Her gaze slid up to his face. His black-eyed gaze was fastened on her face, and his firm lips beneath the thin mustache were tight with determination.
He stalked right up to her, coming to a stop only when they were practically toe-to-toe. She refused to flinch, and refused to give ground. She’d done nothing wrong, and she met his gaze calmly.
She couldn’t help but notice that a lock of his thick, wavy brown hair had escaped the confines of the ponytail at his nape.
"What the hell is going on, Beulah?" Sinya grated out through clenched teeth.
"I told you things will happen here of which you will have no understanding."
"You didn’t tell me that you covered yourself with an illusion!"
"You saw me as you wanted to, Sinya."
"And how the bloody hell do you work that out?" Bracing his hands on his hips, he awaited her reply.
"Come, admit that you wouldn’t have placed your faith in what you think is a helpless young woman."
"You have no idea what I would have placed my faith in!"
"Sinya, people come here for help. They automatically perceive me to be older, for they think wisdom comes with age. An old witch is easier to believe than a young one."
A muscle ticked in Sinya’s jaw as he eyed her. "You expect me to believe you now?"
"Am I so different? Have I changed suddenly? Or is it that, regardless of what you say, you have no faith in a young witch?"
"If I’m to have complete faith in you, Beulah, I can have no more illusions. Understand? I can’t have faith if I’m not sure exactly who or what you are."
"The illusion was your own doing, Sinya, not mine. I haven’t changed in any way. It is how you see me that has changed."
"I knew you as the woman I first met. Now..." His gaze swept over her face and lower.
She could almost swear she felt the brush of his gaze on her breasts as though it were his hands touching her. The thought made her pulse jump a little.
"I am still me, Sinya. I would never harm your brother or you. I have not changed--ever."
Scowling, he caught her shoulders in his hands and pulled her up on tiptoe. "I want to deal with you, Beulah, not an illusion!"
Calmly she held his gaze. The silence between them lengthened, and she became aware of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest barely scraping her breasts. The heat from his body was a tangible temptation that called to her suddenly, alien but strong. She sucked her breath in at the realization.
Chiseled cheeks flushing dully, Sinya abruptly released her and stepped back. "I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"No." She refrained from rubbing at the warm marks on her arms from his hands.
Striding across the room to stand by Wes’s bedside, Sinya stared down at his brother. "What were those men?"
"Acceli healers." She watched him closely, observing the way his hand brushed his brother’s hair back tenderly off his forehead.
"How did they get here?"
"They are mystics. They can travel the universe in ways we don’t know. They came to heal my spirit, and Wes’s."
"Why?" He turned his head slightly and looked at her. "What happened to you and Wes?"
Crossing the room, Beulah moved around to the other side of the bed and looked down at Wes. "When I sent you out of Wes’s subconscious, the entity, Hortra, was coming. He is powerful, and his lightning bolt left a gaping hole in my spirit, a sure sign of a powerful dark art mystic. Wes helped me drive him out, but his own spirit has been damaged by the presence of the girl in him."
"God above." Sinya closed his eyes and rubbed his temples wearily.
"The Accelis felt my hurt, and came to heal me and Wes. They’ve returned to their home, and now I must continue."
Sinya opened his eyes and looked at her. "You’ll continue to find Wes? Knowing that these entities are--were--inside him? After what they did to you?"
"Most especially now." Beulah folded her arms. "Hortra knows Wes’s powers, and now he wants them. He has to get Wes to get the power. I have to get to Wes first."
"Hortra will come here?" Sinya gave a merciless smile. "He won’t leave alive."
For the first time, she had a true glimpse of the pirate in Sinya. Pleasant, handsome... and deadly if the occasion arose.
"No, Hortra will come through the spirit world for Wes. His body he doesn’t need, not yet. But if he can capture his spirit, he can start to leech the knowledge from it."
"Which is why you need to get Wes back into his physical body before Hortra returns." Sinya frowned. "Can’t the Acceli’s help?"
