9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC

by Unknown

  Talon jerked away from MeLora’s touch. “Do not touch me, witch. You’re tainted with evil. The child you carry will be born cursed. He’ll be as evil as your black heart. He is not and shall never be part of my blood. I’ll destroy him if he ever comes near me.”

  MeLora raked her nails across his cheek, leaving deep furrows.

  Talon jerked, his eyes scoring her with hatred. “Your son will never sit on the throne. I swear to you.”

  MeLora laughed. “Oh, he will. I promise you. There’s nothing you can do to stop me. My power, my reign, will be absolute. I’ve worked toward this goal for centuries. Do not think you can stop me. Do not think that puny blonde you have such regard for is my match. She isn’t. I’ll wipe her out with but a single snap of my fingers.” She turned cold dead eyes on him. “Let me assure you, Prince, I was more than willing to sacrifice my mother to the illumrofs. If they get in my way, I will not hesitate to kill that bungling fool of a witch and your sons. I will not bear any competition for the crown.”

  Talon heaved against the cold, binding chains, but there was no way to gain his freedom. “You dare touch my mate, I’ll kill you myself. You harm one hair on her head or injure my sons in any way there will be nowhere, nowhere for you to hide that I won’t find you. I swear it to the gods, I’ll destroy you!”

  “Your mate?” MeLora frowned. “You really have taken an Impure for your bond mate?” She tossed back her head, laughing deeply. “More fool you,” she said, sobering and flinging him a hate-filled glare. “You’ll be thankful when I rid you of her. Her magic will always be weak and your sons’ magic will be weaker. You’re a joke, Talon and so is your chosen mate.”

  Talon ignored her words and turned his gaze to Darak. “Father, you can’t allow this terrible thing to happen. It’s wrong. You know in your heart it’s wrong. I’m your son. This woman conspired to have Mother destroyed, your rightful queen. Your true queen.”

  Darak marched toward Talon and stopped in front of him. He stopped beside MeLora, and slid an arm around her thickening waist. “Your mother was a whore who deserved what she got. You think I don’t know she lay with other males? You think I don’t know she pawned other wakens’ spawn off on me? I’m no fool, Talon.” Darak stiffened with righteous indignation. “You think I’m unaware she is dead? I know it. I gave her to Black Drayke, and I relish the thought that she suffered before her soul was terminated.” King Darak raked Talon from head to toe with merciless eyes. “Long have you been a disrespectful, ungrateful thorn in my side. No more. I’ve been shown the truth. You’re not of my loins.” He looked upon his son, then with cold deliberateness, spat in Talon’s face, turned, and marched away. “Take him to the dungeons,” he yelled over his shoulders to his men. “He can rot there for all I care.”

  Talon swallowed hard as he watched his father turn his back on him and stalk away. He said nothing to the guards as they led him to the dark dungeons deep below the palace.

  It sounded like a death knell ringing when the cell door clanged shut behind him. Talon trembled. He was suddenly alone, locked in the darkness with his black thoughts. He slid down onto the cold stone floor and leaned his head back against the icy rock wall.

  Hatred for his father and MeLora boiled in him.

  MeLora!

  Where had he heard that name?

  Hadn’t his mate asked if he knew MeLora the day the shop flooded? That’s where he’d heard the name before, from his mate. Why hadn’t Saylym told him she was related to the evil witch? Had she deliberately concealed the fact from him?

  Of course. Saylym bore royal blood. MeLora had the looks of Saylym about her. The same graceful sway to their hips, the same inviting mouth, the same witchmarks. Indeed, they were related.

  Had Saylym betrayed him?

  Was her act as a bungling witch just that? An act? It had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. She’d tricked him into bonding with her. If MeLora’s scheme to take control of the crown hadn’t worked, then they had another way to access it. Through him and his heirs.

  Any child born by a royal witch was in line for both thrones, based on who was born first, unless some kind of edict was announced by the ruling monarch at the time, declaring a different heir, or if they were a descendent of a wizard. Although either throne could be inherited and controlled by one ruler, history had recorded that the royal-blooded queens preferred to remain behind the magical walls of Sanctuary, leaving Ru-Noc and Droth to the wakens.

