9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC

by Unknown

  “No worry for Dinka, no more,” the Futhar croaked, sitting straight up. “Dinka play dead like possum, like saw on Discovery Channel in illumrof world.” Dinka blinked and looked around. “Witch-bitch dead now? You kill her? Okie-dokie?”

  Saylym gave a choked laugh. “Not kill, but seriously scared the shit out of her.” She cupped the frog. “You have a home with me, Dinka, as long as you like.”

  “I like very much, but must find my Sage. He be needing me now.”

  “I’m afraid Sage is lost to us. MeLora…killed him.”

  “Noooo,” Dinka wailed. “Not my Sage! Not my sweet, handsome Sage!” The frog sniffed and cried pitifully. “My Sage, him good waken. Good man. Love my Sage. He not dead. He just forget to take me with him.”

  Eldora stepped up and took the frog from Saylym’s trembling hands. “Come on, little, Dinka. I’ll take you home with me.”

  Dinka’s eyes overflowed with tears. “Not my Sage,” she fretted, her voice cracking. “Please say is not true.”

  Saylym stiffened when she felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned to face Talon. Tears shimmered in the greenish-gold depths of his eyes. “MeLora got away,” he said. “She killed Sage and damn it, she’s gotten away!”

  Saylym nodded. “For now. She won’t get far. She’ll be back. There’s no way she’ll give up easily.”

  “She’s nearly destroyed my entire family. My mother. Sage. And my father. My father is under her spells. He’s already left, returning to the palace. He believes she’ll be there waiting for him.”

  “She won’t return to the palace,” Saylym said softly. “Not right now. She’s afraid.”

  Talon swore beneath his breath. “You don’t understand. She’s not afraid, just licking her wounds. Drayke is still alive. That wasn’t him I killed.”

  Saylym blinked. “How do you know that?”

  “If it had been him, all the souls he’s stolen from witches would have been released, including my mother’s. It wasn’t him, but a clever Image. He was testing our strength. He’ll be back, along with MeLora.”

  Saylym’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell!”

  Talon nodded. “Right. I have no family left here. My brother has disappeared. I don’t know if my sister is safe or even alive.”

  Saylym touched his cheek, a feather-light stroke. “I’m sorry, Talon. I am.” She turned to leave, but halted as Talon grabbed her arm, locking his fingers with hers. “I have no family, but you. You’re my family now, you and our sons.” He searched her eyes. “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “You’re mad at me?”

  “You were going to kill me. You spoke false vows and we never discussed having babies. Yes, I’d say I’m just a little pissed at you.”

  Talon winced. “You don’t want our babies?”

  Saylym flushed. “I didn’t say that. I already told you I want them. That’s beside the point. The decision to have a baby should be a joint choice, not just yours, especially when you lied at our bonding ceremony.”

  “Every word I spoke at our bonding ceremony, I’ve since discovered I meant. I love you, Saylym. Beltane and what you are left us no choice about conceiving a child. I never dreamed I’d give you two babies. Our race doesn’t have multiple births. But I’m not displeased with two,” he said with a hint of smugness. “And I could never have killed you, sweetheart. I may have given it some thought because that’s my job, and I was under orders from the guild.”

  “Given it some thought? Gods, Talon. You tried to steal my bloody soul!”

  “It goes against my nature to inflict harm. I could never have followed through with stealing your sweet spirit, though yours was especially enticing. There’s something rather addictive about tasting you.”

  Saylym narrowed her eyes at his double entendre. Accusation filled her voice. “You tried to kill me. I saw the history. Queen Shy-Ryn showed me flashes of the past and there you were drawing out my soul and me so damned trusting.” She sniffed. “I believed in you. Trusted you. Loved you.”

  “Loved? Loved? As in once upon a time? But no more?”

  “You got it right the first time. Loved! Past tense!”

  “You’ll love me again,” Talon stated arrogantly. “Or I’ll know the reason why.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “You will.”

