by Tish Thawer
She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, and held on as if her life depended on it. Sobbing uncontrollably, her words were incoherent as she tried to explain what had happened.
“Slow down. I can’t understand you.” Judson spoke calmly, as if to a frightened animal. Marie nodded quickly and inhaled several slow, deep breaths.
“We don’t have time for this,” she spoke between her breaths. “He’s coming . . .”
“Who is coming? Where?”
“Dante . . . knows about us . . . not happy,” she panted, still bringing her breathing under control.
Closing her eyes, she borrowed time she didn’t have to collect her words. Marie gripped Judson’s biceps as he held her steady, each arm bracing her shoulders. Her gaze found his, and she could see the resonance of their greatest fear coming to the forefront.
“Dante found out about us. He’s beyond reasoning and planning to attack the coven tonight, after nightfall,” she finally got out.
“We knew this day could come, Marie. It was a risk we took.” Judson embraced her quickly, then pulled her back to see her face. “The coven is strong. They can fight back, defend their homes, their lives.”
His words were strong, but a current of uncertainty ran underneath.
“But do they want to? It could mean a lot of bloodshed, Judson. Dante has more than just his siblings. There are others—our mother’s cousins, their children, and other hunters sympathetic to his argument against magic users, whether good or evil. I couldn’t bear it if any of your family—my friends—got hurt or worse.” Marie buried her face in her hands, her body racking with sobs once more.
“Shh . . . Marie, it will be okay . . . somehow.” Judson tried to soothe her, but fell short.
“What do we do? We have to warn them!”
“Yes, we will warn them. I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet . . . many of the coven have already left. We’ve heard of other covens heading west, seeking better lives—even talk of other supernaturals wanting to live in harmony together. I wanted to be able to approach you about it when there was time to really think if it was something you wanted or not. I mean, your family is all here, and I wouldn’t ask you to leave them behind, but it might be an alternative . . .” Judson’s face filled with uncertainty. He was unsure of her reaction.
“Judson . . .”
“If you don’t want to leave, I’ll stay behind. We’ll find a way to be together. I know we can.” The words fumbled out of his mouth before she was able to finish.
“Judson! I think that’s brilliant. Get the witches all to leave, right away. I’ll go home and pack. There’s no way my family—well, Dante and Isaiah—would let me stay anyway. This might be our only chance to be together. It saddens me, but I feel in my heart it’s the right thing to do. Make sure Rachael leaves and doesn’t try to stay and be some martyr, please.”
Judson answered by picking Marie up and twirling her around, as he favored doing. “I’ll go right now and tell them. Go home and pack. It will be a long and arduous journey with many unknowns. Is it safe for you to go home?”
“I’ll make sure of it. Dante wouldn’t hurt me—at least I don’t think he would. Please hurry. I’ll meet you in one hour.”
Judson pulled her close and took her mouth deeply, passionately, and desperately, as if he might not get another chance—for all they knew, he might not.
Marie pulled out of his embrace, knowing she would never leave his side if she didn’t go now. Too much was at stake this night. She had to do what she could to make it right.
Chapter 5
“You really love him, don’t you?” Rodney asked as he stormed into Marie’s room after she had burst through the house, racing to her space. He watched Marie frantically stuff things into a thick cloth bag with handles.
“I do. And I’m leaving with him, Rodney. What Dante is about to do is beyond what it means to be a witch hunter. I know it here.” She placed her hand over her heart. Marie then stuffed her bag with some blouses and skirts, a couple cotton dresses, a wool coat and hat, and even a pair of trousers with suspenders she had stolen from one of her brothers long ago. Trousers were much more practical for working outside, and she didn’t understand why women weren’t supposed to wear them. She topped it off with some undergarments, including wool pantaloons.
“I agree, but I can’t stand up to Dante. He can be crueler than you have ever seen.” Rodney hung his head in shame and shifted his gaze toward her window.
