A Lying Witch Book Two

by Odette C. Bell

  I focused on the hooves then the shouting voice.

  Though I wasn’t usually the kind of girl to run towards angry voices, today it was different. Today, my curiosity got the better of me. I pushed up and over the crest of the hill. There, I saw a man on horseback, riding madly towards me.

  Though he was far-off, though the sun was in my eyes, though the wind whipped my hair over my face, instantly I recognized him. Max. Except, he was unlike I’d ever seen him. He was dressed in tanned skins and rough hessian like a Highlander, a long broadsword bouncing at his side.

  Once he saw me, his eyes widened. He charged across the distance between us, and suddenly his lips split apart as he spat, “There you are, witch.”

  For a second, my heart went out to him, vibrated with warmth and happiness at the sight of him. But that moment ended as I realized what he’d said and his face twisted and contorted with rage once more.

  I turned on my foot, began to run, but I didn’t have time. The horse charged up behind me, swept in close, and before I could scream and jolt back, one of Max’s strong arms wrapped around my back and plucked me off the ground.

  Showing his strength, he pulled me up onto the horse in front of him.

  I fought, but I caught a glimpse of his face, and it stilled me.

  It was Max, alright, same handsome face, same eyes, even. But everything else? Everything else was different. It was like I was staring at another man from another time.

  He growled at me, spat in my face as rage contorted his. “You won’t escape from me this time, witch,” he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips and dashing against my cheek.

  I stared at him with wide, frightened, crazed eyes. “Max, it’s me. Max, it’s me, Chi. Max, snap out of it,” I begged.

  He wrapped an arm around my middle and pulled me to until I no longer faced him and faced the front of the horse instead. We continued to madly gallop across the grassy moor, until finally a mountainous path opened out before us, slicing up a rocky, treeless hill. “Max, please – where are you taking me? What’s going on? I’m still in the warehouse, Max. You have to save me before Fagan—”

  “Quiet, witch,” he hissed by my ear. “You will not trick me with your wiles again. I fell to you once – and I will make you pay for that,” he promised.

  There was something so unquestionably dark about his words, menacing about the way they shook through his throat and vibrated into me as he pinned me against his chest.

  It wasn’t Max. Or this wasn’t my Max, at least.

  “No, Max, please—”

  “Not another word,” he hissed right by my ear, “witch.” He tightened his grip around my middle until I could hardly breathe.

  Tears began to soak my cheeks as I wondered what the hell had befallen me. I may have just dodged death with Fagan, but who knew what this Max would do?

  The scenery was stunning, stark, craggy mountains plunging off into rolling meadows and thick, knotted woods. In the distance, I even caught a glimpse of a large, crystalline lake. Max pushed the horse, and it powered over the bare dirt path beneath us. I wanted to press him, beg him to answer my questions so I could find out where the real Max was, where I was, when I was. I did nothing. His words – not another word, witch – echoed in my mind.

  As the minutes slipped past into almost an hour, we came upon a village. From the make of the stone and mud-brick buildings with their thatched roofs, I figured we had to be in the 1600s, 1500s, maybe. In other words, a long, long time from home.

  My gut kicked, bottomed out, buzzed with fear as I tried to figure out what I should do. If I pulled myself from this vision, I’d only end up back on the blood-soaked floor at Fagan’s feet. And yet, as Max brought the horse to a skidding stop, and yanked me off it, I wondered if a worse fate waited for me here.

  I felt watchful eyes on me as Max pulled me down and I fell by his feet.

  Though the village had appeared empty before, now doors creaked open, faces pushed out from behind the buildings and trees and stables.

  “I have brought the lying witch,” Max bellowed as he struck his chest like an angry ape.

  The watchful faces sneered, and jeers split the air, echoing around me.

  I’d never felt colder in my life. At first, I tried to huddle against Max, but he hissed and kicked me back, boot tracking mud across my jeans.… Because I was still in jeans and my torn, bloodied blouse.

  Wasn’t this a vision? Or was this something more? It was clear I could interact with it, and just as clear from my now bruised ass that it could interact with me. And time had gone past – almost an hour if I was any judge. I really doubted Fagan would have left me at his feet for a whole hour, not when the clock had been ticking down to 7:07.

  Max continued to call to the crowd, and they continued to cheer and call back. One of them even picked up a stone and threw it at me. I was quick enough to turn, but not quick enough to dodge completely out of the way. The stone struck me on my thigh. It wasn’t sharp enough to cut through my jeans, but it produced a fair wallop.

  I screamed.

  Max returned his attention to me. “Endure, for it is your deserved fate. Seer, you used your abilities to lie, and for those lies, you will pay.”

  The crowd cheered once more. It was clear they wanted to see me dead.

  Though a second ago I’d been academically wondering whether this was a true vision or something else, now my heart told me that didn’t matter. Wherever I was, it was real enough to hurt. For Max thrust forward and slapped me. His hand impacted my cheek, my head jolting to the side. Though pain split down my face and into my neck, I didn’t move. I stood there, completely and utterly shocked.

  The crowd continued to cheer, and my heart felt like it bottomed out and fell through my torso.

  Trust me. Trust me, Chi. Max’s words suddenly played through my mind, his expression, too. All he’d ever wanted was for me to trust him. And yet, I had trusted him only to wind up here, only to—

  Two men pushed forward from the crowd. Looping their arms through mine, they pulled me away through the village. I screamed and kicked, but there was nothing I could do.

  I had no power to fight against them, so I turned my head, cast my pleading gaze on Max.

  And for an instant – a single instant – I swear it had some effect, I swear his outrage and vehemence softened. But the moment didn’t last.

  He turned from me and walked away.

  I had to get out of here. Had to get out of here. The men were dragging me towards something in the center of the village, and a second later I realize what it was – a pyre. For burning bodies. This one, however, had a twist – a pole in the center that was no doubt designed to tie a person against. A live person. Me.

  I bucked, now fighting with all my force. “No, please, there’s been some kind of mistake. I’m not from around here, not from this time. Please, stop. Max, help me,” I screamed at the top of my lungs. As I bucked and fought against the men dragging me towards the pyre, I shifted my head. It was just in time to see Max. Just in time to watch his hands curl into fists.

  He may hate me, this Max may want to see me dad, but it was clear he nonetheless still had feelings for me. So I screamed his name again, breaking down, tears falling down my cheeks. “Max, please, help me. You owe me,” I suddenly added.

  Now Max turned, right around. He faced me. Just before the men could haul me up onto the pyre and tie me to it, I brought up a hand. “Stop,” he bellowed.

  The village seemed to freeze as one.

  Max strode forward until he stopped right in front of me. By now my hair was a mess, all tangled in front of my face, all knotted down my back and shoulders. My shirt was all torn, all bunched up and ripped.

  Max’s expression was unreadable. Maybe it was cold hatred, maybe it was submission.

  Maybe it didn’t matter. He reached forward and slapped me once more. My head twisted to the side, eyes staring out blankly as my expression became dead, hollow.

&nb
sp; “You deserve to burn, lying witch, but—” his voice bottomed out as he stopped, as he took a breath.

  I couldn’t look at him.

  And yet he waited for me, waited until I turned around. “But what?

  “Mary McLane, you condemned this village, but you saved my life. And you’re right – that is worth something. It is worth a curse.”

  My brow scrunched up. “Mary McLane? I’m not Mary McLane. I’m Chi. Just look at me. Look at me, Max. Look at what I’m wearing, look at my face.”

  “I will agree that your manner of clothing and appearance has changed – but that does not matter. Witch, I understand your ways. And you will pay for them. Your entire line will pay for them. For now, you face me, for now, you beg me, I realize that death will be too sweet for you. No,” he brought his face close to mine, baring his teeth, “you deserve a far darker fate.”