  He should have taken Saylym’s soul when he had the chance.

  For sure, Saylym was of MeLora’s bloodline. Somehow, the two of them were connected. Perhaps sisters. Hadn’t Dym said Saylym had a beautiful sister? MeLora was definitely beautiful. She and Saylym must have conspired together to overthrow the royal family in Droth.

  That would mean Saylym was involved in his mother’s death. He’d never forgive her for being a part of that. Yes, his lovely mate had to be part of all that had happened to him, and he’d make her pay for her crimes if it was the last thing he ever did.

  Talon’s rage built and grew through the endless day and the long hours of the lonely night as he waited in the cell, waited to be whipped with the Char-Flum-Rope. A prisoner of magical chains, his hatred grew and festered. He had a new target.

  Saylym.

  It wasn’t until the dungeons began to brighten with the first filters of dawn's faint light that he realized his thinking was completely off-kilter. He’d let his hatred for MeLora rule his thoughts. He’d tasted Saylym’s soul. Her spirit was as pure and clean as fallen snow.

  How could he have forgotten something so crucial?

  There was no way Saylym could ever be a part of something as black and evil as MeLora. Yes, she was somehow related to the witch, but they were nothing alike.

  He clenched his fists.

  Fear hammered away at his mind now.

  What if MeLora decided to go after Saylym?

  He was stuck here in this damnable dungeon, his magic stolen.

  His mate was alone and vulnerable and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to help her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  After twenty people had been executed in the Salem witch hunt, Thomas Brattle wrote a letter criticizing the witchcraft trials. This letter had great impact on Governor Phips. He ordered that reliance on spectral and intangible evidence no longer be allowed in trials.

  ~Salem Witchcraft Trials

  October 8, 1692

  Sanctuary

  Saylym studied the stone figure, captivated by the awesome power one could literally feel emitting from the statue of Queen Shy-Ryn.

  She must have been a very powerful witch.

  So what had happened to destroy her, a betrayal from within?

  That was the only thing that made sense. It had to have been from someone she had trusted greatly.

  Saylym shivered. She could almost feel the statue breathe—as if at any moment it would come to life and talk to her. Royalty and power shimmered from within. She felt the life, a living, breathing thing. Magnificent.

  The woman’s image captured within the stone still commanded obedience and respect.

  Saylym shook her head at her vivid imagination. It was a stone statue, for heaven’s sake.

  There was nothing magical about it.

  Slowly, she reached out to touch one of the stone hands. Her hand froze in mid-air as she recalled Talon’s warning not to touch it, as it was probably enthralled. Hesitating to touch the stone did her little good. The rich jewels on the queen’s fingertips began to pulsate as if waking from a deep sleep. The gems throbbed and glowed with vibrant color.

  Saylym stared in fascination at the brilliant jewels. Her breath lodged in her throat. Dizziness assailed her. She stumbled back a step.

  What was happening?

  She should have listened to Talon and not came down here without him. He understood these things. She understood nothing.

  But the jewels had summoned her. She knew that s
omehow the sparkling gemstones had called her here. The soft humming pulled at her like a powerful magnet, drawing her closer to the statue. Her skin itched. Her blood pounded, as if it had a life all of its own separate from her body and mind. Tiny electrical currents zipped along her skin, raising the fine hairs on her arms. The enthrallment spread through her, shooting clear to her toes and back to her fingertips, raw and overpowering in its magnetic strength.

  Saylym took a step closer toward the statue. Closer. Her free will was left behind, stolen by the low droning of the jewels. She couldn’t resist touching the woman's form.

  As soon as her fingers contacted the warm stone, shimmering lights rose from the semi-precious stones. They spun around, filling the chamber, surrounding her, swirling and spinning and dancing like stars upon water.

