Grace of Gods Boxset: Reincarnated Greek Gods YA/NA Series

by Kyleigh Castronaro

  “You don’t want to take a chance, do you?” Sweet and innocent did not look good on Hecate and if the knot in my stomach meant anything, it meant trouble. But she did have a point, I couldn’t risk the charm of Zeus messing up my plan if he slept with someone in the small window of time between now and Atlas’ arrival.

  “Alright, but as soon as the trial is done or Atlas comes, we’re out of here. And you must stay with me the entire time. I’m not risking you interfering either.”

  She held her hands in a mock innocent gesture and smiled sweetly. It was still more unnerving than reassuring. Nodding my head in the direction of the door, I led the way out of the manor with the intention of heading back into town. I wanted to speak to the officer and make sure the trial was going to go ahead. If I had to be a key witness then so be it, after all, I did see the magic first hand.

  Turned out the judicial system of the 17th century was a little less disorganized than its modern counterpart and it lacked the specifics necessary to ensure a conviction. A mysterious death was good enough for them to convict, but they still needed a trial for show. I was assured at that very moment letters had been sent to the city for a court official versed in the witchcraft laws. He would hopefully be there in the morning and the trial would begin right away.

  Needing to find a place to sleep we ended up at a pub renting out a room for the night. The bed looked less than promising, stuffed with hay and covered in the itchiest wool blanket I had ever seen in my life. But it was better than sleeping on the hay in dank barn.

  I sat on the bed, watching Hecate as she undid the plait in her hair and worked her fingers through the knotted curls. She let the spell on our clothes disappear and she was back to wearing her lacy black number and I was once more in my jeans and t-shirt. She stripped to nothing and walked brazenly over to her side of the bed. She paused, smiling in her nude glory before lifting the wool blanket.

  “I sleep naked, hope that doesn’t bother you.” No, but what did bother me was the fact maybe she planned all along to mother the Demi-God we knew as Asher. I needed to come up with a plan to ensure that if that was her intention she wouldn’t see her plan through.

  “Sure, you do you, love. I’m going to get a drink,” I said as I rose, grabbing the purse of coins for show before leaving the room. As soon as the door closed behind me, I stood there for a moment considering my options. They were few and far between if I wanted to ensure Asher was never born. I had to make it believable.

  Heading downstairs, I sought out the owner and asked him to call an officer of law. I feigned being shaken and told him how I had been attacked by a witch. He poured me a pint of whatever kind of beer he kept, offering it to me to soothe my nerves. Besides myself and the bartender the pub was mostly empty, except for the old drunk parked in a back booth.

  I sat at the bar contemplatively, working my best acting chops as I continued to pretend to be nervous. By the time the officer came around, I managed to swallow the beer and understood why it was offered for nerves. It tasted like a medicinal tonic, something that tasted awful but soothed a sore throat. It wasn’t the lager I was used to enjoying back home.

  “You called for an officer of the law?”

  “Yes sir,” I turned in my seat looking as sheepish as possible. He looked me over, no doubt taking in my strange clothing and I hoped that it didn’t hurt my case. “I met a woman at Hart’s party tonight, I did not realize it was the same woman he had on his arm until we got back here and she used her magic to torture me!” I tried to recall as much as I could on my once brief and distant lesson on the Salem Witch Trials. “With her magic, she tried to seduce me, claiming if we were to go to bed together, I was committing myself to the devil through her. When I would not, she took her clothes off to try and persuade me and still I fought. She attacked me and I managed to defend myself against her magic before coming here.”

  The officer looked me over with a level of uncertainty, his eyes still lingering on my strange clothes before he finally nodded and tilted his head at the stairs. The two other officers he brought with him, left us and headed up the stairs.

  “Be aware of her hands! It is through them she does her magic!” The officer clapped a hand on my shoulder and thanked me, asking if I would mind speaking at the trial tomorrow. He understood if I was still too shaken to but my testimony would ensure the witch burned.

