The Return (The Witch Hunter Saga)

by Nicole R. Taylor

  Arturius stood in the aftermath of the battle, hardly aware that the general had approached him, stepping over the carnage to come congratulate him.

  Vespasian clapped him on the shoulder. "That was quite something, Arturius."

  "Thank you, sir," he muttered, wiping the back of his hand across his face. He hissed when he remembered that he had a gash running the length of it.

  Vespasian turned towards his entourage and barked an order to them. "Take the castle and secure it's people. I want this place ready to be built upon as soon as possible." The general regarded Arturius a moment and said, "Get your face seen to, Arturius. And have a rest. You deserve it."

  Arturius nodded and knew he had been dismissed. It seemed he had won back Vespasian's favor. For now, at least.

  Instead of following his orders right way, he collected his men from around the field, offering words of encouragement. Other soldiers had advanced from the opposite rise and had already begun dragging the corpses away to a ditch at the edge of a tilled field that ran along the side of the hillock.

  Marcus clapped him on the shoulder and pointed up to the castle. "We will see to them. Return to your tent, Titus will go and fetch Magnus."

  Arturius only grunted and turned to make his way back to their camp. Magnus was their medici, he would see to his wounds before they could fester. He left the carnage he and his men had wrought behind him without a second thought. Dwelling on these things… between duty and honor… it would destroy him if he let it. He liked his life too much for that to ever happen.

  Maiden Castle was the name the Britons had given to their construction and it was by no means a palace. To the Romans it was little more than an outhouse, only suitable for an outpost. They began work immediately, building stronger walls, a temple at one end and improving defensive positions. This would make a fine mid-point for their journey south-west. The Britons were living in the past and would herald their conquerors and the knowledge they brought. All of their lives would improve drastically.

  Arturius was ordered bed rest for several days. His face throbbed, but he refused to let them sew up the gash. It would serve as an impressive scar and instill fear in his men. Fear that would keep them under his thumb. Especially after he had only cut down two men before he was wounded. It hadn't stopped him continuing, but he felt ashamed at his weakness. To keep himself occupied, he worked hard to keep the wound clean, despite the pain that shot through him when the tinctures and salves Magnus had concocted were slathered on his face to prevent infection.

  He had little else to do but contemplate their next journey. There were many miles to cover until they had secured their portion of this wild place. What he tried not to dwell on was the moment he tore a man's heart from his chest while it was still beating. He had gone too far and wondered if the gods would punish him.

  The next evening, Arturius lay in his makeshift cot, staring at the roof of his tent, thinking about home. He was rich enough to own land and a villa if he so chose and the Legion would certainly not oppose it. He was devout in his religion and loyal to Rome. In every way a model citizen. After he had served his time in Brittania, he would go back to Rome and make a home for himself and take a wife. It was all he wanted. He dreamed of a white washed villa on a sun-soaked hillside, the field below dotted with olive trees, horses grazing in the warmth of the afternoon light… A son to raise into a strong and honorable warrior, taught by his own hand. A beautiful wife to make love to… drinking wine together under the stars…

  Yes, that was the life he wanted for himself. A good life. A quiet life.

  When the flap to his tent was pulled aside, he sat up sharply as he caught the sight of a woman entering. The coarse material swung back into place as she stood there staring at him. He couldn't help but to think to himself that she was beautiful in a otherworldly kind of way. She was tall and slender, skin that was as pale as milk and hair that was as rich and wild as honey. She did not look to be at all Roman or from any one of the lands they had conquered, but she was dressed in the way of one.

  "How did you get in here?" he barked at her. If she was here for his entertainment, she could go away. He wasn't in the mood for that tonight.

  The woman ignored his question. "I've come to offer you a gift, centurion."

  "A gift? Why?"

  "You've proved yourself to be one of worth."

  He glared at her, raking his eyes over her body, not caring if she took offence. "What are you offering, woman?"

  "I'm offering immortality, power and strength beyond reckoning."

