“No, but maybe at Billy with the right summoning,” she said. Her lips did not curve, but the smile still lay within her eyes. “You should have let me put a curse on him.”
He shook his head. He might still have need for Billy. Some nights could be lonely, and Billy could be coerced into some otherwise unthinkable acts.
Paine licked his lips. “So by spying on him, you think you’ll learn what the Reverend is up to?”
“Billy’s his son, isn’t he?” Her black hair spilled over her face as she focused on the page in front of her. She drew the strands back like a curtain. “Gwen said he’s been seen with some strange men in town — from the Confederation.”
“Then let’s get on with it. What do we need?”
“It’s an elemental — earth, air, fire, and water. And we need the knife and the eye of something living.”
Paine groaned. “I’m not killing anything for this.” The last time he killed a frog for one of Lya’s summons, the spirit she called upon slipped straight into his body. It took a stab to his leg with a powder-covered knife to release him. He blanched thinking about it. Sometimes she overreached her grasp.
Lya rolled her eyes. “It’s a divination. It doesn’t need to be dead. But it should be big because we need to look in its eyes.”
The biggest thing in the barn was old Gertrude, and he knew how the cow felt about his sister. Even now the Holstein was as far back in her stall as she could stand, silently watching Lya. She wasn’t even chewing.
He sighed. This was going to take more work than he cared for.
“Just get the stupid cow,” she said. “I’ll get the other items and draw the circle.”
Paine instructed Lya to leave the barn before he even bothered to move the cow. He knew from past experience and a bruised ribcage when they had tried something similar.
Once he secured Gertrude in the center of the barn, he called Lya back. He did not ask how she came by the lit torch. She wouldn’t have ventured close to the house as it would have attracted their parents’ attention. And she came from the other side of the barn.
That was what most of their trouble was about. Three months previous Jake Notman caught her lighting a fire with just her hands and that rumor had been almost impossible for Gwen and Charles to quell. It was absurd they would raise a daughter who practiced witchcraft.
Despite those public protests, a beating followed, and it wasn’t Lya’s to receive. Paine suspected she had enchanted the old woman into letting him take the brunt of their anger, but again, he kept those notions to himself.
To make matters worse, the recent night they had shared with Billy Chapman rekindled those rumors. He shook his head at his own foolishness. Obviously the boy had talked. So not only were they casting spells and summons, but Lya was now hailed as a succubus and she was in an incestuous relationship with her brother. It was no wonder Gwen and Charles were encouraging them to leave.
Lya glided around the cow, drawing the circle with precise motions. She sprinkled some powder from one of the leather sacks that hung on her belt before stepping inside the circle. Paine joined her, patting the cow’s flanks. Lya placed the torch at the south end of the circle, a pile of dirt at the north, incense at the east, and a bowl of water at the west.
“Be ready,” she said. “Since the stupid cow won’t let me near her, you’re going to have to look in her eyes to see what’s going on.”
Paine nodded and grabbed the harness. He stroked Gertrude’s muzzle.
“Easy, girl.”
Lya raised the knife into the air and whispered her call to the elements. She then waved the knife in front of the cow, as if teasing it, letting the light that reflected off the blade flicker in the cow’s eyes. Paine pulled Gertrude to face him.
He saw nothing.
He continued to stare, letting his sight focus on the back of the cow’s eyeballs, straining to see anything. It was nothing like scrying in a bowl of water under the moon. It was nothing like a mirror either, but then mirrors were doorways for things unmentionable; things which should not be seen standing behind you as you looked upon your own reflection.
Gertrude snorted and he shook his head.
Still nothing.
Lya shoved him and snatched the harness. She stared into Gertrude’s eyes. The cow groaned; either at her presence or her firm grip.
She clung to the cow and her mouth dropped open.
Lya shook her head. “No,” she muttered.
“What is it?”
She withdrew the knife from her belt and slid it across the top of her forearm, reopening an old wound in a swift motion. Blood dripped into the straw at her feet and Lya mumbled words under her breath. Paine caught only “bidding” and “dark”.
Biting cold pierced his skin.
Oh, shit.
Lya pulled Gertrude’s head closer to her and the cow’s eyes widened. The barn doors slammed closed. There was something else with them; and its intent was anything but good. Cold swirled through the barn, and the air misted with Paine’s breath. The unseen presence hissed words Paine could not make out, but its voice sounded willing, eager.
Lya nodded and muttered some words in return. The cold slipped through Paine again, slow and bone-deep. He sucked in his breath as it passed. The barn doors flew open and the presence departed. Paine granted his feet some latitude and took a few steps back into the sun’s rays. He rubbed his arms.
Lya released Gertrude and the cow pulled back, lowering its head almost to the ground. She sprinkled a powder on her bloodied arm and then wrapped it in a ripped piece of cloth from her shirt.
“They’re coming,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“A number of men — including Witch Hunters.”
“How can you tell?”
“Billy Chapman is following them and I saw through his eyes. They’re traveling along the Fairfax Road, heading in this direction. I’ve bought us some time, but not much.”
“You may have given them reason to hang us for witchcraft.”
