by Logan Jacobs
As horrific as the scene was, the Wicca captivated me. Her fierce blue eyes stared down at the men in horror as they set the pyre of wood beneath her feet on fire. Her beautiful face was bruised and cut, and her eyes were crying tears of blood. In the back of my mind, I thought I heard a howling wind, almost like a scream, reverberating inside my head.
Look at it, Cole, the woman inside my head whispered as she broke through the sound. Even in death, they choose to paint us as fearful beings, cowering at the idea of finality. Look at the woman… see the terror in her eyes? It’s all a lie… she didn’t die in fear. She died with her head held high, and her heart was at peace with Satan. Do not be fooled by these hybrids and their filthy lies.
“Did you know her?” I asked in a faint voice. “It sounds like you knew her.”
In a way… yes, she answered, but that’s a story for another time.
“What did you say, master?” Akira asked as she turned to look at me. “Did we know who?”
“Err, nothing,” I said as I shook my head. “I think we should start looking for the cross… Satan knows it could be anywhere, though. This church is enormous.”
“Yeah, but where should we even begin searching?” Morgana asked as she glanced around the church and placed a hand around her neck, even though her wound was already long healed. “It’s an elder church, and there are crosses everywhere.”
The brunette was right. Large crosses hung in every corner of the damn church, and for all we knew, one of them could be the clue to the same artifact we were risking our lives to find.
But how would we know which one to take?
“I’m not sure where to begin,” I responded as I glanced up at the ceiling, and I noticed another mural of burning witches and dead babies with black, bat-like wings being dumped into a river filled with massive crocodiles. “I’m not feeling any pull toward anything… all I can feel is the pure hatred against our kind.”
“Probably because the high-priests placed a shield through the church,” Vanessa grunted, and when I turned to look at her, her body was already morphing back into her beautiful, younger self, which meant we were running out of time, “but still that doesn’t mean it’s exempt from all power. I’m sure we could use a simpler spell to locate the correct cross--”
“Err, Professor,” I said as I stared at Vanessa’s smoother skin and clearer eyes. “Not to interrupt, but you’re turning back already.”
“Fuck,” she growled as she stared at her hands, which had fewer wrinkles and spots. “If I’m changing, it will only be a matter of time before the rest of you do, too. Let’s try to work faster. I think I can try to use a simple premonition spell that the barrier won’t detect, but Cole, I’ll need your help. It’s no secret your skills of premonition outweigh the others, so I’ll need you to use all the inner strength you can muster.”
“Yes, of course.” I nodded. “What do you need me to do?”
“Take my hands,” she ordered, and I did as she asked. “We’re going to do a memory incantation.”
“Whose memory?” Penelope asked as Vanessa and I stared deeply into each other's eyes.
“Do you see that robe hanging by the altar?” Vanessa said in a quick voice as she pulled her hand away from mine and pointed toward the altar, and when I turned to follow her finger, I saw a gold-and-purple cloak with a giant red cross on the back. “It belongs to the High Priest… if we take in the image of the robe, each shade of color, every thread, and the details of the patterns, we can try and see if we can slip into a memory that possesses the cross.”
“What if the priest who wore that robe never came into contact with the cross?” Nyx asked, and I noticed her eyes were now a mix between indigo and brown. “Won’t it be a waste of time?”
“No,” Vanessa snapped. “A waste of time would be asking me countless questions when we could be looking into the history of this Satan-forsaken place. I can say with the utmost certainty the High Priest would have been involved in the concealment of the cross.”
“Yes, Professor,” Nyx muttered as she lowered her eyes. “You’re right. My apologies.”
“No matter… now come on, Cole,” Vanessa said as she squeezed my hands. “We need to be quick. Repeat each word after me, and don’t focus on anything except that robe. Take in every detail like I told you and be quick as you can. Open your heart to Satan and cleanse your mind of all matters besides the task at hand.”
