“There aren’t enough witches or guards on this island to kill all the ravagers set to attack us. Not without the spell of Reutterance, and that can only be cast by this woman with your palm print on her face. You should be on your knees to her.”
“On my knees to a filthy whore witch?” Murgatroyd’s face wrinkled in abject disgust.
Captain Clark went for him again, and Mother threw herself against him to hold him back. A dark shadow fell across us as Logan launched himself off the carriage and brought down the colonel.
His lips peeled back in a feral mask of rage, Logan screamed, “Don’t you dare call her a whore, you fucking piece of dog shit! I’ll kill you!” He pummeled Murgatroyd in the face with his fists, and went crazy when three guards broke ranks and dragged him off. The colonel jumped to his feet, his face scarlet, and rammed the tip of sword hard enough into Logan’s exposed throat to draw a bead of blood. Logan didn’t flinch, he glared up at Murgatroyd, hatred in every line of his face.
“Do it then, you frigging coward.”
“Don’t think I wouldn’t, but you have a job to perform.” Trembling with fury, Murgatroyd spat in Logan’s face, then kicked him the side for good measure.
The burning fire inside me raged to be free. How dare he hurt Logan? Call me all the names he wanted, he was not going to hurt Logan.
I held up my palm, summoning a fireball.
“Demetria!” Mother screamed in such an awful voice, I jerked in shock. I crushed the fireball in my fist and lowered my arm, convinced my mother was going to hit me if I got close enough. Tears burned my eyes. Didn’t she care that Logan was being abused by this horrible man? We had all the power, why couldn’t we use it?
“Both of you get into the carriage.” Mother pointed at me and Logan and then the carriage. “Colonel, tell your men to let him up. We need to take the Lady Regent’s body back to her husband and stop this ridiculous posturing. You don’t like witches, that’s plain and it is your right, but we need them both desperately. You’re the ranking officer here, so take charge.”
Murgatroyd gaped at her as if she’d grown three heads in addition to her original one, but he did sheathe his sword.
“Let him up,” he snapped at the guards holding down Logan. They stepped back and allowed Logan to his feet. He kept his head lowered, most likely to hide his smoldering eyes, and got into the carriage. I followed him, expecting my mother to smack the back of my head on my way past, but she didn’t.
Mother slammed the carriage door shut after glaring in at me one last time. Her white-faced fury scared me, and I tried not to shrink back, but I wasn’t entirely successful.
Logan slumped beside me, head down, his hands pressed to the side Colonel Murgatroyd had kicked. His uneven breathing was the only sound in the carriage save for the rain drumming against the roof and sides. Blood dripped from his throat to the carriage floor.
“You’re hurt.” I took the hem of my shirt between both hands and tore a piece free so I could press it to his neck wound.
“You sound mad at me about that.” Logan took the fabric from my fingers and held it to his throat.
“I am mad!” I shouted at him as he stared, wide-eyed at me. “And scared. If Mother hadn’t stopped me, I would have murdered that bastard.” Horrified, I covered my mouth and nose with both hands. What had I almost done?
“Oh, Othala, Logan, I was going to kill him!” I burst into tears, shaking with terror. “I can’t handle being a witch. It’s too much power. It’s too much! How do witches in Seawall South keep from killing every damn non-magical they ever run across?”
“Dem.” Logan took me into his arms and rocked me. I wanted to relax into the comfort and shelter he offered, but I couldn’t allow myself to do that. I was evil. Awful. If Mother hadn’t been there to stop me, I would have torched Colonel Murgatroyd and watched him burn to death as I laughed. “Witches protect. That’s why we’re here on Othala. To protect the non-magicals.”
I stared at him. “Protect people who hate us?”
He nodded, his expression so serious I knew he was telling the truth. “Not everyone hates us. Regiment Thirteen is particularly virulent against witches thanks to following the Regent’s lead, but most regiments aren’t like them.”
“I don’t believe it!” I cried, burying my face in his shoulder.