  I should have felt guilty about condemning Hecate to death but with her in it only for herself, I couldn't risk the chance she wanted to take the information that he was her son to the future and work with Asher. There was a commotion upstairs. A thud echoed through the ceiling followed by another one.

  One of the men shouted before another thud made the dust between the boards come filtering down, “Got her!”

  “Let me go!” The two men emerged at the top of the stairs, one man’s nose gushing blood and was clearly broken as they fought to bring a bound Hecate down with them. “Aidan! Tell them to let me go.”

  I turned away from her, “Tempt me not, witch! I am a man of the Lord.” I crossed myself and bowed my head, reciting the Lord’s Prayer for show, thankful for the Christmas masses for once in my life that my mother would drag me to. The show was convincing enough for the officer who called for his men to take her away and ensure her hands were sufficiently bound and remained so.

  He clasped me on the shoulder, “Get some sleep son, in the morning we will convict the witch and see her burned.”

  I nodded, “I will need to attend the priest before coming to court but I will see you there.” The officer seemed pleased enough with that answer as he replaced his cap and followed his men out of the building. The owner of the pub slid money across the table to me for my trouble ensuring me that the room could remain mine for the night.

  I should have felt bad about betraying a fellow modern but I thought about Savannah and the baby in her belly and our friends, especially Valentina. This was the only thing I could do to keep them safe and hopefully reverse the future. Thanking him for his generosity, I collected the coins and returned to the room. The dresser was overturned, no doubt the cause of the various thumps, and there was blood splattered on the floor from where the officer had fallen. But the bed was still in one piece. I shrugged my jeans and shirt off before climbing into the bed.

  I didn’t know if I would be able to sleep or not. Just as I finished contemplating it, the light from the sun outside woke me and I realized I must have fallen asleep not long after my head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 16

  Breakfast was a gritty mixture of oats and corn, washed down with tangy beer. Not quite the full breakfast I had imagined but I had to give them credit, it made me full – if not leaden. A quick chat with the bartender directed me down the street with the swarm of people headed to the courthouse to watch the trial of the local witches.

  I was nervous about seeing Hecate again. If her hands were free, I had no idea what she might do to the crowd, or worse me. I could only hope they had sense enough to leave her bound for the duration of the trial and her execution. A pang of guilt sat in the pit of my belly amongst the contents of breakfast but I couldn’t dwell too much on it. This was the best revenge I could get for Valentina if I ever hoped to have any.

  Griffin might have killed the man directly responsible but getting rid of Hart and Hecate would insure no more of my fellow Gods were killed in the 21st century and I could return home without any concern for the future of my family.

  The thought shook me for a moment as I considered what that word meant. Not just Savannah but Griffin too, and Charlotte, even if she was still a bitch. Every god who was a part of the Pantheon had become a part of me in a way. Dearer to me than any living blood relative, namely my father. Valentina’s death hurt as much as the knowledge of my mother’s. As a mortal, I didn’t necessarily condone the death penalty, but here and now… I told myself it was for a good reason and that was consoling.

  The courthouse was packed to the rafters, as
many people as possible were hoping to see the drama play out. I didn’t know how many of them knew about Hecate’s trial as well or if word had spread about the notorious Mr. Hart. Overhearing some of the conversations about him as I pushed my way to the front of the balcony, I learned he was a bit of a cad. He seemed to make his way through the women and impregnating them was not out of character either. He paid families off but never married the girls, leaving them destitute and socially ruined.

  He sounded a bit like how I used to be, minus the pregnancy. That was one thing I was always careful to avoid. I didn’t need any more reasons for clingy exes to come crawling back to me. But I was changed. For the better. And proud for that fact. I assured myself, although a tickle at the back of my mind made my confidence waver. I wouldn’t cheat on Savannah. I just had to keep reminding my libido about that.

