Chapter Six from The Tarishe Curse

 

Chapter Six

Hideous Aberration

 

Bravery demands sacrifice.

A selfish heart can never be anything more than cowardly.

 

 

Kresh and I stood silent and alone. At least, I believed we were alone.

After a timeless pause, my husband dared a verbal word. “You can still change your mind. It would mean more time with our children. They’re growing up fast, Duvalla.” It was a persuasive, guilt-ridden offer not meant to hurt as it did.

“I can’t. I told Natasha I would be staying for good the next time we met up. To go to her now would make me a liar.”

“No, not necessarily. We could heighten our defenses and—”

“Please, don’t do this. You know it’s too dangerous.”

Things fell quiet again, and we stood there waiting… and waiting.

My muscles tensed at an unexpected shiver, an unsuitably cold reaction to the warm late-afternoon. Nonetheless, I felt chilled to the core, as if my heart were receiving a transfusion of ice water for blood. My mind had come to a dead-end contemplating past, present, and future decisions. It seemed that every choice I made hoping to protect my family was tied to a consequence that inevitably injured them. Harm was the result of everything I did—everything I had done—regardless of selfless or heroic intentions. The truth hit hard, suddenly horribly clear, as if stepping up to a full-length mirror. The Tarishe curse had taken on my own likeness. I had become the curse, a scourge to my family. This had always been the witch’s plan.

Kresh put his arms around me from behind, and my frame shook more violently feeling his body heat. I was freezing in an inward polar current, trembling on a tiny island of quaking ground, internally falling to pieces. I swiveled around voluntarily and clung to my mate, grateful for the strong, warm embrace that held me close to his beating heart. I feared the steady rhythm would stop, that I would make it cease by some awful choice. I had nearly lost the sound of his heart’s drumming once already. I could not bear to suffer that loss again.

“Duvalla, it’s going to be okay. Everything will be okay.” He held me against him, his heart pounding rhythmically, alive and strong. His lips pressed against my hair—kind and compassionate kisses. “Calm down, Duvalla, relax… you’re okay. You’re okay.”

He was lying to me; I wasn’t okay.

My strength of will had slipped away. An onset of sobbing evaded my ability to dam it. I wanted to flee, to escape, to run and never look back. I yearned to vanish with Kresh—just the two of us. Together we could survive without putting anyone in harm’s way. We alone could evade the witch by living out our lives in dark shadows, never standing still, never looking back.

But no. No, no, no. To flee would amount to another wrong choice. A selfish choice attached to further hurtful consequences. I would hurt Kresh and our children and Sarti.

There was no escape outside of killing the witch.… or myself.

Kresh held me tight as I grieved in his arms. I was weary and terrified and sickened by years of senseless death and destruction. The nightmare slowly destroying us had to be stopped.

At length the tears abated, and my form once again calmed by means of a slow transmission of body warmth. All encumbering emotions were drained. Mentally, I shoved my fears aside and wiped clean a tear-stained face. Standing tall and with renewed determination, I looked up in the direction of a setting sun. The light was sinking but continued its steady downpour of golden rays. A few hours remained until nightfall. My hand naturally felt at the hilt of my sword, clasping ridges with fingers that formed to them perfectly.

“This ends tonight,” I declared, silently vowing that if Barron the gargoyle failed in his task, I would accomplish it—one way or another.

“Very good. You have made a wise choice.”

Kresh and I crouched warily at the startling remark. I drew my weapon instinctively, recognizing the voice a split second before the stone creature shoved out from his hiding place. A chorus of simmering growls amplified at the same instant—my werewolf brothers. Apparently, they too had been taken off guard.

With a critical look, I questioned Kresh about the wolves’ presence. I had been under the impression everyone had fled.

“You’re not going alone,” was all he said to justify it.

“I thought we agreed—”

“You’re not going alone, Duvalla.”

“So much for following orders,” I grumbled. He was needlessly putting more lives at risk.

“We’re sworn to protect you,” he countered, brazenly adding, “Following orders is by choice, not oath.”

I gave up disputing the issue, more concerned about gauging the actions of the gargoyle approaching us. Besides, the village of Tarishe was located miles from our present position. Racing all night, those werewolves didn’t stand a chance of crossing the terrain before sunrise, and Barron couldn’t possibly carry more than two of us in flight.

My gut continued to warn me about the gargoyle when he stepped forward, his footfall bouncing pebbles off the ground.

“You’re early,” I accused, guardedly raising my sword.

“No, I am not.”

I stole a glance at the lowering sun, noting how a portion of it shone through the trees to reflect off Barron’s granite skin. Curious.

