After clearing more ground, we decide to rest. We’ll have to go up and around if we want to completely avoid the chasms on either side. Hopefully from there, we can find our way back to town . . . and Fiona’s house.
I swipe blood off my face and wipe my hands on my skirt. My scrapes feel like a thousand bees are attacking them. I cringe, and the act only makes my cuts hurt worse.
“We need to keep moving,” Ben says. “I’m sure the witches know how to get around their own traps, so it wouldn’t take them long at all to catch up to us. We have to be out of here before they arrive.”
“I agree.” It hurts to budge my lips, even a little bit.
The trek through the wooded expanse seems never-ending. Trees, shrubbery, dead leaves, twigs—all of them look the same. I’m not sure where we’re at exactly. With the sun gradually disappearing beyond the mountains on the horizon, we don’t have much time to find a way out. Once nighttime plummets and the sky is nothing but a blanket of glittering stars, the forest will become a maze—a dangerous labyrinth in which we have to find the exit before the witches find us.
We break through a row of trees and enter a clearing. The heavens are shades of rich crimson and orange. A cool breeze swirls around us, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“We can’t stop,” Ben states, determined.
Cobblestones fill every inch of this open stretch, and a gazebo-like structure is situated along the backside of the area, with two benches resting underneath its covering. In the center, a cherub statue points a stony finger at us; its other hand looks like it’s gesturing toward the pergola. There’s something odd about this place. Why does anyone have so many death traps prior to a site as peaceful as this? Who builds something so intricate in a secret corner of the woods? I feel as if there’s more to this than meets the eye.
I ask, “What now?”
Ben shrugs. “I honestly don’t know, but would you take a look at this place.” He takes a few steps forward, mesmerized by the beauty of this unforeseen setting. Turning around to face me, he smiles. “When we get back to Hartford, we should build—” His body goes rigid, and then he grapples at his neck frantically.
“Ben?”
“Candra, don’t move,” he wheezes.
Terrified, I cry out, “What’s going on? What is it?”
Ben hoarsely murmurs, “Poison,” as he wrenches a few miniature arrows from his skin, and then crumples to the ground.
Chapter Ten
“Ben? Ben!” I scream. I don’t care if the world hears me right now; he’s in serious danger. I have no idea how quickly the poison will invade his system. His only chance of survival is by tapping into his werewolf side, allowing rapid healing to seize control.
Why did we believe we were finally clear of the traps? Of course this secret hideout is too good to be true. Nothing has been easy for us since we arrived.
My mind hurls itself into overdrive. I have to think this through, and fast. Although I didn’t actually see where the mini arrows came from, Ben must’ve stepped on a hidden trigger, which caused them to catapult toward his neck. Now, I just have to figure out how the hell I’m going to drag him off the cobblestones to safety. Should I misstep, I’ll be in his position, then we’ll both be screwed.
Keeping my body lowered, I reach out and grab Ben’s wrists, dragging him toward me. My face hurts so much, and my muscles are sore from the intense workout we’ve gotten by dodging the death traps, that I honestly don’t know how I’ll get Ben from here to Fiona’s.
As I tug Ben’s limp body, a loud, grating noise reverberates through the small area. Oh, God. I really hope I haven’t set off another trap. That’s all I need. To my surprise, however, the cherub statue glides sideways, stone grinding against stone. A blinding-azure light emanates from the hole. My stupid curiosity is getting the best of me, but I have to stay calm and help Ben.
With one final heave, Ben’s body is completely off the cobblestones, just on the edge of the forest. We’ll have to go around this secret location, as well as the pit near the axes, if we have any chance of making it back to Colchester alive. Glancing toward the statue, I realize I can’t just leave it wide open for anyone to stumble upon, and I can’t let the witches know that I’ve figured out one of their little secrets. Scouring the stony path, I notice one of the cobbles is elevated higher than the others. Careful not to touch any of the other stones, I extend a hand and press it back into place. The statue reverts to its original position. I’ll have to remember which stone triggers the hidden passageway, in case Ben and I decide to return.
