Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series

by Maggie Shayne

  “Where are they takin’ her?” Duncan demanded, addressing Dearborne but keeping his gaze riveted to that wagon—to her—until it rounded a curve and disappeared from sight.

  To the pit beyond the town. Best to get their kind as far from decent folk as possible, lad. You’ll understand one day. This was for the best.”

  “‘Twas murder,” Duncan spat out, “an’ sin of the most vile sort!” He glared at the man now that the wagon was gone from his sight. “I canna continue under the tutelage of a man who would condone it. My studies end here, today, Nathanial. I want no part of your priesthood, for you’ve shown it to be one of purest evil.”

  Nathanial’s cloudy blue eyes narrowed, but not in anger, and he didn’t shout “Blasphemy!” as Duncan had expected.

  He simply said, “I’d hold my tongue, were I in your place, Duncan. You have no idea what sorts of forces you are dealing with.”

  “I willna hold my tongue. I canna!”

  Nathanial shook his head slowly. “You know the teachings of the Church. The elimination of witches is our duty as Christians, Duncan. ‘Tis imperative we wipe them from existence, rid the world of the scourge of witchery.”

  Duncan searched the old man’s face. He’d been close to him once, thought of him almost as fondly as he did his own father. No more. “An’ what will you do next, Nathanial, when you’ve murdered them all? What will your next mission be? To rid the world of anyone else whose beliefs differ from your own?”

  Nathanial smiled. “The Crusades attempted that and failed. I simply seek to do my duty, Duncan. And ‘twill be a service to all Christians if I succeed.”

  “Nay,” Duncan said. “Not all.” And he turned from the man, feeling nothing now but loathing for him–a man he’d once thought to be closer to God than anyone he’d known. But Duncan realized now that Nathanial was nothing. Less than nothing. A killer who seemed to enjoy his work.

  “Where are you going?” Nathanial demanded. “Do not turn your back on me, boy! Answer my question!”

  With a glance over his shoulder and an awareness of the people looking on, listening in, Duncan replied. “I’m goin’ to gather my things, Nathanial. An’ then I’m goin’ to see those two women get a proper burial. After that, I only know I’ll be goin’ as far away from you an’ your kind as I can. You are no man of God, but a hypocrite an’ a killer, an’ I canna abide bein’ in the same village with you.”

  Then he continued on his way without another word, hearing the gasps and whispers of the townspeople as he passed.

  It surprised him when a hand fell upon his shoulder. Stopping in his tracks, he didn’t turn around. For he knew that gnarled old hand well.

  “Duncan, wait,” Nathanial said. “Perhaps I was too harsh. ‘Tis obvious this morning’s work has distressed you. But there is truly no need to take such drastic measures. Surely you do not mean to leave here—”

  “Aye, Nathanial, that I do.”

  “You cannot!”

  Frowning, Duncan turned. Nathanial composed himself, tempered his voice. “Duncan, you’ve been like a son to me. Believe me, boy, were this action not necessary, I’d never have—”

  “But you did. ‘Tis done, Nathanial, an’ there’s no undoin’ it now.”

  Lowering his head, Nathanial drew a breath. “I am ill, Duncan. Surely you know that.”

  “Aye, I know it. I’ve seen you growin’ weaker by degrees, an’ wished to God I could do somethin’ about it, Nathanial. But I canna help you. An’ being ill, even facin’ death itself doesna give you the right to go about hangin’ innocents.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “An’ I have no choice now,” Duncan said. He turned away, having nothing more to say to the old man he’d once loved. But as he walked on, he heard Nathanial continue.

  “‘Tis because of the girl, is it? This is her doing.”

  Duncan kept walking.

  “Damn her,” Nathanial cried. “Damn her, she’ll pay. I’ll make sure she pays!”

  “She’s beyond your reach now, Nathanial.”

  “Oh, do not be so sure of that, my boy,” Nathanial muttered.

  Duncan turned then, to see the old man walking away. He did not know what Nathanial could have possibly meant by his words. But it did not matter. The lass was gone now. Dead, and Nathanial was as responsible as if he had pulled the lever himself. Duncan would never forgive the man.

