The witch never broke step, striding along quietly.
"Am I imagining things?" Sinya demanded.
"Perhaps. Or not."
A chuckle shivered through his senses. "Damn it!"
Turning to place herself directly in his path, Beulah forced him to a halt. "You’re in the presence of something you don’t understand, Sinya. There are going to be certain unknown elements that you’re going to come across and have to accept."
He gazed uncomprehendingly at her.
"The voice you are hearing is from one of those unknown elements. It’s a bother at times, but get used to it. It’s here to stay."
Sinya watched in amazement as the witch turned and proceeded to calmly walk away towards the hut. Shaking his head, he followed more slowly. A voice that was always around her. What next? Did the witch have ghosts, too? Raise the dead in the middle of the night? Surely not, he thought, chewing his bottom lip while watching her climb the steps of the verandah nimbly and disappear into the hut. She didn’t like demons, refused to call them up. To raise the dead... He glanced around the deserted land. Suddenly it seemed rather lonely. A vague uneasiness filled him and he quickened his step, feeling a sudden need to check his brother.
~ * ~
"These pirates are fun." Petras floated around its witch’s shoulders, playing with the stray tendrils of hair coming loose from the bun.
"They are not toys for you to play with."
"They’re so superstitious--especially the one called Drake."
"Ah, the stamper and spitter."
Petras giggled.
Placing the cleaned dishes under the sink, Beulah grinned. The handsome Drake was obsessed with his sure-fire protections around her. She’d seen him stamp and spit several times already. And the tall, mournful pirate had bawled him out for it just as often. Not that it made any difference. Still, now was not the time to muse over that. There was a responsibility to see to now.
Walking across the room, she sat down on the edge of the bed facing the sleeping youth. Studying him closely, she observed the similarities between he and his older brother. The same thick, dark hair and fine features, though Wes’s didn’t have the strength yet. His face was pale and thin, revealing the ravages his uncontrolled gift had put him through. Dark shadows surrounded his eyes.
Picking up his hand, she scrutinized his palm. There were no lines at all. The skin was smooth and unblemished. Frowning, she lifted it closer to her searching gaze.
"No lines," fretted Petras. "That’s bad."
"Perhaps."
"You know it is." Petras entwined nothingness around her neck and peered over her shoulder at the unconscious youth. "No lines, no life."
"Not necessarily, my dear companion."
"So what does it mean?"
"That’s what we have to find out. At midnight, when the moon is full--"
"Ugh! Not the graveyard?"
"Come if you choose or not, it’s up to you."
"I go where you go." A puff of wind sighed against her temple. "My duty as a familiar. You’re my responsibility."
Beulah started to laugh.
"And this is the thanks I get. Do you know how scary it is there?"
"For you? Yes. And that is why I’m touched that you choose to come." Beulah reached up to affectionately caress the presence she felt around her neck, feeling the vaguest of wisps amongst the nothingness. "I would be very lonely without you, Petras."
Sensing the warm stroke of the witch, knowing that it held her affection, Petras smiled and arched around her hand. The witch and it were one. A part of each other.
"Forgiven?" Beulah asked teasingly.
"Of course. But my feelings are still tender."
"Poor baby. A trip to the graveyard will help heal that. A touch of earth--"
"Ugh! No!" Petras slid across her smooth cheek. "I’ll be good, I promise."
Beulah rolled her eyes.
"I saw that."
"Mmm." She returned her attention to Wes, growing serious again. "This is unknown territory for us, my pet. We must tread carefully."
"We are in danger?"
"I don’t think so. Wes might be. Then again, us, too."
Petras groaned.
"Well, I don’t know. We just need to tread carefully."
The door opened and she glanced over her shoulder to see Sinya enter.
His gaze fell to Wes’s hand in hers. "Is he okay?"
"Define ‘okay’."
Petras giggled in her ear, then she felt the presence leave. There was no doubt where Petras had gone--the action of Sinya brushing something away from his ear told Beulah where her teasing pet was.
