Immortal Warfare: Sister Witches

by Melinda Hyde

  “You did amazing, Leonia,” Orin said, as his soft lips breathed across my temple. “We have a son, and he’s beautiful—just like his momma.” Orin lifted my damp hair from my shoulders and twisted it away from my face. “He’s perfect.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. I gazed down on my little son with so much joy that I thought my heart might burst. He was still covered in gunk, but already, I could make out his finely sculpted features. His wrinkled hands beat angrily through the empty air, and his tiny face was as red as a beat. He had a full head of pitch-black hair that matched my own, though it was slicked tight to his head. My inspection inched down and came to a halt. My eyes narrowed in on one feature that, to my relief, I was sure Orin had over looked. My smile dimmed a bit, and I glanced up at my husband.

  “I think he’s hungry,” I murmured, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “He needs to be cleaned up, though. Would you mind fetching me a bit of warm water,” I asked, clutching the baby close.

  Orin nodded his head, wearing a dumb grin. I watched as he breezed from the room, then glanced back down at our child. He was perfect in every way that I could ever imagine. One thing bothered me, though. In the tiny nook between his chest and shoulder, he bore a birth mark. It was quite remarkable, really. Yet, it was also vaguely disturbing. It was small now, but I knew that as he grew, his mark would, too. I wasn’t sure what it meant—if it meant anything at all, but I was troubled by its unlikely shape. The mark appeared to be the exact likeness of a tiny panther paw.

  2.Lenora

  Lenora

  Isat cross-legged with my back against the uneven, stone-faced wall of my cave, watching Aleksandra wobble about the dim space. In the past year, the girl had grown more than I could have ever imagined. Now she was a chubby, little ball of curious energy. She knelt down beside one of my sleeping creatures, and she tugged at the loose folds of their clothing. Of course, they didn’t respond to her nagging, which seemed to intrigue her, all the more. She cackled, and, on short, stubby legs, she hurried to harass her next, unsuspecting victim.

  I shifted my sights to the mouth of the cave. The bright, cheery light that filtered in was tantalizing. It spoke of warmth and joy; it whispered of hope for a better day—one where we didn’t have to hide away in the shadows. I braced my feet beneath myself, and I pushed my back up along the wall. My eyes cut in Alexandra’s direction. She was still preoccupied, granting me a moment of freedom. So, I reluctantly made my way to the illuminated mouth of the cave.

  The day beyond our sanctuary hummed with the sounds of birds racing through the breeze, and the sun’s warmth grazed the surface of my skin, coating it in a golden glaze. I crossed my arms over my chest, as I leaned against the wall and allowed my eyes to drift shut. It felt so enlivening to witness the wonder that went on beyond our small, dreary world. I smiled to myself and my eyes drifted open. What I saw flitting about the clearing dampened my spirits and replaced my smile with a deep-embedded frown.

  My chest constricted painfully, and my mind filled with the bitter ache of longing. Leonia was there, roving through the wildflowers and tall grass. Her black, glossy hair hung in loose locks around her slim frame, and her dark, chocolate eyes shined with a renewed lust for life. Her belly—her belly was stretched to the limits by the child that was fast-growing inside.

  I wanted desperately to rush out into the heart of the day. I felt the need to go to my sister; I longed to be a part of her life. That wasn’t going to happen, though. Those days were far behind us, and it seemed as if she was getting on fine without me. As long as she had Orin, nothing else mattered—not even her own sister, I thought angrily.

  My body jerked involuntarily. I was startled by the chubby, little fingers that wrapped themselves in the loose folds of my gown. My hand flew to my chest, and I peered down at the inquisitive, little girl at my side. She gazed back at me with wide, blue eyes that danced with the innocence of childish adoration. Her red, looping curls frizzed out all around her head, and there was a smile painted across her tiny, pink lips.

  “What is it, Aleksandra,” I asked, in a sweet, attentive tone. Her smile deepened, and she stomped her tiny feet in the loose dust, making it cloud up around the frayed ends of her straggled gown. “You want to go out, don’t you,” I sighed, peering down into those two, innocent, blue pools. I knew that was what she wanted; I rarely allowed her outside the cave. In order to keep her safe from Orin’s wrath, I had to keep her hidden away. “I know,” I cooed, sadly. “It isn’t safe, though, my darling.”

