Deathspell

by Peter Dawes

  Her smile turned devious, her gaze full of unspoken intention. “Now, my rogue,” she said. “You can be inside me again.”

  I collapsed into bed that evening after consuming enough supper to sate an entire village. Books fell to the floor, but I paid them no mind, in favor of surrendering to the sweet embrace of rest. I would study more in the morning, I told myself. Perhaps even ask about attempting one of the more complicated spells in Lawrence’s tome. In that moment, however, a fatigue unlike any I had ever experienced settled over me. It took the insistence of the servants for me to rise hours later, and even then, I ate slowly and without much motivation. When Jane failed to join me, I considered it a mercy.

  She walked into the estate from her courtyard a short while after that. I followed her back to the library once she had eaten, and both she and I settled into a study bereft of sexual tension. Jane had me draw a smaller circle and place my palms upon its center. Lighting candles on each of the corners, she spoke to me of using other materials – crystals and herbs – to boost the energy granted by the elements. “First, I would like you to simply get accustomed to summoning them,” she said. “Increasing their power is worthless if you can’t harness them in the first place.”

  “I see the logic in that,” I said. With a nod, I followed each of the instructions given to me. My first flirtations with water and earth forged tentative connections, the latter especially tricky, but Jane coached me with calm patience through each exercise. That night, I went to sleep without having bedded my teacher, but my spirit bore a sense of satisfaction just the same.

  The next morning, I found myself being woken by her, the sensual creature having returned seemingly overnight. As she climbed on top of me, I groaned, taking hold of her hips while she rocked atop me, in search of a pleasure I was all too apt to provide. We kissed and she curled in my arms afterward, departing only when the servants summoned us to our meal. Instead of joining me, again, she excused herself to a bath and disappeared for the better part of the day.

  My slumber was not to be nearly so restful that evening, however. I tossed and turned, waking in fits before sinking back into sleep again. Visions and vignettes plagued me, until I heard voices whisper and opened my eyes to regard who might be speaking. As I did, however, I immediately met with the eyes of a man I had never seen before.

  His hair light brown and wavy, he almost looked to be my age with eyes as blue as crystals. Something about his gaze made my head swim. The world shifted in and out of focus, bearing the discordance of a dream as I furrowed my brow at him. “Your bloodline is a strong one, son of Richard,” he said, his voice airy and distorted. I blinked while he reached out, unable to move against his touch, like my arms and legs had become trapped in mud. His fingers lifted to graze the medallion around my neck. “I admit, I’ve wondered what rock you’ve been hiding under all this time.”

  My brow furrowed, speaking with what echoed in my ears as a slur. “I haven’t been hiding,” I said. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

  “Sometimes plain sight is the best place to find cover. Though I see in your belongings that you have a mercenary cloak.” The strange man relinquished his hold on the amulet, settling beside me on the bed. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. Lawrence had become a burden, but one not easily dealt with. I’m thankful for the enemies he made, for more reasons than one. If I believed in such things, I would call it fate.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Talbot. The lieutenant behind me is named Marcus. Sadly, you might remember him. I would apologize for having you bound to your bed like this, but I assure you, it’s for his safety as much as yours.”

  Talbot shifted to the side, allowing me full view of the second man. My eyes flicked obediently to the other shadow, standing further away and out of focus at first. As my vision cleared, however, I felt a wave of recollection that threatened to break through the fog. A memory sped to the forefront of my mind, one relived far too many times for me not to recognize the man.

  He wore the crimson cloak of the Luminaries, and peered down at me with derision, both arms folded across his chest. I drew in a sharp breath as I saw another time and place. An inn far away from here. My father, facing the window where I sat perched while a figure encroached on him from behind. I shook, struggling against whatever spell had been cast to hold me down as I saw this man – this Marcus – draw his sword and impale Richard Hardi with it.

  My father’s killer. At long last, there he stood.

  “You bastard,” I spat through clenched teeth. “I will tear you apart limb from limb.”

  Marcus seemed apathetic toward the vitriol in my tone. He glanced at Talbot. “Well, that confirms it,” he said. “This is the urchin.”

  “Grown into a man,” Talbot added with a nod. He glanced from Marcus to me while I seethed. “Christian, was it? Focus on me again when I’m talking to you.”

  Talbot snapped his fingers. My eyes shifted to him, driven by a force outside of my control, my posture relaxing without asking my permission to do so. “There. That’s better,” he said. “I need you to attend to what I’m about to ask you, because your life could depend on it. And you strike me as the sort of man who likes holding onto something as dear as that. Your father had something very valuable to me and Marcus told me that they couldn’t find it among his possessions. Considering you slipped away from us, I think you have some idea of what I’m talking about.”

  My eyes narrowed. He might have gained control over my body, but my mind remained defiant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I countered.

  Talbot took a deep breath and released it in a slow, exaggerated manner. “Far too much like your father.” His movements quick, I barely had the chance to blink before his hand shot forward, clutching onto my neck with a grip tight enough to impede my breathing. My eyes widened while his expression remained impassive. “You know what I’m talking about perfectly well. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve carried it in your hand and studied it, and I imagine each time you’ve looked at it, you’ve had no clue what it is you beheld. I want it back. And I’ve been more than willing to leave a wake of bodies to get it.”