“I thought the sun was harmful to you. It doesn’t appear to be.”

“I am not a vampire.”

“Clearly you’re not, but Jovani said you and he share a similar aversion for sunlight.”

Kresh cut in, voicing what he knew about Barron’s race. “Gargoyles are rumored to turn to solid stone during daylight hours, unable to move or speak until the last rays of sunset vanish. It’s said they are entirely vulnerable at that time, helplessly frozen and yet fully aware.”

I looked to Barron for an explanation.

“Aye, it is as he says.”

“Then how do you continue to move despite a glaring sun?”

His stone lips formed a devilish smirk, and I felt another guttural prodding to be cautious of this creature. “Some curses are not all bad, Cat.”

I winced at his familiar use of my nickname, hating it the same way I hated hearing Thaddeus speak it. “My name is not Cat,” I complained.

“You will call her Queen Duvalla,” Kresh demanded, “or forego all werewolf assistance with this reckless plan of yours.”

Barron pointed his chiseled chin toward the sky, appearing to defy the sun by basking in a beam of sunlight. He ignored Kresh’s threat, but I noticed that for a while he ceased to address me by any name.

“It is time we go. The others are anxious.”

I was trapped in a bulky embrace before I or any of the werewolves could react. Sparks flew where the sharp edge of my sword scraped along my captor’s granite hide, having no more effect than if he had been a sharpening stone. I had suspected all along that the weapon would prove utterly useless against him.

Barron easily disarmed me. Resisting him seemed a waste of energy.

He then reached for Kresh who remained in human form throughout our chilly flight that ended once again outside the same dark cave. In my mind, I had begun to refer to the stale hole as Jovani’s Lair. It seemed fitting.

Checking the horizon, I wondered how long it would take our werewolf brothers to reach the canyon below us. By the autumnal coloring of the western sky, I was certain they didn’t have much time.

“I see the filthy mongrels have agreed to join us. Wise move.”

At the sound of Evadine’s cutting remark, my eyes narrowed and peered straight into the cave. I correctly assumed that she and Jovani were inside awaiting sunset; however, my sight wasn’t keen enough to pierce the blackness. Kresh replied to the vampire mistress with a growled threat.

“We can turn back. There’s nothing stopping us.”

“Do not go…” I barely made out Jovani’s features when he approached the cavern’s mouth, keeping just within its protective shadow. “Please, forgive her. She is justifiably upset. You must understand, this evening promises great relief for us all but at significant risk, especially to my dearest.”

I nodded, feeling as much on edge as his dearest. “We’re all at risk tonight.”

“That we are, Queen Duvalla.” Jovani’s use of my distinguished title was startling. Clearly, he feared what was to come, and he didn’t care to face it alone. “I pray our combined efforts put an end to our miseries once and for all.”

“Yes—as your brother promises.”

Barron looked directly at me and repeated his assurance from the previous night. “My plan will work.”

“So says the only one in no danger,” Kresh grumbled.

“That’s not true.” It shocked me how insistently I came to the gargoyle’s defense, but I felt the urgent need to be right about him. “If Barron is discovered in his plan, he risks suffering the wrath of the witch as well. She would destroy him for his treachery.”

“Unless he means to hand over all three of you and remain a loyal servant to that vile hag.”

Again, I adamantly argued in favor of the gargoyle. “No, no, that would end Evadine’s life. He wouldn’t dare hurt his brother that way.” My eyes flickered to Jovani and then to Barron, checking. Both acknowledged my words with a nod. “And besides, if the intent was to hand us over, why waste time giving us a choice? He could have subdued us one by one and hauled us in by force. I’m not sure we could have prevented him.”

“Well spoken.” The monster seemed pleased with my show of confidence in him. If only my churning gut were as convinced.

Kresh kept silent beside me as Barron rehearsed his deadly plan. I listened with my eyes aimed at the horizon, witnessing the night consume a final red vein of daylight. It struck me that nightfall always drowned the sunset. Never did the sun resurface from where it sank, nor would it ever.

When my eyes turned back, Jovani and his mate had moved outside the cave, their forms bleached gray by moonlight. A host of vampires stood close at their backs, equally colorless. I found their loyalty to Jovani and Evadine admirable, though I wondered if I would continue to see it that way when my memory fully returned.

“It is time.”

My heart faltered, but I braced myself, forcing courage to be my companion. Death was assured this night. It was a necessary end, like the sunset, warranting no fear.