"Beulah, please, just tell me." Sinya came to a stop beside the bed and gazed down at his brother.
A twinge of conscious nipped at Beulah, and she grimaced to herself. It didn’t happen often. Mentally chastising herself for teasing Sinya at this worrisome time, she said, "I’m going back in to see if I can find him."
"Back in?"
"As I did before. When I held my hands over him?"
"Oh." Nodding, Sinya drew a chair up to the side of the bed and watched her expectantly.
Taking a deep breath, Beulah raised her hands above Wes, palms down, then lowered them gradually until her hands were just clear of his clothes. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing.
Gradually she felt her conscious slip back, float free, then that part of herself that was mystical entered into Wes’s level of consciousness. He still wasn’t there. Frowning, she looked around the white fog, but still she couldn’t sense him.
::Wes, where are you? I am Beulah, it is safe to come forth. Child, I am here to help you.::
Nothing but the blanketing, white fog. Moving forward, she placed her hands out and gently drew them through the fog. It parted before her hands a little, swirled, then closed in again. There was nothing here. Would he have gone to another level? The next level of consciousness up? Had he gone that deep? She had to know.
Without hesitation, Beulah propelled herself upwards, feeling the nothingness of the fog give way, but immediately closing in behind her. After several seconds, the fog changed slightly, more clinging, and denser. Now she could make out dim flashes of color, fleetingly seen then gone again. Little sparks of memory, and life, and things known only to the subconscious mind.
Halting, she spread her arms wide. ::Wes, hear my call. Answer me.::
There was a faint shifting in the fog, a stir, and she angled her head slightly, better able to feel the movement than hear it.
::Who are you?:: a voice whispered.
It wasn’t Wes, the voice was too young and high. Female. It was a shock, for no one should be able to enter into the subconscious of any being. Not one that sounded this young. It took great skill, years of training--or someone with a special link.
But now was not the time to falter.
::Who are you?:: Beulah asked firmly.
::No one.::
::You’re someone. Why are you here?::
Silence greeted her.
::Where is Wes?:: Beulah tried again.
Silence, and she felt the stir of the fog as the presence slipped away.
::Wes? If you’re here, then answer me.::
The quietness of the fog-strewn whiteness gave nothing away.
Turning slowly around, Beulah peered into the fog, but it was no use. She still couldn’t feel Wes. The other thing that troubled her was the other presence. But there was no answers here, nothing she could draw upon to help her. There was only one thing to do.
Closing her eyes, she drifted downward, through the dense fog, into the lighter one, then felt the quick suction of her psychic body pull back into her own subconscious.
Opening her eyes, she found herself gazing down at Wes’s pale face.
"Beulah?" Sinya asked eagerly. "Did you find him?"
~ * ~
Moving languidly through the whiteness, Wes watched tendrils drift past him. So warm and cozy, so safe. Here h
e was alone, here he could heal his spiritual wounds. Here he--Wes stilled. From the nothingness beyond he felt a stirring, a presence.
::Who is it?:: he queried curiously.
::No one.::
Slowly he started drifting towards the voice. ::You are a girl?::
::Stay back!:: Panic filled the voice, making it quaver.
And then he felt it. The darkness nipping at the edges, coming from an area to his right. Quickly he turned his head, scanning the area, but the darkness had retreated.
::I won’t hurt you,:: the girl said.
::How did you get in here?::
::Just leave me alone.::
::But this is my haven, not yours.::
::Can I not share?::
::Why share?:: Wes frowned. "Why not have your own place?::
::I... can’t. This is safe.::
::How did you get in here?:: He demanded, more than a little annoyed that someone was invading his sanctuary. A sudden fear hit him. ::Are you hurt? Are you going to hurt me?:: He started to back away from the area.
And then he saw the darkness rise up in a distant wave, a heavy, black, threatening tide that swelled before vanishing suddenly.
