by Arial Burnz
Angus yanked his hand back, shaking off the burn. “You see that? It seems he’s protecting himself with some kind of demonic wall.”
His servants gasped and nodded. Marcus smirked.
Broderick snorted. “And how is it a Vamsyrian like yourself, Angus, is in such a position to work with the Church?”
The room echoed with chortles. “You see how predictable he is?” Angus shared his amusement with the priests and Marcus before glaring at Broderick. “As I told you, he would try to say I was one of his kind.” He waved his hand toward the barrier. “Marcus, would you please come forward and try to put your hand through the wall? Only if you wish to prove how wrong MacDougal is, of course.”
The werewolf grinned. “My pleasure.” Reaching his hand out in a similar manner as Angus, Marcus’s fingertips made contact and sizzled against the barrier. He also shook his hands in a demonstration of pain.
The priests nodded and frowned. Broderick shook his head.
“Bring in the witch,” Angus commanded.
One of the priests nodded and left the chamber. The rattling of keys and clanking of a lock echoed from the hall. The priest returned, followed by two guards in chainmail dragging Monika’s lethargic and moaning form between them. Her wrists were bound by rope in front of her and Broderick sighed, knowing she was powerless to wield her magick. She was clothed in a dirty woolen, floor-length tunic. Lifting her head, she peered from under her tangled mass of hair. When her gaze fell on Broderick, tears filled her eyes. Her bleeding and swollen bottom lip trembled. “No,” she whispered. She stepped forward, but they held her back and she cried out.
“Let her go to him.” Angus grinned and pushed her forward.
“Monika, no.” Broderick slumped when she limped through the barrier to go to his side.
She pressed her bruised lips to his face, nuzzling against him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I prayed they hadn’t found you.” She slipped her arms over his head, hugging his neck.
“Hush, Blossom. This isn’t your fault.” Broderick glared at Angus over Monika’s shoulder.
“The witch fornicates with the devil.” Angus chuckled. “She is immune to his magic and obviously loves him.” He turned to his priests. “You’ve seen enough. Prepare the room for questioning. We must still give her a fair trial and bring forth witnesses.”
The priests bowed and left the room.
Angus faced the guards. “I have further instructions for you two.” They followed Angus out of the chamber and Broderick strained to hear what was being said, but his efforts were useless in his weakened state.
Monika shuffled to the bucket and drank some water, then brought the cup back to Broderick. Even though he didn’t need the water, he accepted her efforts to care for him. “Thank you, Blossom.”
She smiled.
Waltzing back into the cell, Angus stood before Marcus, where he withdrew a dagger from his belt along with a glass vial from his waist pouch. Grasping the cork with his teeth, he pulled it out with a pop and handed the vial to Marcus. Angus pushed his sleeve back and dragged his dagger along his forearm. Marcus used the vial to collect the blood.
Once it was filled, Angus handed the cork to Marcus. “Go administer your cure and come back as soon as you are able. Then you can claim the rest of your prize. But you won’t get through that barrier until you’re cured.”
Marcus examined the blood with a growing smile before pocketing the vial. He sauntered forward, his eyes raking over Monika, then winked before exiting and closing the door behind him.
Angus pulled a matching pair of reddish-brown gloves from his belt and covered his hands, then yanked the hood over his head before walking across the chamber…right through the barrier. Broderick’s jaw dropped.
Angus smirked under his hood. “I told you…I would not stop until I saw you dead.” He leaned forward. “Your little incantation is useless against me.” The torchlight cast strange shadows across his chin, illuminating some kind of surface blemishes or deformity. With gentle hands, Angus guided Monika away from Broderick and into the corner. “You’ll have a better view from here.” He tucked his gloves into his belt and pushed back his hood.
Angus back-handed Broderick across the jaw and the chamber spun.
“No!” Monika shrieked.
