She was one of the lucky ones, as a servant had never escaped successfully before, and she suspected that Gabriel was keeping a watchful eye on her, as well as helping others. It was Gabriel who instructed her to Josephine’s safe house.
It has been comforting to have a friend these past years, who has been faithful and kind.
We will have to leave our present home soon. Already I have become somewhat of a sensation; renowned for my cures. I have to be careful because some humans do not trust what they cannot understand.
It is busy and hot in the marketplace. Oleander lies asleep at my feet after a morning of running wildly with the other children from the markets. She is still strange and mysterious to me but this new town has allowed us to blend into normality. I still look over my shoulder occasionally, though this far south it is unlikely that we would encounter many strigoi. They do not like the warmth of the sun that drains their body fluids and blisters their pale complexions.
Sometimes, I have strange dreams of past and present. I have seen things that I feel are real. Many nights ago I saw Emil at the house I once worked in. He had a new wife and small babies and he seemed happy but then I have also thought I have seen his future where he will be killed for his land, his wife and children running for their lives. These are bittersweet for me; I cannot control what I see. And although I want to believe they are just dreams, deep in my heart I know that many will be real. I have a power of foresight, which I would give up in a heartbeat. I am only fortunate that I see nothing in Oleander’s future and hope that it remains so. With every good dream there is also a bad one.
Another time I saw the assassination of King Laszlo by strigoi in the forest, one of them was Pietro. I heard though, much later, from town gossip, that Laszlo was killed by his own men. A fact that I thought would have been conveniently spread and setup by the strigoi – to make it look like a human ambush.
One night I awoke in a sweat and then began shivering. I felt death around me and knew that someone close to me had died. Shortly afterwards, I had a vision of the little girl I had saved after drowning, now about the age of fourteen. She wore the novice garments of the Cistercians. I followed her as she slowly climbed the staircase that led to the church bell, clutching at her temples and praying loudly. I was with her as she climbed out of the steeple and balanced on its edge. I tried to wrap my arms around her but she felt nothing so I stayed close to her back silently praying with her also. She yelled that it was over and then threw herself from this height.
I followed her downwards, feeling the same summer air as she, and lay beside her broken body. Moments later her soul floated past me. Other dark souls, which I did not recognise, hovered above her empty form but they dispersed quickly in the wind and I thought I detected their wailing departures. Then the vision jumped suddenly and I was at the girl’s burial. Strangely at this ceremony I floated around all the people who circled to weep: children, other men I had never met, Gertrude and some of the other sisters. But stranger still was that I passed Claude standing there behind these people, with his sad wary face, looking out of place, just as he did at the castle. His eyes seemed to follow me even though I did not have any body in this dream and I wonder now how much I am connected with my past and my future and of the powers I still have yet to learn about.
This vision was powerful and I cried for Claude, for the girl, and for my lost time at the monastery and how no other place had ever felt so much like home. It was a strange irony that a witch, a supposed descendent of evil, and tortured by Christians, could feel so close to God; that we were all much closer than any of us realised. I believed the stories I had read of fallen angels – later the strigoi – who had gone against God and remained on earth for eternity, but that witches were created for another purpose.
A short while ago, I returned to Josephine’s house to bring her gifts and to thank her for all she had done for me, Irene and others who needed safety. She had kept me and Irene there for six months and we had shared our knowledge. She said then that many witches had passed her way since me, sent by Gabriel, from countries as far as Norway. And I could not help but feel joyous knowing he was there, somewhere in the same world as I, continuing what we both had started: to protect those witches from both humans and the strigoi.
My book of notes has been buried so that it does not get into the wrong hands. There are secrets about nature that no-one should know.
*
The sun is in my eyes. I could not see but sensed someone there. And then he stepped forward to block the sun.
He was large and handsome with a square jaw. He seemed curious about what I sold for he wished to be cured of his persistent headaches. I accommodated and touched his hand. I felt a warmth there like no other. This man was good. This man might help me forget about who I am.
‘Thank you Signora…’
‘Marissa. You can call me Marissa.’
Table of Contents
Copyright
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
PART TWO
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Lilah Page 30
