The Witch's Kiss

by Tricia Schneider

  Torture at this point seemed unnecessary.

  “We have one question for you, and then we will leave you in peace,” the Gentleman said, kneeling down beside Sage. “Where is the girl, Marianne Grey?”

  Out of every query they might have posed, Sage had not anticipated this one. Why did they want to learn of Marianne’s whereabouts? At this moment, even he didn’t know for certain where she had gone. Her spirit, leastways.

  “I don’t know,” he answered with a shake of his head.

  “Get him up,” the Gentleman ordered. The other two grabbed his arms, yanking him to his feet. He bit back a cry from the pain in his shoulder. For a moment it felt like Muddy Boots was about to rip his arm free. How big was the hole in his arm? He wiggled his fingers, testing them. He still had feeling and mobility, which was a good sign.

  “Grab his hands!” the Gentleman shouted, surging forward to clasp Sage’s wrist. “Get the rope. Tie his hands so his fingers have no movement.”

  “Why the bloody hell would we do that?”

  “Because you fool, you’re ordered to,” the Gentleman said, growling. “This man possesses certain abilities that we must protect ourselves against. Strap him to the carriage wheel.”

  At first Sage struggled, but he grew weaker with every punch to the gut Muddy Boots used to convince him to submit. He was wounded and in no condition to fight back.

  It alarmed him further to realize the Gentleman knew about Sage’s magic. He knew he was a witch.

  They wrapped the rope around his fingers so Sage could cast no spells. The man didn’t know Sage had no intentions to use any spells. He was uncertain if he could cast properly. Until he found a way to free himself from the demon’s bond, he had little choice in the matter of protecting himself. He never practiced black magic, in fact he abhorred it. These days even the simplest spells came out wrong, sometimes with near deadly results. Sage would not risk anyone’s lives. Not even these scoundrels.

  Once they strapped him to the tilted carriage wheel, he reclined across the spokes. The Gentleman stepped forward to stand over him.

  “We’ll try this again, with no hand movements this time. Where is Marianne Grey’s body?”

  Her body? They knew her body and spirit were separated.

  “Who are you?” Sage asked, trying not to cry out in pain. His arm tilted behind his back at such an angle his injury felt as if it were being torn from his body.

  “My name does not matter.”

  A large hat covered the man’s head. The only feature available to view were his eyes. It was difficult to decipher the color in the pale moonlight, but Sage might guess they were blue.

  Sage supposed his identity wasn’t truly important. It was the man’s task that was the issue.

  And he knew who was behind it.

  “You tell Drake that he will never get to Marianne again. And if he tries to obtain another ‘test subject’ we will know of it and will stop him. His experimentations are finished.”

  “Who the hell is Drake?” Muddy Boots asked.

  “Quiet, you fool,” the Gentleman snapped, giving Sage a measured look.

  Sage knew the man’s thoughts just by his eyes.

  How much pain could Sage endure before he revealed the truth?

  Sage might have answered no amount of pain inflicted would match what he’d already suffered. No one knows pain until they are tortured by a demon.

  Something caught Sage’s awareness beyond the cluster of highwaymen. He focused on the darkness of the road where he had just crashed and saw a woman running. Her dress became clear first, a white frock he recognized instantly.

  Marianne!

  Sage nearly spoke her name aloud, but caught himself in time. No need to alert this man to the fact that he could speak with the very Marianne he was searching for.

  Well, her spirit.

  “Sage!” Marianne gasped when she finally drew near enough to be heard. “Are you all right? What have these monsters done to you? What do they want?”

  Sage raised an eyebrow, then glanced at each man in a pointed manner.

  “Right. Right.” Marianne walked around them, scanning each man from head to boot as if she hoped to identify one. “You cannot speak. I understand.”

  The horses whinnied from where the men tied the reins around branches of nearby trees.

  The Gentleman turned suddenly in Marianne’s direction. She jumped at his sudden movement. Sage’s heart leapt to his throat.

