by K Loraine
“I made this for them to keep the vampires from being able to compel them. Now they use it on us.”
“Looks like that backfired in a big way.”
She cocks her head as though trying to understand me. Then reaches out and grasps the purple end of one lock of my hair. “Is this really how modern witches style their hair?”
“It is. We like to express ourselves.”
“My, things have changed. This is where we end up if we…express ourselves.”
I don’t know how to respond. I can’t do anything to change my hair—not now. And besides, I’m already imprisoned for witchcraft. It can’t get much worse.
“So, explain how you’re going to get us out of here.”
She takes a long breath and stares out the window. “We can combine our remaining strength. Perhaps it will all be enough to free you from this place.”
“What about you and Martha?”
Martha shakes her head. “There’s no escape for us, girl. You have seen it for yourself. We do not survive this. There is nothing to do for it.”
“We can change history. Fake your deaths. Something. You don’t have to die like this.”
Sarah takes my hand. “We do. But you don’t. Who is to say you will be born if I do not die?”
A lump of fear sits heavy in my belly. We share a soul. She’s right. If she doesn’t die here, I may never be born. My entire life relies on her death.
17
Silas
Cashel stands at my side in the shadows of the jail where the accused witches are being held. Would that we could get inside easily. We’d have them freed and fleeing in moments. Unfortunately, the bars on the doors are solid silver, supplied by my father to prevent just such an occurrence. He knew too well that my sympathies for the witches ran deep. They always have. Ever since my dalliance in Cornwall with a beautiful witch who used me for nothing more than her pleasure and a way into my family home. She almost took us out one day in June. Her powerful spell had stripped our windows of their coverings and taken us all by surprise. It took my mother weeks to heal and my father never forgave me.
“They’re all alive. I can hear their hearts.” Cashel’s voice is tight with hunger. He’s still not strong enough to keep the thirst at bay for more than a night or two. I’ll have to be on guard when we free Natalie.
“They won’t kill them unless they can do it in front of an audience. Father wants them to be afraid. He likes a spectacle.”
“As does mine. I believe if he were human he would run a freak show solely for the attention it would garner.”
“Thank you for your aid, cousin. You are putting yourself at great risk.”
“As I said, I am bored of the monotony here. Our fathers take too much joy in causing turmoil for these witches. I could assassinate all of them while they slept if I only had the order. Instead, we twist the minds of the townsfolk and convince them to do our dirty deeds. I find it a disgrace. We spend our nights hiding under the cloak of the devil.”
Disgust curls through me at the memory of the things I did in this time. Townspeople I took into darkened alleys and compelled to believe their fates were linked to the witches and their spells. My father was the worst of us. Torturing the girls into fits of madness. Convincing them to accuse Sarah and her coven one by one.
“The hanging will begin soon. You know what to do,” I tell Cashel.
His jaw clenches and he gives a tight nod. There’s good in my cousin even if he doesn’t want to admit it. My family might see me as soft, the least like a vampire of all of us, but I like to think we can all exist together. Witches, shifters, fae, and vampire. We can be more than enemies. I’ve been proven right over the last few modern centuries. But 1692 was a dark time. Fear ran rampant, and my family capitalized on that.
Cashel slinks away, his form nearly melting into the dark line of trees. The gallows stand close to the jail, looming with a forbidding presence that makes my blood hum with fear. Natalie will not die this night. She can’t. I won’t let it happen.
“I’m coming for you, Natalie. I promise.” I whisper the words simply for my own benefit, as though saying them into the quiet of the dark night makes them ring more true.
The jailer shuffles from his post, standing and stretching his arms high over his head. He hasn’t seen me yet. He doesn’t have to. I don’t need him to do anything other than his duty. But if he harms a single hair on Natalie’s head, I’ll make him pay.
Hushed conversation floats across the air, a desperate hum of anticipation radiating off the approaching people. The citizens of Salem have arrived, their lanterns burning, candles giving off the scent of melting wax, torches casting them in glows of orange and yellow. They look like a horde of zombies approaching and taking down all they see. Their paranoia is a disease created by my father.
“Kill the witches,” one snarls. “You have given them shelter far too long. They are being fed and given water, kept safe from the elements. They deserve nothing more than the misery they have inflicted upon us and our daughters. Hang them!”
The rest of the crowd begins cheering, repeating chants of “Hang them.”
An executioner steps forward from the crowd, along with the leader of the mob, magistrate John Hathorne.
“These women shall die tonight by sunrise. We will secure the safety of Salem before dawn comes and we shall purify the ground and protect our treasured daughters,” Hathorne says.
I want to kill the bastard here and now, but I also know first-hand how much manipulation his mind has endured at my father’s hand. He is afraid. They all are.
“Bailiff, bring out the witches.”
The jailer nods and pulls a heavy iron key ring from his belt. “What do you want me to do with the young one? She has not faced a trial.”
Magistrate Hathorne sneers. “She displayed her dark magic before my very eyes. I will not allow her to stain our town with anything further. I find her guilty. She will swing with the rest of them.”