  He went to his stark room in the back of the church, to gather his meager possessions into a sack. He would never return here again; he’d meant what he’d said. This place had been his home for two years as he studied for the priesthood at Nathanial’s feet. But that was over now.

  What he had seen today—and what he’d felt—had changed him forever. He sensed it deep inside, though he had no idea how this change would manifest. He only knew he had to leave.

  He only knew that the strange beauty had touched him, touched his heart, his soul, and his life, and that he would feel that touch for a long, long time to come.

  Slinging his sack over his shoulder, he walked out again into the streets. People whispered and pointed as he passed. He didn’t care. He would have liked a horse. It was a long walk to the place where they’d taken the girl and her mother. But he sensed it would be only the beginning of an even more distant journey. That the steps he took now were the first steps on the way to his destiny.

  * * * *

  The darkness that descended on me when I reached the end of that rope was a temporary one.

  I remember so clearly the sudden, desperate gasp I drew, the blinding flash of white light that stiffened my body and made me fling my head backward as I dragged in as much air as my lungs could contain. The rapidly fading pain in my neck and my head. And the shock I felt as I realized...I was still alive.

  I was alive!

  I blinked my eyes open and looked around me, and then my stomach lurched. ‘Twas daylight, morning. Still early, I guessed. I lay upon the ground with the bodies of the dead strewn around me. The bodies of hanged criminals, and those taken by the disease plaguing the area. This was the pit they’d dug for this purpose. Every so often men would come here with shovels to cover over the dead, and ready the place for another layer of victims of the plague and the gallows. But I was not dead.

  I was not dead.

  I sat up slow, gagging at the stench of rotting flesh, and looked around me, frantically searching for my mother. I’d had no idea her magic was strong enough to save us from the gallows, but it must have been, for I was alive, and she...she.... No. Oh, no!

  I found her, and my heart shattered. She lay still, her neck broken, her eyes open but no longer beautiful nor shining like onyx. They were already dulled by the filmy glaze of death.

  “Mother! No, Mother, no!” I gathered her into my arms, sobbing, near hysteria as I held her close, and rocked her against me. “You can’t be gone! You can’t leave me this way. Why, Mother?” But she did not answer, and so I screamed my question again, to the earth and the sky and the corpses all around me. “Why am I still alive? Why do I live, and not my precious Mother? Why?” But I knew I would get no reply.

  Not from the dead. Not from my mother. Her spirit no longer lived in this body. She was gone. Gone, and I was alone.

  Eventually I sat back and looked down at her poor body, an empty shell, yes, but even so ‘twould not remain here in this vile place. Not while my heart still beat on.

  Gently I lifted her in my arms. I was taller, larger than she. But even then it should not have been so easy to carry her. I thought perhaps ‘twas my grief making me strong.

  I made my way out of the pit and took my mother’s body into the forest nearby. And there, I scooped away the snow, and scraped out a grave for her with no more than my two hands and a flat stone for a tool. My nails were split, my fingers bleeding and throbbing with cold when I finished, but I was beyond noticing the pain. I buried my beloved mother there, and then I lay upon her grave and cried.

  * * * *
<
br />   When at last he reached the gruesome place of the dead, Duncan shuddered at the sight of the bodies strewn there. He pressed a handkerchief to his face, and even then the stench was sickening. And disease, too, hung on the very air here. One could smell it, almost feel it. Yet he searched for the dark beauty among the dead.

  “Where are you?” he whispered as his gaze scanned the carrion. That she should be here in this filth even for a short time brought a fury more powerful than any he’d felt before surging through his veins. What was it about her that caused such reactions in him? Why did he care so deeply for a girl he did not even know?

  “Duncan!” a voice called, and he turned. “Come away from there afore you take ill!”

  At the rim of the pit a young man Duncan had called friend since they were lads together in Scotland sat astride his horse. Samuel MacPhearson leaned on the pommel, looking down at him.

  “I'll nay go until I find them,” he said.

  “Well, you willna find them, my friend, for they be elsewhere. I searched myself only an hour ago. Arrived here faster by horse, I suppose, than you could by foot.”

