“There’s something odd about this one,” she said softly, and Bethany couldn’t tell who she was speaking to. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”
Bethany’s mind was racing. What kind of story could she spin here? Was it worth sticking to the original story — that she’d lost her memory, that she was just some poor innocent woman — Graham’s lost wife, perhaps, taken in by witchcraft? It might give her a chance to escape… but it wouldn’t do much for the MacClarans’ reputation as witches, would it? Then again, she had a suspicion that nothing was going to convince these men that the MacClarans weren’t witches. She may as well lean into it, at this point. So she looked down, trying to look frightened, fidgeted with her bound hands… Graham hadn’t tied me nearly as tightly this time, she thought with amusement. It would be easy to escape from these bindings… but she’d need a few seconds, and with four guards as well as Matthew and Cristabella keeping a close eye on her, that wasn’t likely to be possible.
“I don’t know where home is,” she said softly. “I don’t remember anything beyond the last couple of weeks…”
But Cristabella’s sharp eyes didn’t falter. “Lying,” she purred, reaching out with one long finger to tilt Bethany’s face up to meet hers. “Come on, sweetheart. That innocent game might work on these men, but you’ll have to do better to fool me.”
Interesting. She kept her features deliberately blank, mind racing. But Cristabella was laughing, a musical sound, tossing her beautiful head back and letting her hair cascade down her back. Matthew was staring hungrily at her, and she offered him a brief glance, loaded with meaning. The heat between them was unmistakable. Then she looked back at Bethany, one eyebrow raised in lofty amusement.
“She’s worried now,” she purred, voice raised just loud enough to be heard by her audience — Matthew, Graham, and the four guards. “She wasn’t expecting me to be able to see through her lies. Come now, sister — you ought to know by now that witchcraft doesn’t work on witches.”
Her resolve cracked at that — her eyes widened a little, and Cristabella chucked, extending an arm to Matthew. He strode over to join her, an ugly light in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around her waist. His thick hand spread out like a pale spider on her hip, tugging at the tight fabric of her gown, and he leered at Bethany as he spoke.
“What’s the matter, little one? You weren’t expecting witch hunters to have a witch on staff? I suppose it’s a little surprising,” he said smugly. “After all, we’re supposed to be hunting down creatures like Cristabella, aren’t we? And we did, initially. We hunted her like a dog.”
Cristabella made a playful little barking sound at Matthew, and he grinned, squeezing her body close to his side.
“But she begged for mercy when we caught her. Said she could help us… offered to use her wicked powers for good, to help us bring down other witches. Her powers have really given us the edge.”
Bethany took a deep breath, thinking fast, wishing bitterly that she knew more about historical allegations of witchcraft and what they meant for people like Cristabella. Magic was real, she knew that from meeting her little niece, from being transported through time and space the way she had been… so it was possible that this was a real witch. But it was just as likely that Cristabella was just an unlucky woman who’d been accused of witchcraft… and had used nothing but her wits to take a position like the one she had here. Men were easily fooled, after all… basic intuition (like detecting that Bethany had been lying) would have been enough to fool them. Cristabella was clearly practiced at manipulation — the dress, the way she moved, the way she batted her eyes at Matthew, all of that pointed to a lot of skill in that area. But was Cristabella a real magic user, or just an opportunist? For now, Bethany had no way of knowing. So she stalled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, glancing up at Graham for help. Sure enough, he looked like a man in the grip of panic — he looked down at her, clearly completely at a loss for how to help her. At least he wasn’t ogling Cristabella like the rest of the men in the room, she thought with some amusement.
“Yes, you do,” Cristabella purred. “But that’s alright. We’ll have the truth out of you one way or another, won’t we?”
Graham’s jaw tightened. “This is my wife, Lady Cristabella. Addled by witchcraft as her mind may be, I won’t see her harmed.”
“Your wife, is she? How interesting,” the woman purred, turning those luminous eyes back to Bethany. “You lost her to a storm, didn’t you? A storm like this one… swept away down a river, never to be seen again. How convenient, that she would return to you on a night like this… just before you and your brothers were about to strike down the biggest hive of witches in Scotland. Isn’t that a surprising coincidence, Matthew?”
The ex-knight chuckled menacingly. “That’s just what I said, Cristabella. She’s been sent by the witches and no mistake. Can you tell what kind of spell they’ve laid on her?”
