A Witch Alone (The Winter Witch Trilogy #3)

by Ruth Warburton

  So I gave up and began to scour the room, looking for a weapon – any weapon. I yanked open drawers and climbed up on to the table to look along the top of the shelves. There was nothing except empty syringes and spare glass flagons. For a minute I thought about smashing a glass jar and arming myself with a shard, but I didn’t trust myself to use it properly. More likely I’d do myself more damage than the person I attacked. And anyway Tatiana would know as soon as she came back, from the smashed glass on the floor. It would have to be a syringe.

  I picked one up and looked at it. It looked pathetic – the needle just a few centimetres long. It would make a nasty prick, but it wasn’t going to slay any witches in their tracks.

  Desperation rose inside me in a suffocating tide, but I fought it back down. Losing it now wouldn’t help anyone. I put my head in my hands, willing myself to think of something. There must be a way out, there must be. But there wasn’t. Or none that I could find.

  Footsteps in the tunnel outside, coming closer, closer …

  There was nothing for it but to fight. I backed up until my spine was pressed to the cold concrete wall and I screwed up every pathetic ounce of magic I had left into a ball. I only had one shot. I couldn’t screw this up.

  The door began to open.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I raised my free arm, ready to strike. I was shaking with fear, shaking so hard that the syringe in my other fist clattered against the concrete. I remembered Abe’s lessons, remembered him forcing me to access that spring of fear and rage and love that seemed to be the key to my magic.

  ‘Please …’ I whispered. I don’t know who I was begging: myself, the Russians – or something beyond all of us. ‘Please …’

  Then the door opened and three bodies catapulted into the room. They fell to the floor, the door crashing shut behind them with a noise that echoed along the tunnels like thunder.

  For a moment I was frozen, not sure whether to waste my magic tearing them to shreds or if the real threat lay behind them, behind the door. But before I’d decided, the door lock came slapping down again – a leaden weight – and with a jolt of horror I recognized the long, black hair of the body nearest me.

  ‘Emmaline!’ I fell to my knees beside her and gently turned her face up. What I saw made me cry out. She was conscious, but only just. Her face was a bloodied mess, her right eye so swollen that I couldn’t see if it was open or closed. Both her lips were split and I could see that one tooth was missing, knocked out by a particularly vicious blow.

  Beside her lay Abe, curled on his side. His face was more or less unharmed apart from a few bruises, but his back and shoulders had been flayed to ribbons. His shirt was scorched and black, soaked with blood and crisscrossed with charred slashes.

  The third body was Seth – but he was moving already, trying to haul himself upright.

  ‘Seth!’ I knelt beside him to try to help him, but he pushed my hand away.

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’ His voice was hoarse. There was a cut across his cheekbone where it looked as if he’d been struck with something and his lip was bleeding. ‘I’m OK, see to them.’

  I crawled back on my hands and knees to Emmaline, tears running down my face now. Had I got enough magic left to heal such dreadful wounds? I didn’t know. I had to try.

  And then a horrible thought struck me. What if it wasn’t Em? What if this was another trick, another mind-game?

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Seth said thickly, around his bloodied lip. He’d pushed himself into a sitting position and now he leaned back against the concrete wall, his breath coming fast and painfully. ‘Can’t you do something for them?’

  ‘Seth, I – I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s them.’ I looked from him to the bodies on the floor, fighting back the terror and the tears. Was it Em and Abe lying there, bleeding to death on the floor? Or strangers? Was it even Seth?

  ‘Seth, this is going to sound crazy,’ I said desperately, ‘but I need to ask you something. What …’ I stopped. What did they know? If this wasn’t Seth, then what could they have beaten out of him before coming here? Marcus wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. If it was him, he must know I’d be suspicious. I racked my brains for the right question – something the true Seth would know, but so odd and inconsequential, no one else would ever think of it. ‘Seth, when we first met – do you remember what the lesson was?’

  ‘What?’ He looked at me like I was out of my mind. ‘Anna, look at them! They’re bleeding to death. I don’t care what the lesson was, it could have been snorkelling.’

  ‘This is important!’ I cried. ‘Please, just trust me. What was the lesson? Do you even remember?’

