“Go barefoot.” Matilda’s dark eyes gleamed with anger. “This is outrageous what’s he’s planning, so why don’t you go barefoot?”
A terrible smile twisted my lips. “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”
She snorted. “He wouldn’t have the guts to do it himself. Murgatroyd will kill you, but first the Regent will make one of his speeches.” Her mouth pursed in disgust. “Earth witch, know that if I could get you out of here, I would. You have no reason to trust me or even like me after the things I’ve done and the way I’ve treated you, but I’m telling the truth.” Her eyes filled with tears, and stricken, I moved close to her so I could lay a hand on her arm.
“I believe you. And you have my eternal gratitude for watching over my mother.”
A horrible sob burst from her, and she covered her face with her hands. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how many times I’ve considered poisoning her tea. Putting her out of her misery. No woman, witch or not, should suffer the indignities that man puts her through. I’ve wanted to kill her, earth witch!” She dropped her hands to glare at me defiantly. “Doesn’t that make you hate me?”
Pity swamped me, nearly driving me to my knees. This poor woman. Trapped in this mansion all her life serving a man she’d once loved while he behaved like a vindictive lunatic. Why wouldn’t she think there wasn’t any other way out other than death? She’d been brainwashed and browbeaten her whole life.
“I can’t hate you for that, because if you do it, you’d be doing it to help her, not hurt her. But, please, Matilda, let her make that choice. Not you. Promise me that much?”
Wordlessly we stared at each other until she gave an abrupt nod and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Gathering all my courage, I made my slow, painful way out into the hall and down the staircase to the first floor where the Regent waited. My heart leaped when I passed Logan’s open door. I stole a look inside, hoping against hope to see him, but he wasn’t there. Cold dread smothered me. Was he already dead? Had the Regent given him a separate speech and let Murgatroyd kill him? Matilda had told me the Regent wanted us kept apart so we wouldn’t use our magic together.
Tears smarted my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. No. Logan was alive still. In my heart I knew it. I would have felt him die. I loved him too much not to be cognizant of his beating heart.
My palm slipped on the stair rail, and I nearly plunged headlong down the stairs. It was only after I’d steadied myself that I wished I had fallen and killed myself taking the satisfaction away from Murgatroyd and the Regent.
“Oh, Dem, hold your head high,” I whispered, ignoring the twist of pain in my ribs as I descended step by agonizing step. “Don’t you let anyone steal your pride. Especially not vermin like them.”
The bottom of the staircase loomed. The entryway with its polished floors and gleaming side tables topped with fragrant fall blossoms looked impossibly benign. Odd to think I needed to cross that friendly expanse only to meet the sharp end of a bayonet in the dining room.
I thought of the two Othala-marked witches who’d long ago thought they were coming home to a celebration after casting the spell of Reutterance. They’d been taken by surprise. Died with smiles on their lips. At least I knew what was in store for me.
I took the last step onto the tapestry rug at the bottom of the staircase. I resisted the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my dress. Instead, I stood as tall as the pain in my ribs allowed, and without a backward glance, strode into the dining room.
Chapter 30
“Ah, Demetria, how delightful to see you.” The Regent stood in the center of the dining room. The table and chairs had been removed, so now the room was bare save for ornamentation on the walls and side tables. The priceless Oriental rug from the Before Times had been rolled up and propped in a corner, no doubt to avoid bloodstains. My bloodstains.
Colonel Murgatroyd stood behind the Regent to his right. His sneering face produced such a volatile combustion of rage inside me, my skin heated. I had time to fling at least one fireball before the guards stationed in the corners skewered me with their drawn bayonets, but before I could focus, someone’s arm encircled my throat, yanking me back against the hard expanse of a chest. The cold press of steel against my flesh filled me with abject terror, but I refused to let it show.
“Just in case you get any ideas. Magical ideas,” the Regent drawled. In the time since I’d seen him, he’d aged. Lines I didn’t remember dragged down the corners of his mouth and eyes. He’d lost weight, and his clothes hung on him like a scarecrow’s. The shadow of old grief enveloped him like a shroud, but his eyes burned dark with malice.
