Chronicles of Steele: Raven: The Complete Story

by Pauline Creeden

  Raven blinked hard and shook her head. “You are the Wood Witch.”

  “As you suspected.”

  “I am here because Baron Solomon asked me to bring the boy. You claim the power to cure Darius?”

  “I can remove the boy’s affliction.” The woman nodded and folded her arms across her chest. She looked neither powerful nor weak. In the dim light of Raven’s lamp, it became difficult to believe the woman had debilitated the reaper. Jack began to doubt what he’d seen and heard. The woman had to have him under a spell of some sort. It made it hard to think about or remember the magic she’d used.

  “You’re bewitching us, woman. I can feel it.” Raven’s eyes met Jack’s. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  Raven pressed the point of the sword to the old woman’s chest. “Stop it.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl. You’re a bit kooky, aren’t you?” The woman laughed and straightened her shirt sleeve.

  The reaper’s nostrils flared. The lamp winked as Darius fumbled it from one hand to the other and shook his head. “She’s not kooky. I feel it, too, Raven.”

  The woman ignored them both with a cunning smile and turned around. She patted Jack on the chest with the back of her hand dismissively. “Let’s all go downstairs for some tea and talk this over like adults, shall we?”

  Jack took a hesitant step back and let the woman by. Colton and Rupert stepped out of the woman’s way as well. Raven snapped the sword to her back and stepped up next to him. Her blue eyes challenged his. “I’m not giving you Darius until my mission is complete. If this woman cannot cure the boy, I will not hand him to you.”

  Her hair smelled clean, like the snow outside. And lavender. He swallowed before he spoke. “Those are your terms?”

  She nodded once and started down the stairs, holding Darius’s shoulders in front of her. The light descended the steps with her. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath before following them.

  Raven stopped at the bottom step and surveyed the crowded living room. Jasper Hollow lay on his chest in front of the fireplace. His back and his wounds exposed. Three guardsmen sat on the floor around his body, their mouths agape.

  The old woman’s wild hair glowed like a halo around her head in the firelight. Her body hunched forward as she strode across the room with purpose. Above Raven, Captain Jack Grant continued down the steps, each one groaning under his weight. The sound pressed on her and forced her forward. She stepped into the room, her fingers still gripping Darius’s shoulders lightly, guiding him to stay with her. She couldn’t let him get too far away. It felt as though she held a bird by the tail feathers, and if she gripped too hard, the feathers would rip out, but too lightly, and the bird would fly away.

  Her breathing slowed, and she tried to regulate her heart rate. Fear closed in on her from all sides like the dancing shadows on the walls around the room. But she refused to give into the fear. Her adrenaline wanted to heighten her fight or flight instinct, but she needed to stay calm. It wasn’t time for that now.

  Ignoring the eyes of the men on her, she pushed open the teal door to the kitchen. To her surprise, the red-headed woman, Griselda still sat in the chair with her hands tied behind her back. Raven remained in the doorway and could hardly form the words. “How? How did you…”

  The old woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Wood Witch, remember?”

  “But you didn’t free her?” Raven asked, pointing at the red head.

  The Wood Witch shrugged and started pouring water from her bucket into a kettle. “I didn’t see a point in it. Griselda is a good kid, but she’d only get in the way. I might be her mother, but even I tire of her nagging and prattling at times.”

  Raven blinked. The woman motioned for them to take a seat at the kitchen table. Behind them, the door pushed against Raven’s back. She took a step forward and gestured Darius toward the chair. She remained standing. Jack Grant entered the room and leaned against the door, preventing any others from coming in. He nodded in Raven’s direction and folded his arms across his chest.

  With a flick of the old woman’s finger, the flame on the top of the stove joined the light of the single gas lamp on the kitchen table. She hummed as she set the kettle over the burner. She turned to Raven, one side of her lip curled up into a smile. Her grey eyes were glazed over with cataracts, but the woman didn’t squint or struggle to meet Raven’s gaze. “So you’ve brought the boy to me to be rid of his issues.”

  “On the elder baron’s order, I’ve brought him. But I don’t trust you.”