  ‘Maths. We were doing differentiation.’ His face was uncomprehending – angry. ‘I said I should have taken Applied and Statistics. Of course I remember. It’s burned into my goddam memory. What the hell is this about?’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. Tears began to run down my face. ‘I believe you. I’m sorry – but I had to check. Marcus – he’s really good at impersonating people. He made me believe—’ I choked. It was too hard – even to Seth I couldn’t admit what I’d thought, what I’d hoped. It sounded so stupid now; the pathetic hope that my mother might still have been alive. ‘It doesn’t matter. But listen, do you think this is definitely Em and Abe?’

  ‘I’m …’ He started and then stopped, his face uncertain. ‘I – I don’t know. I can’t be sure. I could hear them being beaten up in the next cave and we talked through the wall, but when they were brought in they were too … We didn’t speak.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I knelt beside them, not sure who was worse. On the whole I thought Abe was. Emmaline’s face was pretty grim, but the marks looked like mainly swelling and pain. Abe’s injuries looked like they might possibly be life-threatening. Should I take a chance and risk wasting my magic on healing when it might all be an illusion?

  Then Emmaline stirred.

  ‘Anna …’ she slurred through thick, bloodied lips. Her good eye opened and she gazed at me for a long time before letting it slip closed again. I made up my mind. I’d heal Abe – just a bit – and try to get him to speak.

  I put my hand over his body, feeling the emptiness inside me, the hollow feeling of magic run almost completely dry. But I forced myself and a little power trickled through my fingers into Abe’s torn back. He groaned as it entered him and my heart twisted and hurt inside me. It felt like him. I could feel the connection between us, strong as ever – at least I thought I could. I no longer trusted anything any more.

  ‘Abe,’ I whispered. ‘Abe, can you hear me?’

  He moved his head very, very slightly, barely a nod.

  ‘Abe,’ I spoke very low, my lips close to his ear. ‘I’m sorry but I have to ask you something, find out if it’s you. Marcus has been impersonating people – I have to check.’ He said nothing, but his face was resigned, accepting. I didn’t know if he could speak. This would have to be a question with a very short answer.

  ‘What’s …’ I paused. What could I ask? What would they both know, that no one else in the world would? Then an idea came. ‘What’s Sienna carrying at the moment?’

  There was a moment. A moment when his eyes opened, flickered recognition.

  Then he looked at Emmaline.

  Something passed between them – and I couldn’t tell what it was. There was a message there, something I didn’t understand.

  And then he closed his eyes.

  ‘Abe,’ I said desperately, ‘Abe, please, just one word. What is it? You know, I can see you know.’

  But he just shook his head, almost imperceptibly, wincing at the movement.

  ‘Emmaline!’ I said, turning to her. ‘I’m begging you. Please tell me. I can heal you if you tell me. Can’t you see? I can’t –’ I found I was on the verge of tears, my voice shaking ‘– I can’t risk it. Please, just say it! What’s she carrying?’

  Emmaline’s lips moved; her voice was thick, slurred.

/>   ‘A handbag.’ Blood welled from the sockets of her teeth as she spoke. I wanted to weep. They knew. Why were they doing this?

  And then suddenly I realized. I realized what that look had been about. It was Emmaline and Abe. But they knew what their role was: hostages. Hostages to force me into doing what the Russian witches wanted.

  And they knew that if I wasn’t sure if it was really them lying bleeding on the floor, I’d hold out for longer. Maybe until the end.

  ‘No,’ I said, my voice suddenly fierce. ‘I know what you’re doing. Stop it.’

  Neither of them said anything, they just lay there. Angry tears spilled down my cheeks.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Seth said, looking from the broken bodies on the floor to me. ‘Is it them? Why won’t they answer?’

  ‘Because of their bloody stupid self-sacrifice!’ I shouted. ‘Because they don’t want to be used against me. They think if I’m not sure, I’ll let them die more easily. But I won’t! Do you hear me?’ I turned to Emmaline, to Abe, the tears running down my face now. ‘I know it’s you. I know it!’