“Yes, professor,” I replied as my eyes flicked toward the gold-and-purple robe that hung like a precious gem above the altar. As I studied the garment, I thought of nothing but the fabric, like I was close enough to touch it and count each thread. It felt like my heart was filled with darkness while I took in the image, and my mind was open and prepared to delve into the past. Then, when I was ready, I looked at Vanessa with my chin raised. “Let’s do this.”
“Satanas, exaudi orationem meam,” she uttered, and I repeated every word. “Peregrinatione ad patitur nos back tempore!”
As the words left my lips, I could feel my body shifting back in time, and everything around me turned into a color palette of silvery-green. The rest of the women had disappeared from view, but Vanessa was still holding onto my hands. By now, her features had basically returned to normal, and when she looked at me, she pressed a slim finger against her lips and slowly gestured for me to turn toward the altar.
Behind the professor, a cluster of priests, all garbed in gold-and-purple robes similar to the one that hung by the altar, were chanting in a language I’d never heard before, and they seemed to be guarding something or someone as they slowly marched in our direction. Vanessa didn’t budge an inch as they drew closer, and I refused to move as well, even when they walked right through us like a pair of long-forgotten phantoms.
Then my mouth parted slightly open as I spotted Samara.
The former Wicca turned elder was walking between the cluster of priests, and there, around her neck, was a giant gold cross embedded with rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds. Her long, golden-brown hair tumbled down her bare shoulders and past her slim hourglass waist, and her bright eyes were unblinking and utterly focused as she stared straight past me. She reminded me of a beautiful ghost, devoid of emotion but so focused all at once.
“Reign Samara,” a priest whispered by her side. “Do you wish to begin the sacrifice?”
“Yes,” Samara answered in a dangerously low voice. “Bring her to me.”
Samara stopped dead in her tracks as a loud noise came from the door, and when Vanessa and I turned around, three armed guards were dragging a woman with long red hair through the church as she screamed and cursed in protest. Her face was bruised and bleeding, and her hair was tangled into knots and plastered across her seething and flushed face.
“Unhand me!” the captive woman screamed as she thrashed and kicked. “Satan will punish you for this! I swear on it! You’ll all burn for eternity!”
“Silence!” Samara commanded in a resounding voice. “I will have silence or so help me, you will suffer even more than you have to.”
“Then so be it,” the redhead growled before she spat at Samara’s feet. “You traitorous bitch. Satan will punish you even greater for your betrayal. Mark my words… one day, Satan will carve out a special place for you. Not in hell, but in a world worse than purgatory. You will suffer greatly for your treachery.”
“Silence, Wicca whore,” Samara hissed as her fierce silver-green eyes bored into the redheaded witch. “Your words hold no power over me. Why don’t you just die with some decorum?”
“I’ll die with the truth lingering on my lips,” the redhead snarled. “You could never say the same.”
“Very well,” Samara sighed before she snapped her fingers and pointed to the altar behind her. “Secure her into place.”
The priests all smiled like a pack of ravenous wolves as they dragged the witch down to the altar. She screamed, kicked, and fought with all her vigor, but deep down I knew she realized it was
useless. She was about to die, and she knew it was going to be painful, but as she said, she wouldn’t go down quietly.
Samara watched with a small satisfied smile as the men used thick coils of rope to tie the witch down to the altar. My heart swelled with pity as I watched her feebly squirm and pray to Satan, and it killed me inside that I couldn’t do a thing to save her.
This was only a memory, and she was long dead.
“Make sure her bonds are nice and tight,” Samara ordered as her fingers began to slowly untie the plain white robe she wore. “I want to see the blood drain from her face before she dies.”
“Yes, Samara,” one of the priests answered before he tugged on the ropes, and the redhead winced from the pain. “Nice and tight. Even God would have trouble undoing these knots.”
As the redhead began to mutter in our ancient tongue, I briefly turned to look at Vanessa, and dread filled my body when I realized her eyes were brimming with tears. I’d never seen our icy professor so emotional before, but I remained silent as I turned my attention back to the sacrifice.
As Samara stared down at the Wicca secured to the altar, she let her robes fall from her slender body and stood completely naked in front of the tied-up witch. Another priest quietly handed her a small gold bowl, and Samara’s full breasts swayed as she began to dip her fingers in and flick water all over the redhead. Soon, Samara began to mutter something under her breath, and each time a drop landed on the witch, it burned her skin. Then smoke started to waft through the air as the heartless elder continued to spill the tainted water all over the Wicca’s body.
“Now, by the power of God,” Samara chanted, “I pray your soul will forever be bound to my gold and gems. Your death will protect this artifact for as long as I live, and as I take your heart, may my own power seep into this precious cross for as long as I say. I hereby combine my power with yours, and may God willingly take your soul for this bountiful sacrifice.”
“No!” the witch screamed as she thrashed.
“Oh, yes,” Samara chuckled before she handed the gold bowl of water to another priest, and he replaced it with a long shimmering dagger with a red leather hilt and silver blade. Then Samara raised the weapon high above her head, and I held my breath as a dark glint of satisfaction passed through her silvery-green eyes. “I seal this spell with my weapon deep inside your black and evil heart.”
Samara plunged the knife deep inside the redhead’s chest, and blood splattered all over her naked body. Samara groaned as if she’d just experienced the most satisfying orgasm in existence, and then she giggled as the redhead’s eyes rolled into the back of her head.
After a long moment, the former Wicca pulled out the weapon and gingerly placed it on the other side of the altar, and Vanessa and I watched as the golden-haired woman smiled, wiped up some of the blood from the open wound of the dead witch, and then dragged it across her bare chest and stomach.
Samara made a full red cross over her naked skin, and as she did so, the cross on her neck began to glow like the sun. Even if this was a memory, I had to shield my eyes as the pendant burned and cast a ray of burning light over the church. I could feel its holy power drilling into my body until it made my head dizzy and my mouth dry, but still, I refused to even sway from its potency.
If God wanted to hurt me, he’d have to come down from his holy fucking throne and do it himself.
“It is done,” Samara finally breathed as the room grew still, and she caressed the necklace like it was the most precious gem in the worlds. “Now… place the robe over me and let us take the cross down into the cellar.”
The priests didn’t waste a moment as they carefully placed the white robe over Samara’s creamy-white shoulders, and she brushed back her thick hair before she tied the fabric back into place and eyed each of the men with a wide, beautiful smile.
The priests parted out of the way for Samara like she was their immortal goddess, and they followed her closely as she marched toward the front of the church. There was a simple, woven red tapestry that she gently pushed out of the way to reveal a plain wooden door, and Vanessa and I slowly followed Samara and her loyal disciples as she opened the door and made their way down a flight of stone steps.
When Vanessa and I stepped past the threshold, a sudden chill swept past my face and penetrated me down to the bone. I could feel a shift in the air, and I knew here, deep inside the belly of the church, was where the holiest power of the entire dwelling thrived.
As we ventured further down the stairs, I could feel ice prickling my skin and causing my throat to close up. The sensation was overwhelming, as if an invisible pair of hands were pushing us back and attempting to shove us out of this clear memory.
When we reached the bottom of the stairwell, we found ourselves in a small room with no windows, décor, or furniture, aside from a gold and mahogany chest plastered against a dusty stone wall. The floor was covered with deep crimson dirt, and as Samara padded barefoot toward the chest, the soles of her feet were stained blood red. The men gathered in one corner of the room, and when Samara bent down to open the puzzle-looking lock, I watched as she twisted the gold puzzle twice to the left, once to the right, and then pushed a small knob upward.
The lid lifted open, but then she suddenly stopped what she was doing and slowly turned to look over her shoulder. A lump formed inside my throat as she stared long and hard into my eyes, and then Vanessa snatched my hand, and we were thrust from the vision and back into the present.
“Unholy fuck,” I gasped as I struggled to breathe. The others were all seated in the pews, and it seemed like they were falling asleep with their dog-like familiars curled up at their feet. Then my heart sank with dread when I turned to the stained-glass window and noticed the sun was setting. “Shit, how long were we gone?”
“For a couple of hours,” Akira sighed, and now, her hair was raven-black, and her eyes were clear. “We’re fortunate no one came in while you were out.”
“Satan is certainly on our side,” Vanessa agreed, “but let’s not push our luck… I fear we’ve been too fortunate already.”
“Agreed,” I said as my eyes landed on the red tapestry, which hid the secret door. “Come on. We know where the cross is, so let’s get a move on while we still--”
Cole! Alexander’s voice shrieked inside my head. A group of guards just appeared in front of the doors. I think they were sent here through shadow porting!
Before I could answer, the church doors burst open, and there at the threshold was a slim young man dressed in red silk and thick white fur. He was surrounded by a dozen or so guards, who all wore silver armor with a curled up serpen embedded in the breastplates, and I knew we were looking at the young prince when I saw the gold crown on his head. Then his silver-eyes widened when he saw Nyx and Vesta, and his mouth opened in shock as he slowly made the sign of the cross over his face.
“Witches!” the young man bellowed. “Don’t just stand there! Kill them! All of them!”
Cole! the woman from my dreams cried out. Samara senses your presence. Magic or no magic, she knows you’re here! Forget every warning Theodora gave you and use all your power to destroy this kingdom… just as you’ve done before. Make them burn for what they’ve done, but retrieve the cross first!
“Ladies, pull out your wands,” Vanessa muttered as she whipped out her own weapon. “Use what magic you can and spare no one.”
“Forget about the rules of no advanced magic,” I commanded, and before Vanessa could argue with me, I shot her a stern glare. “Professor, just trust me on this one. Samara already knows we’re here. There’s no point trying to hide any longer.”
“Then screw it.” The professor grinned with fierce and determined eyes. “Kill them all and make it as painful as fucking possible. Let’s destroy this poisonous realm once and for all!”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” I smirked as we all pulled out our wands and aimed them at the prince and his guards.
As I prepared t
o wreak havoc on these holy-worshipping motherfuckers, I vowed to not only avenge the sacrificed redhead but all the other Wiccas who had died under Samara’s hand.
That traitorous bitch was about to taste just what I was capable of, and this time, there was no holding back.
Chapter 12
“Protect your prince!” one of the guards cried out before he raised a long sword up into the air. “And for God’s sake, someone needs to summon the priests!”
While one soldier turned to sprint out the door, the other men pulled out their weapons and narrowed their eyes in our direction. I could smell the fear on them like a wolf catching the scent of fresh blood in the forest, and I knew they were on the verge of pissing themselves. As we aimed our wands in their direction, a group of them clumsily dashed toward us, and we didn’t waste a moment.
“Praeteritum!” Vanessa and I shouted at the same time.
Spurts of yellow light erupted from the tips of our wands and hit the cluster of men who had their swords raised above their heads, and they soared backward and slammed their heads against the stone church wall. Their skulls shattered into bits of blood and gore, and when their lifeless bodies slumped down to the floor, the other guards swarmed closer around their trembling prince, who looked like he was about to shit himself.
I stared down at the pack of dog-like familiars, and I could see the way their eyes were thirsting for fresh blood as they licked their lips. Then a collective and deep hungry growl resonated inside their chests.
“Tell your familiars to attack,” I ordered under my breath. “Now.”
“Yes, master,” the women responded, and between one breath and the next the animals all rushed toward the guards. Then the canines pounced on our enemies, dug their snouts into the men’s necks, and tore out their throats without hesitation or mercy.
“Lord God,” a guard with deep-blond hair gasped as he looked around in sheer panic. “Where are the bloody priests? We need them now, or we’re as good as dead!”