  At first, the crowd appeared disappointed when Max had stopped the execution. Now they roared and cheered in obvious pleasure.

  I’d never felt colder as I faced Max. It felt as if my entire body was nothing more than snow and ice.

  Max continued to face me, continued to sneer at me, his hatred so obvious it turned my stomach.

  The crowd continued to cheer – their hateful shouts echoing and punching through my mind.

  Max drew up a hand. It brought my attention to his palm. It was cut – carved through, in fact. It looked as if somebody had tried to carve a pattern with a knife right through his flesh.

  It looked fresh, too. No, that wasn’t quite right – it went from looking fresh to looking old. Almost in the blink of an eye.

  For it was magic.

  The symbol on his palm was the strangest thing I’d ever seen. It was half a pentacle melded with an all-seeing eye.

  He brought his palm up, and with the coldest frown spreading across his face, he walked towards me. Without hesitating, he pressed the center of his palm against my forehead.

  I began to feel something drill through my head. It was honestly as if Max had plucked a power tool from his pocket and started to use my head to drive a nail through a wall.

  I screamed, a shriek echoing through my throat, shaking through my body. “Stop,” I begged.

  But Max did not stop. He pressed his hand all the harder into the center of my forehead until it felt as if he were drilling through my very brains.

  My head started to vibrate, my whole body started to shake until it felt as if I had been pushed into an earthquake. “Please, stop,” I begged.

  Max would not listen to me. The hateful jeers of the crowd were the only thing I could hear as my world started to fracture.

  The whole scene changed color, becoming blue, then red, then dark brown as my eyes appeared to give way.

  Everything started to break.

  “Mary McLane, you will be cursed. Your progeny will be cursed. Every seer you produce will be cursed. Your name will bring nothing but shame. You will never escape this curse. It will haunt you and your family until the end of days.”

  His words drove through my skull, one after the other until I honestly felt as if I had split in two.

  I could no longer blink, no longer open my eyes. All I could do was feel the weight of his palm pressed against my head, hear his echoing words split through my brain.

  “Mary McLane,” his voice bottomed out even lower, “you will never escape me. Never escape me. You will be mine forever more.”

  “Max, please,” I used all of my energy to call his name. My voice was so fragile, so shattered, so broken, it would be clear to anyone my words were no lie.

  And it appeared to have an effect on Max. For he hesitated. For the pressure of his hand against my skull suddenly alleviated. For half a second. Then he pressed it even harder against my head until my neck jolted back into the supporting beam of the pyre. “There will be no escape. I will watch you until the day you die. Your power will be mine, and you will never leave my side.”

  “No,” I gasped.

  Then everything began to spin.

  I started to black out, and yet at the same time, I became aware of the plastic pressed up against my cheek.

  Just as had happened many times before, the scenes began to meld with each other. Though I could still feel the weight of Max’s hand against my forehead, I could also feel the pressure of the concrete beneath me.

  I also heard Fagan’s breath right by my ear.

  Fear absolutely punched through me now, and yet, I felt myself slipping towards unconsciousness as the effect of Max’s spell tore through my body.

  It took all my energy, all of my will and determination to hold on. But I did not hold onto the plastic, to the sound of Fagan’s breath, to the cold concrete floor beneath me – I held onto Max.

  This was a mistake. A mistake. Max was not this cold – did not have this much brutality trapped within his heart.

  He was a good man, even if he didn’t know it.

  Though I wanted to stay in that vision, though it was violent, suddenly I was violently pulled out of it.

  I was pulled out of it, as Fagan clutched a hand around my throat and pulled me up.

  My body was still limp; there was nothing I could do to fight him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of steel. It was the only thing my eyes could pick up as they struggled against the murky darkness.

  That was enough.

  Enough to seal my fate.

  I caught a flash of Fagan’s clenched teeth, his constricted and narrowed brow.