  The witch gave a short huff and cackle. She stepped toward Raven and pointed. “Who would trust a witch? Only a fool.”

  Raven furrowed her brows. “Are you telling me you are untrustworthy?”

  The old woman shrugged. “Magic comes at a cost most are unwilling to pay.”

  Raven thought of the gold left in the saddlebags on the horse that got away when the highwaymen attacked her in the woods outside of New Haven. Baron Solomon had never said how much it would cost. Darius still held the carpet bag between his knees. She could only hope that she had enough in the bag. If not, would the witch take a down-payment?

  The woman cackled longer and stepped forward again. “I see you counting the cost in that young head of yours. You don’t have enough to pay what I ask, that is for certain.”

  “But how do you know? What do you ask for?”

  The witch reached out for the top of the boy’s head, but Raven pulled the chair back. It scraped across the hardwood floor. She stepped in front of him. Grant had uncrossed his arms and put a hand on the hilt of his pistol. The witch whipped her head in the captain’s direction and glared. “Would you shoot a defenseless old woman?”

  “I don’t believe you’re without the means to defend yourself, Witch.” The captain didn’t release his pistol and stepped farther into the small kitchen.

  She laughed. “You would be right, wouldn’t you? I’m not defenseless, nor am I afraid of your pea-shooting pistol.”

  Jack tensed his jaw and stepped back. The woman made a shooing motion with a flick of her wrist, and Jack pulled his hand off the hilt and crossed his arms, assuming the stance he’d had before. A look of confusion covered his face. His eyebrows furrowed, and the tendons on his neck stood out as though he strained against something.

  Raven pulled Darius to his feet and pushed him behind her, backing up in the kitchen so they were as far from the woman as possible. The witch stood taller, and the flames at the stove behind her flared up. Raven’s throat closed, and she swallowed against her tightened esophagus.

  The woman began speaking gibberish, the same as she had upstairs. Raven’s heart raced. She froze, her muscles unable to move again. That same teal light glowed from the witch’s fingers. Raven clenched her eyes, willing herself to move, but not one of her body parts obeyed. Then, just as before, her body collapsed to the floor. And her eyes flew open, but she was unable to turn them in any direction.

  Then the words became clear. The witch spoke about things she couldn’t possibly know. “How can you live after what you’ve done? You are worthless, not valuable enough for your father to have sacrificed his life for. No one could love you. You have too much blood on your hands. Nothing you do can redeem you. Even Gregory rejected you.”

  Jack had fallen to the floor, as well. His boots were inches from her face in the small kitchen. Darius whimpered behind her, seemingly untouched by the witch’s spell. A tear pooled at the bottom of Raven’s eye and spilled over the side of her face. She couldn’t blink. Never in her life did she feel so out of control. And the witch put a voice to every fear she’d ever had.

  Could it be true? Her father didn’t deserve to die for her. Gregory was probably better off without her. Why couldn’t she have been the wife he had needed?

  It grew increasingly difficult to push those thoughts aside.

  The witch cackled in the blue light, but Raven coul
dn’t turn her head to see what was going on. The old woman’s hand petted the top of her head. “Too bad I didn’t know you earlier, dear. I might have found more use for you, too. Come, Darius.”

  Footsteps shuffled along the floorboards, and then a dragging sound. A door creaked and a cold draft entered the room. A door out? But this room had none. The wind’s icy fingers raced up Raven’s spine. Footsteps crunched in the snow outside.

  Nikki’s urgent barking filled the silence once the crunching had grown too distant. The blue light continued to dominate the room. Raven’s eyes became dry with her inability to blink and the tears that had already fallen. Drool pooled at the corner of her mouth and she wanted so much to swallow, but instead it soaked the floorboards under her cheek.

  Despair blanketed her. The witch’s words continued to echo in her mind, and she couldn’t let them go, no matter how painful it was to think on them. The room grew colder by the minute, and soon each breath formed an icy cloud in front of her face. Nikki had succumbed to howling, her cries desperate and mournful.

  What seemed like an eternity passed. Her determined struggle against her unseen bonds helped her push the witch’s words away.

