soulofawitch_463-9e1.htm

by Soul Of A Witch (lit)

  "Nothing." Steeling herself, she turned to smile up at him. "It’s nothing, I--aaahhh!"

  Pain slammed through her heart like a fist, and she jack-knifed forward. If not for Sinya sliding his other hand across the front of her waist, she would have hit the ground with the force of the pain.

  Cursing beneath his breath, Sinya hauled her against him. "I’m taking you back to the cabin--"

  "No!" She panted, relaxing slightly as the wave subsided a little. "I need to be out here in the open."

  "You’d be more comfortable--"

  "I need the light." Feeling another wave of pain rise, she grabbed hold of Sinya’s arm and squeezed tightly. "Don’t take me from the light."

  "All right." He adjusted his hold as he felt her stiffen. "God, Beulah, isn’t there something you can do to stop the pain? What caused it?"

  "The lightning bolt." Petras swirled around Beulah, causing a gentle breeze to push the hair back from her damp forehead.

  "Lightning bolt?" Sinya bent his head to peer into Beulah’s face. "What is Petras on about?"

  "After," she moaned, and shook as pain knifed through her once more.

  Gathering her close in his arms, Sinya held her as the wracking pain coursed through her. His strength was one she welcomed at that moment, his lean body a haven of warmth and support.

  It wasn’t often she needed someone like this, and to have his company was strange... but comforting.

  There was only one danger in all of this... one danger. Then all thought fled as she arched back under the agonizing, tearing pain, closing her eyes against the burst of red lightning that tore through her flesh and speared outwards to vanish in the air.

  Slumping wearily against Sinya, she drew in shuddering breaths of relief.

  "Beulah?" Sinya gently brushed the hair back from her face. "Is it over?"

  "Yes."

  "Thank God." He stayed crouched on the ground, cradling her in his arms.

  Petras caressed her face, pressed close against her arm, and snuggled its face in her neck.

  "It’s all right," she said soothingly, reaching out with a trembling hand and feeling Petras wind around it.

  "I take it you’re talking to your pet?" Sinya asked.

  "Petras gets worried about me. This sort of thing hasn’t happen before."

  "So why now?" Bending forward, Sinya peered into her face--and blinked in surprise. "What...?"

  Intently, Beulah returned his gaze. "What’s wrong?"

  "I thought... nothing. It’s nothing." He shook his head, bemused. "What happened, Beulah? What was that red beam that came out of you?"

  Sitting upright, she slid out of the pirate’s arms. "When I banished Hortra--"

  "Hortra?"

  "He was the other presence that was coming, the one I sent you away from. A very powerful entity, who hit me with the lightning bolt before he left the plane."

  "And it only affected you now?" Sinya frowned. "Wait, you were in pain since you... got back. That bolt has been inside you this whole time?"

  "It came back with me, and had to work itself out of my spiritual body, through the layers, and then exit from my physical body, which it has done."

  "It vanished."

  "Nature took back what is rightfully hers."

  "But you’ll be all right now?"

  "I feel better already." Beulah started to push upright.

  Sinya immediately helped her up, supporting her with one arm around her waist.

  Disturbed, Beulah moved away from him. "I suggest you get some rest, it’s getting dark."

  "When do you talk to... the dead?" Sinya grimaced. "I can’t quite come to terms with that, you know."

  She laughed, amused. "I understand. I’ll talk to them tonight."

  "Do I come with you?"

  "No." She sobered instantly. "It’s something I and Petras can handle ourselves."

  "Ugh," Petras said in Sinya’s ear, startling him.

  Together they walked back to the hut, Sinya parting company with the witch to inform his crew of what was happening, and share their meal.

  ~ * ~

  "No!" Hortra stormed around the cold tower room.

  A faint crackling sounded in the air, a boom of thunder, then the heavy-laden clouds released a torrent of rain.

  "The witch banished me before I could get you, Aria! But I will get you, and the boy, too." Stopping by the window, Hortra watched lightning split the sky, and his anger turned to satisfaction. "He is powerful, and combined with your power, little sister, and mine, we could rule the universe!"