Barron took me in one arm and ordered two vampires—Percival and Traïsean—to carry Kresh. I witnessed Jovani and Evadine change form, their black wings stretching taut to take flight. They would fly nonstop to a half-mile point outside the Tarishe gates. There, Barron meant to bind and haul us into the village himself.

I was calm and determined until I heard the order given for the remaining vampires to backtrack and collect the werewolves presently headed in our direction. I objected vehemently.

“No, leave them! You don’t need them.”

“But we do. They will provide a useful distraction.”

“No, I don’t want them in harm’s way.”

“I am afraid they have already chosen for themselves.” The gargoyle took to the air, as did a vast flock of mammoth bats that veered off the opposite way.

“Barron, I never agreed to this!” But all attempts at protest on my part were drowned out by the wind.

 

We soared just above the forest in our approach to the village, eventually cutting through the treetops to land beside Jovani and his anxious mate. Her wild eyes gleamed with suspicion as they darted between Barron and me. Jovani’s lips formed words at her ear, what I assumed were whispers of reassurance, but she refused to be pacified. Clearly, and with good reason, the vampiress feared for her life.

I grunted when my buttocks hit the ground. Distracted by Evadine’s apprehensiveness, I had failed to observe Barron unearthing sections of rope with which he proceeded to bind my ankles after shoving me down.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I complained, jerking my fastened legs from his hands, “and I don’t see why this is either. You’re unquestionably stronger than I am; isn’t it believable enough you could haul me in unbound?”

 Barron didn’t bother to answer. He simply gestured for me to extend my arms. Grumbling, I complied, wrists touching. I imagined, correctly, that he would find the vampire pair less cooperative. Jovani managed to convince Evadine to allow a loose wrap around her wrists. She would not agree to anyone handling her ankles. The rope proved to be no ordinary rope, however, and as soon as she discovered it was impossible to stretch, checking the tension with her supernatural strength, both Evadine and Jovani started in with fervent protests. One rasped question shut them up.

“Do you think I could honestly drag you to your death unrestrained?”

The vampires stiffened, their angered stares as bright as burning coals. No doubt, they were questioning the wisdom of agreeing to this precarious plan.

I gasped the loudest when the ashen couple were swept off their feet, caught up in a netted snare trap. Barron had slyly backed them into the trigger. I could see him smirking. Jovani cursed up a storm more blistering than any in the netherworld, but try as he might, the netting proved unbreakable. Its design had obviously been enhanced by the witch—created for the task her stone henchman had been sent to carry out.

Barron wasted no time taking to the air, gripping me with one arm, towing his vampire catch from behind.

We set down in the heart of the Tarishe village at an hour most villagers would be fast asleep and dreaming. Jovani and Evadine were dropped from a safe-enough height, but they hit the ground hard. They quickly found the opening in their snare. When Barron landed, I remained wedged between his rock-hard forearm and chest.

The partial moon shed enough light for adequate vision, though smoldering fires provided extra illumination, including a source for the formation of eerie shadows. Barron’s silhouette, drawn-out and distended, appeared to sway side-to-side on the wooden hut in front of us. It reminded me of an angry demon encroaching upon some unsuspecting soul. At the site of my old rickety dwelling—the witch’s hut—a powerful rise of affection slammed against my chest from within. It was a feeling of adoration meant for the grandmotherly figure. The intensity of emotion angered me. It was false love, the effect of a malicious curse that twisted my heart. I hoped Barron would mutilate the witch’s heart in return.

When the gargoyle roared aloud for his mistress to appear, I wondered why his trumpeting voice failed to awaken the entire village. No candlelight flickered to life in any window. No one but the deceptively frail sorceress stepped outside. Her beady eyes peered hard at us, as keen as those of a lion gauging the strength of its prey. Barron released me, shoving me forward in the process. With ankles bound, I took a painful dive to the dirt. The gargoyle then dropped to one knee, head bowed. He repositioned my sword to keep it concealed at his side.

Meanwhile, Jovani and Evadine managed to free themselves from the netted snare, standing erect and frozen in place like slender icicles. Jovani acted as a shield for his beloved, hiding her from view. I couldn’t help but fret over what they were about to face.

Barron rose from bended knee and spoke to the witch.

“Mistress, I have returned. I offer you the persons requested, and I bring another—the runaway bride of your son.”

The witch wrinkled her nose glancing down at me and then shifted her piercing gaze onto Jovani. One moment he was a motionless pillar, and the next he was gone, vanished along with Evadine. I sat up straight, alarmed and afraid they had been obliterated without a word of warning. Then I realized it was the vampires’ exceptional speed that had caused the illusion of evaporating. Evadine had bolted with Jovani right behind her, but to no avail. The cord binding the vampiress turned out to be enchanted, and with a single beckon from the witch, the captive was forced to return despite desperate efforts to pull away.

