by Claudy Conn
The warlock smiled. I saw his smile as he allowed me to ensnare her with magical tentacles and yank her out of his hold. She fell in a heap to the ground, still alive, thank the fates. Even as I started to bend towards her, I could hear her heartbeat, faint but beating. Only a small amount of blood dripping from where his nails had dug into her throat.
All I had to do was touch her to include her in my magical purple cloud and transport us back to safety on the other side of the ward.
A simple thing, but the warlock was ready. He had known what I would do and was totally prepared. I felt his despicable touch, his hand around my wrist, and damn, I knew I was in major trouble. His magical power radiated from his hand and into my body, keeping me from yanking away. All at once, I knew Beyland had won this battle.
Even as he held my wrist with one hand, his free arm, in one fluid move, scooped me up with force and determination. His lips were at my ear and he whispered, “Don’t make me harm you. I will, but it would grieve me to do so.”
He then chanted one word, a word I immediately filed away, Fosgail—open.
His portal had been there, ever-ready all this time. I ignored his threat and screamed, kicked, and called on a spell to escape.
None of these things worked. He chuckled and said, “I could break you, newbie, but I have a few reasons that stay my hand. Would you like to calm down, come with me, and learn what those reasons are?”
I stopped struggling. I knew at that moment he had the upper hand and decided, perhaps if I cooperated, I might, in fact, learn something helpful. I looked up at him and said, “Okay then.”
He laughed out loud and said as he carried me into the portal, “Good girl, damn, but I like you.”
We traveled together through what appeared to be a black hole, and it was damned uncomfortable.
I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, and the reason for that was this portal was made of Black Magic, a magic that would not sustain life for very long.
I was frozen, literally frozen, from the top of my head to my toes, encased in blue ice. I don’t think I have ever known such cold. Being immortal means I can live that way for a very long time—I think. But the pain of being frozen was, at first, excruciating until I felt numb.
Oddly enough, though my body couldn’t shiver, my teeth clattered against each other with a force that worried me. I don’t know enough about being immortal, being a magical being! I had so much to learn. Whatever made me think I could go up against an ancient vampire…vampires, and an immortal Dark Warlock? I am an idiot.
Beyland stepped out of the portal and set me on my frozen feet. The blue ice still held me in place.
He laughed and flicked a finger over himself. I noted with interest how he was not encased in blue ice like I was. Huh? He must have spelled himself to travel freely somehow. Nice trick, and one I needed to learn.
His little demon guards followed. They, too, were not encased in ice. I figured since they are Red Demons, their fiery temperatures protected them.
He immediately dismissed them, and I watched as they marched obediently out of the dimly lit, windowless room.
“Shall I allow you to unfreeze slowly on your own while I call for tea?”
I went into my Shama and found what I needed. I immediately dispelled the ice with a thought. Proud of myself, I stood with my arms crossed, dry and free of wet ice.
He laughed. “Very good, Bobbie Skye, very good. You are young, and if I allow you to live, you will be a great force one day.”
“Never mind that, where are we and why did you bring me here?” I get to the point all the while taking in my surroundings. The room had one table and a few chairs, nothing else.
“No sense dilly-dallying with small talk,” he said, and gave me a wink. “Oh, I do like you. I haven’t been so entertained in decades. Not in two decades, in fact. You see, your grandmother and I…bantered with one another quite a bit throughout our stormy relationship.”
Something about the way he said that made me uneasy. Why did he keep bringing up my grandmother? Damn, was he trying to tell me they were lovers? A sick feeling entered my stomach.
“Ah, I see from your expression you are…shall we say, confused,” Beyland said. “Very well, before we get down to business, I will allow you to ask me a few questions. You may start with anything you would like to know, but I don’t promise to give you an answer if I don’t like the question. However, take solace in the fact that I don’t lie. What I do answer will always be the truth—another reason your grandmother and I got on so well. She was always truthful with me.” He took a step back and removed his black cloak. Beneath the cloak he wore a black silk shirt with a high collar trimmed in gold, black jeans, and black boots. The gold hilt of a dagger protruded from the sheath that clothed the blade. The dagger was infused with Dark Magic and I could feel its pulse. Everything about him threatened death.
“Did you have something to do with my grandmother’s death?” I asked as my opening question.
“I regret to say that I did, though I did not realize Allora would kill her. In fact, had I known Allora’s intentions, I would never have put Lisa in Allora’s path. I curse that day,” he said, and something about his tone, about the glint in his dark eyes made me believe him.
“So, you were the one who told Allora about my grandmother?”
“Indeed, I was.” He actually looked away.
I shook my head. “Don’t pretend to care. You are a Dark Warlock…without a shred of love in you.”
“Don’t be so foolish as to think Dark Power obliterates emotions. My power comes from deep within. My power is unassailable and still, I was able and did love strongly.”
“But you gave my grandmother over to Allora!” I shouted as my hands formed fists at my sides.
“I did…you see, I was angry with Lisa at the time. I thought if she had to help Allora, it would hurt her to do so, and I wanted, at that moment in time, to hurt her…as she had hurt me.”