  “Are you certain?” Duncan asked.

  “Aye. I wouldna lie to you about this, Duncan. I can see ‘tis important to you. Or she is. Did you know the lass?”

  “Nay,” Duncan said, making his way to the edge. “But it felt as if I did.” When he began to climb up, Samuel dismounted and bent to offer a hand. Duncan got his footing at the top and brushed at his soiled clothes. Homespun, and barely fitting. But all he had, once he’d discarded the robes he no longer felt able to wear.

  “Why were you looking for them, Samuel?” Duncan asked.

  “Same reason as you, I’d guess. To bury them proper. I liked what was done no more than you did, Duncan.” He looked out over the dead and grimaced. “I didna find them, though.”

  Duncan’s heart twisted. “Where can they be?”

  Samuel smiled, but ‘twas bitter. “No doubt your friend Dearborne would claim they used black magic to rise up an’ walk away. But I suspect there’s a far more simple solution. Some relative came for their bodies in secret. It happens, Duncan.”

  Duncan nodded but met Samuel’s eyes. “Nathanial Dearborne is no friend of mine.”

  “He was here, you know.”

  Duncan frowned. “Nathanial? Here?”

  “Aye, lookin’ for those two women himself, I do believe. An’ if he got here afore me, Duncan, he must have run his horse ragged the whole way. I meant to ask him why that was, but he beat a hasty retreat when he saw my approach.”

  The thought of that bastard laying his hands upon the girl set Duncan’s teeth on edge. “He didna find them? You’re certain of that?”

  “Certain as I can be,” Samuel said. “He seemed to be still searchin’ when I arrived, and he had no bodies o’er his saddle when he galloped away.”

  “What could he want with them?”

  “Nothing good, I’ll warrant.”

  “The bastard.”

  Samuel’s brows rose in twin arches. “Ah, so your great teacher is a bastard, now, is he?”

  Duncan sighed, looking at the ground. “You were right about him all along, Samuel, an’ I should’ve listened to you. Aye, he’s a bastard, an’ a killer, an’ I told him as much.”

  “Indeed,” Samuel said, slapping Duncan’s shoulder. “Half the town knows of it by now.” He tilted his head to one side. “They’re sayin’ she bewitched you, Duncan. Stole your heart right there on the gallows.”

  Duncan lifted his head to meet his friend’s eyes. “Perhaps she did,” he whispered.

  “Aye, I can see this has shaken you deeply.”

  “An’ what’s shakin’ me more is that I willna know where she rests. Even that small comfort has been stolen from me. ‘Twas wrong, what was done to her, Samuel.”

  Samuel nodded. “‘Tis yet another reason I’ve decided to move on. I’m takin’ Kathleen and leavin’ this place. An’ Duncan, my new bride an’ I would be proud to have you come along with us.”

  Duncan searched Samuel’s face. “Where will you go? Back to Scotland?”

  “Across the sea, my friend. To the New World. They say ‘tis far different there. Opportunity for every man. The rich an’ the poor, livin’ as equals.”

  Taking a deep breath, Duncan thought hard about saying yes. He’d heard talk of this New World, this America, where religious persecution, ‘twas said, did not exist. Wild and new and exciting. The idea appealed. But he had matters to attend to. Responsibilities to uphold.

  “I’d like nothin’ better than to do just that, Samuel. But not now. I must first return to Scotland to face my father with what I’ve done.”

  Samuel shook his head. “Angus will be furious, no doubt. He paid Dearborne an’ the Church a goodly sum to take you in for trainin’.”

  “And I’ll repay every bit,” Duncan vowed.

  “After you’ve repaid the debt to your father, Duncan, what then?”

  Duncan shrugged, looking off into the distance, seeking something he couldn’t name. “I dinna know. In truth, I just dinna know.”

  Samuel slapped his shoulder. “If you decide to join us in America, my friend, just come along. We’ll welcome you gladly.”

  “Thank you,” Duncan said. “I just might, at that.”

  “I hope you will.” Then Samuel frowned. “In the meantime, Duncan, I hope you’ll put this day’s doings behind you. You’ve a haunted look about your eyes that worries me.”