“Frankly,” he said. “I rather hoped you and that idiot sea witch would dare to come back. Regina convinced me to be lenient with you, and I tried to be, in her memory, but secretly I wanted you to come back. I knew that bumbling fool, Clark, would do his utmost to get you back here, and he did not disappoint me.”
I stiffened, fear icing my veins. Had he done something to John? Did he know John Clark was my father?
“As soon as he returned from sea on the witch-crewed ship, I knew you’d not be far behind.” The Regent’s cruel smile filled the room with a noxious malevolence that choked me more than the sword at my throat.
I said nothing. Anything I might say would only incriminate me, and worse, John.
“You and the sea witch had it made. A sailboat fit for a king enchanted with magic. You could have laughed and loved together for all your lives, but you had to come back. Is your mother that important to you?” The Regent regarded me as if I were a science project gone wrong. “You must have known I would never let her go. Now that you’re back, I’ll be forced to kill her.” A wicked smile distorted his mouth. “I admit I was always going to do that, but now I’ll have to do it sooner rather than later. Pity. She’s very good in bed.”
An inarticulate sound of rage burst from me, and I lunged at him. Steel kissed my throat and the guard holding me hissed. “Stop struggling, witch!”
I froze. Not because I was afraid of the sword at my neck, but because I recognized the voice. Dustin. The guard John swore was on our side.
Feverishly, I calculated the odds that he still supported the witches, and he’d maneuvered his way into this room and his current position. He’d warned Logan and me the guards were on the way down the cellar stairs. We wouldn’t have escaped if not for him. Who knew what the Regent had discovered. What if he’d captured John and knew Dustin had helped us. Could he have offered Dustin a pardon if he executed me?
I came to no solid conclusions.
“Shall we proceed to the front porch?” The Regent gestured for the doorway. He must have seen me frown in confusion because he added, “Oh? You thought you would die in this room?” He glanced around. “True, I had thought at first to do it here as my grandfather did to his sea-cursed witches, but then I remembered the first Trumbull victory took place on the front porch where my ancestor slew the earth witch. I admit I’m interested to know if your bloodstains will be as hard to remove as hers allegedly were.”
Tatiana. A bolt of fear-infused rage sped down my spine. She’d bent over backward to accommodate the non-magicals and had ended up murdered for her benevolence.
“Are you not forgetting something in your lunatic glee at the idea of killing me?” I asked. Dustin’s heart pounded against my back. Agitation? Excitement? I couldn’t tell.
The Regent’s eyes narrowed. “Are you daring to call me insane?”
I smiled grimly. “I have nothing to lose. You’ve already told me my life is forfeit and my mother’s. So you’ve given me the freedom to tell you to your face that I think you are a madman, crazed with grief, who has let his dark side prevail. It wasn’t much of a struggle, I suspect. Regina was always your conscience, wasn’t she?”
The Regent’s face suffused with fury. “Don’t you dare say her name, you worthless whore. You don’t have that right.”
“You’re still forget
ting something. I ought to let it remain unsaid.” The ravagers. How could he be more concerned with so-called vengeance than with the direct threat they posed to Galveteen?
“You’re forgetting something, too,” he snarled, his face a mask of hate. “Or should I say someone. Or don’t you care about the sea witch? Perhaps you never returned his obvious infatuation.” A cruel smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “Typical of women. Fickle.”
A ragged laugh escaped my lips. Forgotten Logan? Impossible as forgetting myself. I hadn’t allowed myself to think of him because what I didn’t know about his fate couldn’t devastate me.
“What makes you think anything I could do or say would save his life? He’s just as dead as I am, isn’t he?” I spoke with more bravado than I felt. Dread squeezed my stomach until I wanted to puke.
“Perhaps more.” The Regent’s gaze cut to the rolled-up rug in the corner. Despite myself, I looked too, and for the first time I saw the bloodstains seeping through the flowered pattern. Why had I not noticed the distinct bulge in the middle of the rug? Or the soft gleam of golden-brown hair sticking up from the top?