Bewildered, he looked in the direction of the spot. And then it hit him, fear and hurt, anger and sadness, buffeting him in a storm, ripping at his clothes, swirling around him, and making the white nothingness tremble. Even more terrible were the holes punched into his body, tiny little holes of pain that flared brightly before closing again.
::No! No, go away!:: he screamed. ::Go away! This is my place!::
He fled, and the hurt and sadness echoed in his ears with a cry of despair. But then it receded, and he was left in peace. And he knew he had to find a safer place.
~ * ~
Beulah looked gravely at Sinya. "Did Wes ever talk about an imaginary friend?"
"Pardon?"
"Did he ever talk to anyone who wasn’t there, or talk about someone you couldn’t see?"
Sinya looked down at Wes and frowned. "No."
"Did he ever feel threatened?"
"Not that I know of. I kept him away from all harm."
When she didn’t say anything further, he looked up to see Beulah looking assessingly at him. She was studying him so intently, he started to shift uncomfortably.
"I’m not lying," he finally snapped out. "I would never lie if it’s connected to my brother."
"Mmm. Was there someone in Wes’s life, or in your life, with powers of some kind?"
"No." What was she on about? "You’re the only one, apart from Wes, that appears to have power of sorts." Her black eyes seemed to bore into him, at least, that’s what it felt like to him. Almost at once a thought hit him, and he stiffened, alarm coursing through his body. "What’s wrong? What did you see... in there? In Wes?"
"There’s a presence in the next level of his subconscious."
"A presence? In his subconscious?" Sinya started to lunge up from the chair. "What do you mean? Damn it, Beulah--"
Her hand wrapped around his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. "There is no danger yet that I can perceive. I sensed a presence of someone else, a female."
"Female?"
"A girl, going by her voice."
"She spoke to you?’ Incredulously, Sinya stared at Beulah. "You spoke to a girl inside my brother’s head?"
A brief flash of humor made Beulah’s lips twitch, but then she grew serious again. "Sinya, I’m going to explain a little bit more about where Wes may have gone, and I want you to listen closely."
"Of course. But is he in any danger right now? I mean--"
"That’s what I need to find out, but I need you to come with me."
"Come with you?" Was she truly asking him to go with her? Sinya stared at her and slowly sank back down into the chair. "I can’t go with you."
"I need you to sense if this presence is one you know. Also, you may be able to sense Wes, after all, you have the strong physical and spiritual bond between you that no one else has."
That much he could understand. "You mean blood and brother."
A small, pleased smile curved her lips. "Exactly."
"Which is all very well, but how am I supposed to go with you into this... subconscious thing?"
"You need to have an understanding of what I am talking about, and what you are about to enter." Releasing his wrist, Beulah dropped her hand to the bedcovers, and contemplated him seriously.
"You’re going to need to make it all very simple," he warned her.
"I will. Basically, we are made up of two elements, the physical and the spiritual. Our earthly bodies are physical--the flesh. Our spiritual bodies can go beyond what our physical bodies can. Following so far?"
Relieved, he nodded. To help Wes, he had to understand.
"There are different planes of knowledge and learning in our minds." She touched her forehead with one finger. "Our subconscious knows and remembers things we don’t consciously know. The different planes of knowledge are there, but there is also a small part that is a spiritual plane. All right?"
"I think so."
"Concentrate on the spiritual plane I’m talking about. In our minds, this spiritual plane is made up of different levels. The lower plane is that to which Wes retreated to, a place of quiet. But for the comfort, he needed to ascend higher. How high he’s gone, I don’t know, but when I went into the second plane, it was there the presence made itself known."
"The girl."
"Yes."
"You saw her?"
"No. I felt her presence, but she retreated quickly. I can’t link to Wes, nor to this girl, but through you, I may be able to sense Wes."
"What’s this girl doing there?"
Beulah met his gaze gravely. "I don’t know. Even more impossible is the fact that she shouldn’t be there at all."