I closed my eyes and when they snapped open I yelled, “Could you have stopped Allora? Didn’t you know what Allora was?”
“I had no idea Allora would kill her, saw no reason for her to do so and incur my wrath. I didn’t even know what happened until months afterwards when my search for Lisa made me realize I could no longer feel her essence in the atmosphere.” He shook his head. “I confronted Allora…and found out my Lisa was gone forever.”
“Your Lisa?” I was furious now. “And you didn’t even try to punish Allora?” I demanded.
“Ah, it has only been twenty-two years, and in that time, I have caused Allora a great deal of pain. I have undermined her goals at every stage. You cannot know the evil I am capable of. I don’t want her dead. I want her to suffer for years until the moment I end her. Until now, I did not find a way for that ultimate torment.”
“Until now?”
“You, my dear…Lisa’s granddaughter, have shown me how to proceed with my plans,” he said, and in that moment, his eyes glinted with a wickedness I have never before witnessed. How had my grandmother cared for him? He appeared evil to the core.
He did something with his finger, twirling it as he gave me a half smile. A tray with a pot of tea, little mugs, and an assortment of food appeared on the long table in the center of the stark chamber.
“Sit,” he said. “Let us be comfortable while we negotiate.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t sit with you. It is your fault Allora killed my grandmother.”
“Indeed, I know my part in this. Do not think I have not suffered for the fateful decision I made.” He eyed me, shrugged, and poured two mugs of tea. “Now sit, or do you think that sitting with me makes you more vulnerable to my plans for our future?”
“I don’t sit with the enemy. You and I have no future, and nothing would make me amenable to working with you,” I answered.
“Sit,” he repeated patiently.
“I don’t break bread with the one warlock who admitted he was instrumental i
n my grandmother’s death.”
He slammed a fist onto the table, and in spite of my bravado, I jumped, then stuck my nose in the air and looked away from him as though he hadn’t startled me.
“Do not try my patience,” he said on a hard note. “Do not forget my loss because of yours. Lisa was the only and last bit of light in my life. She said she saw the humanity in me and would never give up until she retrieved it for us both. I adored your grandmother. I had no idea…had no reason to believe Allora would do more than use Lisa’s magic. I am five hundred years old…only a bit older than my sweet Lisa was when I lost her. I have learned to bide my time to get what I want. I have it…time. As you do, as Lisa should have had.”
I gave this some thought. “You cared for her…that much?”
“Ah, now we enter the forbidden ‘personal’ part of my life, which I have never spoken about with anyone other than Ramon…and that proved a mistake.” He inclined his head. “I have learned a great deal since I made that error.”
“So, you don’t want to answer me?” I pursued. He was giving me a window into a world where my grandmother had been alive. I needed to know more about her.
“Cared for her, you asked?” His voice was a low hiss and then he closed his eyes before he answered. “I adored and worshipped her.” He flicked his finger again and this time produced a full portrait of a woman in a white sundress, picking flowers in an open field. She had looked up at the photographer and he captured her smile. “Your grandmother,” he said sadly.
I moved towards the portrait. Her hair was as red as mine. Her eyes appeared violet, like mine. I was transfixed for a moment.
“How could you love when you are…?”
“Just because I am a Dark Warlock does not mean I am devoid of all emotion. I am ruthless and cunning and powerful, but I have…always…will always adore Lisa. No other will ever touch my heart.”
I almost snorted with derision. I didn’t want to believe him. How could I? He started the chain of events that got her killed.
He eyed me and said, “You find that unbelievable, I see it in your exquisite violet eyes…so much like hers. I told you at the outset I would not answer any question with a lie. You asked the question, I answered.”
“I have her eyes, and her red hair…but that is where the resemblance ends,” I said as I stared at her portrait. It was the one thing that stuck out above the rest. I had never seen a picture of her before, and I was almost overwhelmed with feeling.
I had always been so curious about her. In spite of the fact that I was here with him as his prisoner and things could go very wrong very quickly, I pressed on because I needed to know more about her.
“Yes, though your nose is a bit like hers…but, I think, more like your mother’s,” he said softly as he stared at me.
“My mother? Are you saying you knew my mother?” I was momentarily taken off course.
He ignored my question and said, “Are you telling me that your mother had no pictures of your grandmother?”
Clearly he was astonished. I took a long breath. “She left Scotland in something of a hurry with scarcely more than the clothes on her back.” That was all I knew of how she came to New York. She would never speak of it, telling me I was just a child and didn’t have to think of such things. I lost her before I did start thinking of such things and then there was no one with any answers for me. I said, feeling the sadness I always felt when I tried to conjure up an image of my grandmother, “No…no pictures…nothing.”
This fact had always left me feeling an emptiness inside. I supposed it showed on my face and he responded with an odd stare.
I defended my mother at once, thinking his look was one of criticism. “Had she lived, she would have told me everything.”
“Yes, I agree,” Beyland surprised me by saying. “Your grandmother sent her off to protect her from Allora. I realized that afterwards. Lisa must have believed eventually they would be reunited.”
He touched his forehead and closed his eyes and suddenly the room was filled with light and in that light was a scene. It was as though he pulled it from his memory to put on display for me. His power, I realized again, was immense.
