Till Death And Beyond (Witch World)

by Lyn C. Johanson

  “It just seals the deal.” He kissed her mouth in such a possessive way, Amira sighed.

  “Deal? Have you forgotten to show me the fine print?” she couldn’t help but tease him.

  His brows rose, but as he was about to answer her, a familiar wave of frost assaulted Amira’s senses. Raven stilled, as if experiencing the same. He wrapped his arms around her, but to her amazement, he didn’t freeze.

  “Who is that?” he whispered into her ear.

  “Trouble,” was all she managed to say before Hope appeared in the room.

  “Now this is insulting!” The goddess wrinkled her nose at them. A moment later they were clothed.

  “You are the one barging into the bedrooms of others like some pervert,” Amira shot back. She attempted to get up, but Raven held her fast. He stood first, trying to keep her behind him. It warmed Amira’s heart, but she knew it to be useless. If Hope wanted to reach her, she would.

  “It’s an interesting development. Let’s see if it changes anything,” the goddess uttered as if to herself, though Amira knew that Hope was referring to the fact that Raven stood unaffected by her powers. It was only logical—if it wasn’t meant to affect Amira, it held no power against him either. They shared the same energy, after all.

  The goddess approached. She lifted her hand, her palm landed flat on Amira’s forehead, and she pushed. Amira stumbled. She shook her head, and if not for Raven, she wouldn’t have been able to hold her footing.

  “Amira?” his voice implored her, but she couldn’t answer. She fought against the dizziness assailing her, and found out she may as well have tried holding back a flood wave. She was engulfed. Darkness enfolded her in its steely grasp, shackling her resistance, blocking her magic. Amira took one last breath and submerged even deeper, searching for her inner strength. No one was going to control her like that. Not any more. Not even a goddess.

  Her eyes flared wide, fists uncurling as she felt it soul-deep, piercing through her. Strength she’d never known existed.

  You found it, Hope simply stated, unconcerned about the fact she could be dead in a second. Fast, I might add. Only proves that this time you are ready.

  Ready? Amira stopped in her tracks, the hidden meaning of words suddenly alarming her senses.

  For the Prophecy, of course, the goddess answered.

  The witches have come, Amira whispered, trying to separate her reeling senses. They had come for her. To take her away from… I am not going, she almost yelled, horror transfixing her heart. She was stronger than a legion of witches, she reminded herself. They could not take her freedom so easily.

  The only thing that had kept her going through the years, through the deaths, was … suddenly she could not remember.

  You already feel the pull, Hope circled them slowly, whispering something under her breath… feel the power. Invited it herself, I might add.

  I did no such thing! This time, she did yell. Though she couldn’t deny she didn’t feel something happening.

  When you made a bargain with Dazlog, you made yourself vulnerable, if only for a second, and she was able to breach the walls.

  What? This was the same entity who’d enslaved her body before? So you are working with a demon now? she asked, completely lost. How can this be?

  Not in a million years, Hope assured her, but unfortunately it had to happen. It’ll take you to your destiny. Don’t resist.

  Amira did. She resisted. It was compelling her to surrender, to accept and follow. She tried to shake it off. I’ll fight it, she promised, already up to her ears in a battle against an unknown and stronger foe.

  It will only grow stronger, while you weaken. It will scream inside your head while you forget everything that ever mattered to you.

  It already was. Her body felt no longer hers alone. Her mind—confused and unfocused. And the power pulling her strings was intensifying. With every breath she took.

  Amira could swear all of her emotions were numbing, leaving an empty void inside her. Soon she would not feel anything, she realized. Soon she would be her old self. Except that wasn’t right either. Soon, she would be a background voice in the head of another, and half of her didn’t even care.

  Fight, damn it! she ordered herself, but the new presence in her body was so much stronger.

  Resistance waning, only her belief in Raven sustained her. A ludicrous hope probably, but she believed deep in the heart that still belonged to her, that she would forget this numbing feeling, this siren call she could no longer quench, if only he would… Amira lost the trail of her thoughts. She was aware that Raven was talking to her, but the words got lost somewhere.

  He was going crazy. Amira didn’t feel hurt or suffering in his arms, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong persisted. He glanced at the icy redhead, convinced she was responsible, and her lips curled into a chilling smile.

  Every hair on Raven’s body stood, and in two seconds he had her pinned to the wall. She shrieked and tried to push him away—the strength behind her seemingly delicate hands only proving she was no human.

  “What did you do to Amira?” he panted, but held on.

  She tried to zap him with her powers, but strangely, it had no effect on him.

  “I’ll kill that demon,” she thrashed even harder.

  “Tell me what you have done! Or we’ll see if you can recover from decapitation.”

  “The Prophecy must be fulfilled” was all she said before managing to free herself and disappear.

  Raven swore under his breath. He turned to where he’d left Amira, but there was no sight of her. He swore again—this time loudly, and listening to his every instinct, ran after her.

  The moment he stepped outside, something cold and sharp went through him. A bad feeling pierced him. His eyes landed on Amira and a shiver coursed through his body. Her gaze was chilling. Cold as ice and devoid of any human emotion. But inside he could swear he felt her fear and frustration.