  Aleksandra was not just a child. She was the child of an immortal, and because of that, it was likely that she would grow to possess unnatural gifts of her own. Last year, my creatures had scoured the land, callously murdering all who crossed their paths. They had even taken the life of Orin, Leonia’s beloved husband. He had already set his mind to eradicating my creatures, but now, because of the spell Leonia had cast to bring him back, Orin was well equipped to see his intentions through.

  Aleksandra unraveled her miniature hands from my skirt, leaving the folds crumpled. I ran my hands over the mussed material, as Aleksandra trample off on unsteady legs. She started to bounce gleefully out into the light, and I lunged away from the wall, winding my arms around her tiny form. She started to kick and squirm from my grip, grunting in dismay. I scooped her from the ground, bringing her up to sit on my hip.

  Her chucky finger came up to twin itself in one of her unruly curls, and her lips rearranged themselves into a puckering pout. I chuckled at her reproachful scowl, as I carried her back into the shadowy protection of the cave. I sat her down, and I picked up a rock.

  She glared through the thick frock of her dark-blond lashes, as I began to trace a pattern across the floor. She attempted hold on to her feeble grudge, but her curiosity won out in the end. She stooped down into a squat beside me and scrunched her tiny browns together. I repressed a chuckle, as I offered her the rock. She curled her stubby fingers around it, and she began to thump the stone against the floor.

  I fell back, leaning against the wall, listening to the sound of Aleksandra’s amused grunts that mixed with the clanking of the rock. That’s when a shill scream sliced through the humid air, bouncing around the inside of the cave. The rock tumbled from Aleksandra’s grip, rolling away from her hand, and she tumbled back on her bottom. Her rounded eyes surveyed the recesses of the cave with obvious fright, searching for the source of the racket. When she came up short, she fixed me with a frightened, wide-eyed stared.

  Just as Aleksandra was about to settle down, another pained cry invaded our cavern. This time, Aleksandra hurried into my arms, seeking comfort and protection. I picked the child up, and I rushed to the exit. The day was still beautifully bathed in the buttery light from the sun. Butterflies drifted from flower to flower, and the atmosphere hummed with life, not at all corresponding with the horrific cries.

  Then, I locked my eyes on the cabin across the way. I knew the voice that had sent out the screams. It was Leonia. My instincts spurred me to go to her, but I railed against them. I knew better. My presence wouldn’t be welcomed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of something bounding across the clearing. I glanced in the direction of the movement, and my breath caught in my throat. It was an enormous, masculine panther, moving with the mystery and grace of a shadow towards the cabin. I knew without question that it was Orin.

  I involuntarily hugged Aleksandra closer against me, turning her away from the opening, and I faded back into my meager shelter. Our cave was protected. Orin couldn’t step foot across the invisible barrier that I had created around the cave. Each time we ventured past that border, however, we were at risk of attack. The little girl’s fingers curled into a lock of my hair, but I didn’t divert my attention.

  The enormous beast crossed the distance of the clearing in several lengthy strides. He didn’t even seem to slow as he approached the entryway. It seemed as if, in midstride, he shed his glossy pelt, morphing from
beast to man. He burst through the door, into the cabin, and another pained wail spliced through the air.

  I hugged Aleksandra closer and began to pace back and forth like a caged animal. I felt so helpless being confined inside the dank, dark cave. Aleksandra watched me with big, inquisitive eyes that were filled with confusion. Then, a few moments later, my own eyes were overcome with tears, as the sound of a newborn babe’s cries bounced around the clearing.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, saddened by the fact that I couldn’t be there for the birth of Leonia’s child. It was a blatant reminder of just how far the rift between us had become. Aleksandra picked up on my morose mood right away, and her little lips puckered as they began to quiver. I placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead, despite my own internal battle, while making gentle shushing sounds.