In the ‘memory video’, my grandmother was smiling and oh, she was so beautiful. He was there with her, putting her fingers to his lips, and on his face was the look of love. Beyland then offered her his arm, and she took it. He said something to her and she laughed. I saw genuine affection on her face. She liked him—no, it was more than that. My grandmother…I think, loved this Dark Warlock. How could that be?
It dawned on me then, watching her in that 3-d movie, they loved each other, dearly. I saw it. How could she have fallen in love with a Dark Warlock?
The light vanished, as did the vivid scene before me and I cried out involuntarily, “No…more, please…show me more.”
“Another time perhaps. Such memories are difficult, as they intensify my loss,” he said softly, and looked away. “This has been painful for me.”
I realized then, he was speaking the truth. It wore on him to see her so vividly. He had cared. It was not a lie. He didn’t just have a passing love for her…it had been real and profound for them both. How could he have allowed Allora to take her to MacLeod!
“You did love her,” I said.
“Yes, I loved her, more than a Dark Warlock should love anyone. Time and Dark Magic had warped who I was, but not how I felt about her. What you don’t know was she and I came from the same realm, nearly at the same time. Your grandfather was my closest friend, but he was killed just before we escaped the destruction of our world. I was a Warlock of the Light during those wars, and I witnessed countless friends and family destroyed by Dark Magic. I realized then that Dark Magic is stronger than Light Magic because it is ruthless. I was bitter at the loss of my loved ones. My parents torn into shreds by the ravages of the war…because in the end, they and the others could not defeat the Dark. Our realm divided could not survive.”
“But…you are a Dark Warlock?” I was confused.
“The power of the Dark began to intrigue me. I needed it to acclimate to this new world. We needed money, position. I looked out for your grandmother and she didn’t realize I was using Dark Magic, which allowed me so much more leeway. Your grandmother’s grief stalled her ability to provide for herself with magic, you see. It was up to me to look out for my friend’s wife and child, your mother.” He sighed before continuing, “During the ensuing years, I more than dabbled in the Dark Arts while I waited for Lisa’s grieving for her husband, my friend, to subside. Caring for your mother helped her a great deal. Your mother reached her majority at the end of that century, and then I waited almost another fifty years before I began my courtship of Lisa. Your mother saw what I was and did not approve, but she once said to me that she thought I was good for her mother and would not interfere in our relationship.” He stopped and looked away from me. “I probably should have started my courtship of Lisa sooner, but, as I said, her slain husband had been my dearest friend. Besides that, I did not wish to be a rebound. I wanted her to want me freely. I wanted the past to remain where it was—in the past. Those hundred years, holding back…were full of temptations. At its end, I found myself immersed in the Dark Arts. At first, I dabbled in Black Sorcery to keep myself in check…to keep myself away from her while she grieved, you see. After a time, however, I began to enjoy the Dark Arts.”
He stopped talking and I urged him to continue. “Go on…please.”
“In the end, Dark Magic seduced me entirely. I found I enjoyed the powers and pleasures it afforded me. When I finally went to Lisa, she would have none of me unless I let go of the Dark and returned to Light Magic. Your mother, however, encouraged her to accept me for who I was and allow time to help her cleanse me of the Dark.”
“Because you had sold yourself to the Demon King of the Dark Arts, you no longer were your own to escape,” I said, remembering a story Aunt Elle had told me.
“Indeed, yo
u have it precisely. One makes trades for power. However, for a time, I tried to give it up. I actually tried to break free, but that demon always came for me. Lisa and I became so very close…so happy together.”
“What happened?”
“I couldn’t relinquish the powers Dark Magic allowed me to have. The demon threw obstacles in my path…to make me turn to Dark Magic. For example, one of the ways to kill an immortal witch is fire. Your grandmother and I were walking in London and a store burst into flames. A children’s store, you see, with mothers and children trapped inside. She rushed in. I followed and I used Dark Magic to protect us from the flames.” He stopped. “So, yes, even after we were together, I continued in the path of the Dark Arts, and one day she discovered the truth and ran from me.”
“But if you use Dark Magic for good…doesn’t it balance it out? You ran in and saved those children…doesn’t that…”
“Ah, would I have done so if not to protect your grandmother? My motive was selfish, so no, Bobbie Skye…it did not balance it out.”
I just stared at him and he said, “You still don’t see, do you?”
“See? What exactly do you want me to see? I am trying to put all of this together.” I frowned at him.
“Lisa was mine…she was my bride. We lived together for almost one hundred years…”
I didn’t see that coming! “How could you have hid it from her all that time?”
“I am very good at what I choose to do,” he answered with one arched brow. “It was Ramon that told her my secret. He wanted us apart so I would be more readily available to him. It was then that I silently vowed to repay Ramon one day for his betrayal.”
“When—when did all of that happen?”
“Twenty-four years ago. She left me, I pursued her, begged her to come back, but she would not. She gave me the ultimatum to either give up the Dark Arts or lose her forever. I wasn’t ready to give up who I had become. I enjoyed my status as a Dark Warlock, you see.”
“Still, how did you…?”