  "What do you mean, immortality? I am no god." He said it like she was offering blasphemy. The gods would punish him for being tempted by this… witch. This had to be a test of his faith, for what he had done on the battlefield. The man's heart. There was no other explanation for this intrusion.

  She laughed, her voice filtering through the tent like music. "Not a god," she said. "But you will feel like one. All will cower before you and you will rain death and destruction as easily as you will light and love."

  "You want to turn me into a demon?"

  The woman narrowed her eyes, a sly smile playing at her soft lips. "But, you already like killing, don't you Arturius?"

  "How do you know my name?"

  "I've been watching you."

  He stood sharply, his lip curling into a sneer. "Be careful what you say to me, woman."

  She only smiled at his reaction and reached out, taking his rough calloused hand. "Come."

  Arturius followed her from the tent, hardly aware of what he was doing. What kind of trickery was this? He seemed to have lost control of himself as she led him away from the camp like a lamb to the slaughter.

  They had gone some way into the darkness, over the rise and hidden from the sight of their camp and the captured castle, and it was not long after that that he saw the warm light of a camp fire through the trees. As the woman led him closer, he saw that it was a large circle of flame, too large to be a simple campfire. It had something unnatural about it. He began to hesitate, suspecting some kind of ambush, but she wouldn't let his hand go. He didn't think he could release her grasp even if he wanted to.

  Coming through the tree line, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Within the circle of flame stood faces he recognized and they were all as bewildered as he was.

  To one edge stood his men Marcus and Titus. There was a primius pilus he knew to be Caius, new to his post, but well deserving. And behind the young Roman was the woman he knew was called Octavia. He was surprised to see her here. She was Vespasian's play thing; his whore. When he first saw her at camp, he was surprised. He thought their general had preferred little boys. But, perhaps the reason she was here in Britannia was to stop such rumors. But, from the look of her he knew that was Vespasian's reason, not hers. A woman in a man's world only meant one thing. She was cutthroat and prepared to do whatever it took to secure her ambitions. Octavia wanted power.

  A fifth figure stepped from the shadows as the woman led him into the circle of flame. He recognized him instantly. Regulus.

  If he was here than that meant he had escaped. Everyone knew what he did. He was third to Claudius himself in the Legion and he had been caught plotting to assassinate the emperor. Last he'd heard, he had been locked up, awaiting passage back to Rome for trial and execution. He should have been killed on the spot. Trial was merciful.

  "Regulus," Arturius sneered as he came face to face with the tall Roman. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be somewhere clapped in irons and left to rot?"

  Regulus just stared coldly into his eyes as if he was daring him to look away.

  "Did you really plot against the emperor?" Caius asked, looking him up and down.

  "Whatever they said I did, it hardly matters now," Regulus sneered.

  "Welcome," the woman said, opening her arms. The firelight danced of her skin, giving her an air of otherworldliness. "My name is Katrin and I have brought you all here this fine evening to offer y
ou all a gift. I have seen great things in all of you and they deserve to be rewarded."

  "Rewarded with what?" Marcus asked with a note of doubt in his voice.

  Katrin smiled. "You will all have new lives. Your futures will be in your hands."

  "What do you want in return?"

  "I want your allegiance. And your help in a little matter."

  "What matter?" Arturius was the highest rank here and felt it his right to speak for them. Regulus didn't count anymore, his rank had been stripped from him.

  "I want information and you will be in the position to acquire it once you have been transformed."

  "And that's all you want?"

  "Yes."

  "In exchange for immortality?" scoffed Octavia. "There has to be something else you want."

  "Don't underestimate the value of what I want you to do, Octavia. There are certain side effects to your transformation."

  "What kind of side effects?"

  "You won't be able to go out into the sunlight for a time. And you will have to drink blood to survive."

  "Blood?" Octavia was disgusted at the notion. "Only the denizens of the underworld drink blood."

  Katrin sneered at the Romans. "I'm sorry to be the one who divulges this to you, but your Gods don't exist."