  Dazzled by their brilliance, Saylym gasped, flung an arm over her eyes in self-defense, and fell back a step. The blinding radiance surged upward, then downward, and shot straight into her. The rush of power flung her to the floor. She lay there gasping and shuddering as the force invaded every tissue, stormed every cell, and flooded every nerve ending. She vibrated from head to toe, too weak to struggle. The light lined her body in sharp detail.

  At last, the blinding light leapt from her body with a loud whoosh. Saylym drew several long, deep breaths. It took several moments for the dizziness to pass, and longer for her body to stop shaking and glowing.

  She blinked as she rose to her feet, staring at the statue. Immediately she cupped her stomach, checking to see if her babies were all right. They assured her they were fine, giving a mental nudge of love that warmed her heart.

  Looking around, she saw nothing had changed. The statue still looked the same.

  She was the same. Right?

  Breathe, damn it! In. Out.

  No. Something was different. But what?

  Engorged with power, she thought if she touched something, anything, it just might explode. Hell, she might explode she felt so stuffed with energy. Her head was spinning with the charged coils racing there in her mind.

  Saylym glanced down at her tingling fingertips. Her breath lodged in her chest. All ten of her fingernails were encrusted with sparkling emeralds. “Bloody hell!” She shook her hands, but the jewels remained firmly in place. Saylym blew on her fingers trying to cool them. Her bloody nail beds felt as if they were being roasted over hot coals.

  Slowly, she turned her gaze back on the stone statue. The emeralds on the stone queen’s fingers were missing, somehow transferred to her.

  But how? Why?

  “I didn’t steal them, Your Majesty. I swear.” Saylym stared numbly at her hands. She felt like a thief. Worse. A grave robber. “I don’t want your jewels. Take them back.”

  They are yours, Saylym Winslow. By right of royal blood, they belong to you now.

  Saylym blinked. Somehow, the statue sent a message to her, silent words to her brain.

  “Royal blood?”

  Had Talon been right after all?

  She whirled, searching the chamber. “Where are you? Who are you? What are you talking about?”

  A tinkle of laughter filled her head.

  Search your heart, blood of my blood. You know who and what you are. You know who I am. I sit before you on what once was my throne of pure gold. Think you I know not who you are? I know my bloodline, Saylym Winslow. You’re my niece.

  “No. That’s not true.”

  True. See for yourself.

  Abruptly, a mist filled the chambers then parted as if clouds suddenly broke apart to reveal a picture of the past from centuries and centuries of days gone by. She saw a complete record of the Winslow line, generation after generation of royal witches. The history of the Salem witches passed before her eyes, with the terrible carnage that took place in Salem Village in 1692, the hanging of innocents. Horrible massacres by the wakens when they gained power and control and terminated even more witches. The virus that crippled the witches’ ability to become pregnant, until the females of their race was now at a critical level and near extinction.

  She saw and heard the orders given to Talon to terminate her, the choices given to him, his decision and attempt to steal her spirit. She cried out a denial and dropped to her knees, soul weary, and utterly devastated. Hot tears slid down her face. He’d tried to kill her. The man who was supposed to cherish her above all others, had tried to steal her soul.

  Her heart squeezed and twisted until it felt as if it bled tears. It took her a moment to realize her heart was bleeding tears and that the tears on her face had dried. Indeed, she was a real witch and witches could not cry. Now that she’d gained some of her full powers, she was too near to becoming a full-fledged witch to be able to shed tears ever again.

  The ache in her heart spread to her soul. Until this moment, she’d kept hope alive in her heart that Talon would come to love her. He didn’t. He never would. He’d done the guild’s bidding and nothing more. Handfast with her or terminate her. He’d taken the choice he could live with and that was it.

  Saylym released a shaky breath. “I have sisters. Where are they? Who are they?”

  Kirrah and Nyra. That’s all I can tell you. I cannot see into the future. I can only reveal the past to you. I cannot tell you where they are. That will be for you to discover, Saylym Winslow, but you must find them and warn them. They are in great peril.

  “Where is our mother?”

  Another thing I cannot help you with. My death came before her containment. The three of you will have to search together to find her. You must seek her through the ages, through the hand-aged parchment of time, through the walls of stone.