He sighed and rocked me. “Most guards are pretty much bastards, but they generally don’t hurt us, just call us names and push us around if we get out of line. And yet if you go into certain pubs at night, you’ll see at least one guard with his witch girlfriend. It’s mostly a lot of posturing when they’re in uniform. And the non-magicals we work with are used to our magic. Some of them even respect it, although most are scared of it.”
I squeezed shut my eyes, and forced myself to sit away from him. He let go, but slowly.
“Maybe that’s why we die after we cast the spell of Reutterance. Too much power,” I said, shuddering.
“Maybe,” Logan said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“You were the one being hurt. You didn’t even make it rain harder.” I glared at him, even though he’d done the right thing and I was the loose cannon.
“I thought about it,” Logan confessed. “I’ve done it before when Murgatroyd had me down.”
“Then why not this time?”
He shrugged. “It went so fast. And you came to my rescue so I didn’t have to. Thank you, Dem.”
“Don’t thank me! I almost did a terrible thing. An irrevocable thing.” I took a deep breath to keep from bursting into tears again.
“But you didn’t.”
“Not because I came to my senses, but because Mother was there to stop me. What if she’s not there the next time somebody pisses me off? Am I just going to blow them up because they make me mad?”
“Are you?” Logan tilted his head to regard me as if I were a bug on a pin. And a little bit like he was humoring me, which rankled.
“No,” I muttered. “I damn well won’t. I’ll remember this moment, and, hopefully, I won’t become a homicidal maniac.”
He grinned at me. “You’re fine. You’re more than fine.” His smiled faded. “Tempers are hot, and we’re grief stricken and scared. It’s okay, Dem.” He reached out to touch my shoulder. “Really.”
“I don’t know about that.” I wiped the tears from my face and took another big breath. The carriage jerked forward, and the blanket covering Regina shifted. One of her arms fell out, and her knuckles rapped the floor. A shudder of dread and guilt shook me.
Logan swallowed, then knelt so he could put her arm back under the blanket. A bit of her gold hair stuck out, and he covered that too, his throat working.
He sat back beside me, his shoulder pressed against mine, and took my hand. I held onto it as we traveled closer and closer to the mansion.
What would the Regent do to us when he discovered we’d let his wife be killed by ravagers?
Chapter 13
When we descended from the carriage in the mansion’s courtyard, the Lord Regent stood on the porch, his face inscrutable. He’d obviously heard the news about the ravagers, but had he been told about Regina?
His expression morphed into terrible grief when Colonel Murgatroyd brought the Lady Regent’s body out of the carriage. Gripping the rails tightly with bloodless fingers, the Lord Regent watched the colonel carry Regina up the front stairs. Nobody dared say anything.
Logan, Mother, and I slowly approached the mansion with Captain Clark bringing up the rear. Acutely aware we were all covered in ravager blood, our clothing ripped and waterlogged, I wondered what the Regent thought of us. In his eyes, were we a ragtag group of heroes, or selfish traitors who’d only protected ourselves?
Aside from a brief glance in our direction, the Regent focused on Regina. The blanket had fallen away to expose her waxy face, already growing rigid with death.
I thought of her in her golden gown, making me sit beside her that first dinner, chatting to me as if
we were best friends, not new acquaintances. A lump lodged in my throat. Logan’s dazzling blue eyes shone wetly, although he didn’t weep. Mother’s expression wavered between terrible grief and fear.
The Lord Regent reached out a hand and, with great gentleness, brushed back a lock of Regina’s hair. The strangest smile lit his face, and it was then I realized he loved her. Really, forever and ever, loved her. I hadn’t thought him capable of such deep emotion. Until this moment he’d seemed so one-dimensional evil, but even despicable people had softer sides, it seemed.
“My father was against our marriage,” he said as if we were all in some sort of intimate conversation over tea rather than standing in the rain presiding over the dead body of his wife. “There were witches in her family tree. That was the rumor at any rate. She, of course, was purely non-magical.
