by Cherrie Mack
As she continued forward, the smell of decomposition grew strong, the rancid smell of rotting flesh flaring her nostrils. The thought of holding such evil in her arms made the bile rise up into her throat, threatening to choke her. The pendant was made to look untouched, but the spell had indeed been broken. The smell was proof of that. Squelching her fear, Cecily looked around. She knew they were there, the travelers, hidden in the trees, in the brush, in the sky. Unnoticed and surrounding her with protection, Cecily moved forward.
The travelers had gathered at Cottonwood Landing. Many came from far and wide, but they were still few in number. And Jacques LaFeoure was among them. He was here in the woods, not far from her. She felt his presence as she straightened her spine and smoothed her hair. No longer was she a young, vibrant witch, with a sparkling smile and hope in her eyes. She felt withered, old, used up. Jacques would still be a handsome, viral man who would look at her with pity. But after this was over, she would apologize, move on and grasp what little happiness life might offer.
Just up ahead she saw him. Zacharias. He stepped from the trees, his eyes narrowing, searching for Giselle. Watching him wait for her up ahead, she stopped to gather her strength. Cecily pretended not to notice the utter decimation around her. She smiled, even though the putrid smells permeating the air churned her stomach. There was a warlock near, a hungry one.
Closer still, she watched Zacharias tilt his head in a questioning stare, then noticed his jaw tighten, his teeth clench.
“Where is Giselle? I told you to bring her tonight. I must hold her in a protective circle until the time is right. It is then, and only then, I can remove her curse. Did you not listen to me?”
“Yes. I listened. The royals thought it best to bring her themselves.”
“I told you specifically you must bring her to me. Alone. Why involve the royals?”
Cecily pursed her lips. “Zacharias—why does a watcher say my daughter has a pure aura?”
She caught him glance at her pendant, not wanting to linger without raising her suspicion. If he did, he would have noticed the way it was carefully pieced together. He smiled and took a step back. “Oh, Cecily, after all these years, you choose now to doubt my word? What purpose would I have with Giselle, other than to be with you? To make you happy? I cannot bring you both into my coven while Giselle wears the stain of Natas. Besides, watchers no longer roam our earth. They were obliterated hundreds of moons ago. Maybe this so-called watcher is the untruthful one.”
Cecily shook her head. “No, this man bears the eye. His name is that of an original. And he says Giselle’s aura is clean.”
He stepped closer to her. “Oh, I believe the stain will seep through. And once it does, I cannot help you. If she is not expelled of the darkness at the time of the crescent moon, I’m afraid she will rot in the pit.” Zacharias reached out, grabbing her arm, pulling her to him. Cecily gagged at the feel of his slime-coated skin. His fingers felt scaly and slick to the touch as he manhandled her. “Are you not anxious to proceed?”
She tried pulling away when she felt him latch onto the necklace. With widening eyes, he held her in place, his seamless plan disintegrating before him.
“All these years I had you under my spell. Hours before I am to capture a witch to the tenth power, you break my trust?”
His once velvety unwavering voice began to change. A deeper, raspy croak could be heard just underneath the surface of the smoothness of his voice, until it was replaced by the evil cackle of a demonic species. Zacharias’ eyes glazed over, his ire transforming the once handsome human appearance. “You think to trick me?” He held tight, his fingers lengthening.
Cecily was now face to face with her worst nightmare, an evil warlock. But she would not falter. If it meant dying for her kind, she would lay down her life. The warlock’s fangs filled his mouth, cracking through the gums, distorting its face. The cheekbones moved to accommodate the giant incisors while he laughed. His was a high-pitched, throaty sound, sending chills up her spine. The reality of her proximity to pure evil hit her with such force, she screamed out. And it was his eyes that nearly sent Cecily to her grave. The red, beady, piercing eyes penetrated through her conscious mind making her fight for a breath.
A noise caused the warlock to look around.