First, I need to focus on getting the poison out of his body. I can’t say if he’ll make it or not, but our bodies have the ability to heal faster than normal humans. If I can just drag him somewhere safe, I can leech the toxins by eliciting his inner werewolf. Waking him should be the hardest part; whatever is in this poison has knocked him out cold.
“Stay with me, Ben,” I whisper, as I latch on to his wrists and prepare to drag him back to town.
Night has long since fallen over England by the time I reach the outskirts. I can’t say how long I’ve been pulling Ben’s lifeless body, but my best guess is a good one or two hours. One thing’s for certain: I’ve made it this far, so I can damn well make it the rest of the way.
During the time spent in the forest, I had to kick Ben a few times, hard enough to activate his werewolf abilities. He didn’t turn full-werewolf due to the fact that he’s not conscious, but it was adequate to allow the healing power to win control. I estimate most of the poison has been removed from his system by now, and he’s just experiencing a drowsy side effect. This I can manage at Fiona’s house.
I avoid lugging Ben’s motionless body through the heart of Colchester, because I don’t want to encourage fear in the citizens should anyone be out this late. Instead, I do my best to bypass the town and reach Fiona’s without dilemma.
“Candra, where have . . .” Fiona’s voice trails off as soon as she sees my face and Ben. “Oh, my! What happened? Who did this to ye?”
“It’s kind of a long story,” I say, “but remember how you told us to stay away from the forest? Yeah, we didn’t listen. He should be all right. He’s just been . . . knocked out.”
Fiona clucks her tongue and begins rummaging around the kitchen for supplies—rags, a bucket of water, maybe even some medicinal herbs.
“Here. Apply this.” She hands me a small, wooden bowl full of green paste, which looks like guacamole, and a clean cloth. “I shall fetch some fresh water to boil.”
Immediately, I haul Ben toward the guest bedroom, where I grab on to his upper torso and heave him onto the mattress. Once I situate him and take a short break, I begin applying the paste to my cuts. They’ve all but healed in the time it took to get from the witches’ secret spot to Fiona’s, but the dried blood needs to be washed off.
“What happened, Candra?” Fiona’s voice startles me.
I’m sure I look silly with all this crap on my face, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say.
“I am present, and my ears are thine.” To my surprise, she sits down in the doorway, eager to learn of mine and Ben’s misadventures.
Though a bit reluctant at first, I end up spilling everything—how we came across the witches in the woods, their secret lair, attempting to find out what their ultimate plan is. The only portion of the story I blatantly leave out is the part where Ben and I are werewolves. Fiona’s face is passive through it all.
When she eventually absorbs all of the information I’ve given her, she says, “Am I correct to believe ye will not pursue these . . . witches?” I open my mouth to respond, but she interjects, “Candra, ’tis too dangerous. My dear, wonderful husband ventured into that forest once, and he never returned. I do not wish the same fate upon ye.”
Perhaps I’m feeling guilty for purposely excluding the bit about Ben and me, who we really are, because my mind comes up with several
fake instances in which I explain to Fiona why we’re here. I tell her the truth; not saying anything is killing me right now. But the fewer people who know our true intent, the less we have to worry about them. I’m not even sure if Ben and I can handle these witches, so how can normal humans?
“One other thought I feel I should mention . . .” Fiona trails off, staring at the floor and picking at the hem of her dress. “There was a group of men who ventured into the forest last night. Most of them did not return.”
Collecting myself, I ask, “What?”
“They thought it best to defeat the wolf that has been haunting this town, but they were greeted by something far more sinister, something which took their lives. Only three people walked away from the incident, two of which were bitten.” She peers up at me underneath her eyelashes.
“And . . . who are these people?” I swallow the thick lump in my throat.
“Ulric Conway and Daciana Lowell. She is new to Colchester, the girl in my shop just the other day, but the Conway boys have resided here all their lives. Fortunately, and with a dash of luck, Alaric was unharmed. Word has spread of his heroic act: he helped his brother and Daciana reach safety.”