  They stayed silent. But then I saw Em’s fingers move, almost imperceptibly. As I watched, she stretched out her hand towards Abe’s, across the concrete floor, and I saw their fingers, slick with blood, gently interlock.

  My heart felt like it was breaking.

  ‘No!’ I wept. ‘I won’t abandon you. I know it’s you. I don’t care – I’m going to heal you anyway.’

  I put out my hands to them both, letting the tearing, suffocating love boil up and over, spilling out through my fingers into their souls.

  ‘No!’ Abe groaned as he felt his back begin to heal. ‘No! Stop it, you stupid girl! Don’t waste your power!’

  ‘Keep it for fighting!’ Em said painfully. She scrambled to her feet and stood in front of me, her face streaked with blood and tears, her cuts and bruises not healed, nothing like it, barely even half healed. But half healed was better than nothing – wasn’t it?

  ‘It’s too late,’ I said. I let my hands drop to my sides.

  Abe gave a groan and rolled on to his knees. He crouched for a moment, gathering his strength, and then he sat up painfully.

  ‘I’ve got nothing left,’ he said bitterly. ‘Nor has Em. They’ve beaten seven bells out of us. It was all Em and I could do to keep ourselves alive. All my magic’s gone, spent. Otherwise we’d have healed ourselves.’

  ‘What do they want you to do?’ Emmaline asked. Over her shoulder I saw Seth’s worried face and knew that he’d been wondering the same thing.

  Cold prickled up and down my spine.

  ‘Did they bring you through that big room, the one they call the Cathedral?’ I asked. Em nodded. ‘Did you see the bones in the middle?’

  ‘The stuff that looked like old firewood?’

  ‘Yes. They’re the bones of their last leader. Some dead Russian. They want me to raise him.’ I spat out the short sentences like pieces of glass, feeling them cut my mouth. ‘Then he’s going to lead them in a war against the outwith.’

  ‘They’re nuts!’ Em said blankly. ‘Surely? I mean – we’re talking fruitcake crazy, right?’

  ‘Does that matter?’ I asked bitterly. ‘When we’re all dead we won’t care if they were a little eccentric round the edges or bonafide bat-shit.’

  ‘And your role in this?’ Abe said.

  ‘Aside from raising the Holy Master? Well I presume I’m supposed to go marching after them, healing them if they get a bit low, and raising the head dude at regular intervals if he gets slain again. Kind of like having your own personal “save and reload” button on life.’

  We were all silent for a moment at the picture. It was not a pretty one.

  ‘And if you say no?’ Em said at last.

  I couldn’t say it.

  But Abe knew. I could see it from his face, from the way his eyes went to the glass flagon, to the chair, and back to me.

  ‘Anna?’ Em prodded.

  ‘Excision, right?’ Abe said to me. I shrugged.

  ‘Hang on.’ Seth’s face was baffled. ‘Can someone please explain for the dumb outwith over here?’

  ‘Excision is a process where …’ Abe stopped. He looked sick. For a moment I wasn’t sure if he’d continue, if his wounds had got the better of him again. But he forced himself on. ‘Magic is a physical substance – like blood, or bone marrow. And you can extract it. It’s dangerous. If you lose too much, you go into shock. And if you go past a certain point, it’s irrecoverable. The magic never replenishes itself. You’re crippled for life. You’re no longer a witch.’

  ‘But,’ Seth said slowly, ‘that’s what you did for Anna, wasn’t it? You gave her some of your magic, so she could escape the Malleus. And you weren’t crippled, right?’

  ‘No,’ Abe agreed. ‘It wasn’t fun, but I didn’t suffer any lasting harm. But what they did to me wasn’t an excision. With excision …’ Abe swallowed and carried on. ‘With excision they take all the magic. It’s almost always fatal.’

  ‘Fatal?’ Seth said. His face was white and suddenly he looked as sick as Abe.

  Abe’s eyes met Seth’s and in that moment their faces, so unlike, wore the same expression.

  ‘But why?’ Emmaline said furiously. ‘What would it achieve? They want Anna alive, don’t they, so she can raise their stack of holy firewood?’