  Did he know she was there? Did he see her?

  The Gentleman stared for a moment and during that time Sage did not take a breath. It seemed to go on forever. At last, the man simply shivered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not certain,” the man said. “I feel as though someone watches me.”

  The other two swiveled their heads, searching the moonlit night, looking for any sign of movement along the tree line or at the far end of the road.

  “I don’t see nobody.”

  “Nor do I,” the man said, then turned back to Sage. Sage could tell he smiled by the way the cloth crinkled around his cheekbones. “She’s here, is she not?”

  “Who?” Muddy Boots asked.

  The Silent One glanced nervously between the two men.

  The Gentleman ignored his fellow highwaymen.

  “I know she’s here. I can sense her presence.”

  Sage tried not to reveal how much that statement affected him. How it disturbed him to know this man could sense her proximity. It made Marianne vulnerable. The man could do nothing to harm her, but the fact that he sensed her felt akin to…touching her. That was something Sage would never allow another man to do.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sage muttered, glowering at the man, challenging him.

  “I have something to try if I should come upon her,” the man said. As he spoke he drew a leather pouch from his pocket. Opening the pouch, he emptied the contents into the palm of his hand. It was a white powdery substance. Then he turned in a circle, pausing every so often.

  “What is this?” Marianne asked, taking a step closer for a better look.

  The man lifted the powder to his mouth and blew. A puff of white billowed into a shimmery cloud aimed directly at Marianne’s face. She screamed and fell back clutching her eyes.

  “Marianne!” Sage roared, tugging at the ropes that kept him bound.

  The man laughed. “I knew I sensed her presence!”

  Sage ignored the man’s laughter and continued to work at the ropes. It made little difference. He couldn’t help Marianne. He couldn’t touch her. What could he do other than speak to her?

  “What are you goin’ on about now?” Muddy Boots asked, clearly having difficulty following the conversation between prisoner and jailer.

  Again, the Gentleman did not answer his comrade, merely directed his attention at the emptiness in front of him.

  “Ah!” the Gentleman said, the grin crinkling the cloth over his face. He glanced at Sage, his eyes bright and twinkling in the moonlight. “She’s very pretty.”

  At first, Sage did not comprehend. There was no woman other than Marianne. And since it was not possible that he could actually see her, then he must be speaking of someone else.

  Sage remained silent as the man stepped toward the crumpled form of Marianne. Sage’s hands clenched and his fingers flexed with the urge to do spell work. Perhaps something to knock the man off his feet. But he couldn’t do it with his fingers bound. The man stepped closer, until he stopped and knelt next to her.

  Muddy Boots and the Silent One gasped.

  “Where the bloody hell did she come from?” Muddy Boots asked and then cursed. The Silent One crossed himself, which only angered Muddy Boots. “What did you get us into, Roy? This job better pay well! I’ve got little ones to feed, and I don’t want my soul going to Hell because some sort of enchantress appearin’ on the side o’ the road.”

  Marianne continued to clutch her face, so she didn
’t know the man sat beside her until he touched her hair. She jumped and let out a squeal.

  Then the man touched her cheek. Marianne swatted at him and wriggled away. She swiped at her eyes, blinking against the powder painted across her skin.

  The Gentleman looked directly at Marianne.

  “This can’t be happening,” she whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “Are you not overjoyed, my dear? How long has it been since you’ve last enjoyed the touch of flesh on flesh?” He reached out again, this time to offer his hand to her so she might stand.

  She lifted her arm hesitantly. The man’s hands clasped her fingers. She cried out in pleasure, surprise and relief. The emotions danced across her features.

  “Is this a dream?” she asked, tilting her head to gape at him.

  “No, my sweet,” he said, touching her chin.

  The sight of the man touching her sickened Sage. His muscles bunched. He strained against the ropes. Even the pain in his shoulder was forgotten as he fought to be free.

  He needed to help Marianne. He needed to place himself between Marianne and this highwayman.