  “Haunted,” Duncan muttered. “Aye, ‘tis the way I feel. I think that bonny lass will be hauntin’ me for some time to come, Samuel. An’ I doubt—rather seriously doubt—there’s any way on God’s earth I can put her memory behind me. I’m not even certain I want to.”

  * * * *

  Hours passed as I lay weeping atop my mother’s grave. And then the day itself waned as well. ‘Twas night again before I could even think of leaving her, even wonder about what I was to do now. And ‘twas then I recalled her words to me the night before. I had promised I would do as she asked. I had promised her. I must keep that promise. But first....

  I dried my tears, tried to reach for the calmness necessary to do what must be done. I searched for that serene place inside me. My breathing deepened. My heartbeat slowed. In silence I pointed my forefinger at the ground and drew an invisible circle round my mother’s resting place. And within that circle I sat, closed my eyes, and wished my dear mother goodbye.

  For just a moment the wind whispered through the trees overhead in such a way that it seemed my mother’s voice spoke to me. Be strong, Raven. l am with you...always.

  “Mother?” Rising, I looked all around me, but saw nothing. Only the very thin sliver of the newborn moon appearing in the sky. Like a sign, to start anew. To find a way to go on.

  ‘Twas what my mother would have wanted.

  I brushed my fresh tears away and nodded. ‘Twas time. But I did not close the circle I’d cast. I left it there, willing it to protect her unmarked grave from harm of any kind. That done, I forced myself to leave her there, so that I could begin doing what she’d asked of me.

  I followed her instructions to the letter, sensing she might know, somehow, and be disappointed in me if I did not.

  I went to our cabin under cover of darkness, and slipping inside I saw chaos. Our home had been stripped of anything we had of any value. Blankets and clothing, our copper and iron pots. Everything. Even my mother’s precious cauldron, which I’d hoped to take with me that I might be reminded of her each time I brewed a magical potion or used it in ritual. She’d painted a tiny red rose upon its face. It had been her most cherished possession.

  But it was gone now.

  Something glittered up at me from the floor, and I bent to scoop up a tiny bit of amethyst the looters had somehow missed. Caressing it as if ‘twere a diamond, I placed the stone in my pocket.

  Our dried herbs had been torn from the walls and trampled beneath booted feet. Not a stick of fu
rniture nor even the braided rugs that had covered the floors remained, and I knew without checking the shed that the horse had been taken as well. They’d left nothing untouched.

  I went to the hearth though, tugging at the smooth round stones until I found the very large one that came free at my touch. And then I set it aside and reached into the hole it left. There was a cloth bag there, stuffed full. Frowning, I pulled the bag out and sat down on the floor, untying its drawstring and looking inside. There was a smaller pouch within its folds, a pouch I found to be heavy with coin. And a dark, hooded cloak, lined with fur, all rolled up tight to make it fit in the bag. And there was a book. A beautiful leather-bound grimoire, filled with page upon page of my mother’s delicate script.

  I opened the cover and saw a necklace, a golden pentacle, with a cradle moon adorning one curve of its circle and the beautiful image of a goddess reclining in the moon’s embrace. I lifted the pendant and beneath it, on the page, saw a note just for me.

  My dearest Raven,

  If you are reading this, you are on your own now. Do not mourn me, child. If my lifetime ended, ‘twas only because it had served its purpose, and now I will go on to another. But for you, child, ‘tis only the beginning.

  Wear the pentacle, for it holds all the magic I ever possessed. My strength and my wisdom are within it, and they are yours to call upon so long as you wear it. But keep it near your heart, and not out for the world to see. ‘Twas never mine to wear. I only held it in trust for you. It marks you as who and what you are.

  In this book are all the secrets I’ve learned. But the one I will tell you now is the most important of all of them. My daughter, my beloved Raven, you are not like me. And the path before you will not be an easy one.

  Raven St. James, you are an immortal witch, a High Witch, though you’ve never known such beings existed.

  When you suffer and die for the first time, you will know that what I say is true, for within a short while your body will revive itself. And from that moment on you will be stronger than before, and will never grow older.