Jovani positioned himself in front of his mate and began to plead for mercy.

“I did all you asked of me! I led your son directly to her; I used the sword; I cut down the werewolves. You promised leniency in exchange for an act of loyalty. Leniency, you said! I swore in exchange to serve you, which I shall—I shall! Please, honor your own terms and give me a chance!”

“Impossible. I cannot trust you.”

“But you can! The unfortunate events that took place at the wedding were the result of a madman driven by desperation! It was a mistake!”

“A grave mistake indeed. One deserving of grave consequences.”

“I have lost too much already. Please, show me mercy.”

“The same mercy you meant to extend to me?”

Jovani ceased pleading for himself at that point. “Evadine played no part in it. She doesn’t deserve to be punished. I beg you, let her go, she’s done nothing. She deserves no harm! Deal with me—punish me, torture me if you must, but let her go!”

The witch moved toward them, investing her full attention. It appeared she was growing taller as her spine straightened out in anticipation of delivering a lethal dose of vengeance. I looked up at Barron, expecting him to see the perfect opportunity to approach our enemy from behind. But he failed to budge, remaining too far separated and just within the witch’s peripheral vision. He needed to get closer to her, to shift sideways and prepare to strike.

Rotating onto my hip, I reached with bound legs and kicked at the gargoyle’s ankles. When his eyes dropped on me, I subtly gestured for him to sneak in for the kill. He appeared to hesitate—a sign of unwillingness that bothered me considerably. I had to assure myself he wouldn’t just stand there and allow Jovani to suffer the death of his mate. He wouldn’t betray his brother… would he?

A sigh of relief crossed my lips when Barron advanced and withdrew my sword. He took a ready stance, waiting for the prime opportunity. The vile hag would soon attempt to conjure a nasty spell. I scuttled across the ground nearer to the vampires, in case I was needed as an added distraction.

All the while, Jovani continued to beg for leniency. The witch was torturing him by means of dread, backing him into a cold, dead end. Evadine fought fiercely with the rope cuffs that drew her inch by inch toward the witch. As she strained to pull away, Jovani worked likewise to shove her back.

“As if your pathetic attempt on my life was not enough, you performed further treachery by abducting my granddaughter a second time from the arms of her new husband.”

“I am not your granddaughter,” I hissed, but no one was listening.

“It was not treachery,” Jovani insisted, “not the least bit! You have been terribly misinformed…” Before any further questioning could take place, Barron opened his mouth and attempted to explain why the vampires had snatched me from Thaddeus yet again. I was shocked he would draw attention to himself, thus forcing him to transfer my sword behind his back. It was an unnecessary and stupid move.

“Mistress, if I may, Jovani is sincere. He meant to show you his worth. He cut down the werewolves in Cat’s company, as you ordered. Afterwards, he thought to bring the girl directly to you as a gesture of allegiance. He would have done so had I not prevented it.”

Suspicion continued to screw up the old hag’s features. She appeared unconvinced of any creditable intent. “Thaddeus was to bring her home. It’s what I sent him out to do.”

“Yes, Mistress, but Jovani hoped to prove himself—to demonstrate his penitence and earnest desire to remain in your service.”

I was getting nervous, wishing the idiot would shut up and stick to his own plan. What did any of this matter?

The witch kinked her neck to look up at the gargoyle. “I will not forgive a traitor. I cannot trust him.” Her cold stare softened while locking eyes with Barron. A thousand wrinkles seemed to melt away as her skin relaxed. “But you, my loyal old friend, I do trust you. The benefits of our relationship are profound. We profit considerably from the other’s talents, do we not?”

“Yes, Mistress. It is true.”

“Yes. Yes, indeed. Such advantages would be sorely missed if that trust were to fail. You would once again become victim to the solidifying rays of the sun, making you vulnerable day after day after day. I fear it would be a death sentence.”

Barron lowered his head as if receiving a reproachful warning. I feared what this meant. Did the witch suspect something? Did she possess some uncanny intuition? It couldn’t be so. She had never shown any sign of being able to read me.

The sorceress twisted around to face Jovani once again. I watched Barron bring my sword forward and stare hard at the blade.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I worked on unknotting the rope around my ankles. The tie wouldn’t give. Overhearing Jovani’s cry, I glanced up to find bony fingers raised like a claw bearing down on Evadine. The witch was muttering a chant of black magic. Barron had my sword in hand but failed to strike at the heart of our enemy as planned. He did nothing but stare blankly at the blade. I wondered if he had been turned to stone.

