Broken Magic: The Sanctuary Chronicles

by India Kells

  “I finally found you, witch.”

  “Who are you?”

  The man smiled, white teeth against dark fur.

  “You don’t know me, witch. And I don’t know you. All I want is for you and your whole kind to die, disappear from the face of the earth. I want you and your demon family to suffer.”

  Valeria realised that her cell was the only safe spot in this world. What had happened during those two years of exile for so many people to hate her?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No need to understand, witch. As you’re going to die in a minute.”

  Valeria opened her arms. “You may not have noticed, but you’re on the wrong side of the bars, stupid.”

  The man smiled, fishing a key out of his pocket. Valeria’s heart sank before speeding up to an alarming pace. Magic rose inside her like waves, and she had trouble pushing it down again. If she lost control, the bracelets would incapacitate her completely.

  The lock turned, and she looked around, desperate for a weapon. There was none, apart from her own body.

  As soon as the cell door opened, she launched herself at her attacker. Surprised, he stumbled a step before pushing her violently to the side, sending her crashing into the table. Valeria regained her bearings a moment too late. The psycho beast grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up. Ignoring the pain, she kicked him hard in the groin. The man howled and released her. Once on her feet, she scrambled to take hold of a chair and break it on the mad man’s back. The door was still open, and Valeria bolted.

  She reached the door, her fingers brushing the molding when she was yanked back. For a moment, she was airborne before her body collided hard with the wall.

  Valeria, dazed with pain, felt more than saw her attacker on all fours above her, tearing at her clothes as she tried in vain to defend herself. It was like punching rock; he wouldn’t budge. When she smelled blood, her own blood, something snapped inside her. All her magic reacted and took control, pouring out of her. Hell broke loose before it was blocked by her bracelets. All that restrained energy started to burn her inside out, trying to protect her and unable to do so. As if disconnected from her own body, she heard her voice as she screamed, a disembodied sound she didn’t quite recognize. A hand closed around her throat and tears blurred her vision. Just before feeling her life slip away, she hoped for death to be quick and to be reunited with her mother soon.

  Another growl sounded in her ears, and it was over.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Why isn’t she waking up?”

  Asher paced his bedroom, his eyes never leaving the witch who lay unconscious and very pale on his wide bed.

  Ellen patted his back as she came around with fresh bandages.

  “Stop pacing. If you can’t stand still, go help Robert with Ian. He’s the one you should be worried about. You almost tore him to pieces.”

  “Damn Ian. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him for his disobedience. The door was wide open when I arrived. Someone had left it open. Her scent must have wafted upstairs into the house. I can’t blame him completely, the Enforcers killed his entire family. Her presence triggered his attack.”

  Ellen sighed. “It’s always a risk within a sanctuary. So many different species with so many different reasons to be here. You’re bound to jump into fights from time to time. Be glad the witch couldn’t use her powers. You could have had a real problem.”

  Her aunt sat on the bed and finished wiping blood from Valeria’s face before taking her wrist. Asher held his breath when Ellen pulled back her sleeve and revealed the burns around her bracelets. The skin was charred, it almost fused to the metal.

  Asher sat on the other side and checked her other wrist.

  “We need to remove the bracelets, Asher. I need to bandage her. She may heal faster because of her magic, and the bracelet could fuse with her skin.”

  Asher examined the burnt and bloodied wrists. He wasn’t squeamish, but it would be painful for her. He hesitated before pulling it sharply, trying not to worsen the wound. The witch stirred from the pain. As soon as she opened her eyes, she bolted into the farthest corner of the bed, her gaze wild and unfocused.

  Ellen inched closer. “Sweetheart, it’s me, Ellen. You do recognize me, don’t you?”

  The witch was shaking hard, clearly in shock. It took a moment for her wild eyes to settle. Asher could smell fear pouring out of her. Her attention was drawn to her throbbing wrists.

  Ellen touched her foot, and she jerked. Asher grounded his teeth in impatience.

