soulofawitch_463-9e1.htm

by Soul Of A Witch (lit)

  ~ * ~

  Beulah flew through the layers of Wes’s subconscious, calling loudly for him. ::Wes! Hear me, you are in grave danger. Come to me.:: There was no answer, and she surged upwards, sluicing through the white fog and leaving it swirling behind her. ::Wes! Hortra is coming for you. Heed me, and come to me. You need to return to your body--now!::

  She felt the tremor of the trailing fog, then Wes’s figure appeared. He was a distance away, but she could see him clearly.

  ::Why won’t any of you leave me alone?:: he demanded, the fear evident in his voice. ::This is my place! My sanctuary!::

  ::Hortra comes for you, Wes. You need to return to your body now.::

  ::I can’t. I just can’t, Beulah. The pain is killing me.::

  ::I am here to help you, Wes. Come with me now, and I will show you how to control your empathic powers.::

  The distant boom of thunder could be heard, a faint crackling of energy. Wes glanced around, and started towards Beulah.

  Relief coursed through her that he had decided to come, but so did urgency. There was a faint red glow to the left, and a darker shadow to the right.

  ::Aria, you must leave Wes now.:: Beulah hurried towards Wes. ::Hortra comes.::

  ::No! I am safe here, I--::

  ::Do not be fooled, child. Your brother is strong, stronger than any I’ve ever met. He has invaded a sanctuary with ill-intent, something forbidden to all. That he wields such power while doing so is frightening. He wants you, child, and he wants Wes. You are only safe in your own body.::

  Wes was drawing nearer, the growing flashes of red to the right spurring him onward.

  The darkness of Aria shivered, swelled, then retreated.

  ::No!:: Beulah commanded. ::Leave, Aria! Now!::

  It was too late. She felt the withdrawal of the girl, saw her shadow disappear, and knew she’d merely retreated to a higher plane. There was nothing she could do about it now. She had to get Wes safely back into his own body.

  A red arc of lightning split the fog beside Beulah, and she lunged forward. Her outstretched hand briefly touched Wes’s fingers, then another red arc seared between them, making Wes cry out and draw back.

  ::Grab my hand, Wes! Grab it and hold on!:: Beulah snatched for him again.

  With relief she felt his thin fingers wrap around her hand. Diving down, she passed through a layer of his subconscious, hearing him cry out beside her at being yanked from his sanctuary in such a cruel fashion. There was no choice. It had to be done, it--

  A wall of darkness surged upwards at them, and she would have plunged through, but Wes cried out and pulled back.

  ::No! Don’t let go!:: Beulah tightened her hold, but his fingers had lost their solidity, vaporizing in her hand as he slid away from her.

  In his own sanctuary, Wes could do what he wanted. And he wanted to flee the oncoming darkness.

  A mocking laugh sounded. ::That’s right, boy. Flee. Flee as fast as you can.::

  Moving backwards, Beulah glanced over her shoulder to see Wes wavering, not knowing whether to flee or stay. Before she could tell him to fly to her, a red arc seared past her, making her jerk to the side.

  ::Beulah! No!:: Wes screamed.

  Through force of will, she stopped her momentum through the spirit plane, and flew upwards instead.

  ::Wes, come! Come to me and take my hand!:: she commanded as she sliced through the fog.

  In the distance she saw Wes obey, flying in a slanting pattern so as to meet her higher up.

  The darkness lapped at her feet, but she refused to look down.

  ::You think to take the boy from me, witch?:: Hortra laughed mockingly. ::I’m having him, witch-woman. His soul is mine.::

  ::You can’t have him.::

  ::I will have him. As I will have my sister and her powers. You cannot stop me, witch.::

  She sensed the red lightning arcing towards her, and spun around, spreading her fingers to provide a shield. The lightning sparked off it, the showers of splintering light vaporizing the fog. Droplets spattered, and steam lifted from the shield.

  She kept moving up, hoping that Wes would follow the same course he’d already set. If she could just get hold of him, they had a chance of getting out.

  The blackness billowed beneath her feet, striving to break through her shield. In the midst of the blackness, she could make out a vague shape of a face, laughing, taunting, totally mocking.

  Suddenly it sheared to the side and started moving past her.

  Towards Wes.

