“I don’t know… but maybe the car is still in the station lot.” I click the button multiple times, walking up and down the rows of cars until finally I hear a beep.
“Oh, hell yes! We hit the jackpot!” Maeve beams, seeing the ruby red, pickup truck. “I guess you robbed the right guy.”
She throws her bags in the back, lifts herself on the wheel and slings her leg over the side until she stands secure, then she gets to work, searching his left-over toolboxes for something.
“What’re you looking for?”
“This,” she says with a smile, holding up a screw driver.
Jumping down, she tells me to keep lookout – which apparently means I need to warn her when people are coming. When she knows the coast is clear, she finds the nearest car and removes the plates. She does the same with the truck and switches them over.
I watch on in confusion as she twists the last screw into place. Her eyes meet mine and she looks at me like I’m stupid.
“The guy is freshly dead! You don’t want to be seen around town driving his truck… believe me!”
Oh. Right. I never thought about that.
“Do you want to do the honors?” She asks me, jiggling the keys in my direction.
“I can’t drive,” I admit, climbing into the passenger seat.
It’s comfier than the bus and a lot more spacious, too. I snuggle down into the seat, close my eyes and lean against the window. As Maeve gets us onto the open road, I settle into a safe sleep and decide that maybe she’ll be useful to have around, after all.
CHAPTER THREE
There are crowds surrounding me and they’re all whispering about her. They want her dead for what she’s done. She’s brought nothing but havoc and despair to the town – that’s what they’re saying, anyway. Every death, accident and sickness… it was all her fault. That’s why she must burn; for the sake of the town.
I look around. It’s the same scene as last time. The world surrounding me is dark, dirty and everyone is dressed in weird, bland clothing that could only be described as Amish-looking. The women wear ankle length dresses and bonnets and the men wear weird, brown and black jackets, trousers and top hats. The sky is grey and overrun with thick clouds, but it won’t rain… It never does.
The whispering stops and heads turn to watch as they bring her forward.
A woman, crying, makes her way to the pyre. She looks like someone I know but I can’t place her. I have never been able to place her. Her long, ebony hair reaches mid-back and swings across the soft fabric of her olive-green gown as she makes her way to her certain death. As they bind her with ropes to the mountain of wood, I watch from the crowds, unable to move.
She looks directly at me with a sweet smile; as she had done countless times before and says something I don’t hear. I see her mouth move but in that moment, everything is silent to my ears and then the fire begins. Suddenly, the crowds are hollering around me and her screams torment me.
I hear them calling for her death. I hear her calling for their mercy. I watch as her skin melts from her body. I watch as they smile and laugh.
I finally find the courage to move. The strength to help her.
I take off in a run towards the fire and feel arms grasp me around the waist, keeping me in place.
“Stop,” comes a warm voice in my ear. ”It’s too late! All you can do is watch.”
Her screams are like deep cuts to my heart. I shield my eyes and listen as the crowds around me cheer until she’s dead and the dream shifts.
I’m in more modern scenery and there’s grass surrounding me; not just grass but fields of glorious flowers. The warm sun beams down on the picturesque day and lights the meadow in a way that makes all of the colours seem more vibrant as a soft wind roll through.
Childlike laughter reaches my ears, causing my head to turn. Two girls aged ten and six chase each other as their parents watch on in amusement.
“Tag, you’re it,” the eldest shouts, touching her sisters' shoulder and then she takes off like a gazelle, hopping through the blades of green.
Her sister giggles and runs after her with an outstretched arm.
“Not too far, girls,” shouts their mother as she lays a kiss on their father's smiling lips. He kisses her back before opening the wicker basket at his feet and laying out the picnic spread in front of him. His wife smiles and makes short conversation. I can’t fully make out what they’re saying but the overall tone is happy and playful. I can see their love for each other radiate as they watch their daughters play together.
I smile, as I always do when I see them together.
And then, my face drops.