  “Stop!” He realized his voice sounded harsher than he intended. He was all about killing the witch locked up in his basement. He wasn’t keen on frightening or hurting someone vulnerable under his protection. Until she was whole again and then he could end her life.

  “Stay still, witch. You’re safe here.”

  The witch turned to him and stared for a moment, golden eyes fixed on his face as if trying to decipher the words coming from his mouth. And then, she surprised him by breaking into laughter. A full, tear-flowing, unstoppable laughter. Asher frowned and turned to Ellen who shrugged.

  At first, Asher thought it was hysteria, but it didn’t sound like it. Her laughter rolled into an enticing sound. Communicative, joyful. When she could take a breath and stop the torrent, the witch wiped her eyes and relaxed on the bed.

  “You’re something else, wolf. The only man who can threaten my life and then say utter nonsense to reassure me.”

  “Ian shouldn’t have attacked you.”

  She blinked at him. “But it happened.”

  “I’m the Alpha here. He disobeyed me and will face the consequences.”

  The witch angled her head. “I’m tired of all this. You capture me, saying you’ll kill me for some unclear reason, but somehow, I’m still alive. I’m half-done, what’s stopping you now? But before you tear my throat open, just tell me why I deserve to die so much.”

  Asher's voice thundered. “You killed my sister! There is nothing unclear about my wish to kill you!”

  Rage simmered inside him, ready to boil over. Ellen remained silent, wise woman. He could sense the whole household holding its breath. Too often, members of Sanctuary forgot the beast in him. Blood pounded in his ears, and he felt restless with bottled up grief and anger. He didn’t know how it happened, but upon his next breath, his hand was gripping the witch’s throat. It took a long moment for him to realize what he was doing. And more surprisingly, the witch didn’t move, well, she wasn’t trying to get away. Her eyes were closed, her hands gently circling his forearm. It was as if she was holding on until it was over. Asher didn’t know what enraged him more, her surrender to death or his hand finally releasing his prey.

  He growled as he jerked back, making his aunt jump. The witch coughed, instinctively trying to catch her breath.

  “Why?” The witch looked up. “Why did you stop? Isn’t this what you wanted from the beginning, or is my death not bloody enough for you?”

  “And why is this something that you’re so desperate for?”

  “If you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off with your questions.”

  Tentatively, he saw Ellen move away.

  “Asher, if you do not intend to kill her, can I tend to her wrists?”

  Asher hesitated, his logical mind overcome by the beast. His wolf was torn too, and it took a moment to shake the discomfort. When it did, he knew it was necessary to reassess his priorities. And above all, sort out what he was feeling.

  He looked deep into the golden eyes of the witch. “Witches and wizards are all the same. They lie. They don’t care about others but their families, and even then, they would rather lie, cheat and betray than admitting they’re wrong or guilty. Why would I believe you? Why would you say you haven’t killed my sister?”

  Valeria stayed there, her eyes leveled with his, and if he wasn’t mistaken he could detect sadness, sorrow. Why was that so?

  “I have no recollection of killing your sister.
But if I did, I won’t stop you from ending my life. Isn’t that the way of the wolf or shifter in general? Kill now and ask questions later?”

  Asher snarled and put a knee and his hands on the bed.

  “Don’t you dare tell me about justice, witch.”

  “There is nothing I can do to convince you, as I cannot convince myself either.”

  “No riddles with me.”

  The witch took a deep breath.

  “Here is the thing. I don’t know who you are. The first and last time I saw you was in the forest.”

  Asher remembered well, her smell, her taste.

  “That’s when you attacked me, sending me flying into that tree.”

  She frowned. “Only because you were about to attack me.”

  “I was not!”

  “Yes, you were. You reared back, bared your teeth at me…”

  “Only because I saw my sister coming behind you. She had disobeyed me. She was supposed to stay with the rest of the family.”

  “I know nothing about your sister. Once I pushed you away, something or someone knocked me unconscious. I never saw my attacker.”