  She blinked. The sudden movement of her eyelids startled her and she flinched slightly. Still, her limbs would not respond. The blue light dimmed. Although she was not yet cold, she shivered uncontrollably. The despair fled and her anger warmed her. She willed her arms to move, fought against the invisible tethers. Sweat beaded on her forehead only to be wicked immediately by draft produced by the open door. Her eyes darted around the room, the first of her muscles to come under control.

  Grant made a choked groan, and Raven tried to speak but could do no more than sigh. That guardsman would not gain control of himself before she did. She would not be incapacitated while he stood over her. He may have saved her once, but that was one time too many. She had always been able to take care of herself; this time would be no exception.

  She strove against the inability to move until the moment the blue light snuffed out. Both she and Grant leapt to their feet simultaneously. She gasped for breath now that her chest was no longer constricted. Her muscles relaxed against the strain of her struggles.

  Not only was Darius gone, but an empty chair sat where the red-haired woman had been tied. In the wall, a door-sized hole had been formed in a perfect rectangle. The wind had piled snow into the corners of the small kitchen. Raven could barely use her gelatin muscles to walk to the door. She leaned against the frame of the doorway and surveyed the drifts of snow. The clear, cold sky was awash with stars, but the first signs of morning painted the eastern sky purple. Clear footprints led away from the house toward the woods. Behind her, Grant groaned. She turned toward him. “We need to go after them.”

  He leaned against the table, looking as weak as she felt. The door cracked open and a voice called in. “Captain, may we enter?”

  Grant cleared his throat and called back, “Colton, get Rupert and hurry.”

  The door swung shut in response, and muffled voices called out on the other side. Raven shivered. Why had the witch taken Darius?

  Remain open minded.

  Watch for change in both people and environs.

  When things do not go as expected, be willing to change one's expectations.

  RAVEN HELD NIKKI on a leash and trudged in the knee deep snow after the three guardsmen. They were so different one from another. The fair hair and skin of nobility proved Colton’s heritage. He could almost blend with the snow. In contrast, Rupert’s dark tone rivaled Raven’s hair. And Captain Jack Grant’s appearance lay somewhere in between, with his russet hair and green eyes. He stood taller than the other two, but seemed younger than Rupert. His eyes met hers and she averted her gaze.

  The morning sun cast long shadows from the trees overhead, and reflected off the snow in clear spots. Rupert stopped and bent low to the ground. “The tracks are becoming hard to follow. The wind has blown snow into the prints and made them shallow.”

  Raven shook her head and unhooked the leash from Nikki’s collar. The camel-colored Great Dane bounded ahead, woofing as she loped over the snow. Raven passed the men in a jog after the dog. “I suggest we follow her. I’m sure Rupert is a fine tracker, but I’ve never heard of anyone who could out-track a dog.”

  The guardsmen crunched in the snow after her. Raven’s legs were tired, and her thighs yelled at her that they wouldn’t be able to keep up this jog for long. She ignored them, hoping for a second wind as they burned. A flock of blackbirds took off at the sight of the dog barreling toward them. The ruckus they made didn’t slow Nikki as she continued bounding across an open field. On the other side of the clearing, a dark figure stood and bent over an object.

  Raven bolted toward the other side. Her legs and arms pumped hard as she raced across the field. The snow had been blown into drifts along the edge of the woods, making the field itself shallow and ankle-deep rather than half way to her knee. The easier running helped her gain that second wind.

  As she approached, the hunched over body stood erect and turned toward her. Nikki reached the person and greeted him with tail wagging. Monroe! He pulled the hood of his cloak from his head and held a stern face in greeting. His eyes looked past her and focused on the three guardsmen behind. He swept his rags to the side and exposed the hilt of his sword.

  “Stop!” Raven cried out as she slowed in front of him. “They are with me.”

  He nodded and bent down again. A shock of red hair hinted at who the dark form might be, half -hidden in a snow drift. Monroe’s blue eyes met hers. “She’s dead.”

  Raven started. “Did you—”

  “No,” Monroe shook his head and pushed the snow from the woman’s face. “I only got here a moment before you.”