“Stay back!” Broderick warned her just before Angus landed a blow to his stomach, knocking the wind from him. Another punch to his jaw knocked Broderick’s head into the wall behind him. Monika’s whimpers were muffled as Angus continued to pummel Broderick body. His heart pounded in his head. His moans warbled in his ears. He slumped, wishing he could lose consciousness, but only dangled by his burning shackles.
The chamber was spinning and Broderick struggled to focus his senses on one thing at a time. Angus’s mocking smile. Monika’s worried eyes. A blade flashing in the torchlight. The scent of Vamsyrian blood. Drink, lass. Monika tilted a cup to her mouth.
No!
“Monika, no!”
She stopped drinking and swallowed, wide-eyed.
“You’d rather she be in pain?” Angus tisked. “Broderick, how selfish of you.”
“I’m not going to let her be your blood slave,” he slurred.
Angus chuckled. “I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that myself. No, dear brother, I haven’t fed from this little delight…yet. But I shall if you’d like.” Angus sauntered behind Monika and brushed her hair aside. The Hunger glowed silver in his eyes. “What say you, brother?”
“How do you feel, Monika?” Broderick struggled to a seated position, panting as he propped his back against the wall.
“I’m no longer in pain.” She bent over and pulled up the hem of her tunic and showed Broderick her calf. “The bruises are gone.” Dropping her hem, she set the cup down on the stool and went to Broderick’s side. “What were you expecting me to feel?”
“You don’t feel any different, other than better?”
She shook her head.
He sighed.
“You see…no blood slave.” Angus crossed his arms.
“Why would you want to help her?” Broderick glared
“Being completely honest, it furthers my cause. She is healed miraculously from the torture she’s endured, thereby proving she’s a witch.”
Rick narrowed his eyes. In his dream, Angus’s priests had Katrina’s book and Angus made his grand demonstration of the invisible wall of protection. They had all the proof they needed. Is the brute finally gaining a conscience? “This feud between us is futile and there is more at stake than just our own quests for revenge. We should work toward a resolution, you and I. Surely you know about the prophecy by now?”
Angus laughed. “Aye. I know about the prophecy and how you and I cannot kill each other or poor little Davina’s soul here will perish for all eternity because she will no longer have purpose.”
Monika gasped.
“Oh, he didn’t share that piece with you?” Angus shook his head and crouched before Broderick. “Shame on you, Rick.”
Broderick’s gaze dropped to Angus’s chin, now more visible at this angle. Subtle scarring marred his lips and chin. Nothing disfiguring, but enough to notice.
Angus stood and rubbed his chin. “Aye…I learned the hard way that you cannot feed from a member of the Army of Light. They bless their food and drink with the incantation. Their blood is like hot tar on a Vamsyrian’s skin. Dreadful experience.” He paced. “I did figure out how to purge the blessing from their body, though. You’d be surprised what a little persuasion, a gag and some patience can do.” A devious smile rolled across his mouth. “Aye, Rick. I know all about the Prophetess being a Vamsyrian and that she was the one who gave you the incantation. There are a lot of things I know about the Tzava Ha’or and so I know that none of this business about the prophecy matters. We are pawns. Malloren and Cordelia have been playing both of us for fools. We are merely their puppets in this quest for redemption.”
“Is the prophecy a lie, then? Wh
at have you learned?”
Angus laughed, but the humor did not reach his eyes. “So now I have your attention,” he said with a low and brooding voice. “No, the prophecy isn’t a lie, which means Monika is indeed Davina incarnate. And my victory today will be complete. Because as you both burn at the stake, you will suffer with your last breath, knowing that your death will bring the destruction of her soul.”
Broderick yanked against his shackles, every muscle in his body strained as he tried to pull his chains from the wall. “What is this grudge you have against me? That I didn’t know we were brothers? I apologize for not knowing! Why must she suffer because you cannot continue living at peace with that mistake that was not my—”
Angus slammed his fist into Broderick’s stomach. Doubling over, Broderick coughed up blood and saw white sparkles at the edge of his blurred vision.