  “I won’t!”

  “You can’t resist me.”

  “I can. Haven’t we had this argument before?”

  “Don’t try changing the subject. That’s called cheating.”

  Saylym’s lips parted, and Talon held up a silencing hand, grinning. “You will love me. Yes, you will. Stop shaking your head.” He tugged her closer. “You will love me. Consider it a royal command. As your mate, and your prince, I command you to love me with all your heart. And you will love me for eternity. I have spoken.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that? You can’t just order someone to love you.”

  Talon tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers unsteady. “I just did. By the way, I want my Saylym back. I like you better blonde. And I can order you to love me, La-Scheme. I’m your Prince Charming.”

  “But…you don’t love me. I can’t live with a man who doesn’t love me as much as I love him.”

  Talon held her tighter in his arms, nuzzled her hair with his chin. “I love you, baby. I’ve always loved you, from the first moment I saw you I was yours to command.” He tilted her face up to his. “That morning, the first morning I saw you, I saw your beauty, La-Scheme,” he whispered against her throat, “although you are beautiful on the outside, it was your inner warmth that tugged on my heartstrings.” He traced a fingertip lightly down one breast and rested his palm over her heart. “Here is where your true beauty resides.”

  “Talon.” Saylym whispered his name in a catchy breath.

  He brushed a kiss against her eyelids. “I gave my heart to the woman who took the time to draw a smiley face on a little boy’s Band-Aid, while assuring his mother her baby was safe.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love the woman who cared enough about an old lady to help her celebrate her birthday so she wouldn’t be alone and lonely on that special day.”

  His mouth rubbed hers in a light kiss. “I’m crazy about the woman who just bravely fought a battle for her people and her prince, though she was slightly pissed at him.” He touched his lips to the tip of her chin. “I adore the woman who just offered her home to a homeless Futhar. But mostly, I love the woman who wasn’t afraid to dance on the street early one morning and summon her prince to come and get her.”

  He drew a deep breath, his chest heaving with emotion. “I answered that summons, darling. I could do no other.” He traced an unsteady finger over her lips. “Open your heart, La-Scheme,” he whispered softly. “Let me in. I want to live in the place where love and beauty dwells. How could I ever destroy that? Can’t you see it in my eyes how much I love you?”

  Saylym flung her arms around Talon’s neck, holding tight. Damn, she wished she could cry! She’d be weeping all over his chest if she could. “That was pretty good crawling,” she whispered. Her words came out muffled against his shirt. “You ever hurt me again, Prince Talon, I’ll send a lightning bolt straight through your balls and melt your…your…”

  Talon threw back his head, laughing. “I get the picture, baby. Let’s go home.”

  * * * *

  His mate was a changed woman. Talon knew that as he gazed at her. There was something regal about her now. It was in the way she tilted her head with confidence in herself and her faith in her magic. It made his heart swell with pride.

  “My place or yours?” she asked huskily.

  Talon arched a brow, his voice filled with sweet promise. “How do you feel about living in a dilapidated millhouse and filling it with the laughter of our children?”

  She pretended to think it over for a moment. Talon growled a soft warning.

&nb
sp; “I feel pretty good about it.” She grinned, her lips widening into a full smile. “Yeah…I feel pretty good about the idea.”

  Talon drew her to his side and held her close. “When I make love to you again,” he whispered against her ear, “it won’t be like before. It’s the bonding ritual that made it so painful for you, La-Scheme and the power of your magic. It won’t hurt next time. I swear.”

  And he silently promised himself it wouldn’t. He’d do whatever it took to make certain her body accepted his with ease. He slid his fingers over the emeralds embedded on her nails. “Those are…sheeahta! You went down there, after me telling you not to. Saylym, I swear—”

  She placed a hand across his mouth silencing him. “She summoned me. I could do nothing but obey her command.”

  He nodded his understanding. “Can you restore my power? My magic?”

  “I can do that,” she said with confidence.