“It was only when I threatened to choose Regina over the Regency that my father abruptly gave in and approved the marriage.” The Lord Regent stroked Regina’s ashen cheek, then looked up at us as we stood in the rain, unmoving.
“I’ve never regretted doing that even though there have been Trumbull Lord Regents for over two hundred years. The first Trumbull regent slit the throat of the last witch regent right here on these steps. They say it took twenty years of magical cleansings to fade the bloodstains she left.”
His eyes hardened to flint as he stared at Logan and me. “Believe me when I tell you this, witches.” He turned the word into an epithet. “If I could, I would spill your blood right here, right now for allowing her to die. And I’d let the bloodstains remain as a symbol of witch treachery.
His lips split into a savage snarl. “But I must allow you to perform the spell of Reutterance. You think that makes you safe, don’t you?” He snapped his fingers. “Guards, take the earth witch’s mother and lock her away in prison.”
I made a sound of protest, and the Lord Regent pointed a long finger at me, shaking with wrath. “And if so much as one board of this house creaks or an additional drop of witch-induced rain falls, I will track down every member of both your extended families and incarcerate them forever. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” Logan said loudly, but he maintained a blank expression without a trace of rage or rebellion written upon it.
“You may be laughing up your sleeves at me now because I have no heir and you’ve murdered my wife, but I can and shall remarry, and a Trumbull will yet be our next Regent. Is that clear?
This time I answered, filled with a hatred so hot it burned my lips to speak. “Yes.”
“Yes, what, you insolent, little witch?” the Regent screamed. He looked at the guards holding my mother prisoner between them. One of them yanked her arm hard. She paled and swayed, but didn’t scream. Behind me, Captain Clark let out a hoarse groan, but some self-preservation must have remained to him because he didn’t move out of line.
“Yes, my lord,” I answered, my voice hard but clear. The fire raged inside me begging to be cast free, and, oh, I wished I could incinerate him, but I held onto my temper. Mother’s life depended on it.
“Take her away.” Colonel Murgatroyd told the guards holding Mother. They dragged her to the windowless carriage, her lips pressed tightly together, her face white.
I wanted to touch her as she passed me, but the Lord Regent kept watch, no doubt waiting for me to make such a move so he could retaliate and make it worse for Mother. It took everything I had to remain still, especially when she locked gazes with me and whispered, “Stay strong, Dem. I believe in you.”
“Shut up, witch!” snarled one of the guards, giving her arm another pull. She gasped and bit back a scream. They manhandled her up the stairs into the carriage. One guard climbed up on top, took the reins and slapped them down hard on the horse. He bolted forward, ears flattened, eyes rolling. The carriage careened out of the courtyard and away down the road, the horse’s hooves growing fainter and fainter with each revolution of the wheels.
“My lord, I dislike intruding on your grief, but Galveteen may yet be in danger of more ravagers coming ashore.” The strain of holding the Lady Regent’s dead body showed in the corners of Colonel Murgatroyd’s mouth and the slight tremors in his legs.
“How?” the Lord Regent demanded. “I thought the damned witches killed them all.”
“The ones on the Regina.” Murgatroyd winced at the name, and the Lord Regent’s gaze flicked to his wife’s dead face. “But it seems likely that the Orca and the Mary-Angela have met the same fate and taken on a crew of ravagers as well. Perhaps they are lost at sea, but there’s an equal chance they may run aground here.”
“Station guards along every stretch of beach,” the Lord Regent said.
Murgatroyd grimaced. “I believe we’ll also need witches.”
“These witches?” The Lord Regent’s eyebrows rose as he stared at Logan and me.
“No, my lord. Any witches. But lots of them.”
“Make it happen. Take your men to Seawall South and gather up as many witches as you can. If any refuse to help you, run them through with your swords.” The Lord Regent strode into the mansion, slamming the door behind him.
“My lord!” Murgatroyd stared at the door in dismay, clearly unsure what to do with the Lady Regent’s body.
“I’ll take her.” Logan stepped forward, only to be dragged back by a guard.