“Have you brought company, Cecily? Perhaps the royals know of your stupidity after all? Maybe I underestimated these last nineteen years. Your kind has slowly been integrating with the humans, haven’t they?” He laughed mockingly. “The stupid humans! Now, there’s a race that will surely get you killed, and yet your kind protect them as a mother bear protects her cubs. Why? For what reason do you do it?”
Another noise came, from another direction, this time causing him to retreat, releasing her arm. Taking a fighting stance, Zacharias carefully observed his surroundings.
Cecily would’ve given anything to see his expression when he turned back around and she wasn’t there. She watched him swivel one way, then the other, confusion evident in his actions.
“You pathetic creature,” she snarled. “You never did ask my true calling.”
Cecily watched him, frozen in place, slowly lift his head and look up.
Levitating in the air, mere feet from him, she spat. “You didn’t underestimate them. You underestimated me—and I hope your death is long and painful.” She smiled when a perfectly round fireball erupted from her palm. Throwing it at the warlock, it whizzed past his head.
Zacharias craned his neck, quickly moving his head out of the way of the flaming weapon. “You missed.”
Cecily smiled as she looked behind him. “I was supposed to.”
Jacques LaFeoure stood behind the warlock, taking him by surprise. It was the first time she glimpsed fear in the eyes of such evil. He raised his gleaming sword, but Zacharias was too fast. He laughed when Jacques sliced at the air. “You will not win, Jacques. You do not believe yourself worthy of saving your brother’s soul. And for that I must not fight, but run. Keeping you on your toes is what I live for. I’ll never let you catch me, traveler.”
Out from the trees stepped an army of warlocks. Zacharias snickered. “That should keep you busy.”
While the travelers made their presence known, dropping from the trees, emerging from the brush, Cecily shouted to Jacques. “Go after him. Don’t let him get away. Not this time. We can hold them. I will protect our daughter. Go!”
No words were said, but the look that passed between them was enough for Cecily. When he dashed away, she knew she had his forgiveness and prayed to the gods he would return to see Giselle to the throne. And then it was time. Warlocks closed in on them from all sides, while travelers and witches stood side by side to rid their sacred woods of evil.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Warlocks surrounded the travelers while the covens converged on the woods. A hushed silence fell over the battleground. Surrounded by her coven, Giselle moved fluidly toward the fight. She batted her long lashes, nodding to Julien, giving him the sign he needed to make the first strike.
Julien raised his sword, along with Simon and others who came to fight. Charging toward the warlocks, a bloody fight imminent, Giselle stood silent, unruffled. She chanted in a slow rhythmic manner, claiming the words from an untapped portion of her brain. Meditating further, Giselle used the visualization of the night blooming cactus opening up, as the ancient words spilled from her intellect.
The first blood came when Simon attacked without mercy. Blood-curdling sounds echoed in the night as one warlock after another met its end. Giselle stood still as the fighting raged on and on. Blue flames arose from the ground, licking her feet. Steady while she called forth nature’s wrath, Giselle watched the air around her swirl like a vacuum. The insects joined the fight, attacking with malice. At long last, the roots of the trees hailed victorious, their branches fighting alongside the travelers. Giselle stood in the middle of a tunnel of wind, unable to be touched as she witnessed the greatest power of all time. Her own
.
****
Percy fought beside Julien, keeping vigil as Giselle wielded her power. Julien and Percy looked at the sight before them. Neither could question her authenticity. She was the true queen to the royals. Percy held the warlocks back as Julien took pleasure in the killing. With nature as their ultimate weapon, after some time, the warlocks stopped coming. The sounds of the death throes as they disintegrated into rotting flesh became nil, and an eerie silence befell the woods. Giselle stood steadfast, still chanting, while Julien thanked him for his support in battle.
Percy jerked his chin in Giselle’s direction. “She is the real thing. What a beautiful sight.”
Julien nodded his acknowledgement. “Yes. She is beautiful.”
“You should marry.”
He cocked his head in response. “But she is a queen, she must marry a royal.”
