The Witch's Thief

by Tricia Schneider

  “No time for a reunion, dear brother,” the necromancer said. “We’ve work to do, haven’t we, Julia?”

  He whispered the words for the binding spell and cast it on Basil. Julia jumped when a shock of electricity sizzled up her arms from her contact with Basil. The spell hadn’t been cast on her, but she felt the effects of it.

  Basil stood frozen, unable to move a muscle, unable to speak, even to blink. He was a human statue, able to breathe and live, but no more.

  “No, Drake, release them. Send them back. You have what you need. They can do you no harm. Send them back!”

  Drake leveled a dark look in her direction. She took a step back, away from him. His raven-colored hair shimmered in the light of the fire burning in the massive hearth where a cauldron hung with a strange bubbling brew. The bones of his face protruded sharply as the shadows played along his skin. The wildness in his gaze gave away the madness that hid within.

  Julia barely recognized the Merriweather boy who used to follow Basil around the estate, like a puppy following his master. Drake used to be dedicated to his brothers, to his family. She used to laugh at his silly games, and admire his strong loyalty.

  Now…

  He was changed. A cruel metamorphosis. Tragedy had claimed him, the death of Susanna had morphed him from goodness and light to darkness and evil. Was redemption possible for such a man? Could he change back?

  Julia doubted such a miracle was possible.

  “You will help me find the correct formula,” he said, his voice a raspy growl more like an animal than a man. “After we’ve found the spell, I will honor our agreement.”

  He turned away.

  “Truly?” Doubt colored her voice. He turned back, and Julia saw his face soften somewhat. A glimmer of the man she used to know.

  “I may have gone mad, Julia, but I still honor my promises.”

  She had no choice but to believe him.

  ****

  Basil’s arms stretched above him, his wrists bound and chained to a stone wall. He’d been in the Castle Blackmoor, which Drake had inherited years ago. He was in the dungeons, although from the look of it, they had been converted into a laboratory. He remembered Drake had always held a fascination with science and had often tried to blend it with his magic.

  His earlier shock had numbed the pain in his heart at discovering his brother was the man manipulating Julia into stealing books that at one time Basil would have gladly handed over to Drake.

  But, things had changed while he traveled across the world many miles away from England. Things had changed horribly.

  “You were surprised,” Drake said. He sat on a bench, leaning over one of the Merriweather grimoires on a table, carefully scanning each page before turning to the next. “They did not tell you.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Basil answered, his mouth clenching around the words.

  “They did not.”

  Drake’s mouth tightened. “I do not rank high among our family’s gossip mongering. However, I suspected you being the eldest would have been notified of your younger sibling’s mysterious deeds. Or did you not ask after me?”

  Basil squeezed his eyes shut at the bitter pain in his brother’s voice. No, he had not asked after him, not any of them. He assumed in ignorance his siblings fared well and expected Sage or Aunt Petunia to send word of any trouble. As in the case of Lillian and Melora.

  “You were not here to say farewell to Susanna.” The pain in Drake’s voice pierced Basil’s heart. With the mention of his wife’s name, pain flickered over his brother’s face. In a moment it was gone. “I expected you.”

  “I…” What excuse could he give? Nothing he said could erase the pain in Drake’s heart. Basil had not been here when his brother needed him most. He lived with the knowledge of his failure. He should have been here. “I could not.”

  “Even Sage, with his ever-present wanderlust, attended her funeral. Where were you?”

  Basil shook his head. “It was too late. I received the missive far too late.”

  “You should have come home anyway.”

  “I…” Basil said, beginning to make the excuses he continued to ramble on in his mind. He stopped, shaking his head again. “Yes, I should have been here.”

  And it was true. Wandering the world brought him no closer to any resolution for this disease he suffered. Here he was, ten years later, far longer than he dared admit he might live, and all of this time what had he done? Flitted across the world in search of a myth, a fairytale, a dream.

  He should have stayed home. Married Julia, gave her children, and lived happily for at least ten years. Been here for his brother in his hour of need. He could have saved them all from so much pain.

  But how was he to have known he’d live longer than a month? Belit’s Curse was vicious, sparing no one of tainted witch blood.

  Basil clenched his fists, his nails biting into the palms of his hand. Clever Drake had bound them tightly with cloth before locking the manacles around his wrists and stringing him to the wall. He could not chance Basil using his powers to escape.

  He cast a glance around the room, wishing he could see Julia and Sage. But, Drake had taken them away, separating them and effectively halting any chances for escape.

  “What do you seek, Drake?” Basil turned to face his brother.

  He thought of all Marianne and Julia had suffered in the last six months. He wondered how Julia managed on her own for so long, caring and protecting her sister, only to have Marianne ripped from her and cursed. He thought of the pain and fear she suffered, of the loneliness of not being able to ask for help.

  His chest tightened, but he refused to think on her further. He feared he’d be unmanned by his emotions. And he could not give Drake any more of an advantage as he already possessed.

  Drake paused in his reading, contemplating, considering. At last, he looked up. “I do not believe you will understand.”