"So she is a threat to Wes!" Sinya grabbed the armrests of the chair in a tight, frustrated grip. "We need to get her out. We need--"
"Sinya, I don’t know how someone who sounds so young could possibly have gone in there in the first place. The spiritual plane protected in the mind is not a place a normal person can get into. It takes one of great knowledge and powers. This girl..."
"Yes?"
"Has one or both of these requirements."
She sat quietly, allowing him to digest the facts as she’d stated them.
He was pretty sure he understood what Beulah was talking about, and finally he nodded and looked up at her. "Now explain how I’m supposed to go with you into this protected area."
"I’ll assist you to get into the concentration mode. Once there, you will feel a presence wrap around you, and you will be guided free from your physical body and into the spiritual plane. I will be there to meet you. In fact, I will have hold of your hand the whole time. Follow where I lead, it’s that simple."
Simple? Sinya took a deep breath. There was nothing simple about it, but for his brother, he’d sworn to do whatever she asked. Glancing down at the wan face of Wes, pale against the pillow, he felt the tug of his heart, and nodded. "Ready when you are."
"There’s a couple of other things," Beulah stated.
He shouldn’t have been surprised.
"Do as I tell you when we’re in the planes, and follow my instructions without hesitation."
"All right." A sudden thought stuck him. "We’ll be able to see and talk to each other?"
"At first you’ll only feel me, but as you get more used to being in the plane, you’ll be able to see me. We’ll also speak with our thoughts, even though you’ll think you’re speaking to me. But you’ll hear me straight away with no problems."
"Doesn’t sound too bad." He gave a small grin.
"One more thing."
"You sure it’s just one more?"
Face serious, Beulah reached across and took his hand in hers. Lacing their fingers together, she held their hands up. An odd tingle went through him, and Sinya looked questioningly at her.
"Whatever happe
ns, do not let go of me," she said.
"What happens if I do?"
"You are unused to traveling in the spiritual form, nor used to the planes. If you let go of me, you could get lost."
His stomach lurched.
"No matter how tight you have to hold, or what you have to hold onto, if anything happens, make sure your grip on me is tight. Do not let me go."
There was no choice, really. Soberly he nodded his understanding.
"Before we start, let your crew know that we are to have no interruptions. They can come in here if they have to, but they are not to call or touch us. Tell them not to worry."
"I’ll tell them." Sinya stood up, then hesitated. "We start soon?"
"As soon as you come back," she replied.
~ * ~
Hortra strode down the wide corridor, a scowl on his face. The guards glanced uneasily at him as he passed, his crimson cloak flapping around his ankles.
Going up the wide, grand staircase, he kept his gaze fixed on the ornate door at the very top. Anger seethed, and he gritted his teeth. If that bitch has gone into a trance...
Once at the top of the stairs, he crossed to the door and gestured with his hand. It flung open, resounding back from the wall with a dull thud.
Sweeping inside, his gaze fell immediately upon the huge, four-poster bed. The black curtains were tied back against the bedposts to reveal, in the middle of the black coverlet, the small, thin figure of his sister sitting cross-legged. She was very still, her thin chest barely moving.
Cursing, Hortra stormed across the room and, grabbing her shoulders, shook her. "Damn you to hell, Aria! Wake up!" Her narrow shoulders were rigid beneath his hands, and he swore vilely. "Goddamn you, you little bitch, wake up!"
She remained still, and he knew instinctively she was deep in her trance. Effortlessly, he sent his mind into a similar trance, sliding easily into her subconscious as he’d done so many times before just to torment her. Only this time there was no hint of her presence anywhere in her subconscious. He tore through the protective layers of what should have been her private sanctuary, uncaring of the tattered holes he left in his wake, the white fog that dispersed in little spatters of water droplets to leave her spiritual plane open and gaping.
It would heal, but not for a while, and it would serve the bitch right.
Snarling furiously, he whirled around in the empty spaces, the rage pouring through him, sending sparks of hot embers out to sizzle in the empty spaces.
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