  ::No!:: Keeping the shield between herself and the blackness that was Hortra’s spirit, Beulah spread her other hand, forming a bubble of pure light around Wes. She had to keep him safe, even though it meant weakening her own defense.

  ::You are a fool, witch!:: Hortra snarled. ::Give me the boy!::

  ::His soul is not for you!::

  A black tendril slapped at her weakened shield. ::Your pity depletes the strength of your barrier, Beulah.::

  Ignoring him, she looked up towards Wes, forcing the ball of light surrounding him to soar away into the distance.

  ::It’s not that easy, witch.:: Hortra started to laugh.

  Refusing to rise to his bait, she strained upward. The fog parted before her in whirling despair, torn and adrift. Tendrils floated away.

  Suddenly she was surrounded by flashing shards of lightning, millions of tiny red streaks sizzling against her shield. Focusing on movement, she spun away.

  Hortra followed her, refusing to give in.

  ::No! Beulah!:: Wes cried out.

  Looking upwards, she saw the tiny red streaks surrounding the bright light she’d enclosed him in. The lightning strikes grew bigger, cracking through the fog, and even as she saw it with dismay, Hortra attacked.

  He rushed her, enveloping her in darkness, pushing her off balance and into a spin.

  Trying to maintain control on her own shield and that of Wes’s, Beulah kept the focus on her hands.

  A scream rent through her, the piercing scream of a young girl in agony. It rang through her ears, almost shattering her concentration.

  Surely there couldn’t be anyone else in the spirit plane?

  ::I brought a little someone with me,:: Hortra laughed. ::A sacrifice. Can you sacrifice someone, Beulah? I can.::

  The blackness swept away in one flash, and Beulah looked up in time to see the manifestation of a young girl hurtling towards her. Lightning flashes were searing the screaming girl, cutting through her spiritual body.

  The girl was lost anyway. Beulah looked grimly at her, watching as she neared, seeing the desperation and terror on her young face. Then she hit the shield with force, making it jolt. At the same time, Hortra sent lightning crackling once more, giant streaks that hit Beulah’s shield at every angle. Raising one arm, he sent the same fierce streaks to attack Wes’s protective light.

  His eyes glowed fiery in the darkness, and he smiled. ::The best is yet to come, witch. You may protect yourself, but what if the one whose sanctuary you’re in, doubts you? What if Wes fears me, and tries to flee your light?::

  Wes would tear free of her protective light, and be easy prey. ::Wes! Don’t leave the light::! Beulah yelled desperately. ::Don’t--::

  A force shoved hard at her, sending her hurtling with frightening speed right towards Wes.

  Hortra traveled in her wake, one huge, shadowed hand reaching past her. Reaching for Wes.

  A whipping wind tore the words from her mouth, snatched her warning and threw it into the fog of Wes’s subconscious.

  Her shield cracked as Wes started backing away quickly. The fear on his face was stark.

  ::She can’t help you, boy,:: Hortra sneered.

  Abruptly, Beulah was jerked to a halt.

  ::Nobody can help you.:: Hortra laughed.

  ::Don’t listen to him,:: Beulah gasped, trying to get her breath back. ::Stay in the light, Wes. Whatever happens, don’t--::

  ::You bleed boy. You feel pain. This is no sanctuary.:: Ho
rtra pointed at Wes. ::See the blood in the light? See the glowing embers of pain coming for you? You can’t escape it, boy.::

  Crimson coated the edges of the light surrounding Wes, and he whimpered, backing away and shaking his head in horror.

  ::He’s lying!:: Beulah said sharply. ::Look at me, Wes!::

  Frightened, Wes met her gaze. ::Help me.::

  ::It’s an illusion, an--::

  A brown bolt of lightning struck the shield she still held around her, and grey steam sizzled off it. When it cleared, she saw Wes crying.

  ::I’m all right, Wes. Don’t move. Don’t--::

  ::See the blood on her, Wes?:: Hortra laughed softly. ::See the gaping wounds? The entrails spilling from her body? I can kill her here, boy. I can make her suffer, and you’ll feel the pain. So much pain--::

  ::No!:: Wes screamed.

  Another bolt hit her shield, and she saw Wes move forward.