  “I do recall the one in particular you left.” I strained to speak through the grip of his fingers. The man bore a strength I could scarcely believe was human. “You’ll forgive me if that makes me resistant to tell you more.”

  “You know, Christian…” Talbot punctuated his words with a sigh, his gaze flicking away for a moment before returning to me. A deceptively placid smile crossed his lips. “Right before me, I see a lot of potential. You’re a talented warlock. It’s in your blood and you might live long enough to discover what that means if you cooperate. It would be a shame to break every bone in your body until you cried out where you’ve stowed what your father stole from me. Confidentially, even I would like you better in one piece.” He lifted his unencumbered hand, settling his fingers over his heart. “I think you would make a perfect addition to our order if you set your petty vendetta aside.”

  “I have no interest in joining a collective of murderous letches.”

  Talbot laughed. “I hope you appreciate the irony of what you’re saying. How many people have you killed?”

  “My father was a good man.”

  “Your father had blood on his hands the same as the rest of us. You are very much your father’s son. I know the little boy inside you has purchased this delusion that Richard was a hero, but let me dispel that for you. He wore a red cloak once, the same as Marcus.”

  My heart leaped into my throat, my eyes narrowing. Talbot slackened his hold on me, but kept his fingers wrapped around my neck. A response eluded me despite the increased amount of air I drew in, inspiring the smile on Talbot’s face to broaden. “Oh, did he fail to mention that to you. I’m sure he burned the cloak at some point, but that doesn’t change the fact that he wore one. I know you’ve at least sorted out he was a warlock the same as you, but where do you think he recei
ved his instruction?”

  “I don’t believe you,” I countered.

  “You do. You just don’t want to. After all, you have to admit, it explains why we sought him out.” As our gazes met, I felt my mind swim again, lost inside a sea of crystal blue. It felt like Talbot’s presence loomed closer. My reason had been clogged too much for me to discern how much truth there was to the perception until I saw him lick his lips and tilt his head to the side.

  A shiver ran the length of my spine when his cheek brushed against mine, his voice suddenly in my ear. “Tell me where the scroll is and I will unlock every one of your father’s secrets,” he said. “You relish the power of casting spells? You enjoy Jane’s company? Tell me what is it you want the most in this world, and I will grant it to you.”

  “I…” I swallowed hard, a crease forming in my brow as something touched my arm, lifting and then settling on my chest. My vision hindered by my frozen state, my mind filled in the image of a snake, slithering its way down to my stomach and teasing at my leg. Drawing a sharp breath inward, I exhaled it in staccato. “I can’t,” I finally managed.

  “You most certainly can. If you’re anything like your father, a part of you wants to.” A feather touch crept across my thigh. As it brushed over me, I moaned. “Believe me when I say I can make you want it that much more, just like I did him.”

  Distantly, I fought to cling onto something while still unable to move. “No. I can’t.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you weren’t meant to know.”

  Cool breath hit my neck. I felt his tongue flick across my skin and gasped. “I wasn’t meant to know where my own belongings were being hidden,” Talbot said. He chuckled. “How audacious of you.”

  I gritted my teeth, as much against the question as my own reactions to the strange man. “He wouldn’t want you to know,” I said, threatening to chant the words if just to steady my resolve. “He entrusted it with me.”

  “Master…” The third voice broke through. I couldn’t determine whether its owner should be thanked or condemned, forgetting for a moment who the speaker was. Another shaky breath surged from my chest while Talbot returned to my field of vision, glancing over toward where the other man stood. Marcus straightened his posture, his arms falling to his sides. “His mind is strong,” he said. “The lady warned us of that. You could tempt him all night and he’ll still mock us with his resistance.”

  A deep sigh preceded Talbot’s response. “Is it his resistance which concerns you,” he asked, “Or is it something else? You’ve always been jealous of Henri. It disappoints me that even death hasn’t cured you of that.”

  Marcus bristled. “I simply think we are wasting our time. We should take him in and torture him.”

  “We should do whatever I say we should.” The way he spat the last few words brought to mind the snake again. Talbot slackened its hold on me until his hand finally fell away. My eyes rolled back as I heard the sound of a chair sliding against the floor. A shadow passed over me and as I attempted to focus on Talbot again, I found myself staring at his back, with him standing in front of me. “A natural born magician with an easy weakness to exploit and you want me flaying him first?”

  As difficult as it was to see the posture each man took, something in the back of my mind registered tension. A staring contest that Marcus backed down from first; him leaning against the wall again with a huff and folding his arms across his chest again. Talbot strode forward and while I didn’t hear whatever he whispered to my father’s killer, it was enough for Marcus to nod and glance downward. “Yes, I understand,” Marcus said, falling silent after this.