The jailer nods again and strides to the grime covered door before unlocking it and pulling the heavy wood aside. My body itches with the need to stop this, to get her in my arms. What must she think of me? I kept the most important fact about myself from her. Hid the truth and took her trust without earning it. She deserves better than this from me. From anyone.
Three women, Natalie, Sarah, and another of them I don’t know, clad in dirty wool shifts walk toward us from the entrance of the jail. They are all marked with dirt and grime, hair bedraggled and greasy, eyes haunted. I can’t help but press my palm to the brand on my sternum. I had been so close to saving Sarah. To saving them all. Until my father found out what I was doing. Hiding Sarah, secreting her away in hopes she could run had been my only choice. But he was too powerful, too dangerous, and he saw the truth of what I was doing when he invaded my thoughts. Sarah died because I was too weak to fight him. Natalie won’t. I look at my Natalie and send up a prayer she’ll be willing to listen to my side of this story. If not, I don’t know how I’ll survive losing her.
18
Natalie
The chains on my wrists and ankles are heavier than I imagined. I should know better. I’ve lived this once before. Fear’s cold hand wraps around my heart, making me fight for control of each breath. I will not give in to them. These men will not win here tonight. I have faith in my power.
Rocks dig into my bare feet, the pain shooting up my legs with each step. Sarah walks tall, her head held high even though her limbs shake with obvious terror. We’re pushed forward, following a path in the dark, lit only by the moon and the glow of the onlookers’ torches. “Sarah, what do we do?” I whisper.
“Quiet, witch. Or we will be forced to gag your wicked mouth.” The guard at my back shoves me hard with some type of stick, the pressure radiating into my aching muscles.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.
“We have a wild one on our hands,” he murmurs. “Too bad you are for the noose. I might have be
en able to show you the error of your ways and helped you atone for your sins.”
I turn my head and spit on him. The howl of outrage that comes from him is cut off by a scream in the crowd. A woman stands naked, her breasts full and pale in the moonlight. “He has come. He has come for me.”
“Who torments you, Mary?” the magistrate asks.
She runs her hands over her body, down between her legs, nipples pebbling in the cold air. “He was sent to me. He means to claim me.”
“Again, I’ll ask you. Who?” The magistrate’s voice is hard and demanding.
She doesn’t speak. Instead, she holds out one shaking hand and points straight at him. Then she convulses and crumples to the ground, her entire body shuddering as she falls deep into a seizure. Foam spills from her mouth, her eyes roll back so far all we can see are the whites. The crowd screams, and everyone steps back rather than attempting to help her. In mere moments, everything turns to chaos.
The crowd erupts into fearful wails and frantic movements as she continues seizing and their leader stands accused. The lights around us extinguish one by one, and in the darkness illuminated only by moonlight, I feel cold hands grip my wrists and the bite of the steel cuffs vanishes as they fall to the ground.
“Come,” the man says, his voice the warm tone I’ve been desperate for.
“Silas?”
“Hush, now. Come with me. Cashel will take care of the rest.”
“But Sarah. Martha.”
“He will bring them. I swear it.”
I nod and let him scoop me into his arms. He runs so fast I can’t make out much more than the shadows of trees around us. When we stop, we’re at the water’s edge, the blueish glow of the night sky casting him in dark shadows and eerie paleness. He’s still devastating. But knowing he’s a Blackthorne, that he lied after he knew my fears, makes me want to slap him.
“You lied.”
He nods. “I didn’t know how to tell you, but also, I haven’t lived as a Blackthorne since this very night. I abandoned my family, shunned my legacy, and abdicated my throne the night Sarah Good was hanged. I’ve been Silas Black ever since.”
“Why would you do that? How does it benefit you?”
“It doesn’t. But it helps to clear my conscience. The witches were never a danger until we started picking them off. My father wanted to get them under his control. He wanted to build an army of power, and that came from the magic these covens could wield. They weren’t so willing. So we took them hostage, compelled them to perform spells for us until their minds were broken. Then we killed them and left the bodies at the doors of their leaders. It was a vicious cycle, and I have far too much blood on my hands from those times.”
“You…you broke their minds?”
“It’s not something I’m proud of. My father reveled in it, loved the part just before, when he could see them close to the end of their sanity. He’d show them their greatest desires, offer them freedom, give them everything they wanted only to shatter the illusion he created and watch them spiral.”
“He sounds like a real prince,” I say, my sarcasm biting.
“There’s a reason I have no guilt over killing him. None whatsoever.”
“You killed him?” I can’t believe he’d kill his own father, but then again, I barely know him. Maybe he does things like this all the time.
“I killed him before he could kill me. Before he could come for you. Once he realized who you were, there’d be nothing to get in his way.”
I frown. No one knows me here with the exception of Sarah and Silas. “What do you mean?”
“He knew you were mine. You smell of me, of my blood. Our hearts beat in tandem now that we’ve bonded.”
