The following morning began like any other day in wintertime—bitter and frosty, with a light wind that froze one’s bones. Alaric had not slept the prior night, and he unquestionably was not jubilant at the thought of observing Lavenia’s execution, though he assumed every individual from town was. Many had congregated at the location, including women and children. This was not an exhibition Colchester witnessed often.
Ulric and Daciana stood halfway through the crowd gathered around the palisade. Alaric did not feel like joining them, nor did he feel like asking questions regarding their curse. Once this matter was behind them, he would inquire as to the nature of their conversation with Lavenia the night of the attack: what she told them, how they responded, what their future held. Regrettably, now was not the appropriate time.
The ceremonial death procession had begun. Lavenia’s hands were bound, and a rope was tied around her neck in case she decided to flee. As with all criminals, she was taken to the steps of the church, where she would confess her sins and ask forgiveness. Yet, when forced to beg for mercy from God, she refused to open her mouth. Instead, she spat. A collective gasp was heard from the audience, and many townsfolk began praying. Alaric refrained from smirking; ’twas naught but expected for any person who knew her. Lavenia had always been a rebel. The only part he regretted, for her sake, was that the officials would surely now drag out her death.
Generally, the priest stood alongside the pile of timber and straw, reciting his prayers, but this time, he said naught. ’Twas obvious Lavenia wanted naught to do with him, and she did not believe in the church, or higher powers. She merely believed in her own abilities. Alaric felt his stomach twist at the thought of her burning in Hell for eternity. He pitied her.
The executioner—fashioned in all-black attire, and a mask with two slits cut for his eyes to see—made a path through the twigs and straw for Lavenia. He dutifully tied her wrists behind the stake, chained her ankles and torso, and whispered a message in her ear. This made Alaric liven up. What had he said to her?
“The witch’s final words shall now be heard,” he announced, as he hopped off the platform and closed the gap of wood. A younger boy handed him a torch, and the executioner paused for Lavenia’s last speech.
Ulric and Daciana took their leave. Daciana’s face was flush with Ulric’s chest, and Ulric wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders. Cowards, Alaric thought. Just as they strolled past Alaric, Ulric glanced up and made eye contact. When Alaric looked away, disgusted with his brother’s actions, he locked eyes with Lavenia.
“May ye never know love again,” she cried out, continually holding his gaze. The crowd followed her line of sight, all eyes planted on Alaric. “May ye remember every day that ye caused my death. No matter how much time passes by, thy every waking thought will be consumed by me. I curse the day I met ye! I curse thy offspring! Ye shall forever remain a monster outwardly as ye have always been inwardly. Ye shall walk this earth alone, for all of time. Ye shall instill terror into the hearts of men, women, and children,” she proclaimed, focusing on Alaric, Ulric, and Daciana. “A curse upon thy houses!”
The executioner took her tirade as an opportune time to set the kindling ablaze. Though she struggled in the beginning, Lavenia soon realized there was no escaping. As her screams pierced the air, Alaric turned and strode off. He could not tolerate listening to her harrowing cries, especially knowing he was the reason behind them. He wished now that he had never used his pride and anger as means to destroy this woman’s life. But ’twas all over. The priest said his silent prayers as everyone watched what was left of Lavenia burn.
Everyone but Alaric.
He hastily strolled away from the crowd with no knowledge of where he went. All he was certain of was that his head and heart told him to return to Lavenia’s cottage. He had waved off her apprentices yesterday, but the words of that one girl nagged his conscience entirely ever since. He would find out what she meant, what secrets she kept, and he would also ask a favor of her. If they truly aided Lavenia’s dark arts, they would have knowledge of a cure for the curse she placed upon him, his brother, and Daciana. He would not stop searching for an end to his newfound disease until his dying breath.
The front door to Lavenia’s cottage was open, and her apprentices were cleaning inside. They seemed a bit startled when Alaric stood in the entryway.
“Apologies,” he said, “but what is it ye so desperately need to tell me?”
Both girls looked to each other.
The flaxen one bit her lip, then replied, “Follow me.”
Alaric trailed behind, in case this was some sort of trickery or a trap. He warily glanced over his shoulder at the other apprentice, who remained in the first room, sweeping away dirt from the floorboards. She eyed him, too. As he and the blonde girl entered the back room, he paused to survey—herbs hanging from the rafters, the smell of burnt wax suspended in the air, and the cooing of a small child from the cradle before him.
“I am afraid I do not understand,” said Alaric. “What is so important about this room?”
The blonde girl’s face distorted into pity. “The baby, of course.”
Alaric frowned. “And how is it essential to me?”
“He is thy child,” the young girl murmured.
This must have been some sort of ploy, for Alaric had never consorted with Lavenia’s apprentices, and he certainly would not be so foolish if he had. “What is it ye truly want? Money? If that be so, I do not have what ye desire—I am afraid I am too lowly for that—but I can help ye and thy friend leave this town and start clean.”
“Ye mistake my words, sir. I do not wish for thy money, or thy help. I wish for this baby to have a good life, which is what Lavenia wanted. She said ye would not believe it so, but I told her I could convince ye.”
Alaric could not form proper thoughts or words. So he settled on pointing a finger at the young apprentice and said, “I do not have a son.” He turned on his heel, confused by his emotions and whether this baby could be his. What if he was? Alaric shook his head to remove the notion.
But before he could reach the front door, the other apprentice, who had been dutifully sweeping up dirt, opened her mouth and spoke. “Do ye remember when Lavenia and ye spent all those long nights together? ’Twas not long after ye left her she learned she was with child.”
Alaric’s heart thudded strongly inside his chest. Could it be? Had Lavenia lied to him, told him ’twas one of her apprentices’ children?
“She mentioned the child was one of thy own,” Alaric said, making a sweeping gesture toward both young women.
The one before him shook her head. “Nay, not ours. She only kept the child hidden from ye because she knew ye would not want him.”
Alaric could not compete with his overwhelming emotions. A child? How dare Lavenia spring this upon him only after her death! She should have told him prior, mayhap even the night he visited her for dinner.
“The child shall remain here until I can fathom how to provide for him,” said Alaric. The fair-haired girl opened her mouth to argue, but Alaric cut her off. “Now, I came here for a purpose, and I expect the two of ye will have a solution. I need the cure, the reverse spell, for this werewolf curse Lavenia placed upon my brother, Daciana, and me. Can ye help?”
“What Lavenia practiced, she did not teach us,” said the dark-skinned girl. “We know naught of witchcraft.”
So she had not only cursed him, she also left him with no resolution. He, Ulric, and Daciana would forever remain werewolves, unless they found another witch to break the spell. Alaric knew then what his purpose in life would be: find a way to undo the enchantment. Only then would both families be liberated from the dark magic shackling their bodies.
“My apologies,” Alaric said, as he ambled toward the front door. “I shall return at a later date to claim the child. But first, there is something I must do.” He burst outside before either girl could stop him. He truly had no idea where he was going; he merely wante
d a way out. This was his chance. Finally, he could roam the earth without feeling caged. He could explore so many places he had read about. But, along the way, he would find himself, and that was what mattered most.
Chapter Thirteen
Summer, 1570
Alpha Moon (Silver Moon, #0.5) Page 12