“No filthy witch will set a hand on her!” Murgatroyd shouted, outraged. “Captain Clark, take her inside and see that she’s properly looked after. Then you get on your damned horse and get your ass to Seawall South. You know how to talk to witches. Although I’d like nothing better than to kill every last one of them, we need them, and they trust you.”
He carefully transferred Regina’s body to Captain Clark, who took her with great reverence.
Murgatroyd stomped down the front stairs two at a time and pushed past me. I staggered and would have fallen if not for Logan grabbing me before I went down.
“Men! To the stables!” he shouted, and Regiment Thirteen broke ranks to follow him.
“Come on.” Logan gave my elbow a tug. I turned to see him glaring after Murgatroyd, his eyes bright with hate.
We went inside and quickly ascended the stairs to the third floor.
“You take the first bath. Clean up.” Logan gestured toward the bathroom door.
For a moment I wasn’t sure if I would faint. The events of the day piled one on top of the other and their aftereffects crashed into me, savagely crushing what little strength I had left.
Mother, imprisoned. Father, dead. Regina, too. I stole a look at Logan. He stood by his closed bedroom door, his forehead pressed against the panels, his shoulders rigid as if he had to exert great effort to keep from shaking. I knew if I touched him, spoke to him even, he’d break down. So would I.
Instead, I walked carefully into the bathroom where I drew myself a bath.
***
When the grandfather clock in the hallway struck ten, and no gong had sounded for dinner, nor had anyone bothered to bring food up to us, I gathered my shaky courage and headed for the stairs. If there was a guard there, he could get us some food. Perhaps it was vulgar of me to want to eat after Regina and Father’s terrible deaths, but my hunger cramps hurt. I’d expended so much energy fighting off the ravagers I felt as if I’d never eaten a decent meal in my life.
I knocked on Logan’s door on my way past hoping he’d join me and bolster my already flagging bravery, but he only said he wasn’t hungry and didn’t open his door.
No one stood guard at the head of the stairs, so I forced myself down one flight, then two, until I found myself in the entryway. The scent of beeswax candles was thick in the air, emanating from the small front parlor. I had to pass it on my way to the kitchen. Someone must be in there. No one would leave candles burning unattended. Especially not if they burned for whom I thought they did.
Plucking up my nerve, I tiptoed past the open doorway, catching a glimpse of a dark wooden casket and a spill of golden hair as
I passed.
“Witch.” The Lord Regent’s voice was heavy with grief, but terror still prickled down my spine.
“I apologize, my lord,” I whispered from the hall, afraid to move closer to the doorway. Still, I could see into the room. He sat on a wooden chair in front of the casket, head down, his hands folded in his lap. The picture of grief.
“Where are you going?” he asked, but he sounded dull and disinterested. Had the man no extended family to be with him in his hour of need? No one from Regina’s family either who might hold vigil with him?
“To the kitchen.” I cringed, expecting him to erupt in a fury at my temerity.
“Perhaps you could bring me a cup of coffee? Laced with brandy.” he asked.
I tried not to gape. “Of course, my lord.” I all but ran to the back of the mansion and the kitchen.
The mouthwatering scent of baking bread drew me in as I approached. I hesitated when I heard the sobbing, but after a moment forced myself to continue into the room.
Matilda sat at a large pine table, her face buried in an apron. She sobbed as if her heart had broken into ten million pieces. I hated her, yet I pitied her.
I cleared my throat, and she jerked up her head, tears shining on her sallow cheeks. I expected her to lash out at me in anger for catching her in such a compromising condition. Instead, she swallowed, and looked guilty and grief stricken all at once.
“The Lord Regent would like a cup of coffee laced with brandy,” I said, and before I could lose my nerve I added, “And Logan and I need food. I could make sandwiches, if that’s okay?”
“You’ll need hot food after all your exertion today,” Matilda said. “Bread’s nearly cool enough to slice, and I’ve got soup on the stove. I meant to bring it up to you, but time...it slipped away from me.”
Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 14