  “Hear ye, hear ye.” The judge banged his gavel obnoxiously to bring order to the chaos. The roar of the room lessened to a dull whisper and this seemed to be enough for him as he cleared his throat. “Bailey, bring forth the guilty.” The jailer left the room in a dramatic show, only to return seconds later leading Hart and Hecate into the room, bound together by feet and hands with chains. They were led to a box in the middle of the room and placed there on display for everyone to see.

  “Edward Hart and Abigail Rockefeller, you are brought before authority upon high suspicion of sundry acts of witchcraft; now tell us the truth in this matter.”

  Hart sneered at the judge, resisting his cuffs before speaking: “I hope through the goodness of God I shall, for that matter, I never had no hand in that in my life.”

  The judge balked at him, a sly grin appearing on his face as he looked around the room. “Which of you have seen this man hurt you?” Hands flew into the air, but it was the newly widowed wife of the man struck by my lightning bolt who let out a dramatic sob shaking the room into silence once more.

  “Ah yes, Mary Lewis, wife of the deceased John Lewis, hath seen you strike down her husband with magic and these others affirm you have hurt them.”

  “Which of you have seen this woman hurt you?” And although I was sure almost no one in this room knew Hecate, hands flew into the air at the memory of her being on Hart’s arm at the party. Of course, in their minds, she was also a witch.

  “Hath he hurt you too?” The judge addressed the bailey who turned to look at the accused with a long stare before he looked back at the judge.

  “I have seen him several times this night past and been hurt after it, but I cannot affirm that it was he.”

  “Hath he brought the book to you?” The bailey nodded vigorously and I didn’t think he realized how this was contradictory with his previous statement.

  “Oh yes, he brought the book and tried to force me to sign my name in blood.” He held up his finger where a large jagged cut ran the length of it, clotted and darkened by blood. The audience gasped at the drama and I found myself wondering how long ago he cut himself to prepare for this moment.

  “Edward Hart, they accuse you, or your appearance, of hurting them, and bringing the book to them. What do you say? Why do you hurt them? Tell us the truth.”

  “I never did hurt them.”

  “It is your appearance that hurt them, they charge you; tell us what you have done.”

  “I have done nothing to damage them!”

  “Have you ever entered into contract with the devil?”

  “I never.”

  “What temptations have you had?”

  “I have never had temptations in my life.”

  “Lies!” One woman from the audience screamed and more followed, each declaring how he had seduced them using magic. Several pregnant women stepped forward and told dramatic stories of how he had impregnated them and told them he would use their children as sacrifices to the devil. They further claimed Hecate had been there when he seduced them, dancing around them naked chanting to Satan and calling for him to bring his seed forth through Hart’s body. The urge to laugh sat high in my chest and several times I had to cough to cover it. Hart and Hecate denied all the charges, claiming they had done no such thing and many of the accusers they had not even met.

  But one woman, Sarah Braybrook stepped forward, giving a heart wrenching account of her rape by Hart and Hecate’s desecration of her body through the torment of sending her appearance to her so that she couldn’t sleep at night and woke covered in rashes. When Hecate called her a bald-faced liar she fell to the ground, clutching her pregnant belly and screamed.

  Her body twitched and convulsed, her legs bending in ways that shouldn’t have been possible for a pregnant woman to move as she screamed repeatedly.

  “SHE BE TEARING THE BABY FROM ME.” A doctor was called from the crowd to help her, confirming to everyone that she was, in fact, in labor. The judge banged his gavel to return a semblance of order and demanded the bailey place a bag over Hecate’s head so that she wouldn’t use her eyes to conduct any more magic. It turned out I didn’t need to say anything to damn them, the audience was doing enough of that for me.

  “This was not your appearance but your person, and you have done so in front of this gathering: why do you deny you are a witch?” A muffled reply came from under the bag on her head but it didn’t matter, her fate was sealed by the dramatic performance of the young girl.