  ::Stay still!:: She struggled to keep the light around him, but he continue to move towards her. ::Wes, no!::

  ::You’re in pain, so much pain!::

  ::It’s an illusion! Don’t believe--:: The force struck her hard again, spinning her away, and the darkness of Hortra enveloped her again.

  A figure spun past her, a ghostly illusion of herself that glowed with light, and just as it burst through the blackness, it exploded into grey fragments of smoldering light before disappearing altogether.

  ::Beulah!:: Wes screamed. ::No!::

  Her shield cracked, splintering around her, and pain coursed through her as she felt the shift of the protective white light surrounding Wes. He was moving away from her light, running, and she couldn’t tell which way, for the blackness prevented her from seeing.

  ::No, Wes! I’m still alive! Stay!::

  But it was too late. There was a tearing sensation, and white hot heat tore up her arm and into her chest.

  Hortra’s triumphant laughter echoed in her ears as she was flung from Wes’s subconscious, flung away through the layers with bruising force. She screamed as her spirit was shredded with Wes’s fear and grief, as he rejected her presence in his own fear.

  There was a second of blinding light, a sucking sensation, then wetness on her face. A savage blow to the back of her head rendered her unconscious.

  ~ * ~

  Horrified, Wes watched the blackness disappear from around Beulah. He’d been tricked by Hortra into thinking she’d literally exploded, and he’d made a vital mistake.

  He’d rejected Beulah from his spiritual plane, breaking through her protective light, shattering her own shield, and making her vulnerable to Hortra’s murderous intentions.

  ::No!:: Wes screamed, but it was too late.

  Red lightning tore through Beulah, flash after flash, burning through her spirit with devastating results. She spun away so fast that a shower of red sparks arced out behind her spiraling body. Within seconds she had vanished from sight, but her scream echoed in the planes.

  Wes felt her rip from his violated sanctuary--then she was gone.

  He was alone. Except for Aria, who’d retreated somewhere higher, and Hortra.

  Turning his gaze upon the black, roiling mass that was steadily advancing, Wes whispered, ::Why?::

  ::Because I can,:: Hortra replied simply.

  All traces of the dark mystic’s humor had vanished. The darkness of his spirit made the fog separate in shredded tendrils.

  Wes had absorbed pain before, mind-numbing pain, heart-breaking pain, despair, every emotion he’d thought he could possibly experience. But what he felt now, was terror. Soul-clenching, chilling, blood-curdling terror.

  ::How interesting,:: Hortra drawled. ::Do you fear me, boy?:: He drew nearer. ::That’s good. Always fear me, boy. Fear me, for I’ll show no mercy. You have power that I want, and I will have it. But first,:: he reached out with a huge shadow hand, ::I’ll need you safely in my kingdom.::

  Frantically Wes jerked backwards, but the terror clouded his mind. Terror and the sudden shattering impressions of thousands of screaming, agonized, despairing victims. Clapping his hands to his head, he felt the agony sear through him.

  His last memory was of blackness boiling around him, sucking him deeply into a soul as black as the depths of hell.

  ~ * ~

  The rain continued to pour down as the minutes ticked past slowly. Worriedly pacing before Beulah, Sinya kept his gaze trained on her.

  A shift in the atmosphere, a disturbance in the air around him, made him flinch and glance around him. A searing bolt of lightning cracked through the air, blazing with a crimson light across the sky dangerously near to where he stood. Thunder boomed, and he heard the dim, mocking laughter inside it, and it chilled him to his soul.

  Turning back to Beulah, Sinya was startled to see that her eyes were open, but it chilled him more when he saw that her eyes were pure white. Where her irises should have been, was white.

  Suddenly she screamed, an agonized scream such as he’d never heard before, and goose bumps raced up his arms.

  "Beulah!" Petras cried out.

  Even as Sinya stood still in surprise, Beulah jerked backwards with frightening force. She flew backwards through the air to smash against the tree a distance behind her, and bounce off again. Even as she crumpled to the wet grass, Sinya was racing towards her.

  "Beulah!" He fell to his knees beside her.

  White hair hung in a sodden mass around her face, and he carefully brushed it back, feeling for her pulse. The erratic beat was alarming, but also a relief. She lived.

  "Ooohhh!" Petras moaned. "Oh, my witch is so badly hurt!"

