off his clothes, he staggered to the bathroom and sunk down into the icy depths of the sunken pool.

  Resting his head against the edge, he closed his eyes and relived the experience

  ::I should have been able to kill her! Her and those puny pirates! But the Beast came, it came for Phemar, that rotting, useless mystic. Why was he helping the witch?::

  Someone was watching from afar, and Hortra didn’t like it one bit.

  ~ * ~

  Wes felt a ripple in the spirit planes, something dark moving through his senses. Instinctively he cowered, twisting frantically inside the black cloud imprisoning him.

  ::Quiet.::

  He stilled. "Aria?"

  ::Keep very quiet, and it won’t see you.::

  She was still deep inside his subconscious, he could feel her. A different sort of darkness, he was becoming used to her presence. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could do.

  "What is it? What’s stirring in the planes?"

  ::Demons stir. Hortra has been thwarted, and he is mad.::

  "He’s brought demons into the planes?" Wes shivered.

  ::No. The demons come from elsewhere. They should not be here.Be silent, and they will pass.::

  Wes went still, trying to control his erratic thoughts. He felt the stirring go past, and chilled when he realized it was outside the black cloud surrounding him. After several minutes, the entities vanished from his senses.

  ::You don’t know how to protect yourself.::

  ::Aria, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be here.:: Wes felt a prick of annoyance. ::And you wouldn’t be in my sanctuary. Hortra wouldn’t have come in, either, if not for you.::

  ::Sooner or later he would have found you, Wes. Neither of us safe.::

  ::Why does h
e want you?::

  There was silence.

  ::Aria?::

  He felt her withdraw, and knew why when he heard Hortra enter the chamber. The door crashed back against the wall, and the dark mystic’s anger was tangible in the air.

  "The Beasts have passed here!" Fury rang in Hortra’s tones. "How the hell did they get past my barricades?"

  Wes swallowed, wondering if he was going to bear the brunt of the dark mystic’s anger.

  He listened to the footsteps pace across the cold stones, then came the sound of brittle pages turning. The distant sound of thunder boomed, and the silence lengthened.

  "I got very close to your brother, boy."

  The sudden words made Wes start. He whipped around, trying to peer through the black cloud of his prison.

  "Sinya and Beulah travel togther. Very interesting, don’t you think?" Hortra continued, his voice deceptively mild.

  Wes could clearly hear the anger throbbing in Hortra’s voice.

  "Very interesting. I found some strange goings-on in space, boy. Very strange." Hortra’s voice was suddenly beside the dark cloud. "I’m going to kill your brother, boy. I’m going to torture him until he begs for mercy, and then I’m going to watch him die slowly. You’re going to watch, too. Then I’m going to get that witch, and crush her beneath my power. I’ll show her what real power is, and she’ll be crying. But I won’t let her die, boy. No, I’ve plans for her. Just as I have for you."

  His laughter was low. Angry.

  Wes swallowed. Fear beat at his temples, and he wondered what had happened to Sinya. Where was he now?

  The sound of pages turning came to him, and he realized that Hortra had moved away once more. The sound of rain pattering against the window was a dreary comfort. Deep inside his subconscious, he heard Aria weeping.

  ~ * ~

  "What shit are you into, Fredrico?" Sinya asked bluntly, staring at the viscomm screen.

  "You don’t want to know, choir boy." Fredrico smiled mirthlessly. "I play with the big boys now."

  "You play with death."

  "Perhaps."

  "Demons?"

  "They come in all forms." Fredrico rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So, how’s your witch?"