  Then I felt the sword slice forward.

  I expected it to plunge through my chest, to kill me in one devastating blow.

  But that’s not what happened.

  At the last moment, out of nowhere, I heard a scream. A bellow that shook the concrete, pounded through the building, and used up the last of my strength to make me smile.

  Max!

  Just before my broken mind could question which Max it was, I saw a flash of his blue jeans and that T-shirt.

  He came speeding across the factory floor from a door on the other side of the room.

  It was open, and rather than reveal the dusk-dimmed city street beyond, I saw what looked like a darkened crypt.

  Jangling at Max’s side was a set of massive keys. Unless he’d taken the time to go to the hardware store, those were Dimitri’s keys.

  Max had prevailed. In fighting Dimitri, at least. For as he bodily threw himself across the floor of the factory, Fagan acted. With lightning-quick reflexes, he jerked back from me and plunged a hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out the oddest little box I’d ever seen. It had moving cogs atop that shifted around at a blistering pace, almost like the insides of a clock on fast forward.

  In fact, as I stared at them, I swore they only became faster. Kind of like a timer ticking down to something….

  With a dark sneer biting across his lips, Fagan threw the box at Max. Though Max was completely covered from head to toe in magic, it didn’t matter. As the box sailed through the air, it exploded. It wasn’t just a single explosion, though. No. The box itself split apart with enough explosive force to send my already prone body skidding several meters backward. As it split apart, it formed other boxes – hundreds of them. They looked like nothing more than tiny shards of metal, but they were more. For, in an instant, they changed direction, slamming towards Max.

  Though Max’s magic surged as it tried to push them back – more and more blue flame bursting over his skin – there was nothing it could do.

  Those tiny scraps of metal burst through his defenses and attached to his body. Max staggered back, trying to claw the metal off as his massive arms pumped wildly. Yet though he could scrape away one or two, the boxes appeared to be multiplying, growing like daisies through a field.

  Max started to slow.

  He fell to one knee.

  He jerked his head up and had time to look across at me.

  My head… my head felt like it had broken like my mind h
ad been dropped off a massive building only to shatter on the streets below.

  Minutes ago I’d been begging a different Max to save my life. Now the real Max would die at my feet.

  Unless I did something.

  Fagan chuckled, jammed a hand in his pocket, whistled through his teeth, and turned.

  “You’re out of time,” someone said. It took me too long to realize it was Max. His words were garbled and choked as those scraps of metal multiplied and grew over his very throat.

  Fagan suddenly jerked his arm up and stared at his watch. I saw his face slacken, saw true dread alight in this eyes.

  I still didn’t know why he had to kill at exactly 7:07 every night.

  “No, I’ve got 20 seconds left,” Fagan spat. Then he moved. Faster than anything I’d ever seen. In a fraction of a second, he was beside me, the sword slashing towards my neck.

  I shouldn’t have been able to move. Reason told me my body was already broken by the memory of Max’s curse.

  But reason could go to hell.

  I jerked backward, skidding on my back and somehow rolling out of the way.

  I bought myself a second.

  Fagan screamed, the move sounding like it would tear the lining from his throat. “Come here!” he bellowed.

  I just had to stay out of his reach, I told myself.

  No.

  I had to fight.

  Because there was no one left to save me.

  I didn’t wait for the sparks to swarm my vision, I pivoted on my hip, brought my leg out, and kicked.

  It worked – I caught the side of Fagan’s leg just as he skidded down to grab me.

  The blow wasn’t hard enough to push him backward onto his ass, though. But it bought me another second.

  Rather than roll to my feet and push towards the still-open door at the other side of the room, I threw myself at Fagan.

  He still had the sword in his hand, and he tried to slash it across my arm, but I ducked to the side just in time.

  My mind was a blur, of hatred, of vengeance, of pure survival. It gave me the force I needed to wrap an arm around Fagan’s side.