  3.Orin’s Army

  Leonia

  Orin and I were leaned back, side by side, in our bed. We lounged there, watching our tiny son as he slept peacefully in my arms. I had never seen anything so perfect in my entire life, and I supposed Orin must have felt the same way. His green eyes glittered with loving adoration, as they observed the sleeping babe.

  Orin took a moment to peek up at me, wearing a look of sheer wonder. “He’s perfect, Leonia,” he smiled. I beamed back at him, filled with pride. “What name should we call him by,” Orin wondered, in a breathy whisper. At that moment, the baby’s lips twitched up into a lopsided smile, and Orin let out a low chuckle.

  I brought my hand up, thoughtfully skimming it across the soft fuzz that covered the boy’s scalp. “I’ve been thinking about that,” I replied, careful to keep my voice low. Orin eyed me curiously. “I always thought my first child would be a girl. I would have named her Lena. Since he’s a strong boy like his father, I would like to give him your middle name.” Orin crinkled his nose, wearing a wide, jubilant grin. “I would like to call him Lance. I think it’s a strong, sturdy name.”

  Orin looked from me, then down to our baby, and he skimmed his weathered index finger along the surface of the child’s cherry cheek. “Lance it is, then,” he sighed, in a barely audible voice. His face didn’t move, but his wild, mossy eyes shifted up to peer at me through his lashes. “I love it, Leonia. You should put him to bed, now, though. I’d like some time with his lovely mama, and I know you need some rest.”

  I frowned at the idea of putting my son to bed. He was so new to the world—so fragile. “I don’t know, Orin. Look at him. He’s sleeping so peacefully.” I gave Orin a pouty smile, and he arched a bushy brow in return.

  I stifled a sighed, as I swung my legs ever so carefully over the edge of the bed. My feet met the chilly floor, and I padded across the cool planks, over to the wooden crib that Orin had hand-crafted for our baby. It was a lovely, little thing. It was deep, and we had made a feather mattress to fit in the bottom. He had designed it to rock gently in order to soothe the child.

  With great reluctance, I eased Lance away from my bosom, and bent to place him into the protection of the crib. Lance sucked in a breath as his weight shifted into the softness, and his chubby hands shot out to the sides, as if to steady himself. His almond-shaped eyelids twitched in discontentment, but they remained locked tightly together. I nestled him the rest of the way down, watching as his small, frail form melded into the softness of his bed.

  I peered down upon the babe, feeling like my heart might melt. I hovered over the crib, unable to force myself away. I felt like my feet were glued in place. Orin cleared his throat behind me, impatiently calling back to bed. I shot him a menacing glare, before tearing my eyes away from the baby and sulking my way back to bed.

  I slipped beneath the covers, feeling an inexplainable emptiness inside of me. Orin snaked his sheltering arms around my waist, pulling me down beside him. He tucked my small frame into the hollow made by his masculine body and placed a comforting kiss on my neck. I responded to the caress of his full, lush lips by burrowing closer into the warmth created by his hard, chiseled body.

  I was finally beginning to relax, when the night began to quake with the sound of slaughter. I shivered, and beside me, Orin went perfectly rigid. I didn’t miss the powerful quiver that reverberated through his frame. The one that indicated a shift that he was fighting hard to resist.

  Finally, in a flat, heartless growl, his voice began to stir the loose strands of hair, tickling my ear. “It won’t be long now, my love. Their reign of terror over this land is about to come to an end.” It was a chilling promise that I knew he meant to keep.

  I didn’t bother to respond. I knew that it was slowly killing Orin to sit by, while Lenora’s creatures slithered through the night, painting the land red with the blood of the innocent. It troubled me, as well. There was nothing we could do about it, though. Lenora had created a safe space for them—a space where Orin nor I could enter. Outside, the horrific symphony of cries went on, but we both remained quiet.

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  When I opened my eyes the next morning, Orin’s side of the bed was cold and empty. That was far from unusual. Ever since I had brought him back, he didn’t seem to sleep as much as he had before. I supposed it had something to do with his new abilities. It seemed that, even in his human form, his wilder traits still hovered at the forefront of his mind.