I tried not to react, but when he laughed at me, I knew I’d failed.
“In my lunatic glee,” the Regent put an amused emphasis on the words, “I forgot to have the rug taken away. Now there’s too much blood to ever remove. So the rug has become a useful method of body disposal.”
Savage grief punched me in the gut. All the fight left me, and reason. I would have fallen to the floor in a stricken heap if not for Dustin’s arm holding me up. As it was, my sudden slack weight caused him to stumble, but he recovered quickly.
I could bring down the mansion with one thought. The walls and floors would leap to please me. We could all be killed under the crushing weight of the building if I merely asked for it to happen. Perhaps Dustin would have time to slit my throat before he died, but perhaps not. Either way, we’d all perish. And then I wouldn’t have to think about Logan’s dead, bloody body wrapped in that damn rug.
I thought of Mother and Matilda upstairs. They’d die too. By my hand.
“Witches protect,” I heard Logan’s voice in my head as plainly as if he stood beside me. I could see his lazy smile too, and his eyes. His sea-blue eyes.
“Nothing to say?” The Regent stared at me, triumph lighting his grin. “Then let’s not delay this. To the porch!”
Dustin pulled me aside to allow the Regent to leave the room first. His hands were sweaty on my skin.
“Traitor,” I whispered, but only after the Regent was out of earshot. He stiffened against me, and for a moment the sword wavered against my throat, but then Colonel Murgatroyd strode past, chuckling, followed by the other guards. They averted their eyes as if ashamed to look at me.
Dustin pushed me forward. I tried to look at the rug one last time, to say goodbye, but I couldn’t turn my head because of the sword.
I shuffled out the door, wishing with all my heart that Logan had died swiftly and without much pain. A hollow chasm built inside me, consuming me, draining my fear and all my emotions. Without Logan, what did life matter anyway?
Chapter 31
A crisp autumn breeze struck my cheeks as I stepped onto the front porch of Moody Mansion. The Regent stood with his back to the stairs, watching me, a slight smile tugging at his lips. The wind blew through his thinning hair, exposing his bald spot.
John Clark sagged, bruised and bloodied, between two guards in the courtyard. He lifted his head briefly to look at me, then fell back into a semi-conscious stupor. Both eyes had swollen nearly shut, and his nose was crooked, clearly broken. One of the guards who held him up was the guard who had driven the carriage to the gates of Regents Row from the harbor. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I thought your father might like to witness your execution,” the Regent remarked, gazing at me intensely, probably to watch my reaction.
The hollow place inside me had grown so huge I merely stared back, unblinking.
“Didn’t you know? I managed to pry the information from your mother. It wasn’t a hard leap to take. I saw the way he looked at her. I see everything, earth witch. Everything.” Rage colored his voice, making it shake. His mouth twisted into a horrible leer.
“You don’t see one thing,” I said, tilting my chin. Logan was dead, but Galveteen still existed, and I wanted to keep it that way. Witches had dedicated their lives and their magic to keeping this island safe, so I would do no less.
“And what is that?” The Regent tilted his head to the side, his eyes full of derision.
“There are ravagers on Galveteen. From the Mary-Angela. Dozens. Maybe hundreds,” I said. “And you’re fool enough to think they are being contained on the beaches by witches who must band together to pool enough power to kill them.”
“Every soldier on this island save the few you see here are battling them as well. Doing away with more than the witches from all reports,” the Regent sneered.
“You’ve read the journals. You know what the witches in Thirteen’s time did. When they realized her spell would need to be repeated every fifty years, they gave up half their magic to create the power pool used to bestow the mark of Othala.” With every word I spoke, my voice grew stronger. I had everyone’s attention. The Regent knew this story, but it was clear from the confused, horrified expressions of the guards that they did not.
“They gave up half of their magic for the island,” I said. “For every person who lives here – past, present, and future. And what did they get for it? Ridicule. Humiliation. The systematic stripping of their status. They stepped up to save us all, and your family and other non-magicals took advantage of their sacrifice and murdered the co-regents. Your family has ensured that the rightful regents of this island, the witches marked by Othala, never rule.”