Marie stopped rushing about the room and stopped in front of her brother. Her eyes held understanding and concern. “I know, Rodney. Come with me,” she whispered, suddenly excited with that thought. “You could! Come with me. You would be welcome.”
A quick glimmer of something akin to hope flashed across Rodney’s eyes, but he quickly shut it down. “I can’t. What about Father? And the farm?”
“The others will still be here. Take what you can. Gather supplies . . . what kind, I have no idea . . . whatever you think. You’re coming with me. You can start over, have any kind of life you want!” Marie’s face lit up with the possibility for not only herself but for her brother, who would never hurt anyone purposefully.
Rodney’s face broke with the slightest tip of a smile.
“Really? I could go?” he asked, as if the thought never occurred to him to leave the family and begin his own life—perhaps it hadn’t. Their family had once been very close. Over the years, however, things had changed.
Marie nodded, then continued rushing about her room, gathering smaller items such as her brush, some family jewelry she had inherited from her mother, and of course, the family journal she was enraptured with.
“Okay. I’m going with you,” Rodney announced more to himself and left her room swiftly, presumably to head toward his own room to pack.
“Hurry, Rodney. Less than one hour,” she said, following him out of the room to make sure he heard. He waved, not even looking back at her.
Finally, she was packed with all she could think to take, including a few small family heirlooms, sewing and medicinal supplies, and some blankets. Running down to the kitchen, she opened the side door, then filled a small wooden cart with sacks of grains, flour, sugar, coffee, dried beans, rice, tea, and anything else she thought they would need. After all, she had no idea what their travels would be like. Marie felt giddy inside, like a young schoolgirl with her first crush. Her life was about to change forever, and she couldn’t wait to start.
A loud crash came from outside, beyond one of the outbuildings. Shouts echoed to her ears, and her heart sank. Something was wrong. The sun was setting, and the fall of night was fast approaching. She didn’t have time for whatever was happening. Marie raced toward the noise and practically smashed into Rodney, a bag strapped around his back. He, too, heard the shouting and dropped his bag next to her supplies. They took off together toward the angry cacophony of voices.
A sight she thought she would never see was laid out before her eyes. Isaiah, LeAnna, some of their cousins—from her mother’s side, who only recently had the hunter awakened within them and barely held any control—and Dante all stood around, their father facing off with Dante in the middle. LeAnna looked torn, uncertain where her loyalties truly lay, but unfortunately, it appeared she leaned toward Dante.
“Oh no,” Marie gasped with trepidation.
“Father,” Rodney breathed in terror.
They both stopped at hearing the strong voice of their father. “Dante, this is wrong, son. You have to know that in your heart, if you still even have one. Your mother never wanted this for you or any of her children. She would turn over in her grave if she knew what you were considering.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed. He stood rigid and still, the calm before a storm. Without warning, without even an argument, Dante let the strength of his hunter surge to the surface as he hauled off and hit their father in the face, knocking him back into a pile of straw, which broke his fall as he landed
on the ground. Stunned silence weighted the air around them all. Dante simply flexed his fist and turned from his father to finish whatever he had been interrupted doing in preparation for his attack. One thing Dante excelled at was planning and strategy. He never rushed into anything. Confidently, he must have felt he had time.
Dante’s eyes darted to Marie, who caught his gaze as she ran toward their father. A glint of knowing sparked suspiciously in his eyes. Marie guessed he knew the distraction of helping their father would derail her from her immediate quest. Tears fell from her eyes, acknowledging the truth of what she didn’t want to admit herself. She had lost Dante and most likely Isaiah as well. She was pretty sure she knew LeAnna would stay, but the separation still broke her heart. Growing up, they had always had differences and strong disagreements, but in the end, they were still siblings, still family, and they felt that connection. But no longer. Now she had to do what was right—what her mother would have wanted them to do.
“Father!” she cried as she and Rodney ran to him. Rodney helped their father up from the ground and led him back toward the main house. Hank cradled the shoulder he’d landed on. Marie placed her hand gently against his cheek, afraid she would hurt him. His left eye was already purple and so puffy, he could barely open it. Just below, his cheekbone was also blue and green, mottled with bumps—he looked as if he had the mumps. The sight tore at Marie’s heart.
“I can’t believe he went this far—to strike you, his own father!” Marie sobbed, leaning her head on his good shoulder.
“Let’s get you in the house, Father,” Rodney said as he took steps painfully slow.
Marie hesitated, just slightly, but enough that Rodney noticed. “You go, Marie. I’ll tend to Father. Maybe I can meet you along the way,” Rodney said, but they both knew the truth behind his words: if he didn’t leave with her, he would never leave.
“Marie, you should go. It would be safer for you. I fear Dante will never stop. I will be fine,” her father said through gritted teeth, his face barely able to function properly. “I will miss you, my daughter, and you, Rodney, my boy, but you both need to go.”
“How did you know? I was coming to tell you,” she asked, baffled by her father’s easy acceptance.
“Your boy Judson is a good fella. He came to me awhile back and asked for my permission to ask for your hand, and between the two of us, we decided it should be kept secret. He also spoke of travelers going west, and the decision the witches had made to leave.”
“I had no idea.”
“Marie, you need to go now,” Rodney urged as they slowly walked back to the house, passing their supplies and bags.
Marie’s eyes lit with a sudden idea. “Father, you will come with us. After what happened, I don’t trust your safety here anymore. The witches can offer something to heal you, I’m sure. Rodney, go pack him a bag quickly. Father, tell Rodney what to pack while I get a few more supplies. I will not take no for an answer.”
Hank eyed his daughter and then his son with his good eye. He nodded tightly. “All right. I believe it would be what your mother would want. Although it tears me up to leave behind all our hard work and your family’s legacy with this land and this house. We planted tobacco and then grapes, building a lucrative business, with our bare hands and sweat and labor. We’ve done a mighty fine job.”
“Father, you can always rebuild, if you want. We’ll find a new place to create a legacy that will hold strong and true to our beliefs for generations to come,” Marie preached with passion. Hank gave her the tiniest smile and patted her arm.
“Let’s go pack me a bag then, son, shall we? Marie, gather some of the planting seeds, my rifle, and gunpowder.” Hank hobbled on his own, but moved slowly as Rodney stayed right at his side, arms out, prepared to steady him if needed.
She nodded and nervously wrung her hands together, knowing her time was growing too short, as darkness had fallen. “Perfect, then we will go.”
“Go where?” Dante’s voice came from the other end of the house. Marie froze.
“I don’t want trouble, Dante. I’m leaving,” she said calmly.
“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to join me.” Dante’s voice was cool, almost too cool.
“I will not join you. It’s not how I want to live.”
“You would dishonor your heritage, the very essence of who you are, your power and all you could be, just to be with the pretend-witch who lives amongst them? To befriend those evil-doers over your own flesh and blood?” Dante stayed still as a statue, stoic in his stance and expression.
“I do not see it the same way, brother. I want to be free to live how I want, and I am not able to do that here.” Marie remained calm, her voice steady and unprovoking.
“I see. Then I must follow what I believe and hope you will come to your senses and come back to us, to the rightful Blackstone family. Do not try to save your witches. You will be in the way.” He turned to go, but snapped his head back her way, his eyes fierce with a raging fire of hatred. “I will not allow anyone to get in my way.”
Marie’s shoulders fell, and she breathed a sigh of relief at his absence. His presence was stronger than it had ever been before. She realized he had been holding his power back until that moment. The knowledge of that was crippling with the understanding of what he had to do to gain that power and further his control. He had to kill witches.
Chapter 6
Moving fast was a high expectation with Hank injured and Rodney pushing the cart loaded down with supplies. They also gained a few extra tagalongs in the form of some of Marie’s cousins who decided they didn’t want to follow Dante and feared to stay. Marie finally reached the place she had intended to meet Judson. But Judson was nowhere to be found.