“Stop it!” I screamed, scrambling to my knees. “Stop your cruelty this instant! Leave them alone! Is vengeance all you know, you awful, haggard, old crone?”

My outburst proved successful at putting a halt to whatever evil had been put in motion. The old woman turned her eyes full on me for the first time, looking genuinely shocked by my insolence. I continued to struggle with my bands, desperate to free myself.

“Catherine?”

“That is not my name, you barbarian!”

“How dare you speak with such disrespect to your own grandmother!”

I felt a rise of endearing emotion constrain me—undoubtedly her doing. It took great effort to defy her further. “You… you… you are not my grandmother! I know who you are… and I know who I am!”

“Oh, do you, child? Then perhaps I should repair that corrupted memory of yours first.”

I dared her with a steady glower, a dare she couldn’t resist.

Instead of drawing near to me, her bony fingers beckoned the ropes to drag me across the dirt, depositing me at her feet. She reached with one hand, meaning to place it on my forehead, when a chorus of howls halted her midway. Her eyes scrunched, glancing about, hearing werewolf cries from all sides outside the Tarishe wall.

She accused me first. “You brought them here.” Then she turned to accuse Jovani. “I told you to kill those mongrels, you worthless parasite!”

“I did as you ordered; I slew her werewolf escorts. There was no time to hunt down the entire pack.”

The witch waved off his lies. “Baugh!”

“Mistress! Mistress, let him finish the job now.” We all turned to stare at Barron, every eye wide with incredulity. He went on speaking. Pleading.

“Allow Jovani to hunt down the rest of those dogs and put an end to our torment. He will do it. I vouch for him…… as a brother.”

“What?” The witch appeared as stunned by his turnaround as I, though not half as outraged. “You would foolishly call this traitor a brother?”

“Mistress, please hear me out…”

“Noooo!” I screamed. The coward was tucking his tail between his legs. He was risking our plan, putting everything on the line. And for what? To appease a heartless hag so he could remain mobile in daylight? Was that truly worth all our lives?

“You fool! You weak coward!”

At my outburst, the surrounding howls increased in volume.

The witch was visibly nervous, her attention drawn in too many directions. “Shut her up!” she cried, pointing at me. Barron’s plan was working as predicted… if only the stool pigeon holding the sword had the guts to strike.

Just then a figure stepped out from under the jutted roof of a storage shed, taking form once the shadows no longer hid him. He had been silently watching our little play the entire time. I tried to yank my arm free when he took hold and pulled me up to my feet.

“Lovely to have you home again, wife.”

“I am not your—”

“Oh, give it up, Catherine. Your dog mate is dead, and I’m the only one left alive who would have you.”

I spit on his boots in an act of defiance that caused him to roll his dark eyes. “You can spit shine them later… wife.”

“Over your dead—”

“Uh, uh, uh!” His finger was in my face, wagging like a puppy’s tail. Thaddeus seemed pleased with himself for having effectively cut me off a second time.

My eyes narrowed and I huffed out of my nose, half-tempted to bite off the tip of his finger. Resisting, I tried to reason with him through gritted teeth. “Untie my ankles or I will fall over.”

His bushy eyebrows sank low, considering the request.

“Thaddeus!” I barked, anxious to have the use of my legs. I wobbled, making a feeble attempt to move my feet, proving the obvious need to have my ankles freed.

Thaddeus kept me upright in his grip. His bushy eyebrows sloped with concern. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said.

I groaned, both annoyed and impatient. “Please, husband.” I nearly gagged on the word. “It’s not as if I can run away from you. I tried that yesterday, remember?”

He made a single chuckle recalling our game of cat and mouse. I allowed myself to wobble helplessly again, letting him catch me.

“Oh, alright.”

As soon as my ankles were free, I shoved my hands into his chest, demanding he untie my wrists as well. It was astonishing that he did so without argument.

All this time Barron spent trying to convince his mistress to spare Evadine’s life as a humble favor. The witch listened to his appeal without mumbling a word. Whether she was hearing him out or silently seething, I wasn’t sure. The scene I looked back on showed my sword lying flat on the ground at her feet, the traitorous gargoyle on one knee pleading.