  “Will you?”

  “I will.”

  And he knew she was telling him many things in those two simple words. She was granting him a second chance and this time he would not fail her.

  Talon’s breath caught in his throat in a little hitch. “I have no idea what has become of the ancients or my mother. The kingdom is rocky with a king who no longer has control of his own mind. Ru-Noc will collapse under MeLora’s reign. My people are in turmoil, afraid for their future, and all I can think is thank Samhain I have you.” He stroked the emeralds. “I want to hear about these. I want to know about Queen Shy-Ryn and the powers you’ve acquired.”

  With a soft growl, Saylym tugged him closer and stroked his cheek. A secret smile curved her lips. “Well, once upon a time, in the Land of Witches, Wizards, and Wakens, there was this powerful witch queen…”

  Epilogue

  Governor Phips pardons the remaining accused of witchcraft.

  ~Mary Easty

  “. . .if it be possible no more innocent blood be shed…

  . . .I am clear of this sin.”

  ~ Salem Witch Trials

  May, 1693

  Ru-Noc

  Droth

  City of wakens

  In the palace at Droth, a gilt-framed mirror exploded, sending thousands of tiny pieces of mirrored glass across the chamber. Behind the jagged shards of mirrored glass, Helayne crumpled to the floor in a crushed heap.

  For a long moment, she lay there gasping, the bruises on her battered face and body throbbing painfully. It hurt too much to move. Her hands hung useless at her sides. Splinters of exposed bone poked through her skin. It would take years to heal.

  Slowly, painfully, she crawled across the floor, using her arms to drag herself up to the bed. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and upper lip. Her broken body screamed in silent agony, a scream only she could hear or feel.

  The bedding, the entire chamber, carried the sweaty scent of stale sex. Black Drayke’s odor lingered on her body. Helayne turned her head and vomited onto the floor. Her body trembled wildly, shaking with rage and hatred.

  How had she escaped the prison of the mirror?

  Something had broken the magical spell, but what?

  He wasn’t dead. She could still feel Black Drayke’s power humming through her body. No, he wasn’t dead, but he was too weak to hold the enthrallment over the mirror and keep her prisoner. What could have weakened him so?

  Black Drayke would never have freed her. He derived too much satisfaction tormenting her. She sobbed, her chest heaving with the force of her unshed tears. Shame washed over her. It spread, until she wanted to scream with the humiliation and the unfairness of it all. Her life, her world, had been destroyed by Black Drayke and his evil cunning. She couldn’t bear thinking how his body had taken hers. She’d tried so hard to fight him but he was so much stronger.

  Bitter grief struck its powerful fist to her heart. She’d lost her mate to another woman. With no warning and no time to fight for what was rightfully hers, she’d lost Darak. The image of him kissing that woman, and the fact he’d enjoyed it, would haunt her for the rest of her days.

  He’d turned his back on her and deliberately handed her over to Black Drayke.

  That was something she’d never forgive or forget. Her mate standing there laughing the second night when Black Drayke forced her inside the bedchambers was a picture burned into brain. Darak hadn’t cared what Black Drayke intended to do to her.

  Black Drayke, forcing himself on her, worse than a monster, spilling his seed inside her.

  Even now it grew.

  Helayne retched at the thought of the abomination Black Drayke had planted in her womb. She wanted the babe out of her. She’d rather Black Drayke had killed her than left his seed rooting in her belly.

  She would never forget the shock on his face when he impregnated her. He hadn’t had a clue she was fertile. Afterward, he’d thrown back his head and laughed at what he’d done to her. “Oh, my dear, what an unexpected bonus. You conceived. Whose seed ripened your womb? Mine…or the demon’s? I claim the child. My son. How very stunning,” he whispered. “Well, I simply can’t steal your soul now. I want the entire kingdom of Ru-Noc to know I fucked you. How they will scorn you, their perfect queen, a whore who spread her legs for two males at once.”

