Till Death And Beyond (Witch World)

by Lyn C. Johanson

  Amira’s words weren’t received kindly. Nyssa’s mother lifted her head and grief turned into pure hatred.

  “It’s all because of you, witch!” She spat out the last word with such scorn, it sent shivers down Amira’s spine. “My Nyssa tried to help you. You killed her. You!” the woman yelled. “It should be you, not her! Not my baby!”

  Amira tried to ignore her, concentrating on the frostbitten fingers of the angel of death, lulling Nyssa’s body into an eternal slumber and calling her soul to follow him. Yet while the essence still clung to its mortal vessel, Amira could change the outcome.

  “No!” she yelled, in forlorn hopes of pushing the Grim Reaper away.

  He didn’t even blink. Just continued his ministrations on his latest victim, her voice obviously having no effect on him.

  “Move!” she ordered, this time gazing at the people. The weaker ones obeyed; others didn’t. Damn, but she was too weak herself.

  What are you doing? Traynan’s silky words almost strangled her. I don’t want to be forced to take you too.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Raven demanded, his eyes narrowing at her.

  Amira ignored Tray’s question, focusing on Raven. “Trust me, please,” she breathed the phrase the second time that day, not even knowing why. Her cousin didn’t listen, so what was the chance Raven would? Slim to nothing—still, she had to try.

  She stretched her hands and made a pushing gesture, her whole body pushing as well—like a ton of bricks, it seemed.

  Amira separated herself from the mob with an invisible bolt of energy which sent them flying away. So many people! Her breaths became rapid, shallow. She kept her arm raised in their direction, afraid that if she lowered it, the barrier would unravel.

  She needed every last ounce of energy she could muster. Even then, Amira was not sure she would have enough. As if to prove her point, people began shouting, banging on the shield, which felt more like banging on her head. Her legs wobbled and she stumbled, her knees slamming into the ground.

  What are you doing? Traynan’s fingers stopped in his tracks and the numbness began to spread through her own flesh. Don’t do this!

  “Leave … her … alone.” Amira’s throat constricted from coldness.

  “Bright Eyes!” Raven roared at her.

  You won’t save her…

  Body shaking, she dug her fingers deep into the ground, trying to push herself up, take as much power as she could while still holding the shield. She needed energy. Needed to get up…

  Stop this and you will still be able to save yourself … please.

  “Too late,” she whispered, standing up. Maybe dying wouldn’t be that bad if she did at least one good deed in her life. “You … won’t … take … her…” she gritted her teeth, inhaling, absorbing as much raw energy as her weakened body could allow. It was too raw. Too potent. Amira’s whole body quaked from the pressure. She inhaled deeply again and her knees gave out, sending her to the ground again. Still, she needed more.

  “What the hell is going on?” Raven demanded for the tenth time.

  Trust me, she’d said. No explanations. Nothing. Damn, he uttered under his breath. He was taking an enormous leap of faith here. If normally he would have put an end to this whole spectacle the second it started, something in her eyes stopped him. There was such a raw determination, such power—he could swear he felt it tingling on his own skin. But what affected him the most was not the lack of malice in her eyes, but the sad resignation carved in the lines of her face.

  Damn, and double damn. He ignored people shouting from the other side of the barrier she had obviously created. Pleading with him. Especially Mode, Nyssa’s mother. He touched his amulet, knowing it was the only reason he stood on this side. Sighed. Apparently he was jumping. May the gods have mercy on him.

  “You have ten seconds to convince me,” he told her.

  It took only one. A single brush of her fingers along his knuckles and he understood everything.

  She exhaled with one more push of her hand, dropped it and collapsed again. This time, straight into his arms.

  Raven cradled her, at a loss as to why her fingers were ice cold. “How dangerous is this?”

  “Like a walk in the park,” she … lied. He remembered how easily she had created the shield the day they met, and witnessed the toll it took on her today. What about healing? Yesterday she almost fainted from healing a single scratch; today … she was going to die.