  Asher frowned. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not!” The witch rested back against the headboard, closed her eyes, holding her wrist. “Believe me, or do not believe me, wolf. It’s your choice. Go to hell.”

  Asher examined her, her skin paler now, her dark brown hair emphasizing the lines of fatigue on her face, the smell all over her body.

  “I will confront you by trial of blood. It’s the only way I can be certain.”

  “No!” Ellen leaped from the bed where she had remained silent until now. “No, it’s too dangerous. What if you turn her!”

  His eyes never left the witch’s face, who looked more dumbfounded than scared.

  “What is trial by blood?”

  Ellen shook her head, and Asher bared his teeth, beyond tolerating any confrontation now. They would all submit, or they would live with the consequences.

  His aunt bowed deeply and made a swift exit. For the better, in Asher’s opinion. He then returned his attention to the witch.

  “Trial by blood is simple. If you tell an untruth, I will be able to taste it in your veins.”

  “You want to drink my blood? And all those years I thought it was only a privilege of vampires.”

  Asher sighed. “Not drink. Taste.”

  “And you will know if I tell you the truth or if I lie.”

  “More or less.”

  “How does it work?”

  Asher blinked. He did trials on his own people numerous times. It was a show of faith and submission, a clear and undeniable sign of allegiance. He had heard it was possible to perform on ordinary people too. If the subject was human, they could possibly turn. If a wizard, he didn’t know, but species didn’t mix. It was as if magic protected them from one another like an invisible barrier. But did he really care? Suddenly, the thought of smelling her skin and tasting her blood held a much stronger appeal than prudence.

  “You tell me what happened that night. And I bite you…”

  “A bite?”

  He found it somewhat amusing that she was more worried about his teeth than the attack she had just suffered. “I only pierce the skin, witch. It’s not an actual bite.”

  The witch looked down at her wrists. “And the bracelets? Would they impede on how truthful I taste?”

  Asher had forgotten about them.

  “I don’t think so. But I can remove them. And as you may have noticed, I had the same spell carved on the threshold of my bedroom door as in the basement.”

  The witch shook her head. “If it’s the same to you, I’d rather keep them.”

  “Why?”

  “You saw what happened to my attacker earlier when I was helpless. Imagine if I didn’t have the bracelets.”

  “But you can control your powers, restrain yourself, can’t you? It’s the bracelets that made your defense spell go berserk.”

  The witch hesitated. It was only a fraction of a second, a mere blink, but Asher saw it and didn’t like it. She was hiding a piece of information, and maybe something bigger than she was showing in reality. He knew he had to act.

  “Give me your hands.”

  The witch only hesitated a second before extending her hands in his direction, steady and sure. He sat more comfortably on the bed and pulled her closer as he examined her wrists. The one where he had removed the bracelet looked raw and red. On her second wrist, the metal seemed to be more and more embedded into her skin. Magic helped the healing process, making it faster than for normal humans. In a couple of hours, if not treated, the metal bracelet would have disappeared under her skin, healed under the scars.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Are you going to do the trial by blood?”

  “Just close your eyes, now.”

  The witch eyed him for a second but finally followed his order. He didn’t make her close her eyes to hide the trial. He made her do it for her, to avoid anticipating what he was about to do next.

  Using his preternatural speed and strength, Asher pulled the remaining bracelet off in a single motion. It was done so quickly, it took several seconds for the witch’s brain to register what he had done. When it did, her mouth opened in a silent cry and she buckled over, cradling her mangled wrist the best she could. He saw tears falling on the bedspread, but she didn’t utter a single word, nor a single sound. She just remained bent over, unmoving, her brown hair hiding her face like a veil.

  Asher got to his feet and went to the tray his aunt had brought in the room with the intent of healing her. He knew nothing of all the pots and glass jars on it, but it was the only thing he could think of to help her.

  He sat back on the bed and placed the tray between them, inching it slowly toward her in a silent request for attention.