  The voice started to fade, drifting farther and farther away.

  “Don’t go! I need you,” Saylym cried.

  Laughter echoed. One last gift for you, Saylym Winslow, to share with your sisters.

  Saylym jumped back as a stone slab at the base of the statue dropped open and slid smoothly toward her. On it laid a large, dust-covered, leather-bound book. Saylym reached for the thick book with unsteady hands. She blew off the layer of dust, flipped open the cover and felt her jaw drop at the faded writing on the first page.

  The script was barely legible, pale with age. The fragile parchment pages were curled and ragged, aged with the passing of time. Saylym blinked, swallowed hard, then read aloud. “Part One. Pages of history from the Winslow witches. Scrolled by Eldora Waters. 300-1692.”

  You don’t need me, Saylym Winslow. Although you’re powers aren’t fully restored, in time, they will come to you. Go now. Your destiny awaits you. Trouble is near, for you and for your mate. Protect yourself. Remember, where the heart is concerned, things are not always as they appear. Trust in your feelings. Believe in your heart.

  * * * *

  Saylym shut the door to her office, closing the cellar from her sight. Tracing a loving hand over the book, she placed the diary in the bottom drawer of the desk. She refused to read it until she found her sisters and the three of them could share it together. What wonderful secrets must be there, waiting to be discovered?

  Bewildered, she eyed the emeralds on her fingers. Though she tried, she couldn’t remove the stunning jewels. It was as if they were superimposed into her nail beds. She had a feeling they were there for her lifetime, to be passed on to her daughter one day.

  Trouble is near. You must prepare and protect yourself. Now.

  Queen Shy-Ryn’s warning filtered through Saylym’s mind. How was she supposed to prepare for unseen trouble? And how was she to protect herself when her mate had been sent to kill her?

  There was no one she could trust, and no one she could depend upon to help her.

  She’d never felt more alone or more abandoned in her life.

  Where was Talon? Why hadn’t he returned?

  Was he already in trouble?

  If so, then what kind of trouble was he in?

  How could she help him?

  She snorted. Why would she want to? He’d tried to
destroy her.

  But he didn’t kill me.

  Oh, but he tried. He meant to kill me. Who could say if or when he might change his mind?

  Could she forgive him for his deception? Could she trust him with her life?

  She didn’t have the answers. At the moment, her poor heart felt too bruised and battered to even contemplate forgiveness.

  Trust? Well, Talon had certainly blown that one.

  But she couldn’t bear the thought that he might be in danger.

  If Talon was in trouble, why hadn’t he contacted her somehow to help him? He should turn to his mate when he was in need, but he would never do that. His mate was a bungler of magic, a blonde bit of useless fluff. That was the truth in his opinion. And that hurt.

  She was an Impure, not worthy of his love. He’d refused to trust her with his heart, so why would he trust her with his life? Everything came back to that one single word. Trust. This was something they both lacked in whopping numbers.

  Saylym sighed, stepped past the beaded curtain, and re-entered the business part of her shop. She stilled at the sight of a stranger standing behind the counter as if he owned the place. “Who are you?”

  The man looked up from the book of Black Magick he’d been reading.

  “Get out from behind there,” she ordered. “How did you get in? The door was locked.” She cast a wary eye at the door and realized it was still locked. Oh, crap!

  He stepped around the counter, away from the shadows, and Saylym felt her heart pick up its beat. The thing standing before her was no longer a waken, or even a warlock, if that’s what he’d ever been, but something about the way he moved looked vaguely familiar. So did his eyes. She swallowed hard. This man had been in her shop a few days earlier. She remembered him, because he’d made her feel so uneasy. He'd given her the creeps then. He was creepier now.

  He watched her, the eyes flat and black as night. Cold. Merciless. A creature consumed by hate, filled with evil. The two things blasted her like a hot furnace. Its face resembled a deformed leather mask, obscene, cracking like a dry riverbed. The rank smell rising from its body filled the room, surrounded her, and brought tears to her eyes.