  “At least you will get your gown back,” she scoffed as she tried to stand up.

  Was that supposed to be funny or comforting? Raven could read the truth straight from her face, and it didn’t scream confidence at all. It didn’t even whisper. It merely stated plainly he would get the gown back. Soon. Strangely enough, it was not the gown he was thinking of at that moment.

  “Can I help?”

  “You want to help me?” Her eyes were full of incredulity.

  “I don’t want Nyssa to die,” Raven assured her.

  She looked at him for a second, then nodded. “Put me near Nyssa, place one hand on the tree-trunk, and give me the other one.”

  “What am I to do?”

  “You have to keep me grounded.” The answer didn’t explain anything to him. Grounded? How?

  “I don’t have time for explanations,” she said, her one hand in his palm, the other on Nyssa, “I cannot absorb any more raw energy. You will need to filter it for me, and if the time comes you’ll know … when the time comes,” she rectified herself. “But whatever you do, don’t let go of me, unless you wish both of us dead,” she said, and closed her eyes.

  In an instant Raven felt warmth rippling through him, reminding him of the night she’d healed his fist. Only this time the energy was coming from the tree. Wave after wave, the heat travelled through his skin and seeped under it. The heat raged and grew until it consumed him in scorching blazes. Until he yearned for nothing but to free himself from this insufferable inferno.

  How can she stand it? Raven wondered, seeing the witch’s serene expression. He could swear he was being burned alive. Everything inside him seemed to be slowly liquefying into a flowing lava.

  He held on, suffering a relentless series of searing energy rushes, desperate for it to cease. Yet it didn’t. It swirled and swirled, devouring every inch of him. But it never left.

  Something has gone terribly wrong, a voice inside him whispered. This was what the witch was afraid of, wasn’t it? Except, Nyssa looked better and better with every moment, forcing Raven to doubt his senses.

  But when the girl opened her eyes and took a deep breath in, and Bright Eyes remained frozen as a statue, Raven had to acknowledge the truth he’d tried to ignore. The witch’s torpid, stiff body spelled trouble.

  Immediately he sent Nyssa to her wailing mother and concentrated on a woman sitting near him. A woman whose flesh was cold as ice. Lifeless. While he burned with a fever he could barely endure. The only indication that she wasn’t dead were her fingers melting in his palm. Raven couldn’t even hear her breathe.

  He debated whether to remove his hand from the tree trunk, in the end going with his gut. Raven reached for her cheek and trailed his finger along the edge of her jaw, fascinated and at the same time alarmed at the burning trace he left behind.

  In a flash Raven perceived three things: Bright Eyes had healed Nyssa, exhausting her own energy; what she needed was at his disposal; and, she would die if he didn’t find a way to pass it on to her.

  Her sacrifice was hard for him to swallow. Unfathomable in his mind. But witch or not, no one deserved to die for helping another. So he placed his palm on her neck, waiting for it to do the trick.

  Her skin began to turn back to normal around his palm. The heat spread outwards. Raven witnessed her absorbing it, and yet, he couldn’t shake off the feeling it was taking too long. The process appeared slow, too slow for his liking.

  Raven didn’t know where he got the notion from, but he was convinced she was dr
ifting away despite his attempts to ground her. She remained numb, her flesh frosty. He pulled her closer. It wasn’t enough. He was losing her; the thought pierced his heart like a dagger.

  Not knowing what else to do, he cupped the back of her neck and, angling her head, lowered his mouth onto hers. He kissed her with an urgent desperation, sparing nothing but his soul. Losing everything except his craving for more.

  Amira’s eyes fluttered open, only to realize she was not dead, and not about to be. She was in Raven’s embrace, surrounded by his heat, and she’d never felt more alive than in this moment. She’d never experienced such a raw, primal power swirling inside her. She’d never imagined it could be like this.

  “Raven,” she whispered into his mouth, and regretted her action immediately. He tore his mouth away, closing his mind and heart once again. Didn’t move, just watched her intensely as if he was searching for something.