The sword against my throat barely touched my flesh. Dustin’s chest heaved as he listened to me.
I met David Trumbull’s foul gaze and wouldn’t look away. Transfixed, he stared back at me as if incapable of stopping my voice.
I said, “Now, when ravagers are actually on this island and people are dying to protect it, you’re murdering the two witches on Othala who can save you. Because you’re a petty, vindictive charlatan of a regent. You’re a sham. An ogre. And I will never understand what Regina ever saw in you. Someone to save probably. She was like that. Wanting to save people. If she could see you now, she’d be so damn disappointed. Congratulations on defiling her memory and her legacy.”
“You filthy, lying whore!” The Regent leaped at me, and Dustin shoved me aside to stand between us. The Regent’s eyes bulged incredulously.
“You damned turncoat!” he screamed, hauling himself up short when Dustin brandished his sword and backed him toward the steps.
“I’m loyal to the Lady Regent and her legacy!” Dustin shouted, sparing a look at the rest of guards. “My brothers in arms, who stands with me?”
The two guards holding John Clark stepped forward, their heads held high. Three of the four guards standing at attention in the courtyard raised their fists. The one who didn’t unsheathed his sword before the others could disarm him.
“Traitors!” Colonel Murgatroyd screamed from the front porch, where he stood by the stairs. “You damned vipers! I’ll see you all hanged for this!”
The one guard who remained loyal to the Regent yelled, “I’m going for reinforcements! The ravagers must be nearly decimated by now!” Without waiting for an answer, he raced for the open gate leading onto the cobblestone street.
Murgatroyd had his sword out, and he darted his gaze between Dustin and me and the guards with John in the courtyard. The Regent, all but foaming at the mouth, so poisonous was his rage, stood his ground on the porch.
I stayed still on the porch floor, trying to stem a wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm me. All I needed was to keep from passing out so I could take my chance when it arrived. Witches protect, Logan whispered in my head. Yes, they do. And Galveteen need
ed protection from people like David Trumbull and Colonel Murgatroyd.
“Well, come on if you’re coming!” Murgatroyd snarled at Dustin. “You’ll never take the regency while I’m alive to defend the Regent.”
Dustin’s mouth thinned to a somber, focused line. His eyes narrowed. Every muscle in his body tensed, but before he could leap into action, a terrible, drilling scream rent the air.
Everyone turned toward the gates. The guard who’d run for reinforcements backed into view, clutching his stomach. Long, ropy, pink intestines dripped from his gut and between his fingers. He crumpled to the ground, and a huge, predatory ravager sprang on his body. Horrible sucking and crunching sounds assaulted our eardrums as the monster slurped blood, flesh, and bone into his gaping maw and chewed.
“Ravager!” Despite my dizziness, I jumped to my feet, intending to run across the courtyard within range so I could fireball the monster, but Dustin, perhaps misinterpreting my response, grabbed me around the waist to prevent me, and dropped his sword. Murgatroyd needed no further invitation. He waded in, sword swinging, and Dustin cried out as the blade bit into his upper arm.
I focused on the colonel’s sword, rage burning a hole in my heart. The sword turned bright, fiery red, scorching Murgatroyd’s flesh. He screamed and threw the molten weapon away from him so that it clattered, steaming, to the porch floor.
“Witch!” Murgatroyd gurgled, cheeks purple with fury. He lurched at me, grabbing me by the throat, choking me with both hands. Blisters on his palm and fingers popped against my flesh, oozing bloody pus. If he felt pain, he didn’t show it.
The world dimmed, then flared into terrible clarity before fading again. Dustin kicked Murgatroyd’s feet from under him, and he crashed to the porch floor, dragging me with him, where I kicked feebly, struggling to free myself. Murgatroyd stubbornly hung onto my throat, squeezing harder and harder.
Screams rang out from the courtyard.
“Ravagers!” shouted one of the guards. “Ravagers in the courtyard!”
Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 29