by Mark Hockley
Part of her brain fully expected her body to begin to rip apart.
But nothing happened. She still experienced a terrible weakness, but that was all. She fought for control of her senses.
"Now you see," Helen's voice came to her, seeming further away than the few feet that separated them. "Only one Word can take effect before the recipient has the opportunity to respond. Very inconvenient I would say, but it is the way things work. This means you can defend yourself before Grace's Word can take effect. But even so, the odds are not in your favour."
Ellie saw both women through a haze of distortion. She was battling to hold herself upright, everything becoming hazy and unfocused. She knew she had to act, but her mind was sluggish.
Before her Grace's smile widened. The girl dug her fingernails into her hands and concentrated. She allowed herself to focus on both women, fixing them in her mind's eye.
"Propel," she uttered, her voice much stronger than she had expected it to be.
It was as if an incredibly powerful wind blew through the great hall, even though not one of them felt even the slightest breeze and both Helen and Grace literally flew backwards through the air, travelling at least twenty feet before they slammed into a side wall and slumped to the floor. Neither moved.
Instantly Ellie's strength returned and she flexed her hands. Her SpiritHeart seemed to pulse upon her chest.
Just for a moment she wondered if she had killed them. And even though she didn't think so, she found that in her heart there was no room for remorse or sentiment. Ellie watched the two forms as they very slowly began to move into sitting positions, dazed, pained expressions on their faces.
Ellie's expression was one of calm assurance however.
And in her eyes there was something that if Luke or Beth or especially Zack had been there to witness it, would have frightened them more than any other thing they had seen since entering Witch Town.
Before Zack could meet up with the mysterious men of Witch Town who shared his dissatisfaction with the way they were viewed and treated, he wanted to talk to Leonie. He had made up his mind that he was going to ask her the kind of questions he knew full well were likely to cause embarrassment and possibly humiliation, but he couldn't just go along any longer not knowing.
And now his opportunity had arrived.
Luke had gone off for the evening back to Ellie's house. Even the thought of these things left him a little punch-drunk as he tried to accept the reality of it.
His own place of residence was still the same undersized room that he had first been assigned upon arrival. In a strange kind of way, he really did now consider it to be home. Zack mentally noted that given time, even in the most outrageous circumstances, people really could get used to almost anything.
Leonie was escorting him back to his room as was her custom. They had reached the stage now that she did not anticipate him giving her any real trouble and had he been inclined to do so, he could have taken advantage of this relaxation in her watchfulness. But he had long since decided he would do nothing to harm her or indeed, cause her any problems.
He cleared his throat, somewhat theatrically. "Eh...can I ask you something?"
The girl continued to walk alongside him. Other women and men passed them as they went. None took any notice. In Witch Town, people went about their own business. Covens tended to keep to their own. The men, of course, went where they were directed. Or so Zack had thought.
"What is it?" she questioned, her voice quiet.
"What happened to Robert...your husband I mean?"
Leonie shot him a look, her expression difficult to read. "You should not be asking me about such matters. It is not your place or your concern?"
"Did you love him?"
Now the girl came to a halt and her face told him that she was both shocked at this question, but more than that she was hurt. Zack stood his ground and watched her, his eyes sympathetic. "Love has little to do with marriage here," she replied, her voice wavering just a little.
Zack considered how best to proceed. "And now you have to remain alone for the rest of your life. Does that seem fair?"
The young witch bristled at this. "The law is the law," she proclaimed, but something in her tone gave lie to her conviction.
"But what if you did fall in love?" the boy persisted. He understood how far he was pushing this now, but he could not stop himself. Already, without realising it, he had come a little closer to her. They had found themselves in a narrow lane that passed behind a barn where corn and wheat were stored. The twilight of the evening cast tall shadows upon the wooden structure.
Leonie turned her head away, now refusing to meet his gaze. "What do you want of me?" she said in barely above a whisper.
Now Zack stepped in close enough for his arm to lightly touch hers. He so much wanted to just take her in his arms and kiss her ."I want you to tell me the truth."
She spun around then to face him and her eyes were filling with unshed tears. "The truth," she whispered, staring up at him, "How can you expect the truth. You know nothing of our life here, of our heritage. You come from outside. How can you ever think to understand what it is like for me."
Very gently Zack touched her arm. She did not pull away. "I'm sorry," he told her, his voice a little horse. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that I really like you, I know you know that. You do, don't you?" He gazed down at her, his emotions beginning to get the better of him.
"I know," she breathed, her green eyes soft in the half-light. "But I also know it can never be."
Zack felt his face become hot and he tried his very best to keep his tone even when he spoke. "That's only because the laws here are wrong. They don't make any sense. Why should a woman be forced into a loveless marriage and then expected to remain alone for the rest of her life if it doesn't work out. That's totally stupid!"
"It didn't work out, as you say it, because Robert died," countered the girl.
"But you didn't love him." Zack's voice was louder than he intended and he took a prolonged breath as he steadied himself. "I'm sorry." He moved his hand up from her arm to touch her hair.
She just stared into his eyes, almost transfixed. "No," she answered softly, "But he was my husband."
Zack let his fingers slide through the hair that fell over her shoulders and he tenderly brushed her cheek. "I want you." Now he had said it, what was in his heart. His pulse was going at breakneck speed, he was losing all sense of restraint. Without allowing himself to think any more, he kissed her. Leonie kissed him in return and he held her close, pulling her to him.
Zack almost ignored the sound of footfalls further along the track, unwilling to let her lips leave his. But reluctantly he stepped away from her, their eyes locked together.
He glanced to his right to see the silhouette of a man coming towards them. "We should go," he told her huskily.
She said nothing in return, but began to walk beside him and as they met the man who had interrupted them, Zack saw that it was Jeremiah. He kept his expression neutral and nodded a greeting, but he could not help thinking that even in the poor light of the early evening, there was something in the man's gaze that said he knew exactly what Zack had been doing.
Beth made it her business to find some extra cleaning duties that took her close to Abigail's room.
She made a big show of mopping the hallway, her diligence and thoroughness entirely out of character. But few of the witches noticed. They passed her by as if she were part of the building itself, nothing more than a useful implement that could be used then tossed aside when no longer needed.
Once the coast was clear she approached the door of the room Abigail had taken the baby to. She really expected it to be locked and felt a rush of adrenalin when the handle turned easily and she was able to quickly enter, shutting it quietly behind her.
Wasting no time she went to the bureau she had seen Abigail take the container from and opened several drawers until she found what she was looki
ng for. It was there. The box that held the syringe.
Beth was suddenly reluctant to open it, something about what was within filling her with disgust. Despite the fact that she still had no idea what Abigail had injected the baby with, she knew instinctively that it could only be something abnormal and depraved. There was no love or care in the act she had witnessed. Of that she was certain.
Opening the container she looked down grimly at the syringe. Now what was she going to do? Take it? For what purpose? She really wished she had come there with a plan.
But any such consideration was soon forgotten as the door abruptly opened and a White Coven Witch regarded her with outraged astonishment.
"What are you doing!?" the witch snarled at her.
Without thinking Beth put the needle behind her back, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but more so with alarm. "Nothing," was all she could say, knowing how stupid it sounded.
The White witch stood between Beth and the door and now she shut it behind her. There was no way to escape. And what would be the point? She would be reported. As for her punishment, Beth didn't want to think about that. She knew it was likely to be very severe.
"Show me," the woman commanded her and such was the force of the words, Beth almost did. But tightening her grip on the syringe pressed against her back, she shook her head. "No."
"What did you say!?" the witch barked at her. She began to move swiftly forward, descending upon the girl, her hands