  “What is it not enough to act witchcraft at other times, but must you do it now in the face of authority? And you, Edward Hart, continue to deny your dealings with the devil?”

  “I am a poor creature, I cannot help it.” He moved his hands and three women at the front of the group fell to the ground with seizures, screaming he was pinching them. The judge ordered his head to be covered as well.

  “Why do you tell such wicked lies against witnesses, that heard you speak after this manner, this very morning?”

  “I lie not.”

  “You said you were stopped once in prayer; what stopped you?”

  “I cannot tell. My mother came towards me and found fault with me for saying living to God and dying to sin.”

  “What do you say? Why do you hurt them, is it you or your appearance?”

  “I know nothing of appearance.”

  The judge looked unmoved as he stared at the two accused, heads covered for protection of all those in the room. Through the din of the whispers mounting throughout the room, the screams of the labored woman could be heard. It only added to the eerie atmosphere.

  “Well, they charge you not only with this but with dreadful murders and I doubt not if you be guilty, God will not suffer evidences to be wanting.” Several people from the party came forward, testifying about the party and what happened. They described nothing like what had happened, only that a great power came from Hart and struck the poor Mr. Lewis. When they were finished, the judge called a recess and everyone rushed for the doors to escape the overcrowded tiny courtroom, bubbling with heat.

  People were discussing the case as they walked out, others mentioning things they had seen Hart do themselves but no one had spoken about. I understood now how the Salem Witch Trials had gotten carried away. Families gathered around under trees in the shade, waiting for the bell to ring to signal the judge’s decision. I didn’t have to go back inside the court to know the judge’s decision.

  In the square of the town, several men were already constructing the gallows where they intended to hang Hart and Hecate. The realization of what I had done to a fellow God hit me as I watched them bang nails into boards, constructing the platform where she would take her last steps. I had to live with knowingly participating in the loss of someone’s life. Sure, the benefits outweighed the guilt on my conscience; ending the war and ensuring the safety of the rest of the Gods.

  I turned away, taking a deep breath to settle the nerves bouncing around in my stomach. Savannah would not approve of my participation and if, when, I told her she would likely be disgusted. But there is no other choice, I reminded myself.

  Turning back to
the gallows, I watched as they finished the construction, one man separating from the group to use the raw materials to pile them all together. I walked over to him, watching him work for a moment.

  “What’s this for?”

  “In case the hanging does not work. Satan’s whores can be tricky.”

  “If their neck doesn’t break when they fall and they don’t suffocate hanging there, you’re going to burn them?”

  “Aye. Though, they like to burn the bodies to be sure.”

  “And what about the families? They don’t get something to bury?”

  “They will put a grave, but it is empty. Though, it does not feel right to bury a lover of the Devil in God’s land.”

  “Right.” I turned, frowning to myself, they were ensuring no matter what, the witches were dead. I could only hope if Hecate was to die it would be without suffering, I couldn’t live with the idea she would be burned alive.

  The bells on the courthouse rung, signaling the return of the judge. Bodies rose en masse and made their way toward the door, surging through the wooden threshold and the desperation hung heavy in the air. The people weren’t here for the thrill of the idea of the witch, they wanted a witch if only for the spectacle of a public execution. I started back toward the courthouse myself, filtering into the crowd where the excited chatter around me only confirmed my beliefs.

  They were more excited to see a public execution than they were about justice. My plan had worked a little too well.

  I found a space at the back of the room, carved into a horde of bodies like a light fixture. Hecate and Hart were standing in the middle of the room, back on the pedestal with the bags once more over their heads. The judge looked more concerned about when he would be getting his evening beer than he was about deciding on the fate of the two witches. I had no doubt, in fact, he had made his mind before he called a recess.

  Banging the gavel to call order, the room fell to a hush as all eyes turned to the scene before us. The judge hadn’t sat yet, taking his time as he settled in his chair looking over the two prisoners standing there pathetically waiting for something to happen.