“…I have performed loyally in your service for as long as you have known me, Mistress, and I shall continue to serve you for as long as you will have me, but it is a hard, hard thing you ask of me this time. Never have I questioned your orders or requested any favors above what you have generously offered. But I beg of you this one small thing… spare my brother. Refuse him as a servant if you must, but please, for my sake, in return for years of unquestioned loyalty, I ask that you allow him to return home to DeVan Peoria with his mate. It would cause me tremendous grief to know he had lost everything. Nonetheless, I will do whatever you command, but…”

Barron continued groveling while a chorus of howls sang continuously in the background. He whined like a pig until the witch finally cut him off. She appeared to come to her senses—or at least to a decision. She asked one simple question.

“Did you destroy his clan?”

The lengthy gap of silence was answer enough, but the witch waited patiently for him to reply.

“I had every intention of doing the deed but… he is my brother. I… I beg your forgiveness, Mistress.”

“Where are they now?” she asked.

“They are near.”

The witch pointed into a black alley. “Go now! Bring one here to me.”

My eyes grew wide when a second gargoyle stepped out of the darkness, spreading his granite wings as he took off with a jump that scarcely lifted him over the high walls of Tarishe. The world came to a sudden stop as we all waited. Kresh and the other werewolves sounded closer and louder in the silence.

With my wrists untied, knowing I had nothing to lose, I jerked my arm free from Thaddeus and tore into a sprint, hoping against all odds to reach my silver sword and take one stab at putting an end to my curse.

Thaddeus prevented it. His mother glared daggers at me for the attempt. Barron didn’t dare lift his double-crossing gaze in my direction, but Jovani looked straight into my eyes, exchanging mutual concern. I could tell he had expected none of this.

My would-be husband tried to haul me off, but I resisted, demanding to witness how things played out. He eventually gave in and stopped at a spot where we could watch the others in the shadow of an overhang.

My heart thundered in my chest when the unknown gargoyle returned towing a dangling figure by one leg. He threw the vampire down beside the witch and then disappeared. When the captured man stood up, he tossed his head back to remove lengths of charcoal hair from his face. I recognized him as Percival—one of the pair who had carried Kresh here.

We all looked up at the catwalk when a second vampire climbed over the wall—a petite, slender female with sunburnt curls. Concetta, Percival’s mate, scanned the scene below, seeking answers. Her worried gaze came to a rest on Jovani. She received nothing but a dire frown in response.

The witch ordered Barron to his feet, and he quickly obeyed.

Her hand reached sidelong with unexpected swiftness. I would not have guessed her capable of hurried movements. Whatever incantation she was mumbling caused Percival’s head to drop back and his body to stiffen like he was being squeezed by an invisible hand.

“No, don’t let her do this,” I breathed. Thaddeus held more tightly to my arm and warned me against interfering. “I will drag you off, Catherine.”

I didn’t move. I could do nothing to stop it.

Percival was alive but restrained. Jovani continued to guard Evadine, warier than ever. Like me, he knew there was no preventing these events. Concetta, however, jumped down from the wall and raced over to her mate. She cried out, cursing the witch while tugging on Percival in a desperate attempt to free him. The sight was heartbreaking.

The result was a test. A disgusting test.

“Kill him,” the witch ordered.

There was no hesitation.

The cold-hearted rock fiend didn’t pause long enough to blink let alone consider the gravity of his decision. He ripped Percival apart, tearing the defenseless vampire into pieces, limb by limb, with Concetta beating on him, crying out hysterically the entire time. Jovani and Evadine looked away, unable to watch. I wanted to avert my eyes too, but I couldn’t. It was incomprehensible why this gargoyle would betray his sworn brother and sink to such horrific depths simply to keep from succumbing to sunlight. And still, there was no guarantee the witch would pardon his deceit.

I lost all strength in my legs watching the barbarity ensue. Thaddeus prevented my collapse by gripping tighter on my arm. He pulled me close to him, embracing me for stability, and I allowed it. Concetta’s screams halted because the traitorous gargoyle turned on her next, dishing out the same fate her mate had suffered. It was an evil he must have considered merciful by some warped reasoning: she wouldn’t want to go on without her mate. A fate worse than death.

I knew the feeling.

With a flick of her twiggy fingers, the wicked witch caused a violet ball of fire to consume the mound of broken body parts. The air distributed the raunchy stench of death. It made me want to vomit. I resisted an urge to turn and run. Not yet. Evadine’s fate remained to be seen. I feared it would be similar to Concetta’s.

At his mistress’ command, Barron again took to one knee. He refused to look anyone but her in the eye.