Just as I knew he would, the man with the darkest eyes I have ever seen comes from the trees. His belt knife is glimmering against the sun as he walks closer to the family.
The father spots him first and freezes in shock. The mothers pretty green orbs widen beyond what should be possible – she recognizes him.
“No!” She begs. “Please…”
But it’s too late. He raises the shotgun in his strong arms and let’s off two rounds; the sound of the gunshots echoing through the air. The couple drops as their bodies twitch in pain and they bleed out. The father is the first to die, but the mother hangs on.
“Mommy!” The terrified scream of the eldest daughter rings out as she spots the scene. Her mother tries to speak but the blood spews from her mouth and all she can manage is a gasp of air before her body succumbs to its injuries and she’s gone.
He turns on the children next, pointing his barrel at them with no mercy in his eyes. The eldest steps in front of her sister. She’s willing to die to protect her but it won’t work. Her tiny body isn’t big enough to block the shot.
“No,” I gasp, my legs carrying me as fast as they can as I see him raise the gun once more. I reach the girls and stand in front of them with my arm raised, ready to battle the rounds that fly.
The sound fires and time moves slower. I close my eyes and search for my power, only it’s not there. I dig deeper but still find nothing; not even a tingle. My breathing speeds up as my eyes whip open and I see the slug coming closer.
The girls are panic-stricken; frozen behind me. I refuse to step aside. I’d rather die than let the round hit them.
“… But it’s not up to me, is it?” I ask, seeing the beautiful, dark haired woman with the honey-like voice, standing by a tree on the outskirts of the meadow.
“No,” she replies with a sympathetic smile. “What’s done is done. You can’t save the dead, Theo.”
As I hear her words, the slugs fly through me as though I’m not there and I realize that I’m not. I’m just an observer in somebody else’s memory. I let out a cry and turn my head to find the eldest cradling her bleeding sister with a tear-stained face.
“It’s okay, just go to sleep like mommy and daddy,” she sobs, stroking her sister's hair. “And wherever you go in your dreams, I’ll come too.”
“Do you promise?” the baby asks, her breathing laboured.
“I do,” she cries, entwining their pinkie fingers. “I’ll never leave you alone.”
The young one smiles, closes her eyes and accepts her fate.
I watch as the man moves closer and his gun rises once last time.
The girl sees him coming and closes her eyes, too. She lies down to the ground and wraps her arms around her sister; hugging the body close to her chest.
I can’t watch. I force my eyelids closed and listen as the shot rings out. I keep them closed until I hear his footsteps come closer. The smell of his musk hits me and I look to find him standing right beside me. I scoff, disgusted; unable to take my sight off of his smug, remorseless face.
His eyes are the first things that stick out to me. The deep, dark brown mixes with the black of his iris and they remind me of unused storage locker – dark, empty and cold.
The second thing is his hand. He lifts it to scratch his overgrown beard and my eyes immediately land on his weirdl
y shaped birthmark – It’s a hunter’s mark… but it’s different than any I’ve seen before.
“They were witches?” Tears burn my cheeks as I finally take in the sight of their lifeless bodies.
“Yes.” the woman tells me, her voice breaking. “As they all were...”
He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a metal canister. The lid is removed and the smell of petroleum hits me.
I watch on as he pours the flammable liquid all over them, like they’re trash he is disposing off and not human beings. He starts with the parents first. With the scrape of a match against its box, the fire ignites and they burn. Slowly, he makes him way to the girls and lifts their bodies in his hands, tossing them carelessly into the flaming circle.
I sob, unable to control my breaths. My lungs ache with every wheeze.
The dream shifts again, and another scene unfolds.
“Stop!” I beg. “I’ve seen enough.”
“This is the one you need to see, Theo. This is one you keep blocked out,” she tells me.
I take a look around and everything is the same as it was yesterday; from the fire-sticks on the walls and the mosaic window – right up to Zamlia sitting front and center, giving her speech about how the ceremony doesn’t always kill.