  “Perhaps, I might help you,” Basil suggested, deciding on another tactic. “We are brothers, after all. I should have been here to help before, I know. All I can say is…I ask for forgiveness. I never should have left. My pursuit has been useless. But, I am here now. I can help you.”

  Drake stood, marking the page in the book with a piece of leather before walking stealthily towards the wall where he had chained Basil.

  “You think you can help me? Do you know how to bring back the dead?”

  ****

  “The dead?”

  Surely, he heard incorrectly. Drake could not possibly mean…

  Necromancer.

  What had Marianne told Sage while they were running to find Julia?

  Marianne had been cursed by a necromancer.

  Oh, no.

  “Drake, I…” Basil said, suddenly fearing how far Drake had gone. He scanned his surroundings, taking note of the strange tools hung on the far wall, of the massive table placed in the center of the room, of the shelf with the dozens of vials and bottles, all containing an assortment of concoctions he couldn’t begin to name. Some had herbs and other plants, others were filled with liquids.

  And then he spied something he hadn’t before.

  An arm.

  A severed human arm.

  It was strapped to a smaller table in the corner, with wires from a strange device attached to the fingertips.

  Basil’s skin grew cold as the blood drained from his face. His stomach churned. He feared he might be sick. He turned away from that object, that piece of evidence that proved without doubt that his brother had gone beyond madness.

  He tried to keep his gaze locked onto the fire in the hearth, but his eyes refused to obey, and he again looked at the arm, staring in horrified fascination.

  It was a woman’s arm. He could tell by the dainty size of the palm and slender fingers.

  Where was the rest of her?

  Again he felt ill.

  This wasn’t a dungeon anymore, he reminded himself. It was a laboratory. Drake performed e
xperiments here. Practiced a combination of science and magic. What sort of experiments did he perform?

  Do you know how to bring back the dead?

  “What have you done, Drake?”

  She’s been cursed by a necromancer.

  “Oh, dear brother, I haven’t done it yet. But, I shall.” Drake turned back to the table with the book, then sat and continued reading. “I shall.”

  Basil desperately searched for the ability to detach. This was not his brother. The Drake Merriweather he had known would not consider these foul deeds. And, yet, now that Basil’s eyes had been opened, he began a horrified visual search. And his querying gaze found more evidence of Drake’s madness.

  A monkey’s severed head, empty eyes staring.

  Pieces of rock, gems and stones.

  A bit of fur, unidentified.

  A woman’s heart-shaped locket.

  Bat’s wings, jars filled with dead toads, another jar with snakes, a wolf’s tail, a bear’s claw, and a dead raven propped on the highest shelf. Still other jars containing things he could not identify, but looked decidedly like…flesh. No other identifiable human body parts, but he shuddered with the knowledge that Blackmoor was filled with plentiful rooms.

  “She suffered.”

  Basil’s head jerked at the sound of Drake’s voice. His brother continued to study the book, carefully turning the page after scanning it thoroughly. At first he wondered if he had imagined hearing him speak until he continued.

  “Nothing could be done. I searched for any spell that might ease her pain. Searched exhaustively for anything to stop the progress of the disease. Finally, I turned to the black arts. Even the darkness could not save her.”

  Basil remained silent.

  Susanna.

  Drake’s beloved wife.

  “I’m so sorry,” Basil said. The words sounded pitiful even to his own ears. “Did she suffer long?”

  “Fourteen months, six days.” Drake shoved his fingers into his long black hair as if he wished to pull the strands savagely from his head. He took a deep breath and lowered his hand to the table. “The last six months were the most terrifying. Her episodes grew longer, more painful. Delirium set in near the end, though she was quite lucid when she died.”

  A cold shiver rippled across Basil’s shoulders. This sounded all too familiar. “What…what did she die from?”

  Drake looked up, astonished. “They didn’t tell you anything, did they? Keeping secrets is a Merriweather talent, is it not? She suffered from Belit’s Curse.”

  If Basil had not been tied to the wall, there was a good chance his knees would have crumpled beneath him. Tiny black dots prickled his vision as a creeping darkness began to swirl around the edges. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, urging his mind to control his body.

  Basil had not known of Susanna’s condition. Would it matter if he had? Would he have searched more tirelessly? Fighting an unknown expiration date might have spurred him on, but more likely he would have felt guilty for not providing Susanna with the cure. Basil spent the last ten years searching for the same answer Drake apparently had been searching for here. And he came to the same conclusion.

  There was no cure for Belit’s Curse.

  “She died writhing in pain. Dying was a relief.”

  He would die that way, too. Unless he grew brave enough to end it before it began. Something he considered at times, but found himself too cowardly to give any more thought to.

  He accepted that one day very soon his time would end painfully. There was nothing else he could do, but accept it.

  “Then she is at peace, brother. She has been welcomed by our ancestors and all who have crossed over into the ever-after before us.”

  Drake shook his head. “She was taken too soon. She had much to do on this earth yet.”

  “Her time will come again in the future. She will be reborn into another life—”

  “She will be reborn now. In this life. During my lifetime!” Drake said, his voice rising with each word. “Death parted us. Cheated us. She was stolen from me, and I will have her back.”