  The driving rain beat down heavily, and Sinya rolled Beulah onto her back before lifting her up in his arms.

  "Where are you taking her?" Petras wound around his neck fretfully.

  "Inside, out of this bloody rain," Sinya retorted.

  Petras moaned, clinging to him with barely discernable tendrils, calling softly to Beulah.

  Cradling Beulah close, Sinya bounded up the steps of the hut and strode past Ephim, who was waiting with the door open.

  "Shit." Ephim chewed his bottom lip worriedly. "What happened?"

  "I don’t know." Sinya looked towards Wes, relieved to see that he was breathing normally. "Is he awake?"

  "No." Ephim shook his head.

  "Damn." Sinya glanced around the room. "Is there another room here? A bedroom or something? Must be..." His voice trailed away as a previously unnoticed door opened slowly in the opposite wall.

  Ephim scratched his head nervously. "Never noticed that before."

  Sinya didn’t bother to marvel at it. He strode across the room and through the door, to find himself in a bedroom. Gently he lay Beulah on the bed. Going back out of the room, he checked on Wes, finding him sleeping as soundly as earlier. Assured that there was no obvious change in his condition, he returned to the bedroom.

  Ephim followed on his heels, and they both stood and gazed down at the still form of the witch-woman. Her breathing was heavy, as though she’d run a race, and her hands twitched slightly.

  "Now what?" Ephim finally said.

  Running one hand through his hair, Sinya glanced at his friend. "We do what we’d do for any injured person."

  "Search for injuries? Do you do that with a witch?"

  "She’s still a person." Leaning over her, Sinya slipped his hands gently beneath her head, probing carefully.

  "Drake doesn’t think so."

  "Drake’s got some weird ideas."

  Discovering a bump, he withdrew his fingers to find a trace of blood on them.

  "Blood!" Petras whimpered. "My poor witch!"

  "By God!" Ephim jumped and looked around wildly. "Who the hell is that?"

  "Beulah’s pet." Sinya rolled Beulah carefully onto her side so that he could investigate the back of her head more thoroughly. "It’s only a small bump. Get me a bowl of hot water and some rags, and the medipack."

  While Ephim went to do his bidding, Sinya took the opportuni
ty to check for further injuries. He ran his hands searchingly down her arms, but could find no obvious skin breaks or injuries. He hesitated at her legs, then glanced at her pale face. To hell with it. She’s injured. She can yell at me later about her modesty. Raising the hem of her gown high up her thighs, he ran his hands and gaze over her limbs, relieved to find no injuries there, either.

  Ephim coughed when he brought the bowl of hot water in, Franc following behind with the medipack. Sinya glanced up to find the barrel-chested pirate’s wide-eyed gaze on Beulah’s legs, and with a frown, he swept the hem of the gown down over her legs again. He couldn’t say why, but the men looking at Beulah’s legs irritated him.

  "Here." Franc placed the medipack on the small table beside the bed. "What do you want me to do?"

  "I’ll hold her on her side and support her head." Sinya sat on the edge of the bed and carefully rolled Beulah towards him. Cradling the lower part of her head gently in one palm, he instructed, "You clean that bump and put something on it."

  While Franc efficiently attended the shallow wound, Sinya wondered what had happened to Beulah. And Wes.

  Was Wes back in his body? He doubted it. Something had happened, something very similar to what had happened when Beulah had been thrown across the room earlier. Then she had said she’d been hit by a lightning bolt from that bastard, Hortra. Had the same thing happened? Was the storm from the mystic or whatever he was? Had he taken Wes’s spirit, or was Wes still safely hidden in his sanctuary?

  Shit, he didn’t know. All he knew was that his little brother was still in a deep sleep, and his witch was lying unconscious on a narrow bed. And where were these mystical healers, the Accelis?

  "You can’t leave her in those wet clothes," Franc stated. "She’ll catch her death of cold."

  The covers on the bed were already starting to soak up the water from her body. He had to take the sopping gown off her.

  There were no fastenings on the front of her gown, and gingerly Sinya rolled her partly over to check the back. No fasteners of any kind were there, either. She obviously pulled the gown on over her head. Well, he wasn’t going to pull and yank her around to get it off. There was an easier way.