“Can you reverse it?” Graham said immediately, pressing forward hopefully. “If you can return her memory to her I know she’ll shake off whatever effects those witches have put on her —”
But Cristabella was raising her hand for silence. “Removing a spell is not as easy as taking a bandage from a wound,” she said sharply, an unmistakable air of menace in her voice… Bethany watched as Matthew and Graham recoiled from her, clearly intimidated. She had to marvel at Cristabella’s control of the room. It was an acting masterclass… especially if she didn’t, in fact, have any real powers to speak of. “Magic is… slippery, dark, powerful beyond your comprehension. I fight every day to stop its dark essence from claiming my soul, Matthew. You know how hard I fight.” She looked down, a sorrowful cast to her features.
“I know, Cristabella,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “You are so strong, to use Satan’s own powers for good…”
“I do my best,” she whispered, suddenly frail. Bethany was working hard to suppress a grin. It was abundantly clear to Bethany that this was pure showmanship — there was no real vulnerability here. But all of the men in the room were completely taken in by this sudden show of frailty. “I’ll need time… time to examine this woman. I’ll do my best to help her, but that’s all I can promise…”
“Of course,” Graham said gently.
Bethany felt a rush of exasperated affection for him. If he was that easily manipulated, no wonder he’d been taken in by his mother’s stories of the evil witches up at Castle MacClaran. But how was she going to get him back on her side? How was she going to explain to him that the magic at Castle MacClaran was good magic, not evil? That the women up there wanted to help people, not to harm them?
Cristabella was gazing into her eyes, and Bethany made herself focus on the here and now. It was all very well to think about the future… but that wouldn’t help her if this woman decided to have her tortured to death.
“Interesting,” Cristabella said softly. “I don’t think this woman has lost her memory at all… but there’s something strange about her, that’s for certain. She’s somewhere she shouldn’t be… somewhere unfamiliar to her, somewhere new and old at once…”
Bethany took a deep breath. That was eerily accurate… but at the same time, she knew a little bit about the tricks so-called ‘psychics’ used to kid their clients into believing they knew more than they actually did. Cold reading, that was what it was called. If you spoke vaguely enough, a willing audience would fill in the blanks. Of course something strange was going on… she was being held captive in a mercenary camp and interrogated by a woman who may or may not have been a witch. She forced herself to stay calm.
“She brought strange tools with her,” Matthew put in, gesturing at the table again. He was certainly interested in her gun, that was for sure, she thought with a stirring of amusement. Did he sense it was a weapon? She only hoped they wouldn’t do any damage to her phone, accidentally or on purpose. She was holding out hope that she’d be able to get the ph
one back to the MacClarans and show them the photos she’d taken of this camp before the battery died for good.
Or before she did…
“Interesting,” Cristabella said, giving Bethany one last, lingering look before she strode over to the table to scrutinize the gadgets. Her long-fingered hand scooped up the phone, and Bethany tensed, trying not to watch too closely for fear of giving herself away.
“I don’t know what that is,” Bethany lied, wanting to get Cristabella’s attention away from the phone. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible… this interrogation was about to get unpleasant. She’d been checking out the guards while Cristabella’s attention was taken by her phone, and she didn’t like the way they were looking at her. One of them was holding a black velvet pouch that made ominous clinking sounds when he moved it, and she had a suspicion it might be full of implements of torture. She’d been to a medieval museum as a child, which had a dedicated wing for torture devices… what she’d seen there had given her nightmares for months. And while she had a little bit of training in withstanding interrogation, she wasn’t interested at all in putting what she’d learned to the test.
“I think you do,” Cristabella said softly. But now she was holding the gun, and an idea occurred to Bethany. A reckless, dangerous idea… but an idea, nonetheless.
“I know what that is, though,” she said quickly, and she felt Graham stiffen in surprise at her side.
Matthew’s eyes were on her. “You said you didn’t,” he said suspiciously.
“I was frightened. I didn’t want you to think I was on the witches’ side,” she said, improvising. “But now I see that Cristabella was able to earn a role in your company, even though she uses magic… maybe you can do the same with me. Let me use what I’ve learned from the MacClaran witches to help you.”
Cristabella was staring at her thoughtfully — but the men seemed to have been taken in completely. Matthew was grinning, clearly pleased to have a new tool to use against his enemies, and while Graham didn’t exactly look happy, there was a hopeful look on his face regardless — a look that suggested a dawning hope that maybe he’d be able to keep his wife at his side. She felt a pang of real regret that that wasn’t going to be the case. She liked Graham… liked him a lot more than most men she’d met. But this wasn’t the kind of situation where she could allow her feelings to get in the way of her survival.
“They taught you to use this, did they?” Cristabella asked thoughtfully, staring down at the gun. It was clear she had no idea what it was… but Bethany wasn’t about to show her up in front of these men. In a strange way, they were allies. Cristabella needed to manipulate these men just as badly as she did.
“They did,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Let me show you.”