"Wes’s inability to control his powers is dangerous to the Accelis. He could very well destroy them. It’s why I was called."
Sinya raked one hand through his hair, knocking the tie free and sending his hair tumbling around his shoulders. "They believe you are more powerful then they? Forgive me, Beulah, but I find that hard to understand."
Amusement bubbled up inside her. "I know, put us side by side, and I’m the puny one. But trust me, I can help Wes more than the Accelis can."
"How?"
"Because I’m tied to nature. Nature is a part of me, and nature owns everything."
"The Accelis aren’t nature then?" Sinya was openly struggling to understand.
"My powers are from nature. Nature gifted me. The Accelis weren’t born to it, they have been here since--well, who knows? They are healers. But my gifts were granted to me by nature."
Sinya was quiet for a long time, deep in thought. Finally he lifted his head and gazed at her.
She raised one brow.
"There are obviously things I still have to learn." He took a deep breath. "One of them is to trust you. I’m sorry I was so rude about your... uh... appearance."
Beulah smiled.
"I’m trying to understand. Maybe you’ll figure out a way to explain it to me in a simpler way?"
"Sometimes, Sinya, you don’t need explanations. You just need to have faith."
"Well, you may look younger, but you’re still as vague as ever."
"She likes being vague," Petras announced, winding nothingness around Beulah’s neck.
Sinya smiled a little, then looked down at Wes. "Now what?"
"Now, I talk to the spirit world." Beulah turned and walked to the door. "Come, Petras."
"Ugh, the graveyard."
Sinya strode across the floor after her.
She glanced at him as she pulled the door open. "You don’t have to come."
"If I’m going to even try to understand some of this, I do."
Five
Moonlight lit the path that Beulah strode. Walking beside her, Sinya took a deep breath of the refreshing breeze and glanced back. The hut was hidden from view by the stand of trees at the river. To get to the graveyard, Beulah had led him over a bridge he’d never noticed before, and onto the other side of the river.
She walked silently, and he wasn’t sure exactly what to say to break the silence. Did one speak to a witch when she was possibly preparing herself to speak to the dead? And what, exactly, was he going to see? Visions of decaying corpses came to mind, and he shuddered inwardly. Wailing spirits with jangling chains? He wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself, that if it weren’t for Wes, there was no way he’d even contemplate going through with this hideous idea.
Beulah halted in a small clearing, and Sinya looked around them. "What’s here?"
"This is the graveyard."
There were no headstones, no mounds of dirt, nothing, in fact, that would indicate the dead were buried here. Mentally shrugging, Sinya turned and looked at Beulah. She was standing beside him, drawing in deep breaths.
"Meditating?" he asked.
"No, enjoying the fresh air." She glanced at him, her dark eyes dancing in the moonlight.
He raised one brow at her obvious amusement.
She raised her brow back at him, and grinned. In that moment, she looked incredibly young and mischievous.
"Have you done this be
fore?" he asked suspiciously.
"Of course."
"Many times," Petras sighed in his ear.
The sudden brush of air caught him unawares, making him jerk.
"The dead like to talk to the witch-woman," Petras continued.
"Petras," Beulah admonished. "Don’t tease him."
Petras chuckled and trailed a wisp of nothingness across Sinya’s cheek, before disappearing.
Hands braced on his hips, Sinya watched Beulah walk around the area. She finally stopped in the middle of the clearing and stood quietly. Was he in the right spot? Should he move? Sinya shook his head. No, she would have told him so if she’d wanted him to move. Better to stay where he was, out of the way.
At least, he hoped it was out of the way. If some corpse reached up from the ground and grabbed his ankle, he was out of there. Ruefully he admitted to himself that some of his crews’ superstitions had rubbed off on him.
"I need information," Beulah’s quiet voice caught him by surprise.