  It took a moment for her to draw a deeper breath and straighten up enough to notice the tray. Asher couldn’t see her face yet, but he saw the red, raw flesh oozing blood around her wrists. When she reached for a bottle, her hand was bright red, shaking.

  The words stumbled out of his mouth before he could catch himself. “Tell me how to help you.”

  Through her bangs, he saw her shining, golden eyes wary, wondering, but also resigned.

  When she spoke, her voice was small and hoarse at first. “Unfold the fabric and place it on the bed.”

  He did as she asked, healing was not his strong suit, and he was too annoyed with his aunt to call her back in just yet. Again, the witch extended her hand to the bottles on the tray but winced.

  “There should be one containing a bluish gel, smelling strongly of thyme and something resembling turpentine.”

  Asher didn’t need to open the bottles, as even closed, each container emanated a particular smell. All he needed was to track it to the right one. He grabbed a low pot made of clay. Again, she extended her wrists above the cloth.

  “Put it over the wounds, enough to cover all of it.” Coating his fingers with the thick, smelly goo, he hesitated a little before delicately applying the balm over the red, ragged edges of the wounds. One wrist, then the other. Her breathing became more labored for a moment as if the pain had increased somehow. Once finished, he looked at her face again and it was evident that she was feeling better, some color returning to her cheeks, her breathing more normal.

  “What now?”

  “Take the bandages and wrap them around each of my wrists.”

  Asher quickly wiped off the remaining blue balm from his fingers and started wrapping gauze stripes. Once both wrists were covered, the witch started sorting through the bottles, sniffing and analyzing what was in each of them. Then, she took a small bowl and poured some liquids of differing quantities. The mixture swirled and changed colors many times, ultimately turning into a golden hue.

  She was about to drink it when Asher stopped her.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Poison…” Asher’s head jerke
d up, but he detected a faint smile on her face.

  “It’s a serum, it will help the healing from the inside out. As the balm will help from the outside in. It’s harmless. You can taste it if you want.”

  She extended the cup in his direction, and he frowned. The smell was less than appetizing and if it was indeed poison, he would rather not risk it.

  “I suspected so.” And she swallowed down the mixture, with a small grimace. “That thing’s taste has not improved since the last time I took it.”

  Deftly, she placed everything back neatly on the tray, even folding the dirty cloth and putting it on the cup.

  “Thank you for helping me, whoever you are.”

  Asher didn’t know if he liked how more comfortable she had become. It didn’t change his ultimate goal.

  “Are you going to taste my blood now.”

  He straightened and got to his feet.

  “No. Not now.”

  “But I’m willing, you can do it now.”

  Asher shook his head. “You’ve been in acute pain for several hours; your blood would taste of that. I wouldn’t be able to detect the lie. I will trial you in the morning. Now time to sleep.”

  The witch stood and made her way around the bed.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  The witch blinked several times. “My cell. That’s where my bed is.”

  Asher frowned. “You’re staying here. You will sleep in this bed. There is a water closet through that panel and a lock on the door. Don’t get any ideas, you won’t be able to escape; not through the door, not through the windows. I will make damn sure of it. There won’t be any more glitches until I get the information I require. Be sure of it.”

  “So you give me a room. You give me a room even though you don’t trust me.”

  Asher’s smile was anything but reassuring, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “No, I didn’t give you a room. I’m only making you sleep in a place where I can keep a closer eye on you. In my own bedroom.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Valeria emerged from the bathroom, her towel tight around her body, trying to brush the tangles out of her hair. She was still alone, the door remaining closed. After hours of sitting and sleeping in that big bed, she had decided to take a shower. Blood had clung to her skin and made her so uncomfortable, her skin was itching. The water closet had been larger than she expected, including a large open-space shower stall, and the floor had been warm under her toes. Gently unwrapping her wrists, Valeria was glad to see they had healed quite nicely, at least enough to wash them without risking reopening the wounds.