  "No," Arturius hissed, turning to the others. "This is a test. The gods will punish us if we agree to this. Can't you see?"

  Regulus rolled his eyes at the five other humans. "Are you all that stupid? She's a witch and a human. In what world does that exist? A god didn't give her this curse. A creature did. A living breathing creature that can die just like the rest of us."

  "I wouldn't call it a curse," Katrin crooned. "I would call it a gift."

  "Whatever you call it, I agree with your terms," Regulus said before turning to the others, staring each of them down. "Are you with me?"

  "Regulus, you can't," Arturius tried to reason with him. "Your soul…"

  "My soul was destroyed a long time ago, brother. Can't you see that this is something great? We will have the power to make a better world. Create something worth fighting for."

  "Rome is worth…"

  "Rome is worth nothing," he spat. "The moment you try and do something good and right, they will stop at nothing to tear you down. They will kill everyone you ever loved in front of your eyes then plunge a sword into your heart. Rome is corrupt."

  "No…" He looked around at the other Romans, but they were staring at him with closed expressions. They wanted this. They knew the truth of Regulus' words and he was the only one who was resisting.

  "Why do you think I tried to murder the emperor?" Regulus grasped the front of his shirt. "Because he killed everyone I ever loved. He sold me a lie, then he took it all away from me. And he will do the same to you."

  Arturius wrenched himself away, hardly comprehending what he was saying. Rome was corrupt? The gods didn't exist? If what Regulus was saying was true, then the life he wanted to go back to didn't exist. And if he found it, it would be taken from him with the flick of a wrist. He'd seen taste of it when he tried to question Vespasian's order the previous day, had he not? Death would follow the moment he disagreed with another order and it didn't matter if he was right or wrong. He was replaceable. Rome was not a democracy. Deep down he knew it, but he'd rather the denial. All this time he'd preferred the denial over the truth.

  "Then what is right?' he whispered, looking up at the traitor who now didn't seem so traitorous.

  Regulus inclined his head towards Katrin. "This is right."

  Arturius glanced over to the witch and she nodded, a smile playing at her lips. Looking back to Regulus he said, "Then I agree."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Zac sat bolt upright with a sharp hiss and began to claw at himself. He was still inside the house and still not invited in. He felt like he was turning inside out. When he looked up, desperate for an escape, he saw Arturius looking down at him with a look of amusement plastered on his ugly face. He was on his feet in an instant, launching himself on the Roman, who pushed him back with the slightest of touches.

  "Invite him in," Arturius ordered a man who Zac now realized was lingering in the shadows. "Before he hurts himself, if you don't mind."

  "You're free to come inside," the man said and almost instantaneously, Zac felt the pain subside.

  He slumped against the wall, fighting the overwhelming desire to rip the Roman's face off. But, that's when he saw her. She was lingering in the shadows, shoulders hunched forwards, head hung low. It couldn't be anyone else.

  "Morgan?" he said, ignoring Arturius who stood by watching them with a curious expression.

  She lifted her head and he caught the glitter of tears staining her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "Has he hurt you?" he asked, trying to ignore the anger that was welling up inside of him.

  "Has he hurt you?" Arturius scoffed, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. "She betrayed you."

  "I would never…" Morgan cried.

  "You betrayed him, not her," Arturius sneered. "Do you really think he would ever forgive you?"

  "No..."

  "You've been played, love." He said it with a note of triumph that made Zac sick. "If you truly thought that I would honor a bargain with you, you are one stupid little girl."

  "You have no shame, Arturius," Zac whispered, clenching his fists at his side.

  "That's the first intelligent thing you've said, Zachary. Bravo."

  "I'm so sorry, Zac. I never meant for this to happen. I was blind. I'm sorry." Morgan was sobbing now. Zac knew he should be angry with her. She'd betrayed them all to the one man who wanted them dead. And what for? An empty dream? He couldn't love her the way she wanted. He would never be able to.