  And why was she gazing upon this masked man as if he were the knight in shining armor come to rescue her from the evil fire-breathing dragon.

  That particular image angered him.

  Because it was true, was it not?

  Sage had been searching for a spell to reverse the curse, something…anything that would help Marianne. For months he searched, reading every spell book he could get his hands on, asking every witch, sorcerer, enchantress, druid and shaman he could find. He even had a vampire and a werewolf assist him in the search.

  Yet they found nothing. Not a reference to any sort of spell, not a mention in any book or legend.

  Nothing.

  Until this man literally yanked the carriage out from beneath their feet, reveals a powder and suddenly all is well.

  Marianne…flesh and blood. This Gentleman is the hero.

  And Sage is still the fire-breathing monster.

  The irony in the situation shook him, so much so he didn’t realize until that moment how much it mattered.

  Ever since the day he walked into Merriweather Manor to discover Marianne cursed with no one to see her save for him and her sister.

  He felt there was a reason for it.

  A reason he had the ability to see her and no one, not even Basil whose spell power was so much greater than his own, could do the same. Sage had mattered to someone. Someone needed him, well and truly needed him, and he would do anything to help her.

  But he had failed.

  Fury raged beneath his skin, flexing his muscles until they burned with heat. He stared at the man’s fingers, stroking Marianne’s chin, leaning toward her…was he about to kiss her? Yes, the man was going to kiss her.

  The sight enraged Sage. Marianne was not this man’s woman to kiss. He had no right.

  And she didn’t even blink, simply gazed back at the stranger with adoration. A stranger!

  A stranger who had shot him!

  Twice!

  The heat burned beneath the skin of his shoulder blades, running up his neck and down his back. He shivered from the delicious intensity. His anger fed the fire in his blood, burning with the need to destroy…something…anything…this man who dared to touch his Marianne.

  His Marianne!

  Sage’s hands felt warm, the heat rising against his palms. If only he dared to cast a spell. But he needed his hands free to do so. If only he could burn through the bonds trapping him with the heat glowing in his blood, then he might wrap those hands around this highwayman’s neck. He would delight in watching the man’s eyes grow round with horror. He would revel in the gurgling sound as he choked for breath. He yearned to feel bones snap and witness the spark of life leave the man’s eyes to grow dull with emptiness.

  Suddenly, Sage’s hands were free. The ropes smoking and charred, the ends burning bright with flame, fell to his feet. The wheel holding Sage aloft sizzled and snapped. Sage slid from the embers, his feet landing with a thud onto the road.

  He roared with pleasure at his sudden freedom. A spark of flame jumped from his skin, lighting the rest of the carriage in a blast of fire as if an explosion hit. The carriage lit like a dry patch of meadow grass, the flames flaring up and licking at the night sky.

  The two highwaymen standing to the side screamed. Sage growled and cast a fireball in their direction as they turned and ran. His aim was off and it landed at their feet. The frightened horses whinnied and reared, then galloped down the road, abandoning their masters who scrambled after them. Sage considered following, but turned instead to the man who held Marianne captured against his chest.

  The man used her as a shield while backing slowly away. Marianne’s face became a blur. Sage didn’t even look at her. He could no longer see her. He focused solely on the man. He wanted to rip the mask away to reveal the identity of this man while he burned like a dry stick over a campfire.

  Yes, Sage wanted to burn him and revel in that burning. Fire was both life and death. Sage would use that power to exact justice, revenge, redemption.

  He reached out his hand, pointing at the man’s head. A fireball blew from Sage’s extended fingers. The man squealed and leapt to the side, taking Marianne with him.

  Marianne!

  He mustn’t hurt Marianne. But Sage was confident he could avoid hitting her.

  The man gripped his fingers around her arms, eliciting a cry of pain while keeping her plastered against his chest. Sage’s fury grew hotter and hotter until he enjoyed the feeling. He never quite understood the pleasure fury could bring to a man.