  She didn’t know if she carried warlock or demon, but no matter, she did not want this child. Slowly, she slid her arm across her stomach. The babe nestled inside her womb reached for her. Helayne jerked her arm back, clenching her teeth at the agonizing pain that slammed into her. She couldn’t risk carrying that monster’s child. Merciful Samhain. She’d couldn’t give birth to Black Drayke’s son. A son.

  The child moved, silently crying for her, reaching for her again and again. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t bring herself to assure it of her love. She couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

  Helayne curled into a tight ball on the bed and let her heart weep its silent tears. It took her a moment to realize that a faint, gentle flutter touched her face. It touched her as though puzzled. Then the faint quiver seemed to caress her heart. It bathed her with purity and sweetness.

  Helayne gasped, jerking back, but the soft, butterfly-like fluttering continued, offering her comfort, flooding her with warmth.

  The child.

  The babe.

  A strangled laugh filled with wonder escaped her. The babe was comforting her?

  How could something that came from Black Drayke’s evil, be good? Gentle? Caring?

  Yet she knew the child had a pure soul. Her son. This was her son, but who was the father? Black Drayke? Kallibus? Her baby, the son of a demon or a warlock? Whichever, he’d dwell in a cold, hostile world. No one would ever love him, not even her. She knew in her heart that she couldn’t. The child had been conceived in violence, forced on her. No, she’d never love him.

  But he was hers and hers alone. She’d keep him, raise him, and one day, she’d exact her revenge.

  Helayne wept deeply for the losses in her life. Her children. Talon had seen the image of her. He believed her dead. She’d rather allow her children to believe this than have them see her heavy with Black Drayke’s seed, or even the demon’s seed.

  She tried desperately to ignore the tiny life reaching for her, but she couldn’t. Even as she shuddered, she placed her arm protectively across her stomach assuring it she would be all right.

  There were black day’s ahead, blacker years. But if it was the last thing she ever did, she swore she would bear this child and set him on MeLora’s and Darak’s child. She would die before she would ever allow MeLora’s son to take the throne from Stry.

  Helayne pushed herself off the bed, whispering soothing words, reassuring the babe that his future would be filled with greatness, just as Black Drayke planned. “You shall be called Cynner,” she said.

  But now, she had to escape, secure a safe haven for her and her son. Talon believed her dead. Let him continue to believe that.

  Let them all believe her dead.

  Chanting softly, Helayn
e vanished from the royal chambers. But one day, she’d return. She’d return with Cyn, and there’d be hell to pay.

  She’d have her revenge.

  One day…

  To Be Continued

  Author’s Note

  As a means to move the story along and instill the tragedy of the female witches brought near the brink of extinction in Witch’s Brew, I took great liberty in the number of accused witches and the number of deaths that actually occurred during the Salem Witchcraft Trials of 1692. In reality, a single death was too great a number for such superstition and greed.

  By the time the hysteria had spent itself, twenty-four people had died, nineteen were hanged on Gallows Hill in Salem Town, but some died in prison.

  Giles Corey at first pleaded not guilty to charges of witchcraft, but subsequently refused to stand trial. This refusal meant he could not be convicted legally. However, his examiners chose to subject him to interrogation by the placing of stone weights on his body. How very sad that this eighty-year old man survived this brutal torture for two days before dying.

  In 1706 Ann Putnam, Jr. asked the congregation for forgiveness for her involvement with the Salem witch trials.

  GLOSSARY FROM THE WINSLOW WITCHES OF SALEM

  ANZUS GEVO- DIVINE GIFT

  ARK TREES- A TYPE OF OAK TREE

  AZREL- STIMULANT FOR MALE DEMONS

  BAVAR ROOT- A BLACK SHRUB/BUSH

  BAVAR ROOT SOUP- BLACK SOUP MADE FROM THE BAVAR ROOT SHRUB/BUSH

  BAWK- A RARE BIRD, HALF-HAWK, HALF-BAT