Attempting to keep a straight face, I ask, “Where were they taken?”
“To Lavenia’s,” Fiona states pointedly. “Of this I am fearful, for if what ye say is true about the witches, no good will come of their stay at her abode.”
I bolt to my feet. “I have to do something. I have to help them.” Because, really, I know how this turns out in the end—they all become werewolves. Somewhere along the way, Alaric banishes Ulric and Daciana to the Otherworld. I just don’t know when that is. This is the reason Ben and I time-traveled to the sixteenth century.
Twisting around, I stare at Ben’s relaxed form. I hate doing this to him, but I need to rescue Ulric and Daciana before time runs out. Lavenia is doing God-knows-what to them at the moment.
“If ye are considering what I think ye are considering, I would advise ye not to go through with this,” says Fiona. “Please, Candra. For thy safety.”
Shaking my head, I respond, “Sorry, Fiona, but my work here isn’t finished. I don’t have long before bad things start to happen, and I have to move quickly if I want to change their outcome. I know none of this makes sense to you, but all I’m asking is that you trust me.” When she doesn’t immediately speak, I add, “Can you take care of Ben for me while I’m gone? Hopefully, I’ll be back soon.”
Defeated, she sighs and nods. “I shall.”
“Thank you.” Before leaving, I dip one of the washrags into hot water and wipe my face off. The cuts don’t hurt as badly as before. Hopefully, they’ll be fully healed by the end of the day.
With my chin up and my stomach a jumbled mess of emotions, I embark on a trek to Lavenia’s cottage. I’m well aware that I can’t just barge through the front door and demand she set Ulric and Daciana free, but I’m hoping to get close enough to figure out what’s going on, what Lavenia’s ultimate plan is for the two of them. The details might help.
I take the long way around the cottage, sneaking up on the backside and peeking through the same window Ben and I used earlier to spy. From what little I can see, Ulric and Daciana are laid out on two separate tables, both unconscious. Lavenia and her minions rummage around the cottage in what seems like an attempt to concoct more potions. The baby in the back room begins to cry, and the woman who I believe is Maggie marches toward its crib. I duck when she passes by the window. I can’t make a mistake this time around. I refuse to seek protection from the forest again, especially after the turmoil Ben and I went through.
For most of the evening, nothing significant occurs. My legs cramp from the position I’m in: half-standing, half-squatting. Lavenia and the others care for Ulric and Daciana, and then they retire for the evening, finally catching up on sleep. I need to do the same, though I can’t quite shake the feeling that I need to stick around. What will happen once Ulric and Daciana wake up? Where the hell is Alaric?
A soft whimper shakes me from my thoughts. I glance to my right, where two mutts are staring at me questioningly, as if they suspect my presence here is wrong. I just really, really hope they don’t start barking. I don’t know if I can escape these witches again. Besides, one of them might turn me into a toad, which is far worse than being a werewolf.
“Nice doggy,” I whisper, as I reach out and scratch its head. It pants loudly, and the way its tongue droops out of its mouth gives the appearance it’s smiling. Luckily for me, neither one of them decides to alert Lavenia or the others that I’m here. As a matter of fact, they lie down beside me for the next few hours, as I silently watch the uneventful happenings in Lavenia’s cottage from the shadows.
Apparently, I doze off; one of the mutts decides it’s my alarm clock by licking my face. I shove it away, allowing myself time to wake fully. There’s a commotion inside the cottage, and I nearly topple over trying to raise myself to stare through the window. Ulric and Daciana are awake, thank goodness, but their faces are showing signs they aren’t happy about something, maybe even fearful. What is Lavenia saying to them?
Positioning my head so my ear is nearly pressed against the windowpane, I attempt to listen in on their conversation.
“What are ye saying?” Ulric asks. As I peek through the window, I notice his spine straightens, and all of his attention is focused on Lavenia.