Rather than lift her arms and call dramatically, Sinya was surprised to see her simply standing still, hands clasped behind her back, speaking quietly and calmly. Where was the fanfare, the potions, the incantations? Fascinated, he continued to watch.
"I need a spirit to help me," Beulah continued. "Will someone please come and talk to me?"
The faint breeze turned chill, and goose bumps marched up Sinya’s arms. He was surprised to see that his breath was suddenly coming out in white puffs.
"It’s a spirit coming," Petras whispered against his cheek.
He could feel the odd sensation of tendrils winding around his neck, and the brush of something, yet nothing, pressing against his neck. Beulah’s familiar, Petras, was a strange entity, but one he found oddly comforting right now. Especially when he heard the nervousness in its voice.
"You don’t like spirits?" he whispered.
"Ugh." Petras shuddered against him. "Some walk the space when they should be resting."
"So you don’t agree with what your mistress does?"
"She is a witch," Petras replied simply.
He couldn’t argue that, so Sinya continue to watch Beulah. In front of her he could see a faint outline of something, and he realized that something--a ghost--was appearing. He felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, and had to force himself not to step up to stand at Beulah’s back in an instinctively protective move. She knew what she was doing, and he didn’t.
"Thank you for coming," Beulah said calmly. "What is your name?"
"I am Carissa," the spirit replied in a voice unmistakenly female.
"From where do you come?"
"I have wandered far, and I find peace here."
The spirit, rather than taking on the shape of a person, remained as a white, ghostly fog, in a narrow, elongated shape.
"You have seen and know many things," Beulah stated. "I seek information on a boy."
The spirit was silent, waiting.
"His name is Wes."
"Wes is lost," Carissa said.
"I need to bring him back to his body."
"He is scared. He doesn’t want to come."
"I know." Beulah held out her hand, palm up. "He has no lifelines on his palms. What does it mean for him?"
The spirit wavered, flickering, and Sinya held his breath, wondering if it was going to disappear. As much as he feared playing in the spirit world, he was prepared to follow this through for his brother’s sake.
"His lifelines haven’t appeared because he lives the lives of others." The spirit swayed from side to side. "If he cannot control his powers, the pain of others override his natural progression of life. He can have no normal life until control is taken."
"What of the other entities that have forced their way into his sanctuary?" Beulah queried. "How could they enter him?"
"One is a powerful mystic of the dark arts, Hortra. The other..." The spirit flickered, almost disappearing, then came back as wispy fog. " She is Hortra’s sister, and has the power of Death."
"Does she mean harm to Wes?"
"No. But she is confused, and her being inside the boy’s sanctuary will eventually kill him."
Sinya felt a clench of dread in his gut.
"Why?" Beulah asked.
"She cannot control her own powers," Carissa replied. "Unwittingly, she will kill him. You must remove her from there, Beulah."
"And what of Hortra?"
"He seeks his sister for his own purposes. He means harm to the boy, as well."
"What can I do?"
"Get the boy back, before it’s too late." The spirit started to fade. "He’s coming."
Sinya watched as the spirit vanished, the chill disappearing with it, then switched his gaze to Beulah.
For several seconds she stared unseeingly at the spot where the spirit had been, then with a decided motion, she swung around on her heel and strode past Sinya.
Immediately he fell into step beside her. "What’s going on? What can we do to stop this?"
"I have to convince your brother to return to his physical body right now."
"We’re going back inside Wes’s subconscious?" Sinya felt better that they were finally going to do something.
"I am. You’re not."
"What?"
"You heard." Her stride lengthened.
He had no problem matching her, his legs being longer. "Why? I went with you before."
"It’s getting too dangerous now."
"All the more reason for me to come with you."
"No."
Sinya frowned. "Wes would listen to me, where he might not to you."
"With all due respect, Sinya, he left this plane because he couldn’t cope. He didn’t stay for you, and he won’t return for you."
That hurt. Sinya knew it was true, but still, hearing it from the witch bit at him deeply. "Thanks."