“They’re going to hang us anyway. I saw the rope. And they’re all armed with silver.”
Silver?
Paine had seen its effect once, when a witch was clamped in silver cuffs. The man had been reduced to a whimpering dog. For those that dabbled in bloodcraft, silver not only prevented them from casting spells and summoning, but it did things to the body that was unnatural. The man did not survive the ordeal long, and wasted away to nothing over a period of weeks. Paine never forgot the image of that man, and swore to himself it would not happen to him or Lya.
“We need to leave,” she said. Her voice was solid, iron.
He shook his head in disbelief. There had to be some way to avoid this. Yet he knew there was nothing. Those men were coming as surely as God’s wrath. He pressed his lips together and looked over to the old beech. The hammocks were swinging, and empty.
“I—“
Shouts echoed from the house, followed by shattering glass. Gwen screamed and then heavy silence drifted across the farm. Even the wind hesitated, as if waiting for their reaction.
Immediately Paine dashed towards the house. The goats fled from his path, stumbling over each other to get out of the way. Paine and his sister scrambled inside.
Scattered about the immaculate kitchen were smashed dishes and the splinters of a broken chair. The small pine table was upturned on the floor. Shards of broken glass lay strewn about, splattered with blood.
They stepped across the floor and heavy breathing emanated from the family room. They rounded the corner and found a man standing over Charles' body, his head nearly touching the ceiling. He wore blood-stained leathers and a dull metal helmet that half-covered his face. On the front of his vest was stitched a pearly white cross, spotted with crimson.
Witch Hunter.
His parents’ bodies lay on the floor, butchered.
The Witch Hunter bore a silver cross. It was bulky and crooked. He swept his crossbow in f
ront of him. Lya growled and dropped to her knees. She put her hands in Gwen’s bloodied wound and mumbled a curse.
“Your sorcery doesn’t work on me, witch. See the Holy Silver. I am protected by the Almighty.” He aimed the silver-tipped arrow at Lya. “Now, surrender in the name of the Confederation and I will make this quick for you.”
Lya’s curse surged towards the Hunter in an invisible rush and thrust him against the wall. The man held up the cross and wriggled free.
He stepped forward. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me!”
She spat out another curse, calling upon a throng of hornets. He swatted the air around him, aiming his cross above and below him. The Hunter screamed and covered his face.
“Back you fiends of darkness! You cannot harm me. I bear the silver cross!”
The curse was broken.
“I will not be deceived by your lies!”
He aimed the crossbow once more at Lya.
Paine’s feet moved as if an unseen force dragged him forward. He cried out. “No!”
In his mind he called upon anything that would help him; anything within miles that had the ability to end this. He did not care the price.
Souls sprouted around him, responding in a single heart’s beat. They were eager to serve. Paine sent them forward, every one.
The man screamed as they swarmed him. He recoiled from their touch and raised his cross once more. It was futile. Each soul dove within him, taking their life’s pain and misery with them. The Hunter bent over, convulsing. The crossbow tumbled from his hands, misfiring and knocking over the oil lamp. The glass shattered and the oil spilled across the wooden floor. He gripped the silver cross holding it forth once more, but it seared the Hunter’s fingers and the scent of burnt flesh fouled the air. He foamed at the mouth. The Hunter slid down the wall and writhed on the floor. The cross slipped from his fingers. His body tensed and convulsed. He choked on his own tongue, and then finally went still.
The souls of the dead withdrew from the Hunter and slid towards Paine. He stood his ground, waiting for them.
The price had to be paid. It was always in blood.
He braced himself as each one slipped across his skin. They touched his heart. It was biting. He exhaled with the pain of each and clenched his fists, waiting for one or all to take him. He knew he would go mad.
Yet there was nothing; nothing but the cold; the cold and a sudden knowing. There were things in his head, memories that were not his own. Paine shook his head. They belonged to the dead Hunter. Images of the man’s life flashed, too quickly to make out. Only one memory offered Paine any hint of clarity— a female voice that had ordered his parents’ death.
“Kill the old man and woman.”
It was a pitiless voice.
Then the memories were gone. And so were the souls upon whom he had called.
A puddle of red formed on the ground, streaming from his parents’ bodies.
Perhaps there was enough.
Lya studied the dead Hunter. She bit her lip and kicked the cross. It slid towards the oil, where it smoldered. Charles shifted, the wound in his chest sucking air.
Paine dropped to the floor beside him. He took the man’s large, gnarled hands. They had always been gentle.
“Father.”
“Box…in the bedroom,” he gasped.
“See to him,” he said to Lya, and then ran down the hall. His heart raced, hot and fast.
Inside his parents' tiny room, beyond the four-poster bed, were loose floorboards. He lifted them, and grabbed the black polished box that held the valuables. He scrambled back to find Lya still standing over Charles.
The old man’s body lay still, his eyes wide open.
“What happened?”
“He's dead.”
“No!” He knelt at Charles’ side. He put his ear to his silent chest. “Why didn’t you heal him?”
“I need a spell and ointment, and he has been too badly hurt. What did you want me to do?” She turned her back to him.