  A loud crack rent the air as lightning struck a nearby hill, and he laughed. Oh, how he liked these wild storms, the hunger of the wind, the rushing of the rain, the destruction of the lightning.

  Holding out one hand, he watched the faint red crackling that speared around his fingertips like red threads, felt the power seep into him, and laughed again, harsh and grating.

  "Yes, Aria, you and the boy will both be in my grasp, and your power will be mine to control. I’m coming back for you both. Watch for me, little sister. I’m coming back."

  ~ * ~

  Huddled in the fog, Wes shivered. He shouldn’t be scared, he’d never been scared in his sanctuary before now. ::It’s wrong. So wrong! This is my place, mine, and no one should be coming here. Not the girl, not the witch, not the man, Hortra. This is my place!::

  The fog swirled, parting to show a shadowed figure. ::The girl.::

  ::I’m Aria. Can I stay for a while?::

  ::This is my place!:: Wes scowled.

  ::I’m scared.::

  ::Go to your own sanctuary, then.::

  ::You saw Hortra. He is powerful. He will find me in my own plane.::

  ::He found you here. You brought him here!::

  ::The witch protected you. I’ll be safe here.::

  Wes flinched as he felt the fear emanating from Aria. ::Stop!::

  ::I’m sorry.:: Aria moved back. ::I just wanted to be safe.::

  Taking a deep breath, Wes looked around him. The white fog was comforting, enveloping him in a soothing nothingness. But it wasn’t as safe as before when he’d been here. He wanted to tell Aria to go away, that she couldn’t stay, but something drew him to her. He looked at her. He could feel her loneliness. Her fear. Her power. And it was her power that chilled him, for he could feel Death in her.

  ::I won’t come near you again, if you’ll just let me stay for a while,:: Aria said. ::I promise, I will go to the furthest reaches, and you won’t know I’m here.::

  ::I’ll sense you.::

  ::I won’t be a bother, I promise.::

  Wes sighed. He couldn’t make her leave. He wasn’t the kind of person to cast someone out. He’d always been loved and cared for by his brother, and his friends the pirates. Aria had no one. ::If you promise to stay away from me. Your... power... hurts me.::

  ::I promise.:: Aria started to fade away. ::Thank you.::

  Once he sensed that she’d retreated to another plane, Wes wandered off in the other direction. No longer at peace, he wondered about Beulah, the witch-woman. She’d come to help him. How could she possibly help him? And what about Hortra? Wes shivered, glancing nervously over his shoulder. Hortra was evil.

  ~ * ~

  Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder boomed distantly. Sinya took a sip of hot una, and watched his crew amuse themselves.

  Ephim and Franc were playing poker with most of the other pirates, Beli and Ralfis were elsewhere on the ship checking if anything needed repairs while they were stationary, and Drake was watching Beulah’s hut from the porthole.

  "Something is going on over there," he announced.

  "Oh?" Sinya placed his cup down on the bench.

  "You’ve been saying that since we got here," Franc sighed. "The witch is trying to help, remember?"

  Drake spat on the floor.

  "You dirty bastard!" Franc bellowed. "What was that for?"

  "Mentioning she was a witch." Drake peered throug
h the porthole with a frown.

  "I thought you spat only when we mentioned mystics and payment in the same sentence?" Ephim raised a brow.

  Drake spat and stamped both feet.

  "Hells bells, Drake!" Franc lurched out of his chair.

  "I spit when ‘witch’ is mentioned, and add the stamp when you mention payment and mystic. You ought to try it sometime." Drake sent Franc a dark look. "It’ll keep you safe from the witch’s harm." He made ready to spit again.

  "I’ll knock your block off, so help me, God!" Franc raised his fist and shook it. "You superstitious bastard! One more spit in here, and I’ll have your balls to decorate my belt!"

  Drake dared him with a look.

  "Drake, no more spitting inside the ship," Sinya drawled. "I don’t care if you spit your guts up outside, but not on my ship."

  Muttering, Drake turned and scowled out the porthole. And stamped both feet.

  Sourly, Franc resumed his chair and picked up the cards.