  Arturius sighed loudly, beginning to become bored with his lack of reaction. The Roman obviously wanted a show, but he would never stoop that low. He glanced back to Morgan, who was cowering back against the wall, a look of absolute anguish on her face. He'd never seen such emotion before, even in the face of death, he had never seen someone so desperate for forgiveness.

  Zac knew she needed this from him and he would give it to her. He'd led her on all that time ago. He'd slept with her in a moment of weakness, used her for comfort. He was the reason she was here in the first place. He was the reason she had these feelings. In a way, it was all his fault, wasn't it?

  "I forgive you," he whispered and felt a pang of sadness as her fearful expression faded with relief.

  Arturius scoffed at them. "Forgiveness is for the weak. If you're going to do something, do it without the regrets."

  "Let her go, Arturius," Zac scowled at the Roman. "She isn't part of this. You've got what you want."

  "You're right, Zachary," he sneered, reaching behind himself and pulling a stake from his back pocket. He flipped it in his hand a few times before looking back up at him. "She has out lived her usefulness. I don't need her any more now that I have Aeriaya locked up safe and sound. But, then again..."

  Before he could move, Arturius plunged the stake directly into Morgan's heart. Her eyes widened with shock as she gulped for air. Zac ran forward and grasped her face as she turned grey, her body withering under his hands. A tear slid from his eye and down his cheek as her eyes glazed over. Gently lowering her limp form to the ground, he closed his eyes, anger beginning to simmer underneath the surface.

  "No," he hissed through his clenched teeth as he felt her life slip away, her heart thudding into silence. "No."

  He turned to face Arturius who was surveying them with an amused grin.

  "What are you smiling at?" he demanded. "Was this just all for your own entertainment?"

  "Of course," the Roman shrugged.

  Zac was too far gone to stop himself. He launched himself onto the Roman with such force, his fist almost punctured the flesh around the Roman's heart. Arturius' fist came back just as fast, clipping his jaw, splitting his lip against his teeth and sending him sprawling backwards.


  "I'm not going to be your pawn, Arturius," he growled, spitting blood on the floor.

  Arturius laughed, his head shaking from side to side, "Unfortunately, you don't have a say in the matter, Zachary. I'll do what I want with you, when I want. And next time you think about trying to tear my heart out, remember how easy it was for me to stop you."

  Aya scrambled to her feet when the door to her basement prison was opened and Zac's form came hurtling in. He landed on his knees with a grunt and she rushed forwards as the door closed with a bang. When he didn't move, she knelt beside him, concern in her pale features.

  "Zac?" she asked, tentatively.

  He stood without looking at her and crossed the room, resting his head against the brickwork of the far wall, his shoulders heaving as he drew in deep breaths. Aya knew he was trying to calm himself down and she remained where she was, letting him be. A minute passed before he turned around, leaning back against the wall and sliding down until he was sitting. She was beside him in an instant, her blue eyes shining curiously in the murky light.

  "Zac?" she asked again, knowing that the news wasn't good. How could it be?

  "She's gone." His voice was quiet, almost strained to breaking point.

  "Arturius…" she began to say, but Zac grunted, cutting her off before she could say it. Arturius had killed Morgan.

  He let his head fall to her shoulder, closing his eyes.

  "I'm sorry." Her voice was a whisper in the darkness as she stroked his hair.

  He lifted his head and cupped her face with shaking hands, pressing his lips against hers, kissing her with a desperation that was unsettling. He'd just lost Morgan, a woman of whom she felt jealous, but he had had a connection with her that was deeper than just friendship. To a vampire on the brink of insanity, the offer of help and salvation was just as great a sensation as the one of love offered. Aya was jealous of her in a way, she couldn't deny it.

  Despite her uneasiness, his presence was overwhelming and she kissed him back, sliding a hand up his chest, coming to rest over the pulsing vein in his neck. Even as he was coming to terms with what he'd obviously witnessed, she wanted him. It was selfish, but she wanted him.