“You are a royal, Julien.”
“My family holds a prestigious place in the coven, but I can assure you, my blood is not that of a royal.”
Percy placed his hand on his shoulder. “Every witch is encouraged to mate with many different men. It is acceptable amongst our kind. What I’m trying to say is—you are my son.”
Julien’s eyes widened as he examined the man before him. “That was the real reason you looked at me the way you did when we met. It wasn’t all about Joyal, was it?”
“It wasn’t. Although what happened to Joyal pains me, I was thinking about you, my son. Thousands of souls were released this night because of your bravery. I am proud of you. And I want you to know, I was unaware of your existence. Your mother told me when your family came seeking sanctuary in Cottonwood Landing. She knew I would have wanted you here, behind me acting as head of the royals, but she didn’t want this life for you.”
“That certainly explains a lot.”
“Whatever it is you two decide to do, know that love holds no boundaries which we cannot cross.”
“And what of your love, father? Do you have a love?”
“That is a story for another time, my boy. Come. Let us gather our queen and celebrate our victory.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cecily stood near a gazebo, not far from the entrance to Cottonwood Landing. Safe inside its borders, she knew no warlock would stir tonight. She smiled to herself, knowing her actions helped defeat the growing threat to the covens and humans alike. No longer wearing the pendant around her neck, she felt free for the first time in years. But her heart felt like it was in a prison.
Tonight in the woods, seeing Jacques stirred her mind and the memories flooded back. The love she felt all those years ago filled her with hope for a new beginning. And Cecily prayed forgiveness would help her move forward and usher in a new chapter in her life. She decided to stay by Giselle’s side as long as her daughter needed her. Staying hidden from a life she should have been proud of was no longer an option.
The incessant worrying for Jacques consumed her as she looked up to the moon. She called upon its essence and prayed for a miracle. He had waited hundreds of years to free his brother’s soul and she knew, if he were unsuccessful this night, he would continue the search until the end of his days. But Cecily would set free the anger and resentment she harbored all those years. It did nothing but stoke her bitterness.
When she heard a familiar voice reach out of the darkness, she strained her eyes to see who called for her. The moon was full and white and pure. It guided her path when she left the gazebo in search of the voice. Jacques? When he appeared at the gates to Cottonwood Landing, her heart soared and her belly fluttered like that of a young girl.
As he was escorted to her by the royal guard, she watched him with impatience. Something was different. Her mind raced, trying to unravel what she was feeling. Had he lost his battle with Zacharias and this man before her was an imposter? No. It couldn’t be. He would not have been able to get through the gates. Cecily struggled with the possibility. She yelled out for the watcher. “Colt. Colt, come quickly.”
Cecily narrowed her weary eyes when Jacques got closer. He looked different, yet she was unable to figure out exactly what had changed.
Colt approached her. “You called, ma’am?”
She pointed toward Jacques. “Yes Colt. Can you tell me if his aura is clean?”
Jacques stopped just shy of the steps leading up to the porch where Cecily waited. Colt smiled. “Why yes, ma’am. That is Jacques LaFeoure and his aura is quite bright. But he does look about twenty year’s older.”
Cecily tilted her head. “He does, doesn’t he?”
“I think I’ll excuse myself now, ma’am, unless there is something else you need.”
Cecily waved him away without taking her eyes from Jacques. “No. That will be all, Colt. Thank you.”
Jacques made his way up the steps toward her, stopping inches from where she stood. Cecily dismissed the guard while noticing the gray flecks scattered throughout Jacques’ dark hair. He had wrinkles, mostly at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He looked older, yet distinguished and if it were possible, even more good-looking. Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart beat so loud she thought it would burst through her chest.
“You look wonderful. Were you successful in hunting Zacharias?”
“Yes.” He said proudly.
“I’m happy for you. I ... I never meant for things to turn out this way.”
He got closer, putting his finger to her lips. “Shh. It no longer matters. Listen to me say the words I said long ago that still hold truth today. I love you, Cecily, and I want us to be together.”