  Determined to dig to the bottom of this, he took a step and found himself chained to the stake as she lifted her hand toward him.

  “What the—” She approached and cupped his face.

  “You…” Amira’s voice sounded dead to his ears, then she blinked and regret shone from her beautiful eyes. Regret and sorrow. “I can’t…” she shook her head. “No, I won’t!”

  Raven had no idea who she was yelling at. It didn’t seem she was talking to him. All he knew was this feeling inside screaming at him to hold her. Except he was in chains and no matter how hard he pulled, they didn’t give under pressure.

  He was enfettered. She was possessed or something, judging by the way her expression changed every two seconds—it was like watching a mask being put on and taken off of her face. And while she clearly struggled, a dozen witches watched them.

  “Angel,” he breathed.

  “Please forgive me,” she cried, this time talking to him, “please…” but before he could convince her there was nothing for him to forgive, a black curtain fell over her gaze and her eyes turned empty, soulless.

  “Forget,” she told him, and that voice compelled him to obey. Raven shook his head, struggling against the power of the dark spell, knowing he couldn’t give in. And by the look in her eyes he realized she was convinced she had succeeded. So he decided to play along for the time being.

  “What is happening?” he blinked, and attempted to pull at the chains.

  “It is your turn to taste the shackles,” a malign voice he instinctively knew was not Amira’s told him. “Neither force nor help will do you any good. You tied me once—now we’ll get even.”

  “You want revenge?” he asked, trying to sound enraged. He hadn’t succumbed to her spell, but that didn’t mean he understood what was happening. Who was this creature? He was convinced he’d seen her once, but that didn’t explain much to him.

  “Revenge is already mine,” she laughed, and he could swear he heard Amira screaming in his head. Her voice was frantic with horror and pain. H
er scream rose, the force of it making her lose her balance. She blinked, and when she looked back at him, the ice melting in her eyes gave him hope. But all too soon the ice froze. Chill spread.

  Her fingers landed on his temples. “Watch,” she said, and an image appeared in his head of Amira in bed with his brother.

  Now that was just sick, he thought, not buying it for a moment. But despite it, he had a sudden urge to kill Dacian. Raven shook off her touch and roared his anger aloud. He figured if he kept up the charade, maybe Amira would win against the entity he knew she was fighting. Maybe she just needed time.

  He tried to imagine how he would feel if it was true—instantly knowing it would rip his heart out of his chest while it was still beating, if she ever decided to leave him for another. It wasn’t hard to imagine the pain of his love being thrown away like trash.

  He gave in to the feeling and found himself struggling to breathe. Red was all he saw while his body heaved in an attempt to inhale air. Every muscle of his went taut. His fists clenched. He tried to break free, but all he could do was rattle the chains. He didn’t give up. He couldn’t.

  “Bloody hell…” she narrowed her eyes at him, “I should just kill you now.” But instead of fulfilling her threat, she vanished. Into thin air.

  For a moment Raven’s only reaction was his jaw hanging down. And then, he realized all his efforts had been in vain. Amira was gone.

  Chapter 31

  “Burt! Jim!” he roared at the men, “Get me an axe, find the key, something! Just get me out of these damned chains!” The urgency to find Amira was overwhelming. That was the call Dazlog had warned him about, wasn’t it? He was supposed to stop her from heeding it. He failed. Now, he had not the slightest inkling where to search for her—she could be anywhere. If he ever got out of those damned chains, that is…

  The men rushed to his aid immediately—little good that it did him. The key got stuck in the lock. The axe shattered into pieces. And by the time Burt and Willy managed to separate the two connecting rings of the rusted chain, it had actually joined itself together again.

  After three hours of one futile attempt after another to get free, hope threatened to abandon him. Raven realized that that woman had spoken the truth—neither force nor help could free him. But what did it leave him with?

  Was he supposed to grow old and die here? He refused to contemplate that possibility. He leaned his head against the wooden pole, closed his eyes and the image of Amira appeared in front of him. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. It felt so real. The fleeting touch so … hers, the cadence of his heart gained momentum.

  He opened his eyes with impossible hope in his heart—even though his mind kept telling him it was just a fantasy—and found nothing but air where she was supposed to be. Yet even the dream of her was strength in itself. One thing she’d taught him: no one can shackle you, but yourself.

  He glanced at the iron chains fettering his wrists, trying to imagine them gone—just the way she’d told him to—and a moment later, the chains fell off. Raven’s eyes widened in awe. This was just too weird, but he didn’t stop to think about how it was possible. He glanced at the wooden pole, thinking it was time to bury the past. Time to live in the now, with all the tomorrows ahead of him.

  The stake went up in flames.

  It was then it dawned on him. I won’t take from you. But we can share. Amira’s words from last night drifted into his mind. He had felt it churning inside him, had he not? He just didn’t think he would be able to do this…

  For a moment, he was scared he could hurt someone. The power he felt seemed to have a mind of its own. It demanded release. Was this how Amira felt? he wondered. She had to be waging a constant battle for control.

  Pure instinct was what guided him back into the mansion. He followed it, having no real alternative. Walked the corridors, opened the door of his own bedroom, and the first thing he saw was the bed—rumpled sheets and a pillow on the floor. He picked up the pillow and was just about to place it down when he noticed a scarf on the covers. He lifted it and rubbed his fingers over the delicate silk.

  The urgency inside him was like a beating pulse by now, but he tried to stay calm and figure out a way to reach her. Running like crazy would do no one any good. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down, finally noticing the chains he held in his other hand.

  He let go of the rusty manacles only capable of tethering by force, and concentrated on the delicate lace that could bind with nothing but care and passion. If they shared the energy their love-making had produced, it only stood to reason he should be able to do what she’d done. Maybe he didn’t need to know where she had gone, Raven reasoned, trying to remember how she’d explained the use of her powers to him.

  She’d talked about willpower and concentration. About wishing and channeling. As much as he wished it, however, going to where she was didn’t seem to happen.

  He stood up and closed his eyes, trying his best to curb the unruly power churning inside him. He took a deep, calming breath in, and a second later his senses perceived a change in the sounds and smells around him. The wind was blowing in his hair. The sun caressed his skin.

  He opened his eyes, barely managing to maintain his equilibrium. The world he stepped into was spinning so wildly, he could do nothing but stand still and wait for it to stop. When it did, Raven noticed he was in a middle of nowhere, miles away from his home, with a group of witches staring at him as if he were Dazlog himself with an army of demons come to slaughter them all.

  They shrieked. Grabbed for the vials of potions…

  “Could we not do this right now?!” He didn’t have time to play these stupid games. He felt too raw to have any type of consideration right now. But apparently it was too much to expect. The potions were already in the air.

  Instinctively, he stretched his hands out to protect himself and the vials exploded in the air, frightening the witches. They jumped, squealing like banshees, as glass shards flew at them. This, he did not expect at all.

  “Would you listen to me now?” He rubbed at his temples where a headache was threatening to explode. No one heard his words. Raven was afraid he would not be able to hear himself soon, if their hysterical screams continued.

  Oh, for the love of Gods! He gnashed his teeth, praying for patience. It was hanging by a mere thread. “Stop the racket!”

  They didn’t seem to hear. But finally one of them stepped forward. Raven noticed how she tried to hide her trembling hands. How others tried to grab her into their fold, but she slipped through their grasp.

  “Spare them,” she implored, and he could almost swear he saw tears filling her eyes. “Take me instead.”

  Raven rolled his eyes. His frustration was running high, the need to find Amira an incessant hammering inside his skull. He clenched his fists and managed to close his throat around the blue streak of curses he wanted to let out. At the rate this was going, he was afraid he would grow old before he found out what he needed. The wide-eyed, trembling slip of a girl was dragging her feet as if on the path to the gallows. Or worse.

  By the time she managed three small steps, he’d already grown weary of it. He marched over to her, intending to get to the truth, when she jumped from affright. The other witches ran. His gaze flickered to the women scurrying away—their sudden retreat raising his suspicion—but when it snapped back to the young witch in front of him, Raven did let out a curse.

  She lifted her trembling hand to her shoulder and unstrapped the only string holding her ankle-length tunic. The material slid down her body and pooled around her feet. She fisted her hands till her knuckles turned white and closed her eyes, unable to stop tears from rolling down her cheeks.

  “Oh for goodness’ sake,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He lifted the tunic and covered her shivering body. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  His impatient, angry tone only made it worse. She wrapped her arms around herself and gave in compl
etely to an uncontrollable sobbing. He almost groaned from frustration.

  “Look at me.” He lifted her chin, but the words came too close to an order. Damn. Her eyes only squeezed more fiercely at his command.

  “Open your eyes,” he repeated more gently this time. He needed her rational-minded and cooperative to get to the answers he sought, Raven reminded himself. “I won’t hurt you,” he added.

  Slowly, very slowly, she complied. Looked up and relaxed a degree. It was a start—a small one, but still a start.

  “Tell me, why did they leave you?” He meant to ask about Amira, but somehow he couldn’t purge himself of the disquietude he felt from the peculiar behavior of the witches.

  “Better to sacrifice one … in order … in order to save others, than for all to die,” she said in a small voice.

  “Since when?”

  “Since every single one of us are needed for the ritual to succeed.” She covered her mouth with her palms the moment the sentence flew out.

  Raven finally smiled. Maybe this was not hopeless after all. “Just tell me what I want to know. It’s all I ask. And you are free.”

  The girl nodded.

  “What kind of ritual are we talking about here?” With every second the worry inside of him intensified. Raven sensed a strange feeling of coldness every time he thought of Amira. What was even stranger—when he concentrated on it he could swear the coldness was melting. He could feel her.

  She wasn’t well. The things she felt made his heart bleed. She felt lonely and scared and… There were so many emotions; the force almost brought him to his knees. His angel needed him. And he was coming.

  “To welcome Nially.” The answer woke him up, bringing him back from the coldness. Only he was not sure it was a good thing. Then, at least he felt her. Now, she was a mist once again. Always around, but never there to touch. The name the girl uttered, however, made his insides twist.