  “You will understand or I will take back what I gave to you. Lest you forget I own your soul.” Talbot lingered in his posture before turning to face me again. My gaze shifted to him, the action just as involuntary as it had been when he snapped his fingers. Talbot strode forward and crouched before me. “That mind of yours is steel, I will grant Marcus that,” he said, lifting a hand to toy with one of the longer locks of my hair. He hummed. “I have no doubt your father has something to do with that. But it can be broken, Christian, and I will break you, one way or the other. If I want anything to linger in the back of your mind, it is this.”

  Talbot leaned closer to me. Our faces hovered nearly close enough to kiss, his gaze diving deep into mine. As the smile returned to his face, I felt darkness encroach upon me, attempting to pull me under. “Sad to say, that’s all you’re going to remember,” he said. “At least, for now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The bed shifted beneath the weight of someone settling by my side. As I felt teeth nibble on my neck, I jolted awake, scrambling away from the interloper as an impulse and into a seated position. It took a moment for me to figure out who I was looking at and even then, I had no discernable reason why I was startled to see Lady Cavendish. She sat upright and furrowed her brow at me. “Is something wrong?” Jane asked, issuing the words with caution as though I had taken leave of my senses.

  Somehow, I wondered if she might be right. “I don’t know,” I said. It was the most honest response I could offer, spat out before I could think. My heart pounded in my ears, my chest rising and falling with lusty gulps while my frantic gaze shifted from her to the walls to the window to everything else in the room. Swallowing hard, I furrowed my brow. “Is it late?” I asked.

  “No, not terribly, though my servants said you were impossible to rouse. I determined to come in and do it myself.” Jane’s expression turned amused, her leaning forward to rest her weight on the palm of her right hand. “Did you sleep poorly last night?”

  “I think I had a bad dream, more like.” Both hands lifted, pushing back the locks of my hair and lingering on my crown afterward. Something fought to break through the haze of sleep. A flash of an image. A man. The man who had killed my father. I winced against it, feeling my headache worsen as I pushed against the wall stopping it from being a clearer picture. “I think I dreamed of my father’s death.”

  Jane frowned, regarding me with genuine concern. It cast a cloud against the playfulness her posture had sought to inspire, inspiring something warmer and kinder from her. “My rogue, why would your memories be so cruel to you within the safety of rest?”

  “That I knew. I can’t even recall the dream very well. I only see his face.”

  “I wouldn’t forget such a face readily either.”

  My hands fell to my sides again as Jane inched forward. She straddled my lap, placing both hands on either side of my face while looking into my eyes. I furrowed my brow at the way she studied me, waiting for something that seemed to be hanging between us. When Jane motioned forward, however, it left the matter unresolved by anything but a kiss.

  I sank into the slow motion of our lips together, and gradually the throbbing in my temples subsided. Jane pushed up her skirts and as we embraced, she shifted on my lap, coaxing out my baser urges. At first, thought eluded me, the desires of my body taking a surer stance the more she slid against me and especially as Jane guided me deep inside of her. The warmth and slick evidence of her lusts carried me over the threshold, into a shared moment of erotic bliss.

  Later, however, the notion continued to trouble me, telling me something dire loomed over me from some uncertain direction. I sat with one of the spell books in hand, taking up space on one of the benches while watching Jane stroll out to the courtyard and disappear. The contents of each page failed to hold my interest, and the noble woman’s absence for the remainder of the day bore conspicuous overtones. I frowned at my own paranoia and retired to bed shortly after eating supper.

  The next morning, she met me down at the table for breakfast. We spent the daylight hours with countless books open before us, Jane explaining to me the basic mechanics of casting spells. I nodded and attended to the lesson with due diligence, pleased with myself when I was able to levitate a piece of parchment before incinerating it in midair. The effort met with applause and praise, Jan
e licking her lips while appealing to the sexual chemistry we shared again. While I surrendered without much thought, the tone of her actions continued to trouble me. We took dinner together later and she retired with promises of more to follow the next day.

  Sleep eluded me, however. As I lay on my back, staring toward the window, I couldn’t help the itch at the back of my mind, leaving me under the impression that whatever loomed over me would only worsen the longer I ignored it. Gone were the placid notions of my lover. As I sat up, I took a deep breath, tempted to wander without knowing to where. I found myself standing and pacing, until finally I dressed and followed the compulsion to leave the room. There were precious few places in the estate I felt at ease wandering into. At the very least, I reckoned, I could lose myself in the library.

  The hearth crackled, providing the only light in the room while I slipped inside and shut the door. Wandering my way to one of the oil lamps, I lit it just by staring at the wick and repeated the effort with the other lamps around the room. A warm glow filled the area, illuminating the spines of countless books and drawing my focus to the shelves they occupied. I wandered past each one until I paused by the windows and pushed back the curtain to regard the grounds below.

  While the dark of night shrouded most of it from view, the moon shone just enough for me to make out portions of Jane’s beloved courtyard. Furrowing my brow, I spotted a collection of benches in the midst of varying flora – including trees and thorn bushes I assumed birthed roses during the summer. A small pool had been fashioned right in the center and a shiver tingled up from the base of my spine. Water was to Jane what fire was to me and something about the abundance of her element bore sudden suspicion.