“You—you want to stay with me? I don’t understand? You’re a traveler. How can you stay with me?”
“I went to the master. Let’s just say, he has given me a leave of absence.”
Cecily shook her head, unable to believe him. A traveler was always needed and his return to the master would constantly be in her mind. Her lip trembled. “For how long? I mean, how long do we have?”
“A few decades I suppose. No more than fifty years.” Jacques wrapped his arms around her waist. “I asked the master to age me twenty-two years so you and I would be on an even playing field.”
Cecily’s body tingled everywhere, a feeling she hadn’t felt in years. The yearning to be touched overwhelmed her senses. “An even playing field? For what?” She smiled.
“Oh, I think you have an idea. You and I have a lot of lost time to make up for and I plan on getting every second’s worth. I love you. You and Giselle are my life. We will marry immediately.”
She pulled away, teasingly she scolded him. “You could ask, you know.”
“Asking means there is an opportunity for you to say no. I will not have it.” He tilted up her chin and kissed her so deep, Cecily felt her toes curl.
****
In an opulent bedroom, with windows draped in gauzy lace and a round bed covered with silken sheets, Giselle lay cradled in Julien’s arms. She woke up tired and with her head heavy, like a lead balloon. She dreamily stretched her arms over her head and smelled the musky scent of her beloved. She smiled at him. “I remember. Every detail. And we beat them.”
“Yes we did, Little Witch. You were extraordinary. But the war isn’t over. I’m afraid it’s just beginning.”
Her eyes cast downward, she agreed. “Yes. I know.”
“Travelers are so few in number.”
“I know that, too.”
When their eyes met, she knew he would leave her and he was trying hard to find a way to tell her. “You will need to marry. Continue your bloodline.”
She sat up. Looking deep into his eyes, she caressed his cheek. “I want to marry you. There is no one else.”
He offered her a sad smile. “I will be hunting Judias and many others. I will be away from you constantly. You need to procreate and often. This shouldn’t be acceptable to you.”
“But it is.”
“My love for you is such that I would move mountains to marry you. But you have obligation
s. And after tonight, I realize I have mine.”
“Killing warlocks is your true calling now?”
“I believe the covens need travelers. Hundreds more. But I also believe travelers can be family men. If we can orchestrate it better, unwilling to trade one for the other, the armies could be limitless.”
“But you cannot have hundreds of immortals running around. It would upset the balance. Witches would grow old while their husbands remain youthful.”
“I understand that. I will ask the master for this undertaking. If we can convince a traveler to fight and still allow him to pursue a family we might convince them to stay. And if you are willing to marry me, you could set the example. I will remain a traveler and—a royal.”
Giselle’s eyes widened. “Royal? You?”
Julien laughed. “Yes. Percy is my father, my blood kin. That makes me a royal.”
She moved her body on top of his, straddling him. Suddenly her heart felt light. Better.
“Then let us procreate.”
“And what of our marriage?”
“Yes, Julien Beaumont. Marry you, I will.”
As they kissed deep, Giselle pulled away and stared at him. She realized this was the vision she had since before meeting him. She and Julien, just like this.
“What is it, Little Witch?”
“I saw my future, Julien. It is with you, right here, right now. I believe if we make love tonight, I will become pregnant.”
Julien froze at her words and she noticed the change in his demeanor. When he looked into her eyes, she noticed his tears. “It would be my honor and the greatest gift you could ever bestow upon me.”
Giselle whispered. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Julien’s lips brushed over hers. “What else did you see in this vision of yours?”
“Mm. Let me show you.” And when they kissed, together, they sealed the deal.
****
Hours later, Giselle stood on the balcony outside her room in Cottonwood Landing. Julien pulled her into his arms for one last embrace. When their lips met, the salty taste of her tears, mixed with a passionate love, told him of her unwillingness to live life without him. When they breathlessly broke their kiss, Giselle wiped away her tears and smiled for him.