She didn’t spare him a glance, the soft soles of her shoes making no sound as she crossed the bridge.
Sinya’s own boots thudded loudly as he crossed beside her. A faint flicker of frustration ate at him. "So I’m to do nothing, is that it?"
"You’re to wait for me to return."
"With Wes."
Her gown swished against her ankles as she moved with increasing speed towards the hut. "Yes."
"You’re so sure he’ll return with you?" A faint flicker of hope battled with his frustration.
"He’ll return."
"Why now, when he wouldn’t before?"
"Don’t bother me right now with these questions, Sinya." Her voice held an unusual sharpness to it.
She glanced up at the sky as a faint rumble of thunder sounded distantly, and a streak of lightning cut through the sky.
Looking up, Sinya saw the storm gathering with a speed he’d not seen before.
"Oh dear," fretted Petras. "Beulah!"
"I know," she replied grimly.
"What the hell is going on?" Sinya demanded. Catching her arm in a firm grip, he swung her around to face him. "Beulah, talk to me!"
A thunderous cloud obscured the moonlight suddenly, but not before he caught a glimpse of the determination on her face. Determination and something else... a wildness? No, something more. Something almost... otherworldly. The flash of lightning reflected in her eyes, and he felt as though she were already withdrawing from this world, and into the spiritual plane. Fear gripped him suddenly, not for himself, but for her.
"Beulah, what are you going to do?"
Thunder crashed overhead, making the ground beneath their feet tremble. The sound of the river swirling hurriedly was loud, and a wind whipped up suddenly.
"Hortra comes!" Beulah yanked her arm from Sinya’s grip. "There is no time left!"
"Oh God! Wes!" Breaking into a run, Sinya dashed for the hut.
Leaping up the stairs, he pushed through the door, tore across the room and skidded to a halt beside the still figure of his brother. It was then he realized that Beulah wasn’t with him.
"Beulah!"
He ran back to the door and peered out into the gathering storm.
And saw her.
The lightning split the sky, and through the flashes of light, he saw her standing still, exactly where he’d left her. Head thrown back, her arms still by her side, she braved the elements swirling around her.
"Beulah!" Sinya shouted.
Bounding down the stairs, he passed his astonished crew, who had come out of the spaceship to stare up at the sky, then at the witch-woman.
"Sinya!" Ephim yelled over the rising howl of the wind. "What the hell is happening?"
"Get into shelter, all of you!" Sinya shouted back. "Ephim, get some men to guard Wes!"
He didn’t wait to watch them carry out his orders, but continued on to Beulah. Just as he reached her, the clouds let loose their burden of water. Rain pelted down in stinging force, drenching him within seconds. Shoving his streaming hair back, he stopped at Beulah’s side.
"Come on! You need to get out of this! You--" He halted, stunned.
Her face was vacant, eyes shut. She was so still, he knew she’d already left her physical body.
"Beulah?" He reached out for her.
"Don’t touch!" Petras shrieked. "Do not disturb her now!"
"Where is she?"
"She’s gone to get Wes!"
"I can’t leave her out here, I--"
"Just leave her!" Petras wound a tendril around Sinya’s arm, and tugged.
Sinya felt the tugging motion, and bit his lip. Through the rain teeming down, he watched Beulah helplessly. Should he get her inside? Did it matter if he moved her? But then he remembered her warning him that his crew shouldn’t disturb them while they traveled into Wes’s subconscious. Pushing his dripping hair back from his face, he glanced through the gathering darkness at the hut.
Now he was torn between returning to his brother, and staying by the witch’s side.
A zigzag of lightning flared through the air, striking dangerously close to Beulah. It cracked as it hit the ground, leaving a smoldering circle in its wake. A circle that glowed a dull red, and smelled foul.
He couldn’t leave Beulah. She was the only link to Wes. Setting his jaw, Sinya stood before her and waited, feeling helpless and frustrated all at once.
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