Only this time, I am not the witch in front of her…
But she sure does look like me.
Her blond hair is swung over her shoulder, carelessly, and the dress she picked is the complete opposite to the one I wore, but her inhumanly green eyes and her full lips are a mirror image of mine.
“Anna…” I cry out, waving my arms. “No, no, no, no! I – I don’t want to see this!”
“You have too! You need to know.”
I run to my sister and try to touch her, to hug her, to force her out of the room.
“You can’t stop this, Theo. All you can do is avenge her, avenge them all…”
“How?” I cry.
’I can’t tell you that.” She sighs. “All I can do is show you what you need to see.”
I watch as the same two men come for Anna.
“Please don’t make me!” I beg again, tears pooling in my eyes as I squeeze them shut and listen to my sister scream for mercy.
I need to wake up. I can’t watch this!
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” The sound comes out as more of a shriek than a cry. I fall to my knees and let out an ear-splitting protest. “I said stop!”
The buzz finally sparks and vibrates from my body. I see my power ripple through the air as my sisters' hands are bound behind her back and the cold, sterile table is wheeled in. The ripple reaches her and her body calms. Anna turns her head to look at me. Her eyes are sad and her cheeks are red with tear streaks but she smiles in only the way she could; soft and comforting.
I’m frozen, unable to move or say anything.
“You need to know, Theo,” she repeats the woman's words.
“What am I supposed to do, Anna?” I ask. My mouth is dry as my heart breaks and my eyes leak.
“They started the fire,” she cries, her face turning strong and fierce. “Now make them burn in it!”
And then I wake up…
CHAPTER FOUR
My eyes flutter open and adjust to the harsh light shining through the tacky, pea green curtains. I put a hand to my pounding head and groan. I can’t remember how I got into bed but here I am. I look beside me and find my own bile covering the pillow-case. I feel sick at the sight of it and my stomach aches again as the waters fill my mouth.
I search for a trash can and find one under a wooden desk in the corner. Releasing my throat, I retch into the can. When I’m done, I rip the sheets from the bed and stuff them inside the black trash bag. Bringing a hand to my face, I wipe my mouth and then pull the bag from the can and tie a knot in the top, ready to dispose of.
The now bare bed looks uninviting but a part of me still wants to crawl into it and let it swallow me whole again.
I shake my head and head out of the room. Walking down the long hallway, I open multiple doors in search of a bathroom. Find nothing but extra rooms, I groan. The tired feeling in my legs increases with every step and all I want to do is crash to the floor and stay there.
Finally, I come to one with an en-suite and eagerly head for it; feeling the need to shower the feel of the last day off my body – including the seedy bed.
If I were to judge by the quantity of bedrooms, I’d say it’s very low odds that that particular bed was his, but it’s still not worth the risk of catching something. I let the water wash over me and my muscles scream as the pressure hits them. I moan, feeling the most awake I’ve felt in weeks... months, even.
The pressure increases and I brace myself for the pain of the water hitting my wrists and hand. My eyebrows crease together as small tingles shoot up my arms; the once searing pain now more of a barely noticeable ache.
I lift them, expecting to flinch at the sight of my deep, melted burns, but I’m shocked to see they’re almost completely healed. All that’s left are small, faint scars. It makes no sense. The last time I had a wound that bad was six months ago, and it took over a month to reach this stage of healing. I remember Anna telling me I should be more careful when she saw the wounds.
Anna.
My stomach drops, recalling the unbelievably vivid nightmare that forced me out of my slumber. Feeling a bout of dizziness, I lean back on the marble effect tiles but it’s not enough to keep me on my feet. My legs buckle from under me and I hit the ceramic floor of the shower with a bang. I shout out in pain, both physical and emotional and grip my thighs; digging my nails in so deep I break the skin. I gasp for breath but the hot water is causing too much steam and my lungs feel like they’re suffocating.