  Until now…

  He lifted his hand again. Another fireball shot from his fingertips. This time the man didn’t have time to duck away. His arm caught fire. Marianne screamed as the man released her to slap at his arm. He managed to put out the fire and reclaim his hold on her, keeping her with him as he backed toward his tethered horse.

  Sage would make certain the horse provided no aid. He moved his hand in the direction of the animal, preparing another fireball that would ensure the man had no escape left to him.

  “No!”

  He hesitated, sucking his breath in a harsh gasp. Marianne’s voice crept into his brain, bringing reason…sanity.

  No, not the horse. He’d never harm an animal. They were innocent creatures.

  But he needed to allow no path for the man to escape. He looked again at the horse as it whinnied and reared, kicking at the surrounding trees.

  Do no harm!

  The horse deserved no harm, but the man was different. The man was evil. He held Marianne. Held her against her will!

  Sage advanced. He lowered his head, staring at the man. A predator hunting prey.

  A light appeared somewhere, illuminating the man with a bright glow so Sage could view every detail perfectly. The man’s eyes were blue as he suspected. His brow was beaded with sweat, a drop of which ran down his temple until it touched the mask and disappeared. The cloth of his mask puffed in and out with rapid succession as the man fought for breath in his fright. His eyes were as round as goose eggs.

  Sage smiled.

  “Sage!” Marianne screamed. The sound of her fear should have angered him, but something in the way she spoke his name made him aware of her fear. Fear directed at him, not the highwayman. It shocked him.

  His gaze strayed to her.

  For the first time since he became free of his bonds, Sage looked at her. Truly looked at her.

  Marianne’s eyes were as round as the highwayman’s, the fright in her face sickened Sage.

  She feared him.

  Why would Marianne fear Sage? He loved her. He would never harm her. She was like family. No, she was more than family…

  He wished to protect her. Care for her. She was his responsibility. The first person he ever felt the need to take under his wing, the first person who ever needed his help.

  She needed h
im and he needed her.

  He would never hurt her.

  So why did she look at him with such fear?

  Sage stopped moving. He straightened, studying Marianne. Trying to understand why she was frightened.

  “Sage,” she said, her voice cracking. Her lips trembled as she spoke his name. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Sage felt a blow to his gut. He had made her cry.

  “Marianne.”

  He spoke her name as an apology, as a plea for forgiveness. He never wanted to frighten her. The mere thought dashed the fire of anger with a splash of icy cold revulsion.

  The flames licking at his hands, his body, his face shriveled and retreated back into his skin. Yes, his body had been consumed with flame. He hadn’t noticed during his wrath. And now the warmth evaporated, leaving him cold and vulnerable. His hands shook. His knees trembled. His gaze fell to the ground as the realization of what occurred slapped his consciousness.

  Sage clasped his shoulder as the pain returned with brute force. He fell to his knees.

  Hurried footsteps pounded the road. Sage glimpsed the man abandon Marianne and run for his horse. He grabbed the animal, leapt into the saddle and galloped away.

  Sage could have taken chase. He could have leapt to his feet and flung a fireball at the man’s retreating back. With Marianne nowhere near him, he had no trepidation of missing his target.

  Instead, Sage looked back at the ground.

  He let the man go.

  And he felt Marianne’s gaze upon him. Sage could not bear to face her after what he’d just done. He had tried to kill the man. Sage had become the monster of his imagination.

  The fire breathing dragon…a beast…a demon.

  What was he?

  The possibilities astounded him. The thoughts circling round his head terrified him, shocked him.

  Was he truly a monster?

  These last few moments confirmed it. He still felt the heat from the blaze at his back as the carriage continued to burn. The light flickered over him, casting eerie shadows on the road. He leaned forward, resting the palms of his hands on the ground, his fingers clenching, burying the dirt beneath his fingernails until spasms of pain shot through his hands.

  He tried to ignore the sound of Marianne stepping closer. He wanted her to stop. To turn away. Run away. Far away from him and the beast living inside him.