  From his cradle, Lance began to squirm, making squeaky, agitated sounds, indicating that he was in need of nourishment. I stretched my arms out above my head, and I unleashed a monstrous yawn. I had been up and down with the babe all through the night. This morning, I was simply exhausted. I rubbed my drooping, puffy eyes, then pushed from under the shelter of my covers.

  I made my way over to the rocking crib, and I peered down on my wiggling son. His hands were fisted into knots, and his fuzzy head whipped from side to side, taking turns to suck on each hand. An amused smile snuck its way onto my tired face, as I scooped the belligerent baby into my arms. His feet kicked out, in no particular rhythm, flailing under the thin, sheet-like blanket he was swaddled in, as he flung his head around, attempting to nurse. I carried him over to the bedside, and I lowered one side of my gown down, below my shoulder.

  Lance had just finished nursing and his eyes were barely opened, when Orin breezed into the bedroom. I beamed up at him brightly; he returned the gesture, but the sentiment was questionably brief. His eyes were glassy and wild, and there was a greedy hunger rippling deep in their unreadable depths. I felt a frown gripping the corners of my lips, as I wondered what the matter was.

  I rose ever slowly, placing Lance inside the crib. He didn’t stir a bit. I was grateful for that. Then, I turned and tip-toed over to Orin. He glanced down at me with barely contained excitement. Something inside me bristled at his odd behavior. Perhaps it was a warning. I couldn’t tell.

  Orin began to speak in a loud, rushed tone, but I whipped my finger up, pressing it into the softness of my lips, warning him to be quiet. He glanced impatiently, with shifting eyes, between me and the cradle. Annoyance flickered darkly across his features, and he snatched my hand up, and he jogged me along behind him.

  In the front of the house, Orin came to a startlingly abrupt halt. I snatched my hand away from his sweaty grip, fixing him with a confused glare. A mad smile slithered across his lush lips, and the gleam in his eyes intensified. I glanced over his broad shoulders, at a small group of people standing by the door. The skin along my brow scrunched up, pulling into folds of bafflement. I still wasn’t sure what this was all about, but somehow, I had a creeping feeling that I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Orin, who are they,” I demanded, indicating the newcomers with a snatch of my hand.

  The tip of his tongue traced his plump lips, lubricating their smooth surface. “They’re the answer, Leonia. They’re what I was telling you about.”

  I took a step away from him, now completely puzzled. “Wait, what do you mean, Orin? The answer to what, exactly,” I snapped, fearful of the answer.

  Orin heaved a deep, edgy sigh, and he thrust his fing
ers through his sandy hair. “The answer, Leonia. They are the start of the army I told you about. They’re the ones who’ll help me destroy Lenora’s creations.”

  My jaw went lax, before I snapped it shut so hard that my teeth clanked painfully together. I shook my head back and forth, causing my dark hair to bounce off my shoulders, still unable to fully comprehend the implications of what he was suggesting. He had brought it up before, but I truly hadn’t taken him to be serious.

  Orin observed my reaction in a calculated manner, and I stepped around him, moving to examine the crew of strangers. There were five of them, in all. I stepped around their ranks, circling them slowly. Four of them were tall, sturdy men, whose muscles wrapped around their frames like lethal serpents. Their skin was sunbaked, and they looked as if their bulk might burst right through the worn-out fabric of their clothing. It was obvious why Orin had chosen them.

  However, when I came to the fourth member, I froze dead in my tracks. It was a woman. Warning bells chimed inside my head, and the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. I looked the stranger from head to toe, taking in every detail of her slight, trained frame. She crossed her arms over her plush bosom, staring right back at me.

  She stood about an inch shorter than I did, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in sheer confidence. Her skin had the same sunbaked, olive complexion as her companions, but where their eyes were all varying shades of blue, hers were as black as the devil’s heart. Her hair—it was a magnificent, gloss-coated shade of fiery red that, instead of hanging limply around her head, moved out from her scalp in grand, luxurious curls.

  I whipped around, heart thrumming fast, to face Orin, who for the first time, was showing subtle hints of uncertainty. “Who is this,” I seethed heatedly, snapping my finger at the girl, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen.