Till Death And Beyond (Witch World)

by Lyn C. Johanson

  “How close are you?” Raven whispered against her ear. She tried to concentrate on his voice, her body relaxing a degree, until she realized what he wished to know. At this, Amira tensed even more than before. Naturally, he wanted to know if she was in control. He was worried about the people she might endanger.

  “I have it.” Taking his advice she inhaled deeply, refusing to expose herself further. She turned around and freed herself from his embrace. “But I need a minute alone.”

  For the longest minute he watched her, eager to ascertain that she’d spoken the truth. Just as Amira thought he would leave her, Raven cupped her jaw with his fingers, lifted her head to meet his gaze and uttered, “There’s nothing shameful in admitting you need help. And if you want to kill someone I would rather it be someone who deserves it.”

  Amira was floored by his words. How did he know what she craved? How had he seen inside her?

  “Look behind you,” Raven answered, to a question she wasn’t aware she’d asked aloud, or even in his mind.

  Amira pivoted and her blood turned ice-cold. Snakes were wriggling and wreathing. People were running away. The sight—a true testament to how far gone she’d been.

  She was so shaken, it took her a moment to notice a girl in the middle of the writhing sea of reptiles.

  “Bright Eyes!” Nyssa called for her, determination evident on the girl’s face, her feet quickly but carefully carrying her forward. Amira watched silently as Nyssa fought her fear and tried to avoid the hissing creatures by constantly jumping out of their way. Not once did she look back. Not once did she appear to be giving up. Not even when one of the reptiles came close to biting her.

  Amira waved her arm and the snakes disappeared.

  Nyssa ran the last few feet, her arms flying out and wrapping around Amira’s body. Amira froze in the girl’s embrace, only now feeling Raven retreating.

  “Why did you do it?” She didn’t know which amazed her more: Nyssa’s determination to walk through the snakes, or this embrace.

  “Because you looked like you needed it,” Nyssa said, unwrapping her arms. “And I thought we could be friends,” she said.

  “I don’t know how to be a friend,” Amira admitted. She’d always been alone. Even when among people.

  “But you do,” the girl smiled, surprising Amira.

  They walked together, somehow ending up in the sun-chamber, a place where she could come close to feeling calm. In the midst of plants and birds, in the midst of pure, untainted energy, Amira sensed her powers settling down.

  “I need to be alone for a while.”

  “No you don’t. But we don’t have to talk.” And they didn’t. Amira just sat there for an extended moment in perfect peace, listening to the beautiful bird songs. She closed her eyes and didn’t realize how easily she fell asleep.

  Yet instead of the dreamless sleep she’d always begged for, instead of few moments of oblivion, she dreamed of death and blood and agony. She dreamed of fear in huge brown eyes. Of screams frozen in people’s throats. And then she was back on the grass. Screaming. Being held by Raven. Only this time Amira didn’t push him away. She embraced his warmth and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She actually sobbed in his arms. Honest-to-God tears were streaming down her cheeks, and he kissed the salty drops away.

  Amira woke up, her body shaken to the core, her flesh heated up and her mind calling for him.

  “What’s wrong?” Nyssa jumped from the chair she was sitting in, immediately running to her side.

  “Nothing.” Amira shook her head. Such a big lie she almost choked on it. She’d promised herself not to wish for things. Knew better than to hope. But the embrace she’d dreamed of was more powerful than any reason she could come up with.

  Raven’s insight into her soul when he’d held her today only bolstered Amira’s foolish hope. Foolish, because she realized she wanted something more than a secret.

  Goddesses would never leave her alone, Amira knew. She had to forget, or it would tear her heart asunder if she was forced to leave.

  She knew that the moment she saw Raven, desires she tried so hard to bury would arise. They always did. The futile, never-dying hope to have a future; and lately—a man. And no other appealed to her, ever, as much as the one she saw whenever she closed her eyes.

  Stubborn he may be, full of secrets. Sometimes blind. But she was beginning to know his heart. And it wasn’t cruel or unkind. It wasn’t selfish. Amira may not have known all of his reasons for tying her up, but she understood why he might have thought it necessary. She wasn’t even mad at him. She would have done the same in his shoes. More actually.

  She was doomed; Amira struggled to contain a groan. It was so much easier when she could simplify her feelings into plain lust. Fool herself. She could no longer. There was nothing plain about her feelings. Nothing simple. She was attracted to him in so many different ways; it got under her skin and consumed her.

  The smile, which made her toes curl. Eyes, capable of hypnotizing and taking her breath away. And the touch… Oh, the touch—she wouldn’t even know where to begin, if she had to explain the feeling that overwhelmed her when she found herself in his arms. It was magical. What a pity it happened so rarely. But she had only to remember his kisses, and her soul wept, thirsting for more. Much more.

  As sensuous as it sounded, it was a fantasy. Her cravings aside, she knew very well they belonged to separate worlds.

  “Thank you,” she told Nyssa, taking her hand. “Go ahead and I’ll be right behind.” Amira had one more thing to do. She waited till Nyssa was out of the room and began singing. She had to return to the dungeon, to confirm her worst fears.

  She saw Milla and Eliana chained to a wall, sobbing, while Regan and Deron rattled the cage they were in, just in front of the women. But out of reach. She didn’t see Pharell anywhere, and Sofie’s lifeless body lay on the ground between the four of them. Amira returned. She could not help them. Not yet.

  She needed Raven’s full trust. Now more than ever. And time was so short, Amira thought as she left the room with determined steps. She slowed down the moment she found him and arched her brow at the sight of him sitting with a sword in his hands. His fingers were gently brushing the sharpness of the cold steel.

  “Am I for beheading?”

  “Are you all right?” He lifted his head and their gazes met. He took a deep breath in, the hard edges around his mouth softening. Smiled. And she melted. Just like that.

  “I always am.” Amira didn’t have the luxury of being anything else. Never had. She'd learned to distance herself ages ago. Except from Raven With his intense, searching eyes, he kept getting under her skin.

  “And I don’t believe you,” he paused, turning his sword in his hand. It was apparent she didn’t want to talk about it. Behind the mask of strength he could see vulnerability. Raven wondered if it was always there. He stood up. “I am sorry.”

  She blinked. “You are honest.” It wasn’t a question.

  He wished to gods he could know what hid behind her guarded eyes.

  “Why do you need the sword?” Her question woke him up.

  “It is just a foreboding I have,” he tried to explain. A pre-sentiment of something approaching.

  Her eyes flared wide open, then a second latter fluttered shut. She tried to concentrate, immediately picking up a vibe. Her body shuddered. She clenched her fists, nails digging deep into her flesh, pain intertwining with … voices? Laughter? The vision was too brumous to identify the source. The image in her head evaporated in seconds.

  Amira groaned. When had she become so useless? How could she have missed such a thing in the first place? The man was a menace to her self-control. Moreover, he had proved to have senses sharper than hers.

  If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought him to be magical. Or at least to possess a few of the qualities of a magical creature. His senses, his ability to shield thoughts from her and at the same time to project his own into her min
d without even realizing he was actually doing it. Amazing. Except, fairytales aside, their world was simple. It hadn’t been thousands of years ago, but now only the witches possessed mystical abilities. And all of them were women.

  “You better take few more of those,” she suggested, lowering her eyes towards his sword.

  Alright. Now he was worried. He may have had his own reservations regarding her, but when it came down to this, he realized he trusted her completely.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not sure … yet,” she frowned, her fingers landing on her temples for a soothing rub. She lifted her chin, her eyes searched for something and finally she uttered, “Definitely outside.”

  “Then outside is where we’re headed.”

  She nodded, hastening her strides, ready for anything that might be thrown at her the moment she stepped through the front door. She wasn’t ready for what she did notice. Nothing. Not a single hint of danger. Not the smallest thing out of the ordinary.

  Outside, she said. Well, they were outside. And it was sunny, bright and full of laughter. People were scurrying to and fro at their chores. Children were playing. No danger there. Unless she counted the possibility of drowning in a bowl of water, or accidentally being stabbed with a pitchfork. Not that she saw any of those.

  Amira inhaled, this time keeping her eyes wide open, forcing the vision to replay before her eyes. She could see vials. The image evaporated. Again she was left with a little bit of information not helping her at all.

  Potions? she wondered. Did it mean witches were already here? No, they couldn’t be, could they? The Impenetrable Mountains were too far away for them to have come in the space of only a week.

  At that thought, a perishing scream assailed her ears. Her observant glare scanned through the crowd as more yells and shouts joined the initial frantic shriek. Raven stiffened beside her, his hand already on the sword. He was about to battle the horde of … wolves. No hesitation spared. She had to admire the man who was willing to risk his own life for others.

  Amira placed her hand on his before he could unsheathe the weapon and received a puzzled glance in return. She waited. Raven nodded, surprising her again. He understood her without words. He relaxed his muscles, and let her take over. If she could, she would have smiled then. It was such a heady sensation to know that someone trusted her, even if just a little. Made her realize how important it was to her. Suddenly, the image of Ciaran just popped into her mind. And not because right now, in her head, he represented everyone who thought her incapable; but because Amira sensed he was close by. Later, she told herself. Right now wild animals and people who were a few seconds from creating a violent riot were her priorities.

  She leapt to her feet, brushed her cheek against Raven’s, and whispered, “Call me Amira.” She didn’t wait for his response, she stepped between the people and the pack of beasts, in an attempt to stop either party from lashing out.

  Despite the danger, Raven smiled. He liked to watch her do magic, he realized. His dark enchanting angel glowed when miracles happened. Amira, his lips mimicked the feel of the word. Her name. It was beautiful and complex at the same time. Just like the owner herself.

  A part of him was scared for her. For she could get hurt while trying to tame the animals, but at the same time he trusted her judgment. He watched how she waited without a single trace of fear in her eyes.

  “It’s Shadow.” Amira turned her crystal eyes to him, a moment before she was swept aside by the tide of grey fur.

  “I can see that,” Raven assured her. He approached the pack, trying to ignore all the gasps and groans. “Why is he here? is what I’d like to know.” He found himself surrounded by beasts, for the love of gods. His sword was hidden; and the only emotion left for him was amazement. Well, maybe admiration too.

  Controlling one wolf was a huge deal in itself, but the whole pack—that showed tremendous power and will. Raven knew how it worked, how a witch had to focus all her energy into one object to take control over another’s will and suppress it. Normally, she would enter into some kind of trance, just to enable her to use that much power. It left her body almost lifeless. Amira, on the other hand, was very much alive, commanding not one, but dozen of beasts. Astounding.

  “Shadow says he’s come to help.”

  Raven watched as one of the wolves let itself be patted, smelled her, and licked her arm. “Tell them they are too late. The damsel needs no saving.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, sending a jolt through his spine. He gasped. Definitely no need for saving.

  “He tells me he was never worried about you.” Raven had to return the narrowed glance.

  “Well maybe a little,” she shrugged.

  “So where is the danger?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, lowering her eyes.

  “Are you supposed to know everything?” he wondered.

  “They would never let me,” she uttered, her voice soaked in pain.

  He had no idea who “they” were, but he had a sudden urge to kill the bastards for transforming her beautiful face into such a heartbreaking expression.

  “Adam!” Mode’s hysterical scream woke him up, as the boy broke loose from his mother’s clutches and ran straight to them. Raven caught him, figuring he had better carry him back to his mother. The sound of weeping obviously annoyed the animals.

  “But I want to see wolves,” he cried aloud, “I never saw one alive and there’s dozens…” Adam gestured with his hands, squirming and struggling against Raven’s hold.

  “Raven!” Amira’s voice made him stop in his tracks.