Screams rent the night air, and an urgency in the form of an electric jolt shot through Marie.
“Stay here and hide. I have to find Judson,” Marie told Rodney and the rest with her.
“We can help. Let us come with you,” the eldest of the teenagers who had joined them pleaded. He was tall and lanky with dark hair and fair skin. Most of her cousins did not have the hunter gene awakened, as they were not directly from her mother Cessily’s line. However, if they committed an evil against the laws of nature, their hunter could awaken in a most unfriendly way—such as those who had bonded quickly with Dante and his quest against the witches.
“Fine, but stay together and watch out for Dante and the others. I don’t know what we’re walking into.” Marie paused and looked at each of them closely, examining them. “There are only a couple of you with your hunter awakened, correct?” Caroline, one of her cousins, and the boy, Michael, who had offered to help, both nodded. “Caroline, you are in charge of Uncle Hank, and Michael, you are in charge of the cart. I think if you have a focus, you may be able to control your hunting urges better. We head straight to the smithy to find Judson. Stay to the outskirts of the town. No matter what, stay clear of Dante. Am I understood?”
They all nodded and followed her the rest of the way into the town the Stronghold coven called home.
Nothing looked familiar. Marie paused just at the edge of the town, surveying all before her. Trees and homes were on fire, people were running and screaming from one end, and destruction and devastation were everywhere they looked. This was not the town she had been in just the other day. This was hell.
“Go that way,” she yelled to Rodney, pointing her arm in the direction of the blacksmith’s forge and hopefully to some sign of Judson. Stumbling over fallen debris and wreckage and breathing through pieces of material covering their faces against the smoke, they finally found the place Judson called home—the blacksmith’s forge.
“Judson? Judson!” Marie called, sliding open the large barn door, then running into what really wasn’t much different than a small barn with vertical planks of siding and small window slats up high. Pausing inside just long enough to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior, she searched frantically for Judson.
&nbs
p; “He’s not here, Marie,” Rodney said, stating the obvious. His hands gripped each of his suspenders in an awkward manner.
“He has to be!” she shouted back, tears beginning to leak out her eyes, leaving tracks through her smoke-stained face. Angrily, she swiped those incessant tears away from her face.
“Marie?” a male voice whispered, coming from behind a hidden wall they hadn’t seen. “Is that you?”
“Judson!” Marie ran to him, and he held his arms open to her.
“I couldn’t get away to get to you. I’m sorry. I’ve been helping others to escape your brother’s wrath and sneaking them into the bunker beneath the smithy,” Judson explained. Strapped at his side was one of the daggers he had been working on.
Marie sighed a huge breath of relief, elated he was safe. “I was so worried,” she whispered in his ear.
“As was I,” he returned the whisper and kissed the soft skin just behind her ear.
A throat cleared behind them.
“What do you want us to do now?” her father Hank asked, breaking up their not-so-private moment. Marie blushed and pushed the hair out of her face that had fallen free of her clip as she stepped away from Judson. However, Judson gripped her wrist, not letting her far from his side. To his surprise, Hank gave him a slight nod of approval.
Marie looked to Judson. “How can we help?”
Judson examined each of those with Marie. “There are more of you than I thought, but we should manage just fine. There are several wagons prepared for us, but we can’t leave now.”
As if on cue, more screams pierced the night, followed by an explosion.
“This way to the bunker. Take what you can in case the worst should happen,” he instructed, pointing beyond the wall just behind him. The others quickly followed his direction, down a narrow dirt tunnel that led below the forge into a cavern-like opening filled with other people.
Caroline and Michael paused at the top, clearly hesitant about going below to a confined space filled with witches. Marie gripped them each by their shoulders and turned them to face her. “You can do this. I believe in you completely. Stick together and focus on something simple, like helping someone. One of the witches should be able to offer a spell to help you, as they have for me when I come to visit.”