“You still think I’m stupid enough to believe that lie!” Angus shouted in Broderick’s face. “You knew goddamn well we were brothers! Fraser told me you were the one to convince our father to turn me away…a babe at your doorstep!”
Broderick grunted as Angus kicked his ribs. Monika’s rushed to Angus, who shoved her aside.
“Stay…back…Mon—”
Angus kicked again, cracking Broderick’s ribs. With a rapid succession of punches, Angus battered Broderick until he lay on the floor, bleeding and moaning. Monika whimpered somewhere in the corner.
“Fraser Campbell was a cruel bastard, but he at least took me under his roof in spite of my mother’s betrayal. All Hamish ever did was attempt to erase his mistake by trying to kill me…and you were right there by his side. So don’t tell me you never knew.”
Though his bonds drained much of immortal abilities, Broderick cried out as his body healed and his ribs snapped back into place. His breathing returned to normal and the swelling around his eye receded enough to see Angus pacing and clenching his fists. “He lied to you, Angus. My mother had several miscarriages.”
Angus kicked him again.
Broderick grunted and forced himself to speak through the pain. “I never would have told our father to abandon my own brother, half-blood or otherwise.”
Angus growled and hauled Broderick up by his shirt, slamming him against the wall.
Broderick swallowed the blood in his mouth and whispered, “Fraser either lied, or Hamish never told us.”
“Father Campbell? Do you need assistance?”
Angus clutched Broderick’s face. “You’re lying,” he gritted through his teeth.
Broderick groaned as his ribs healed again. “Your whole life has been a lie, brother.” He hissed and winced through another bone snap. “I’m sorry.”
He shoved Broderick once more before letting him collapse to the ground with a grunt. Monika rushed to his side.
“That damn cure almost killed me!”
Broderick lifted his head and Monika helped him back into a seated position.
Angus held Marcus back with a hand on his throat.
“I want her…now! She owes me!”
The two guards came into the chamber and stood on either side of the door.
“You’re just in time, Sparenland,” Angus growled. “The trial is about to begin.” He shoved Marcus toward the guards who slapped shackles on him.
“What?” Marcus swung at the guards and Angus slammed him against the wall, holding him while the guards finished locking the iron cuffs around his ankles and wrists. Marcus spat in Angus’s face. “You bastard! Your Inquisitor is a Vamsyrian! He’s just like MacDougal!” Angus and the guards dragged him out of the room and into the cell across the corridor, his accusations echoing through the dungeon.
Broderick met Monika’s confused gaze. “He was able to administer the cure to himself?” he whispered.
She shrugged. “He must have had help.”
When they finished locking Marcus in his cell, Angus nodded toward Broderick and Monika. “Take the Vamsyrian and the witch with us. The werewolf will burn with them once the trial is finished.”
* * * * *
Monika’s wrists chafed from the ropes and her back ached from standing on the wooden platform for hours. Angus had made her the main focus of the trial by touting her as the witch who controlled them all. Father Meier’s questioning was brief and the poor man didn’t have much of a chance to defend himself, since he refused to answer most of Angus’s questions about this Army of Light. Angus thrilled at demonstrating Broderick’s healing abilities in front of a rapt audience. Such a demonstration was conviction enough, so his portion of the trial was even shorter than Father Meier’s. And any effort Broderick made at saying Angus was also a Vamsyrian and should be put through the same tests was met with laughter and ignored. Marcus was too uncooperative to put on the stand with his volatile temper and several attempts at attacking Angus and Monika. But the many witnesses testifying that Monika had visited Marcus on several occasions, and not actually tended to the so-called ailing father, were his undoing. One by one, her fellow prisoners were questioned and escorted back to their cells, building the magistrates and jurors up for Monika’s interrogation.
She’d listened to one lying testimony after another as the people from Vollstadt had come forth to blame her for every misfortunate event that ever plagued their village—from cows’ milk drying up and bloody eggs hatching, to flying on her broomstick and casting love spells on every man she ever came in contact with. She could stand the ridiculous accusations regarding poultry and crops. It was the lascivious stares from the men who claimed to desire her that made her want to wretch. Angus had insisted they go into great detail about how she made them think such sinful thoughts, what exactly those sinful thoughts were and how such imaginings drove them to the ultimate depths of sin because they were forced to hide in dark corners, frigging themselves to find relief.
Her heart swelled with pride as her neighbors were brave enough to testify on her behalf, swearing she was not an evil woman, did not perform the outlandish accusations thrown at her, nor did she commune with Satan or command the hounds of hell. Thankfully, her grandmother Mina was not amongst them, nor were the Schmeids. She prayed Helmut had taken Oma to Monika’s father in Nordenham as they originally planned.
However, when the villagers of Kostbar were pressed to provide proof of Monika’s innocence, the only witness they could bear were the good deeds she’d performed through the years delivering babies, healing wounds and caring for them during illness. None of it was good enough for the interrogators. At this point, nothing would be and she was already a witch in their eyes, so it wouldn’t matter if she showed them what a true witch could do. However, with her hands bound, she couldn’t wield any flames to save herself or Broderick, nor would she in this closed environment for fear of hurting her friends. But she hadn’t lost all hope. They still needed to take them outside to burn them on the stakes she’d seen erected in the courtyard. The four stakes had been assembled in the monastery as they’d escorted them from the dungeon to the main reception building.
Angus crossed the length of the courtroom and stopped before Otto, who was seated on another wooden platform. He was situated on the opposite side of where the magistrates sat, the investigating tribunal during the interrogations.
“And tell us what you heard her say after she kicked Jason Kiefer between the legs,” Angus asked.
“I heard it plain as day,” Otto testified. “She said, ‘If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll cast a spell on you and do worse than kick you where it hurts.’ Then she waved her hand over him and walked away.”
An agitated murmur rolled across the room like an ocean wave.
“And then poor Jason was mangled by the hounds of hell at her command!” Otto stood, a grimace on his face, as he pointed at her.
The gathered crowd rose from their seats. The Vollstadt villagers on one side stood shaking their fists and shouting obscenities toward her. Her friends from Kostbar yelled and protested from their side of the room.
&n
bsp; “Her mother did the same thing ten years ago!” Otto exclaimed above the din.
The Head Magistrate pounded his wooden mallet. “Silence! That’s enough!”
After several more whacks of the hammer, the mob settled down and sat.
“No more questions. Thank you, Herr Jost.”
Otto stepped down and sneered at Monika as he navigated his way around the table loaded with the “evidence” against her—herbal jars, their house broom and her mother’s book of remedies.
Angus tossed his reddish-brown cloak back over his shoulders and picked up the book, holding it above his head. “And now for the final piece of evidence against Monika Konrads in the charge of witchcraft.”
He opened it and held it in his arms as he walked in front of the attending priests, Abbot Cromer, the magistrates and the jurors. Most everyone shrank from the book as it passed, almost cowering before the pages. Several of them nodded and muttered between each other.
“The entire book is written in the Witch’s Alphabet,” Angus announced. “Also known as the Theban Alphabet and used only by those who practice magick.” He completed his circle around the room, stopping in front of Monika. “Does this book belong to you?”
Monika narrowed her eyes. She would be blatantly lying if she denied ownership of the book, since they had taken it from her cottage. She was already dead. These proceedings were just a formality. “Honestly, Campbell…let us finish this farce of a trial.”
A collective gasp rose from the throng and a multitude of whispers hissed as members leaned toward each other in their private conversations.
Angus smiled. “So flippant about your fate, young lady.”
“You’ve already decided to burn us all.”
“And what makes you say such a wretched and judgmental thing?” He propped his elbow on the rail around Monika’s platform and grinned, obviously amused.
Monika smirked and cocked her head in contempt. “Four stakes and pyres have already been prepared in the courtyard. There are four of us on trial.”