“I am saying ye are transforming into werewolves,” Lavenia states. I nearly gasp aloud. It’s begun. “However,” she continues, “I can lessen this blow by formulating another curse, a cure to alleviate thy suffering.”
A werewolf cure? She knows, I guess, considering she’s the one who started the mess we’re in now.
“If thou think I am going to be cursed yet again—” Daciana starts.
“This second curse will ease thy troubles of becoming a creature of the night,” says Lavenia. “I can give ye powers beyond thy imaginings. The choice, nonetheless, is up to ye.”
There’s a long pause in the conversation, and my hearts skips several beats. That is, until Ulric speaks again.
“What of my brother? Is he infected with this blight, as well?”
Lavenia responds, “Nay, he is not. It seems the wolf did not choose him.”
What wolf is she talking about? Her, or one of her apprentices? Do they know there’s more than one?
“These powers thou speak of,” Daciana begins, “what are they?”
Lavenia drags a chair to the center of the room and sits, making herself comfortable. “The spell I will place on ye, should ye so choose to go forward with the enchantment, is only just that—a spell. The powers ye will receive from this spell are not mine to give ye; they are given by the Old Gods. They decide what ye should be blessed with, not I.”
I jerk my head back. So this is where our powers originated. It’s not an actual cure, but something that will make living as a monster more bearable.
Daciana says, “What thou speak of is witchcraft and punishable, by law, with death. If any person should find out—”
Lavenia cuts her off. “Then I suggest ye keep thy mouth closed, for thy own good. Aye, death is the punishment, should ye be found out. If, however, ye keep quiet, ye shall be immortal—powerful—with abilities that defy logic. Very shortly, ye will be protectors of the forest, enemies to the moon and man, and eternally living in a world where death cannot touch ye. I would say that is a small price to pay for what ye are about to endure.”
“Does Alaric know this?” Ulric asks.
“Nay, he does not, and it should remain so. Should ye tell another living being of thy curse, ye not only place thyself in danger, but also pass the curse on to thy children and theirs.”
There’s yet another long pause, and I’m sure Ulric and Daciana are contemplating what Lavenia’s told them. Having no choice in the matter, they’ll become werewolves soon. The changes are happening already; they just don’t know it. Lavenia’s proposal to inje
ct them with magical capabilities is like trying to cover a deep cut with a Band-Aid; it fixes the problem temporarily but not permanently. This is all just a mask for what she’s done to them.
“I am ready,” Daciana eventually says, lifting her chin. Although she appears confident, her voice wavers too much for that to be true.
Lavenia, however, doesn’t seem surprised Daciana has agreed to her offer. She then looks at Ulric and asks, “And ye? Will ye join her?”
Ulric is different, though; he has doubt written all over his face. But he, like Daciana, replies, “Aye, I am ready, as well.”
“So be it,” Lavenia says, before she begins chanting words I’ve never heard before, words I certainly don’t understand. A blinding-white light flashes in the small cottage, and everyone but Lavenia has shielded their eyes, including me. “Now, ye are free, my brother and sister of the night. Remember, tell no one of thy curse.”
Though visibly shaken, Ulric and Daciana are able to stand on their feet and leave the cottage. I need to give them ample time before I do the same. Ben needs to know everything I’ve witnessed, that the curse has started, and that Alaric is not one of them . . . yet. We’ll just have to figure out at what point Alaric loses his marbles and banishes Ulric and Daciana to the Otherworld. Maybe it’s soon. If I was him, I’d be pissed that my brother and his girlfriend could transform and wield magic, but if what Lavenia said is true, Alaric doesn’t know.
Oh, Ben and I will have to put our heads together for this. Timing will mean life or death, and the future of our families. We can’t screw up; it’s just not an option.
Fortunately for me, I make my way back to Fiona’s without a hitch. Ben’s pacing by the hearth when I enter. He glances up, wide-eyed and relieved, then his expression shifts to fury.
“I’m fine,” I say, giving him a half-hearted smile. He won’t be happy to learn about the new information I discovered, but I’ll definitely have to wait until Fiona’s left for work before filling him in.
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