  “Don’t tell me you want to introduce them to the boy?”

  “No.” Good, he breathed, returning Adam to Mode. “Another time maybe, but I want to hide them.”

  “Hide them?” he gaped. “Why can’t they just run to the forest, or something?” His gaze wandered to the gates and he noticed a girl running through the meadow. Alright, so maybe letting them go right now was not the wisest decision. Still … he sensed it wasn’t about the girl either.

  “Shadow says he needs to stay for a while, but doesn’t want to scare her.” Amira’s gaze traveled to the same girl he was watching.

  “Tell them to go to the old stables. But only if they’re going to behave,” he told her, gesturing towards the empty building at the end of the path.

  “Mild as lambs,” she said as she motioned with the sway of her hand, and the pack ran away into hiding.

  Both of them returned their sights to the young girl.

  At first Raven thought she was a child of maybe ten years, but as she ran closer, he could see it was her short height that made the first impression so deceptive. The girl was probably around fifteen years old, and she wasn’t even that short. It was simply the way she held herself that made her look smaller than her skinny frame and below-average height.

  With every step she took, Raven could see her features more clearly. Her dirty face, dress all torn apart. She kept clutching her arms around her chest, trying to pull the shredded fabric together, but it kept slipping through her fingers as she ran.

  Another thing Raven noticed were her curls; they weren’t simply short, they were cut, brutally chopped off, leaving her with only several tousled strands. She ran barefoot. Her legs were covered in cuts, her eyes were full of tears.

  She ran so fast, she almost knocked Amira down. Wrapped her arms around Amira’s waist and, sinking to the knees in front of his witch, sobbed uncontrollably. “Help me,” she begged, her whole body shaking, “please, help me.”

  Finally Amira met his gaze, her hands holding the girl.

  The enemy, he read loud and clear, is coming. Well, if the girl was a witch as he presumed, a Venlordian must be advancing toward them. He could deal with one of lousy bastards in a second, without the help of Shadow, he exhaled, and unbuttoned his shirt.

  “You know her?” he asked, taking it off and covering the girl’s trembling body. She gasped, flinched
at his touch, sank deeper into Amira’s skirt and gave in to sobs once again. Damn. He had a bad feeling about this.

  “No,” Amira told him, then looked down at the girl and brushed her tears away. “Don’t be afraid Brea, he won’t hurt you. No one will,” she assured her, folding her into his shirt. “But witches recognize one another by sight.” Amira raised her gaze at him. It was full of sadness and anger.

  “Judy,” Raven called, seeing that the maid, just like almost the whole household, had gathered around. “Take the child to Martha,” he ordered, and waited a few moments till the girl was out of their sight.

  “Was she—”

  “Yes,” Amira didn’t let him finish the sentence. Damn it, he suspected as much.

  “I’ll kill the bastard,” he gushed through his teeth. She was just a child, for the love of gods. Anyone who had dared to touch her was going to suffer. Painfully. Sudden death was too easy. Raven decided he was going to kill him with his bare hands and feed in pieces to the wolves.

  Amira watched as a muscle clenched in his jaw, his expression fierce and angry. She’d seen his anger before, but now something was different. His body was tense, he had shadows in his dark gaze and every edge on his face was sharp and lethal. She didn’t know what exactly he was thinking, but the intensity of it shook her.

  She could swear she sensed hidden pain, as if … suddenly Amira realized it was not simply a general disgust at the brutality. It was way too personal. She remembered how he’d never tried to force himself on her. Saved her from Owen. Even beat him up afterwards. Not many would have done something like that. And then there was the fact that he had a sister. Past tense. Was hunting the members of the Order. Amira didn’t want to jump to conclusions, especially since his interest in witches didn’t fit, but … she couldn’t think of any other possibility right now. His sister Evolyn was murdered by the Venlordians, and maybe even violated.

  Amira needed to see his eyes again, but before she could take a look she caught a movement in the direction from which Brea appeared. It was not just one of the bastards advancing. It was a freaking army of them.