  ‘Ideally – yes, they want her alive,’ Abe said. ‘But failing that – they want her power. If they drain her magic and give it all to one single witch, that witch gets a shot with Anna’s abilities. Only for a limited time, because they can’t regenerate Anna’s magic; when it’s gone, it’s gone. But one shot is better than none.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Em demanded. ‘Anna caves – they get to control her power. Or she holds out, we all die – and they still get a shot? That’s the choice?’

  ‘It’s still better though, isn’t it?’ I said. I spoke to Abe, not to Emmaline. ‘It’s better they get just one try. They might not succeed.’

  ‘No, they might not,’ Abe said quietly. ‘We don’t know how this works, after all. Yours is a power no one else has ever had. We don’t know if it will transplant.’

  ‘So that’s it?’ Emmaline looked from me, to Abe, to Seth, and back to me. ‘You’re giving up? You’re going to die?’

  ‘I don’t know what else to do!’ I cried back. ‘What can I do? You tell me!’

  My voice rang round the room, shockingly loud. Then we all stopped, suddenly frozen, listening. There were footsteps in the corridor.

  ‘Listen,’ Abe said hurriedly. He grabbed my wrist. ‘Anna, there’s one thing – they can’t extract your magic unless you use it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I stared at him.

  ‘I know from when they took my magic – you have to unlock it. If you don’t do a spell—’

  But the door flew open and Tatiana stalked into the room, flanked by Danya and Marcus.

  ‘Udalit!’ Tatiana spat and Emmaline, Abe and Seth flew backwards across the room, crashing into the walls with a crunch that made me cry out. They hung there, immobilized by Tatiana’s spell, and as the witches moved across the room, I realized what the rings were for: shackles. For when the room was not used for a single operation, but for multiple drainings, the victims lined up like cattle.

  ‘Framdaþ!’ I shouted as they closed in on them, ropes and chains in their hands. ‘Framdaþ!’ Begging them, ordering them to stop.

  But there was nothing there. There was nothing left. I screamed and sobbed spells as they went about their task with businesslike determination. I might as well have been singing nursery rhymes. They didn’t pause – they didn’t even flinch. They just ignored my spells like they were flies buzzing around their heads.

  I’d have to try something else.

  I took a deep breath, gripped the syringe more tightly in my fist, and leapt towards Tatiana.

  I never reached her. She didn’t miss a beat, didn’t even look around. She just shou
ted a curse over her shoulder in Russian. It hit me like a blow to the stomach, catapulting me across the room into the draining chair. The syringe skittered out of my hand across the concrete floor and lay useless in a corner.

  For a minute I just lay in the chair, agonizingly winded. All the breath had been knocked out of my body and I couldn’t seem to get it back.

  But then I saw the witches straightening from their tasks and turn, and I realized I was next. I flung myself out of the chair, ready to fight, ready to bite and scratch and kick.

  It was useless. I knew that even as I thrashed and struggled, in a horrible re-enactment of Irina’s last fight. They didn’t even have to use magic to restrain me – without spells I was pathetically easy to subdue. Danya held me down while Tatiana closed the shackles on my wrists, my ankles, around my throat.

  Marcus watched from the sidelines, his brown eyes meltingly soft, as I fought and wept.

  At last every part of me was locked down and the only thing I could do was scream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ‘Anna …’ It was a whisper, soft in my ear. ‘Anna, wake up.’

  I turned my head away from the sound. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to go back to a world where my friends were in chains and my mother was dead, once and for all.

  ‘Anna, you can’t ignore this. Look at me.’

  I opened my eyes. Warm, brown eyes stared into mine. A hand stroked my face, smoothing back my sweaty, tangled hair.

  I spat. And the face recoiled. Marcus wiped his cheek theatrically with his sleeve and then began to laugh.

  ‘You really don’t know when you’re beaten, do you?’

  ‘No,’ I croaked. It was hard to speak with the shackle around my throat, crushing my windpipe.

  ‘Tatiana?’ Marcus said with a shrug.

  She stepped forwards. Her face wasn’t grim – there was too much sorrow in it for that. But it was uncompromising. And she held in her hand a long, steel needle. It was about the thickness of my thumb, dwindling to a blunt point. On the other end snaked a rubber tube.