  Amira glanced back, “Am I turning into a frog?”

  “Now that offends me.” He almost sounded like he meant it, if not for the small crook in the corners of his lips.

  “I was kissed by Owen, wasn’t I?” she shuddered at the memory. That man felt like poison to her. This man—heaven.

  “At least I have my lips intact.” Now the words sounded as if he was smiling, but Raven’s lips lost their previous curl.

  Her gaze lowered to his lips, her own throbbing in response. The taste of his hot, devouring kiss still lingered in her mouth. What would it take for him to kiss her again? She wondered. She didn’t want to be dying just to feel his lips on hers. It would be pathetic. And yet, the most wondrous she had ever felt.

  “For a man who claims to hate me, you sure save me a lot,” Amira said in an effort to avert her thoughts.

  “Are you complaining?” He raised one brow in amazement.

  “On the contrary,” she assured him. “Though I would like to know why?”

  “Maybe I still need you alive.”

  “Oh!” her lips curved in a perfect circle, “and I thought it was because you liked me. How utterly disappointing…”

  But he wasn’t hearing her anymore. Suddenly the repercussions of this whole debacle struck him like a ton of bricks. People had seen her free, and there was no changing that, no way of stopping the gossip from spreading. Was his brother doomed?

  “They will come, don’t worry.”

  “What?” Raven tried to understand her words, but had a hard time focusing.

  “Witches,” she replied, wriggling out of his embrace, “they are coming.”

  How could she know it, he almost asked, but her stated conditions were clear. A secret for a secret. He felt as if she was doing this on purpose. Teasing him, letting him steal a quick glimpse of dessert, but leaving him with a bitter taste of overgenerously peppered broth. Well, no matter. He believed her on this matter—or maybe he just needed to believe—because the only other possibility was unacceptable.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, finally releasing her.

  “Why, to change, of course,” she said seriously. “I believe you wanted the gown back.”

  “Keep it.” He stood up and turned for the house as well. “It’s yours.”

  She looked at him, gave the smallest of nods and disappeared inside the house, leaving him bewildered. How did she do that? How did a simple gesture manage to affect him so? But then, he knew. Raven felt this connection he wouldn’t have been able to express or explain from the moment he’d kissed her. He felt the truth in her voice, and gratitude in her heart. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this was not a spell.

  Raven tightly grasped the amulet he carried around his neck, and wished to all the gods he could trust his senses. Because lately, he wasn’t himself.

  Was he so weak, Raven pondered, that the slightest touch could distract him from his goals? His will so frail that the smallest kiss could make him forget who he was? The smallest. Indeed. Raven would have laughed, only there was nothing funny about it. Just as there was nothing small about the kiss.

  Even now he was staring at the closed door, too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the lack of sounds and people. This had to stop. Daydreaming got you killed. Raven turned and marched toward the huts, looking for any sign of living. All he could find was locked doors and closed shutters.

  He knocked on the first door. No answer. Tried for the next—still nothing. Was about to yell when Burt stepped out of a nearby house looking relieved, as if an immense burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

  “My lord,” the man exclaimed, “we thought she would most certainly kill you! When the fiery circle claimed you…”

  Raven just gawked at him, lost in the preposterousness of his babbling. None of it made any sense. Fiery circle? That the hell was he talking about? The meaning of all of this eluded Raven completely.

  Finally Burt raked his hand through his sparse hair and took a deep breath. Raven managed to seize the opportunity.

  “Now, could you tell me why you barricaded yourselves?” The subsiding fear in Burt’s eyes still confounded him. “Slowly,” he added.

  “At first we couldn’t get past the barrier, and when Nyssa ran to us, the circle of fire enfolded you, my lord.” Burt touched his forehead again. “And instantly expanded, exploding straight into us.”

  “So you ran.” Raven finished Burt’s thought. The man just looked to the floor, not able to look him in the eye, ashamed of himself.