  Grant, Rupert, and Colton assembled beside them. She felt indignant at their gasping for air. Did guardsmen not run to stay fit? She shook her head. Grant met her gaze and offered her half a smile before standing up straight. He nodded toward the body. “Is there any sign of the young baron or the witch?”

  “None.” Monroe drew up to his feet.

  The body suddenly jerked. It startled the men and caused all four to unsheathe their weapons. The redhead spoke in a garbled tone, deeper and less feminine than before. “Mother where are we going? Snow is getting in my joints . . . can’t . . . keep . . . up.”

  It jerked again and died.

  “An automaton?” Colton stepped forward, studying the body on the ground.

  Monroe’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “Her flesh felt cold, but soft and human. This is the first time I’ve ever seen one which actually looked human.”

  Raven narrowed her eyes at the redhead. “It moved and spoke like a human. I, for one, was completely fooled.”

  Rupert stepped forward and shook his head. He spat at the mechanical woman and his nostrils flared. “Witchcraft.”

  Captain Grant pushed back his long coat as he leaned forward to take a closer look. He studied it for a moment, lifting a limp arm and letting it drop back into the snow. “Well, I’m willing to bet the Baron’s condition caused this automaton to fail. I guess we’re lucky she didn’t explode.”

  The mouth dropped open and a hiss of steam escaped from the body. Everyone took a hesitant step back. Raven shook her head. “This is a distraction. It makes no difference. We need to keep following the trail.”

  Nikki sniffed around in the snow, running in all directions as if searching for a scent. They watched her for a moment, the automaton all but forgotten. The Great Dane howled and bounded off to the north. The chase began again. Snow crunched beneath Raven’s boots, and the going became slow as she pushed through drifts. She heard the running water before they reached the fast running stream. Nikki ran back and forth on the bank. Raven looked both directions. No bridge.

  Monroe had stayed right behind her through the woods and stopped at the river with her. He didn’t pant or huff, and she couldn’t help but smile at
his reaper ability to stay with her. He assessed the fast moving water. It seemed only a few feet deep, but in no way crossable. “It appears the trail stops here.”

  “Nikki can’t find a scent either direction, so they must have crossed.”

  Monroe pointed to an empty patch of shallow snow where the drift had failed to cover completely. “Or there may have been a small boat moored here for the witch to use.”

  Raven nodded.

  The three guardsmen finally caught up to them. Sweat dripped from Colton’s forehead and caused his blond curls to stick to his face. He was the first to speak. “I’m starting to wish we’d brought the horses.”

  Monroe eyed him. “Nobility can afford to keep their horses in shape while their bodies are spoilt. Guardsmen used to walk and run when I was one.”

  Captain Grant held up a hand. “Monroe, there is no need to insult us. We are all on the same side here. Let’s keep the hostilities toward our common enemy.”

  The red band on his jacket had been caught by a tree branch, and hung loose on his arm. He ripped off the loose portion and wiped the sweat from his forehead on his sleeve.

  Monroe nodded and paced up river. Raven split into the opposite direction and paced downstream. There had to be a way to cross, or another boat, or some clue. Nikki stayed beside her and trotted a few steps ahead. The day grew warmer, and the snowmelt dripped from the tree branches overhead.

  Colton and Grant crunched in the show behind her while Rupert had gone with Monroe. Raven attempted to ignore them. It had been two years since she’d travelled with her father, and she’d grown accustomed to being alone. Darius had not been the same. He needed her protection and took orders from her. These two men could take care of themselves, and if anything, she might need to defend herself from them at any time. This tenuous alliance kept her alert.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Colton glance at the sword attached to her back. The red cord hung over her shoulder and occasionally tickled her neck. Was it his? In the darkness, she couldn’t tell which of the guardsmen she’d taken it from. He didn’t say a word about it, but his eyes were drawn to it magnetically. Should she give it back to him? Part of her wanted to. Maybe it would work as a peace offering and garner trust between them. But the sword was a spoil of war, hers by right. Would he see himself as weak if he didn’t win it back from her?