“You have done well, my old friend. And you see—it wasn’t as difficult as you falsely assumed. For your sake, I will extend a degree of mercy. This I do for one reason alone—because you came to me and confessed your troubles. You have shown a morsel of good sense, unlike your pretended brother. But make no mistake, to earn my complete trust again will take time. I believe, with effort, it can be done.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

The old hag rotated to face Jovani who continued to block Evadine from view. One rotation of a bony wrist, together with a mumbled line of magic, compelled the vampiress to lurch forward, shoving Jovani aside as if he were nothing but a hollow reed. The lady vampire refused to beg for her life. She stood up straight, chin high, jaw taught, red lips tightly pursed. Her gorgeous eyes were crimson slits glaring at the face of death.

Her mate, however, found it more difficult to compose himself. He made a move toward Barron, as if believing their oath of brotherhood still meant something. The gargoyle kept his eyes fixed on the dirt. Forced to accept the monster’s betrayal, Jovani then looked right at me. He saw me, despite the concealing shadows. My heart bled with empathy, having tasted the same degree of misery and treachery, but what could I possibly do?

On the other hand, what would be lost by trying?

With all my strength, I elbowed Thaddeus in the ribs and then kicked his kneecap sidelong. He let go of me and grabbed at his leg, howling in pain while stumbling to the ground. I sprinted forward, not sure what I would do. A picture of my fingers clawing out two bulging, beady eyes flashed in my head, but the closer I got, the clearer I could see my sword still resting on the dirt.

A glowing hand shot out in my direction, so I ducked to avoid whatever spell was meant to restrain me. At the same moment, Jovani dared to lunge at the witch and knock off her aim, only to be caught by the throat. He was lifted off his feet and tossed aside—a demonstration of impossible strength for an old woman. His hands grabbed at his neck as he sputtered and coughed, struggling for air.

Evadine went to attack next, but one magic gesture had the charmed cords about her wrists yanking her to the ground. I ducked another hurled spell by diving headlong, sliding across the dirt to where my fingers managed to meet up with the hilt of my sword. They clamped around the grooved end, achieving a secure grip on the weapon.

A scream shot from my lungs as I felt every bone in my hand snap and pop as it was squashed flat. Barron’s foot—his massive stone foot—stood on my hand, pinning it and my blade to the ground.

The werewolves’ howling increased in unison, mixed with vicious yapping and the sound of splintering wood echoing from various outside locations. I continued screaming out in pain when Barron released my hand—bloody and mangled. He swiped my sword and stepped aside, once again dropping to a knee like a trained monkey.

“I will deal with you next,” the witch warned me in a hiss.

It was Thaddeus, however, who came to deal with me first. He scooped me up while I continued to cry aloud. Carrying me back into the shadows, his hand gently cupped my bloody fingers. Every step we took was a throbbing pulse tormenting enflamed nerves until they suddenly numbed, pain free. My hand swelled, feeling nothing, before a flow of warmth expanded and subsided. It then felt normal. It looked normal—the bones and bleeding healed. I wiggled my fingers, finding them as good as new.

Astonishment screwed up my features. “H—how?” I stuttered, “and why?” I stared at the witch’s son—bewildered.

He studied me with a degree of puzzlement in his own eyes. “Because you’re my wife.”

I was not. But that didn’t matter. Thaddeus’ attention shifted when mine did, back in the direction of the vampire couple. They were on their feet again, the witch controlling them both.

“Stop this,” I begged. “Please, Thaddeus, make her stop.”

He frowned for a split second as if experiencing an actual sting of regret—another utterly shocking occurrence. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” He set my feet on the ground but kept a good grip on me. “If you knew their true nature, you would feel no sympathy for them. Those vampires are your enemy. You’ve forgotten.”

I believed what he said was true, but… “No one deserves the degree of cruelty your mother inflicts.”

Thaddeus started to walk me away from the scene before the final punishment was carried out.

“No, wait. I have to see what she does.”

“Why? It doesn’t matter; you won’t remember any of it.”

His words sent a jolt of terror to my heart. I wouldn’t remember any of it, including Kresh howling outside the gates for me. And my dear children who were now running further away to find a corner of safety. “It matters to me. I want to see,” I said. “Please.”

We stood and watched the end play out.

Barron hadn’t moved, still a kneeling statue with bowed head. Jovani and Evadine were also still, though I guessed their motionless state was the result of a spell. The witch stood in Jovani’s face at this point, berating his choices, labeling him a dire disappointment and a failure. “I cannot trust you,” she repeated again and again. “Grave mistakes deserve grave consequences.”