  “Drake, what you speak of is—”

  “Horror? Madness? Sacrilege? I care not for these things.” Drake stood again, slamming the bench to the ground in his hurry to stand and face Basil. “Have you never loved someone so completely that you’d be willing to give up your very soul?”

  Basil snapped his lips shut, but his eyes betrayed him by flickering to the door where he had last seen Julia.

  Drake saw what Basil did not wish him to see. He looked back at the door, as if Julia might appear, summoned by Basil’s thoughts.

  Drake lowered his voice, speaking with calm softness. “If she died, would you not offer to take her place so she might live?”

  Every muscle in Basil’s body tightened. The thought of Julia dying sent spasms through his gut. His throat muscles worked. Instead of answering, he looked away.

  Basil had accepted his own mortality. He would die. One day, any day. But, the notion of the same happening to Julia sent a bitter taste into his mouth.

  He loved her.

  Always, he had loved her.

  Would he go to such ends to secure her life? Basil grimaced. He rather thought he might. But not if the result caused more death. Julia would never wish for Basil to sacrifice another’s life for her. And Susanna would feel the same.

  Basil remembered Susanna from their youth. She had been young, full of life, full of light. His memories of her always filled him with happiness because that was her essence. Smiles, laughter, dancing.

  She could bring a smile to anyone’s countenance, even the most foul could not deny her smile.

  And Drake had loved her. She’d brought him immeasurable happiness. He’d never seen him so happy.

  Drake married her…and lost her.

  Basil pictured Julia in his mind. Drake sent her to another room where she could search uninterrupted through the spellbooks. He imagined her hovering over the musty tomes. To anyone else, she might appear to be calmly reading. To Basil, to someone close to her, one would see the undue pressure placed on her stiff shoulders. Her hands hidden in her lap away from view beneath the table where she sat, but in his heart Basil knew she wrenched and clasped her fingers.

  She was nervous, fearful, frightened.

  And, she was beautiful, courageous, and strong.

  Basil felt a fool to have left her.

  A fool!

  He prayed to whatever gods listened that once he was freed of these chains, he would take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. And then he would marry her. Marry her and love her as she deserved to be loved. They would live out whatever time was allotted to them and never regret another precious moment.

  With new resolve, he tore at the chains, heaving and pulling. They remained solid and secure.

  Drake stepped back.

  “You’ll not break free of those, my brother. I must admit, I am sorry to have used them on you, but I cannot have you stop me.”

  “You don’t have the spell. Not yet.”

  “A matter of time.” Drake paused, and he knew he thought of Julia searching those books. “Moments even.”

  “What would I have done to you, Drake? Taken the books from you? Those grimoires have thousands of spells, some ancient, some new. I can’t stop you from looking elsewhere. That spell, if such a spell exists, is certain to be recorded in another book. We are not the sole family of witches who are meticulous with our spells. With your determination, I know you will find it. I cannot stop you. Let me free. I will take Julia and Sage, and we will return to Merriweather Manor. Out of your way. You can do as you please.”

  “Ah, it’s not as simple as that.” Drake rubbed the dark stubble that had grown over his chin. “You are correct. The Merriweathers are not the only family to have taken such seriousness with history or craft. I have found others.”

  Dread grew in the pit of Basil’s stomach. He found something…

&n
bsp; “The spell is crude, rudimentary. I had hoped to find one more useful, but if I cannot, I must begin somewhere.”

  He paused in his speech then paced in front of Basil.

  “Julia… She is beautiful, is she not?”

  Basil’s arms tightened, straining against his manacles.

  “The spell is dark,” Drake continued, ignoring Basil’s efforts at freedom. “I cursed Marianne Grey. I used my magic to rip her soul from her body. My wife is a spirit like Marianne. Roaming the earth with no one to see her, speak to her, touch her. She could be in this room at this very moment watching us, trying to communicate. Of course, I can return Marianne’s spirit to her body once I find the correct spell. But, if I am to bring Susanna back from the dead, I will need a host. A sacrifice. A body for her spirit to possess. I tried to preserve Susanna’s body, knowing I would one day find the correct spell, but Roger Grey prevented me. I couldn’t get her to drink the potion in time. Unfortunately, Roger paid dearly for his interference.”

  “No.” The word was whispered, a deep guttural sound that Basil did not recognize as his own though he felt his lips utter it.

  “I knew at one time you cared for Julia, but I did not think you would mind, being across the world after all.” Drake sighed regretfully. “Now that you are here, I am sorry, brother. I cannot allow you to stop me. I will have my Susanna back. Julia must die to help me.”

  “No!”

  Chapter Eight

  Julia bent over the book, scanning each page as quickly and thoroughly as she could. But, she’d been over these. She hadn’t seen any spell that might aid Drake in his quest to bring back Susanna or Marianne.

  She sighed. With savage aggression, she shoved the book away from her. It slid across the table and fell to the floor. The pages fluttered. The resounding thud as it hit the stone floor echoed in the chamber, and then all was silent.

  She had to think. There must be a solution. A way out of this horrid mess. It was difficult enough when she had just Marianne to worry over, now she had inadvertently lured Basil and Sage into this dilemma.

  Julia could not allow anyone else to come to harm.