I try to cry out for help; unable to bring myself to my feet as images of my sister dragged and bound, invade and batter my mind. The sounds of the young girl crying as she held her sister and the smell of the woman’s flesh as it melted from her body attack my sense. I grip my head and will for all of it to go away but I’m overwhelmed by it and it won’t stop.
I dig my nails deeper and drag them upwards, causing lacerating cuts; anything to get my mind away from the nightmares. I push myself back until I feel the cold of the tiles against my skin.
I’m going to die soon if I don’t find a way out – a way to breathe. The pulsing in my head lets me know that I’m close to passing out. I’m panicking now.
I gasp for breath once more but still get nothing. My panic reaches an all-time high. I know what I need to do, I just don’t know if I have enough strength to do it.
First, I need to calm down. Second, I need to focus.
I thrust my arms out in front of me and see my goal clear in my head. The glass enclosure around the shower is thick and reinforced, but it’s doable with force.
I scream, pushing my power through my hands until I feel at maximum strength. It begins with a small crack and spreads upward as I lay my head back on the cool tile; hoping that I’ve done enough. I watch as the crack widens and gets deeper.
Crack. Crack. Boom!
I guard my head with my hands, squeeze my eyes shut and listen to the glass explode around me and crash to the ground.
I hiss as a small piece shoots up and sticks in my leg.
Without a moment's hesitation, I dig my nails into the wound, rip it out and watch the blood pour down the drain. Red-tinted water is spilling out everywhere and shards cover the entire floor, but the steam is gone and I can finally breathe again.
I sit there for a while longer before finally finding the power I need to stand. I should look for a place on the floor to step safely but I don’t. I turn off the shower and just walk, picking a towel from the rack and wrapping it around myself as I go.
I barely feel anything except a small twinge as each shard enters my skin. I keep walking; ignoring the eggshells sensation of the glass until I’m out of the en-suite and only then do I dig the debris out of my feet.
The
release of the pressure brings the bottom of my feet such relief. I smile and drop the glass to the floor as I walk back into the hall; leaving bloody prints on the hardwood. I make my way back to the room that I woke up in and change into some black leggings and a loose T-shirt but decide against putting shoes on.
My stomach lets out a low growl and I realize I haven’t eaten in at least twenty-four hours. Leaving the room, I make my way downstairs in search of food. The size of the house is the first thing I notice. It reminds me slightly of the academy – multiple bedrooms, a double staircase and a huge foyer; definitely not a house I would have matched to the creep that I killed.
Rounding the corner under a high arch, I move into the kitchen quietly and spot Maeve at the breakfast bar. She’s wearing headphones and listening to something heavy on guitar and angst. I cough to catch her attention but go unnoticed.
Shrugging, I make my way towards the fridge and open it. The backlight must startle her because she whips her head around and lets out a low yelping sound.
“Jesus Christ, T!” She shouts, removing her headphones and bringing her hand to her heart. “Announce yourself!”
“You knew I was in the house…” I shrug and grab an apple juice from the beer packed fridge. Opening the cupboard, I find some chips and heave a sigh of relief as I seize them and take a seat at the breakfast bar.
“Yeah but you’ve been comatose since we got here! To be honest, I had totally forgotten you were upstairs, so how was I supposed to know you were going to come around the door like some kind of stealthy poltergeist?”
“It only took you a few hours to forget that I existed?” I ask, raising the apple juice to my lips and taking a big gulp. “That’s nice. I’m glad I made such an impact.”
“A few hours?” Her eyebrows pull together. “What are you talking about? You’ve been out for three days! I thought you might have been dead at one point.”
“What?” I freeze, lowering the bottle from my mouth. “Three days?”
In all of my time as a fledgling witch, I had never drained myself so much. The most I had ever crashed for was sixteen-and-a-half hours.
SACRIFICIUM (THE UNDERGROUND Book 1) Page 3