All eyes caught sight of her withered hand as it slipped out from beneath a sleeve, glowing iridescent. The brightness about it increased by degrees as it stretched toward Evadine and landed on her red-brown curls, topping her head like a radiant crown. A glare made it near impossible to look at the scene, even squinting. I cringed, anticipating a cry of agony; however, the vampiress made no sound at all. Not a whimper. When the witch’s hand fell away, snuffing out the light, I was stunned to discover Evadine alive.

Alive, but not well.

As unmatched as her attractiveness had been, Jovani’s mate now appeared a hideous aberration, drained every wit of physical beauty. Her appearance was repugnant enough to repel a troll.

Upon sight of her own withered hands, Evadine shrieked. She felt at her face—the lumps, warts, and oozing sores. “Noooooo!” she exclaimed in horror. “What have you done to me?” The vampiress attempted to go after the hag who had mangled her features, but her feet, now fat and heavy, were too awkward and clumsy.

Jovani moved swiftly to help his mate, no longer affected by an immobility spell. She collapsed in his arms, shouting and weeping hysterically. He seemed stunned for the longest moment looking down at her, but then his eyes narrowed, glowing red with anger. He turned his hostile gaze on Barron who had glanced up, overwhelmed by curiosity. If the look had possessed lethal power, the gargoyle would have crumbled right there into a pile of gravel.

“Go now,” the witch growled, sweeping a hand in no general direction. “Leave before I change my mind. But remember this: if any member of your clan is ever spotted near Tarishe lands, I will destroy you all.” She began to walk away, hunched and shuffling like a typical elderly figure.

Jovani failed to move, a glower fixed on his brother gargoyle. The witch paused a moment and then turned back to issue one last command.

“On your way out, finish what I summoned you for in the first place. Silence those dogs. Do it… or your lovely bride dies.”

Jovani’s eyes flashed wide open, shifting to stare at the witch.

“Now be gone!” she growled.

He looked at me and read the horror on my face.

“No,” I breathed as her words slammed hard against my brain. As if mangling Evadine wasn’t enough, she had placed the woman’s life on a scale next to the lives of my pack. I shouted at the vampire. “No! Please, Jovani, no! Don’t do it!”

The vampire made no sign; he agreed to nothing. He would protect Evadine regardless of the cost. I was certain of it. His previous actions had proven it.

I continued to shout, begging for the bloodshed to stop and for the werewolves to be left alone. When Jovani and his mate transformed into bats and disappeared over the wall, I began cursing the witch, fighting to jerk free of her son’s grasp. She looked at him with annoyance, ignoring me, telling him to drag me to the hut where I would again be blinded into loving my enemies, hating my family, betraying my husband.

I nearly yanked free, more desperate than ever to get away, when I heard the witch order her boot-licking gargoyle to help Thaddeus take me to the hut. And then the world turned crazier still. For a moment, I was too stunned to fight. The witch had called the monster by name. Not Barron. She had called him Dompier.

I watched his figure diminish as the witch passed by, transforming him under a drizzle of violet sparks from gargoyle to man. It was Dompier. My eyes blinked a dozen times, but the huntsman I knew as a comrade in arms, the man whose wounds I had shed grief-stricken tears over, the friend who had mesmerized me with heroic stories—it was this man now stepping toward me… smiling.

“It’ll be right as rain again soon, Cat. You’ll see.”

I stomped on Thaddeus’ foot more than once and then tore away from him, racing around the corner to the darkest side of the shed. Cutting directly through a narrow alley, I weaved my way toward the town hall. I ran hard, avoiding moonlit spaces. Keeping out of sight meant a few more precious seconds. I would need every one.

At the rear of the largest and tallest building, I scrambled up a wide chimney flue, using cavities in the brick as holds. Once I reached the rooftop, my arms stretched over the edge and pulled my body weight up to where I could fling a leg over. I jumped to my feet and dashed toward the nearest stretch of catwalk that circled the fortress wall. With a running leap, I cleared the gap and lifted myself up on the wall itself, clambering higher onto a support post.

It was the tallest point in the village.

I heard a shout from below and recognized Thaddeus’ pathetic petitioning. He was insisting I climb down, demanding my immediate compliance. My toes shoved off the wooden post, knowing any hesitance would give them time to stop me.

I dove headfirst.

I understood my death wouldn’t end the vampires’ afflictions, but it would defeat the curse methodically destroying my werewolf family. I pictured heaven for a split second—the heaven I had tasted earlier that day cuddling my babies with Kresh.

It hit me then that the werewolves had ceased howling.

The ground hit harder.

[ READ CHAPTER SEVEN - CLICK HERE ]

Richelle E. Goodrich, Copyright 2017

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