  The grinning pirates returned to their poker game. Sinya stretched and yawned, wondering if he should amble over to Beulah’s hut and see if there had been any change in Wes’s condition. Although he felt sure that she would have contacted him if anything had happened.

  Beulah. Did I really see what I thought I saw? It couldn’t be possible. She’s a witch, she’s been around for a while. Thoughtfully, Sinya stroked his chin. He could see again, for that split second, a slightly different face. Beulah, but...

  "I think you’d better see this," Drake said.

  "What now?" Franc scowled.

  "I’m not talking to you, you streak of misery. I’m talking to Sinya."

  Shaking his head, Sinya pushed away from the counter. "What is it, Drake?"

  "Is there supposed to be a light from the witch’s hut?"

  "It’s night-time. What do you think?"

  "But this light? It’s brighter than anything I’ve ever seen."

  "Probably magic." Ephim snickered.

  "It’s bloody strong enough to light up this whole ship," Drake snapped. "I think there’s something going on over there."

  Something in Drake’s voice alerted Sinya, and he strode across to look out the porthole. His gaze widened at the vision before him.

  From every window of the hut shone brilliant golden light. A light so bright, it practically throbbed, and made him squint. Alarm coursed through him just as quickly, fear for his brother and Beulah splintering through him. Whirling on his heel, he ran from the cabin.

  "Hey!" Ralfis looked up, startled.

  "I told you!" Drake smirked as he followed Sinya from the cabin.

  The pirates left the cabin, hurrying after their captain, curious to see what was happening and concerned for Wes.

  Exiting the ship, Sinya cursed and raised his arm to shield his eyes from the brilliant light spilling from the windows of the hut. His crew cursed just as vilely, several stumbling back from the blinding light. All of them raised sheltering arms.

  "Stay back!" Sinya ordered.

  "You’re not going alone!" Ephim growled.

  "I don’t know what’s happening, but I intend to find out." He cast the big pirate a scowl. "Alone."

  "But--"

  "Look, I don’t know what she’s doing, or what is going on, but I’m going to find out. In case she’s in the middle of something with Wes, I need to find out alone. If something goes wrong, I’ll need you to come in and get us."

  "And just how are we supposed to know that something is wrong?" Ephim demanded.

  Sinya slapped the laser strapped to his thigh. "I’ll fire this."

  Ephim looked doubtful, but nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, Sinya approached the hut cautiously. Climbing the steps onto the verandah, he approached one of the windows to peer in. The light was blinding, and he could only lift his arm a fraction before it became too much. Turning his face away, he swore mentally.

  He tried another window with the same result. As he made his way to the door, he heard the low murmur of voices coming from inside the hut. At least he knew Beulah was all right. If she was in trouble, he had no doubt she’d be screaming for help. Or casting something out. He paused. Was she talking to the dead? Was the light from some spirit? Was--

  "Now, little witch, let me see what damage has been done." The deep voice seemed to seep from the very walls of the hut.

  The golden glow dimmed, becoming bearable to the eye, and Sinya moved back to the window to peer inside. His jaw dropped at what he saw.

  In the middle of the room stood a huge, golden man holding a long, golden scepter. Golden hair flowed down over broad shoulders, golden skin gleamed softly and from the majestically beautiful face, burgundy eyes gazed upon Beulah benevolently. The golden man was dressed in a long gown, fastened on one shoulder with a golden broach. He dwarfed Beulah, for she came only to his abdomen, and she was similarly dwarfed by another huge, golden man standing behind her. This one was almost identical to the first except that his hair fell down his back in a thick braid.

  His gaze went to a third man, who stood next to Wes with his eyes closed. He held his hands high above Wes, and his mouth was moving soundlessly.

  His first instinct was to rush in and put himself between Beulah and his brother and these three men. But something Beulah had said held him back, made him hesitate where normally he would have rushed in.

  "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."

  Were these golden giants some of the elements she’d mentioned? He looked closely at Beulah. She didn’t seem alarmed, and in fact, was smiling up at the man before her. Even as he watched, Sinya saw the golden man reach out and place his hand upon Beulah’s forehead.