“Wait. Bonded?” I shiver in the chill of the night air and wrap my arms around my middle in effort to keep warm. Silas steps closer, arms outstretched as though he plans to hold me. “No. Don’t touch me,” I say, backing up too quickly. The small peninsula of rock we were standing on suddenly doesn’t exist behind me any longer, and I fall. I have a moment to let out a shocked yelp, but he’s got my hand in his and is pulling me to my feet before I hit the water.
“Careful, witch.”
The feel of his pulse against my palm is soothing. I don’t know why, until it all comes together. Our time in the house, the hours we spent making love, the frenzied moment we shared blood. We are bound together now, not by the curse, but by fate. “You really bound us?”
“I did. Your blood is useless to others, tainted by our bond. No one will take what is mine.”
“You should have asked.”
He smirks. “I did.”
“No, you did not.”
“Yes, I did. I asked you to be mine as I am yours. I offered my blood. You accepted.”
“Without knowing that’s what I’d be signing up for. A forever bond with a Blackthorne vampire.”
“You could look at it as a bonus. You thought you were getting a vampire. Instead you got a rebel prince.”
I rolls my eyes skyward and mutter, “Goddess, help me.”
“You don’t have to stay with me. It’ll be painful to let you go, but I can do it if that’s what you need. You’ll still be ruined for other vampires, which makes the world safer for you, but you won’t have to see me again.” There’s pain and loss and trepidation all rolled into those words and honestly, the thought of never seeing him again makes something ache in my chest. Damn it all to hell. I don’t understand why fate would do this to me.
“When we get out of this, if we get back to our time, we have to figure out how to undo our bond. I can’t live my life bound to another creature. It’s not…” I trail off, not knowing exactly how to explain to him the way my coven has lived. Purity in the bloodline seems so strange now that I’ve been through this. What does it achieve? I’m a pureblooded witch, so is Truly, and both of us have our issues. She can barely scrape up enough magic to cast a simple healing spell, while my abilities are unpredictable and stronger than they should be. Is that what we’re trying to accomplish with our purity? I doubt it.
“It’s not what?”
“What I’m supposed to do.”
He still hasn’t released me, though. His arms are around me, his eyes locked on mine, intense and colored with longing. “Who says what you’re supposed to do? You look like a strong, intelligent woman to me. Shouldn’t you be making those decisions?”
“Yes. But making those very choices got me here. Nearly hanged for witchcraft and the mate of a Blackthorne.”
“Lucky you.”
“What?” The word comes out on a choked laugh.
“You survived and found something most creatures never get.”
“What’s that?”
“Someone who’ll care for you forever.”
Silas tenses with me in his arms, his breath stopping for far too long as he surveys the line of trees covering us from view of the village. “We’ll have to pick this up later. They’re coming.”
19
Silas
Natalie goes still, her eyes widening, heart racing at a hummingbird’s pace. I’ve scared her. Dammit. “Who’s coming?” she asks, fingers digging into my arm.
“Cashel and the others. I can hear them.” I can fucking smell them too. The scent of stale sweat and fear and illness. One of these women is sick. Sick enough that she’ll die within the year whether by hangman’s noose or not.
“Are they okay? Can we get them out?”
Cashel appears from the darkness like a cat slinking toward prey. His eyes glow in the reflection of the moon and make him appear feral. The two witches follow in his wake, both pale with dark circles ringing their eyes, but grateful expressions on their faces. They sit together on a fallen log, breathing heavily, exhaustion radiating from them. Cashel doesn’t give them a second glance. He’s focused on the woman in my arms.
My cousin is dangerous, deadly, and I don’t like the way he’s staring at my Natalie. “You’ve found yourself quite the beau
ty, Silas. Even if she is a witch.”
“Maybe if you got out from under your father’s thumb, you’d be able to find your own.” I can’t help but poke at him. He’s had it easy all these years. The middle son, the one with no responsibility, no kingdom weighing him down. He’s cavalier about pretty much everything, aside from his father’s approval. That he takes seriously.
“Callum is the one under Father’s thumb. Did he tell you he’s expected to make a match with Ingrid from Norway? The ice princess.”
Natalie scoffs. “I hate to interrupt the precious family meeting here, but we were almost just killed by a band of rabid, vampire-controlled humans. They’re not going to let us get away so easily.”
I thread our fingers together, not willing to release her. “They won’t touch you if they value their arms.”
Cashel laughs and leans against a tree trunk. “I’ve never seen you like this, cousin. I’d even venture to call you soft. She must have a magical cunt in addition to magic in her blood.”
I growl before I can stop myself. “Don’t speak of her that way again. She is mine. One day you’ll understand. You’ll do things you never expected to do when you find your mate.”
“You have changed. I have yet to see if the years have been kind to you or have ruined you.”
Natalie doesn’t let go of my hand. She tightens her grip and leans in a little closer. Energy crackles around her in fits and starts. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“She’s channeling her anger. If I were you, Blackthorne, I would step away.” Sarah offers her warning with a smirk. “She will call storms before this night is over.”
“Storms?” Cashel asks. “You have that kind of power?”
“She is my blood. She is destined for more than you know.” Sarah stands and slowly strides over the rough surface of the rocky shore. “Give me your hands, Natalie. I have a gift for you.”