  “I am so—”

  “Don’t!” Raven interrupted his apology. “You did the right thing.” Who knew what would have happened if Burt, or any other, had stayed. It was dangerous times they lived in, and by bringing a witch here he magnified the risks tenfold. He was confident he could keep himself safe, but what about the others? He could not guarantee anything at this point. Especially since he had mixed feelings about her.

  It still meant people had to be careful.

  He could not blame them for worrying about their lives. It was exactly what he wanted them to do. Especially after everything they’d been through.

  “Where is Owen?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Dead,” the man informed him. “Was stabbed while trying to escape.”

  Raven rubbed his brow, thinking on how some days needed a do-over. At least no one would miss Owen. He had no family or friends. Maybe in Areth people wore cravats and fancied themselves as civilized beings, but here no one even blinked or asked questions when a man disappeared. Sometimes he thought the ones living in the capital didn’t even know what the hell was going on. It was the only explanation he could give for the king’s silence, and his reluctance to interfere while the Order operated as it pleased.

  “We will take care of the body,” Burt interrupted his thoughts.

  Raven nodded. “One more thing…” Burt stopped in his tracks. “I would like to see Nyssa.”

  The man pivoted, gesturing with his hand toward the nearby hut. “Of course.”

  Raven lowered his head to enter the small wooden construction containing only one room and a closet-sized kitchen. The shabby cloths separating the sleeping corner were pulled apart to make more room. Still, people were crammed in the shack like an apple stuffing in the seasonal duck. And in the middle of the chattering throng lay a girl, squirming and protesting.

  He immediately noticed Nyssa’s desperate attempts to get up, and the effort her mother put into keeping her tucked in bed. For a woman whose daughter had survived such an ordeal, she didn’t look pleased—in fact, she looked more distressed than happy.

  “Is she alright?”

  “My lord,” the girl’s mother gasped, “we thought … I mean we saw … uh … she must rest—”

  “I am fine,” Nyssa raised her voice, interrupting her mother’s incoherent prattling. “More than fine. I’ve never felt so good in my entire life.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” And he was. Nyssa was a sweet, courageous girl he often imagined his sister would have been like. If she
’d lived. Real pity her mother was such an angry, suspicious woman, who kept her children on the tightest of leashes.

  Raven had offered help many times. After all, children deserved better than a leaking roof over their heads, rags for clothing, and rumbling stomachs, but their mother refused. Mode was convinced he would demand payment for the kindness. And even though she’d never dared to say it to his face, Raven had heard enough arguments between her and Nyssa to know how scared the woman was.

  Raven suspected she would have run away, if not for the fact that she was afraid of the world outside his property even more. And with good reason. She’d been victim once; he didn’t want it to be repeated ever again. That’s why he decided to leave them alone. The girl was alive and well, and it was the only thing that mattered.

  “My lord!” Nyssa shouted, as he was turning for the door. “Could you thank Bright Eyes for me?”

  Raven smiled. The name Martha had chosen for the witch had spread faster than he would have ever thought possible. “You could do it yourself—”

  “No!” he was interrupted by the hysterical, panicking mother.

  “No?”

  “I am sorry, my lord,” the woman lowered her head, “it’s just that I don’t want that witch near my daughter.” She glanced at Nyssa and brushed a golden lock from her face. “It’s her fault my baby was almost killed.”

  Incredible. “That witch just saved your daughter’s life, almost giving hers in return and you…” Raven paused. He quickly composed himself, taking a deep breath, and turned towards the door for a second time. “I will, Nyssa,” he said without slowing down.

  Finally outside and away from the dozens of peering eyes, Raven leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

  What the hell was happening to him? He lost it, he just lost it. It was not for him to decide how a mother should nurture or treat her children, but when she spoke of his witch in such a vicious tongue, something inside him just snapped. He yelled. He was actually yelling at that woman in front of dozens of people.

  For what? To defend a witch? The irony of it made him laugh.

  Only a sennight ago he would have shoved these words down the throat of anyone who would’ve dared even breathe such a thing. But now…