  "You hurt, little witch." The deep voice seemed to float from the very wood of the hut.

  "I fear the battle with the other entity has left your spirit sore." The second voice, just as deep, whispered through the air.

  Neither golden man moved their lips, yet Sinya knew that they had indeed spoken. He watched, one hand on the butt of his laser.

  "We will make your spirit whole again, little witch." The first man spoke silently, his words weaving through the air.

  Without another word, his hand slid down from Beulah’s forehead to between her breasts, and suddenly plunged deep within her body.

  Sinya felt the blood drain from his face, and only by force of will did he prevent himself from running inside the hut. There were things going on that he didn’t know about, but these golden beings said they were going to heal her, so all he could do was watch. But if they hurt you, Beulah, I’m coming in with lasers blasting!

  Glancing quickly at Wes, he saw that he still lay unconscious. The golden man stayed as still as stone, only his lips moving, then he slowly lowered his hands until they hovered just above Wes’s body. Slowly he swept them up and down his length, before plunging them in deep inside Wes.

  Fear clutched at Sinya, making him grab for the laser, but the golden man opened his eyes and looked straight at him. The burgundy eyes captured him, holding him still, and all he could do was watch in silence while he fought in vain to move, to shift even one toe.

  The man returned his gaze to Wes, but still Sinya couldn’t move. Desperately he turned his gaze to Beulah, only to receive another shock.

  Beulah stood between the two golden men, who now had their hands by their sides. All three had turned to face the bed upon which Wes lay, but their gazes were fastened on Sinya.

  It was only Beulah, though, that had his attention.

  This couldn’t be her! Not the Beulah he’d met and spoken with? This was a young woman who faced him now. Her face was almost girlish, her dark eyes young even though they held a wisdom beyond his understanding. Thick white hair flowed down around her shoulders to her waist, one lock draped over a rounded breast. Her lips were full and pink, her face unlined. Beulah, the Beulah h
e knew, had... well, not exactly old features, but... Sinya didn’t understand any of it. All he knew was that this young woman, this Beulah that stood between the two golden giants, was different.

  Except for her eyes. She looked gravely at Sinya, slightly troubled, then resigned.

  "How is the boy?" The deep voice echoed from the rafters in the roof.

  The golden giant withdrew his hands from Wes’s chest, and rose to his feet. "His spirit is whole again, but he is still in retreat."

  "It is time for us to go." The golden man with the long braid placed one hand on Beulah’s head. "Do what you must, little witch. He is in great need of your talents."

  She glanced up at him, smiling. "I’ll do my best, Sire."

  "I know you will." He leaned down and placed his lips to her forehead, the action that of a father bestowing affection on his child.

  As Sinya watched, the three golden men moved until they stood side by side, then they floated backwards, the glow appearing around them, growing brighter and brighter until Sinya had to close his eyes against the glare. He automatically raised his arm to shield his face, and realized that his paralysis was gone. Opening his eyes, he found the brilliant glow gone, the golden men vanished, and only Beulah staring at him.

  Turning on his heel, Sinya made for the door. He wanted some answers, and he wanted them now.

  "Ah, Cap’n?" Ephim cleared his throat.

  Sinya looked around to see his crew standing uncertainly by the well-lit ships entrance. "It’s all right, Ephim. Everyone go back to whatever you were doing."

  "If you’re sure--"

  "Absolutely." As sure as he was that he was going to get some answers from a certain witch, who, apparently, wasn’t quite what she seemed.

  ~ * ~

  Beulah sighed as she heard the determined thud of boots on the verandah outside. Sinya had seen her true self.

  "Do you want me to scare him away?" Petras asked.

  "I doubt anything could scare him away," she returned.

  The door swung open and she watched Sinya enter. For the first time since he’d arrived, she felt the air of menace around him. Lean he might be, but his strength was evident in the muscles that showed between the open flaps of the white shirt, which was, as usual, unbuttoned to the waist. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, and the corded muscles in his forearms flexed, as did the muscles in his legs as he prowled forward, shown to full advantage by the tight black pants he wore.