Paine clenched his jaw. Gwen and Charles were dead.
"We can't stay here,” he growled. “We’ll be hanged."
Lya wiped her face with her sleeve. "We can only go north from here."
Paine looked at what he held in his hands. He smashed the box open and found everything his parents had saved. He dumped the contents on the floor and peered into the box. A yellowed piece of parchment was stuck to the bottom.
He removed it, unfolding it with care. There was a fine script dancing along the page, the lettering indecipherable. On the back was written a few lines he could read. It appeared to be a spell; a spell that summoned names Paine recognized — all from Sunday sermons. He dropped the parchment on the floor and wiped his hands on his trousers.
Lya snatched it up. Her lip was bleeding. "What does it say?"
He shook his head. "I don't know."
He gathered the coins and Lya folded the parchment to put it in her pocket. Paine eyed her and then shrugged.
She could have it.
The oil ignited and flared to life. The fire inched towards them.
Paine rose. “We have to leave.”
They each ran to their rooms, and Paine scanned the small space that was his own. The bed sheets were still piled in the corner, a reminder of his nights of unrest since Sunday’s sermon. Some junk from the old world sat on a shelf; plastic bits and shards that were of no value. He even owned pieces of a relic gun, a device rumored to kill a man from almost a mile away. But like most things from the old world, it was thought to be cursed. It was whispered that the Earth herself had ended the Age of Marvels and most thought it best to avoid objects of the past. Paine found them fascinating, yet they would serve no purpose now. Instead he bundled some clothes and a blanket into a sack and ran out into the hall.
"Are you ready?" he shouted. The fire was moving towards the kitchen.
Lya stepped from her own room, sack in hand. "Yes."
"Then, let's get out of here."
Lya ran out and Paine paid his final respects to his parents. He set his father's tattered bible between his hands, the book from which they had learned to read, and on Gwen's chest he placed the string of beads she always carried. He paused to close his father’s eyes. Despite all of the hardships and the rigid rules, he had still loved the old man. This was not something he had ever wished upon his parents, not even Gwen.
He then ran after Lya.
When Paine reached the barn she was stuffing the grimoire into her pack and Talon was perched upon one of the watering troughs, screeching. He herded the two horses in to tack them; Sable for his sister, Shadow for him. When they were ready, they mounted and looked back to the house. The fire was reaching out the windows with fingers of orange flame.
A voice from down the road jerked his attention.
"The girl is a succubus!"
Paine glimpsed a shadow of a figure, a cloaked being on the edge of the woods. The hood was pulled back. It was Billy Chapman.
Another Witch Hunter stepped from behind the house — blonde, towering, and swift.
A female voice.
She raised her crossbow and Paine didn't wait. He dug his heels into his mare's flanks. And as he fled north he swore to himself that when the time was right, that woman would pay with more than just her life. And if she had orders from someone else, he didn’t care how many of them there were or how high they ranked; he would find them.
And they, too, would pay. They would all pay.
Chapter 3
The morning’s silence immersed Paine in his guilt and the damned events of his life. Perhaps his desire for knowledge was to blame. Maybe if he hadn’t gone snooping under his parents’ bed, searching for some sense of who he was, he might not have come across the grimoire under the floorboards. Perhaps he might not have learned of the spells that lay within its hand-written pages. And maybe his fath
er would still be among the living and not left to a bloodied fate, dealt by the hands of an overzealous minion of the Confederation.
Had he known this might happen he might have choked his curiosity and buried it deep within him, or he would have left ages ago. Now it was too late. He had never wished ill upon the people that had raised him, but now their blood was on his hands.
His silent mourning was interrupted by a thud and he untangled himself from the thin blanket that cocooned him. Lya was already up. She flung her knife at one of the trees, her aim sure.
There was something in her eyes — irritation, anger; he couldn’t tell. He wished they shared the typical connection of other twins, but he was never able to sense her thoughts. He only could feel her presence. And the yearning for her nearness had worsened since that shared night with Billy; like it had bound him to her further. He knew it would be his undoing. It was unnatural. Yet her closeness offered him comfort.
“You all right?” he asked.
Lya hurled the knife once more. It struck the same spot.
“I don’t understand,” she muttered.
“I can’t believe they’re dead either.“
She flung it again and the sugar maple bled, slow and thick. She retrieved it and licked the knife.
She avoided his gaze. “We better go.”
The two packed their belongings in silence, all coated in beads of cold dampness. Paine's stomach growled as he climbed upon Shadow's back. In their haste to run, neither of them had considered rations. And he wasn’t sure where they would go. He jangled the bag of coins and wondered what it would get them. He possessed limited knowledge of things beyond their village. Little was safe in this area of the Outlands. And he couldn’t help but feel the road they traveled upon was leading them towards the Westwood, a forest that no one entered if they wanted to be seen again.
The two rode in silence along the deserted road, their only companions the occasional jackdaws which Talon glared at while perched upon Lya’s shoulder. The air was dead, not a breeze to be found, and with the morning sun beaming relentlessly upon them, Paine started to sweat. He wished for a flask of water and vowed to stop at the next stream.
The Second Coming Page 3