She just hoped this was going to work.
Chapter 14
Cristabella looked at her thoughtfully. “You’re willing to demonstrate such a tool?”
“Yes,” Bethany said quickly. “I know you recognize it, but for the benefit of these men…”
Cristabella nodded, and Bethany didn’t miss the quick flash of relief in her eyes. So she didn’t know everything… she may well have been a witch with real power, still, but she didn’t recognize a gun when she saw one. “Show them. Give them an idea of what we’re dealing with, up at the castle… and perhaps you can earn Matthew’s favor.”
Matthew nodded, clearly enjoying the position of power Bethany and Cristabella were allowing him to have over them. Bethany hesitated, giving Graham a quick glance as she fidgeted with her bound hands.
“To demonstrate, I’ll need my hands free…”
Graham glanced up at Matthew, clearly a little worried about releasing her without permission. His leader nodded magnanimously, giving a little flick of his hand to indicate his acceptance of these terms. The guards, though, all shifted, and Bethany could tell they were readying themselves in case something went wrong. Well, something was definitely about to go wrong… but standing six feet away around the walls of the tent wouldn’t help them do anything about it. She hoped they’d stay there.
Graham untied her hands, his fingers gentle against her wrists, and he gave her a tight, worried little smile as he stepped back with the rope in his hands. She massaged her wrists for a moment — Cristabella was looking at her intently, as were all of the men in the room, and she tried to make herself look as small and unassuming as possible as she walked up to the table and reached out with a trembling hand for her gun. She picked it up as awkwardly as she could, which almost made her laugh… this was a gun she could dismantle and reassemble with her eyes closed. There was nothing in the world that felt more familiar and comfortable to her than the worn grip of her service revolver… she held it deliberately awkwardly as she discretely checked that the safety catch was still on. It was loaded, she knew that much, and as she shifted the gun in her hands she flipped the safety switch off.
Protocol was never to point a loaded gun at a human being unless you had a clear intention to shoot them. The easiest way to demonstrate the lethality and power of the gun would be, of course, to shoot someone with it… but Bethany didn’t want to do that. These men might have been mercenaries, but they didn’t deserve an agonizing death by gunshot — and regardless of what the movies might have said, there were very few places you could shoot someone that wouldn’t result in a life-threatening injury.
“So,” she said softly, lifting the gun up and showing it to the assembled group. “This is a weapon.”
“What kind?”
She hesitated. The closest thing they had was probably a crossbow, so she settled on that. “It’s a little like a crossbow. It fires a metal projectile, very fast.”
“How?” Matthew demanded, stepping forwards into the line of fire — instinctively, she turned the muzzle of the gun away from him. “There’s no spring —”
A flare of irritation. Was she going to give these men a lesson in ballistics? “Magic,” she said simply, earning a hushed gasp from the assembled guards. “It fires by magic. It makes a terribly loud sound and fires a small pellet of metal that tears through flesh like …” She grabbed hold of the best metaphor she could. “Like a scythe through wheat.”
“Like a sling?” Matthew demanded, his eyes narrowed. “Slings aren’t that dangerous.”
“Much, much faster,” she said, gritting her teeth a little. “Look — let me show you. Graham, is there something here you don’t mind having destroyed?”
He shrugged. “There’s a broken chair I’ve been intending to use for firewood. Would that suffice?”
“Perfect.” She grinned in satisfaction as he pulled a battered chair over from the side of the tent. “I’d stay clear of it if I were you,” she said, her voice slipping into a slightly more authoritative tone than she’d intended — she caught Cristabella looking at her sharply and bit her lip. “I mean, just in case?” she added, letting her voice waver. “I’ve only seen them demonstrate this once and a lot of splinters went flying…”
“Step back,” Matthew said bossily, gesturing at the guards. “Graham — stay beside her, just in case.”
He nodded. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure he wasn’t going to get in her way, then took a deep breath, raising the gun and training it on the chair. Then she squeezed the trigger.
There was an explosion of sound. First, the familiar boom of the gun discharging, a lightning-fast crack of sound that seemed to whip through the tent. Almost simultaneously, the splintering of wood as the bullet hit the chair and sent it flying back across the floor of the tent, the wooden back destroyed by the impact. Then, the shouts of shock and awe from the guards and the men. Even Cristabella had recoiled in shock, her eyes wide with surprise — and when she looked over at Bethany, it was with a new look of respect on her face. Respect… and fear.
The sound had carried through the camp. She could hear bleary shouts from men roused from their sleep by the gunshot. The chaos in the tent was going t
o settle soon, she could tell — this was her chance to escape. But the guards were blocking the exit — and without giving herself time to think, she spun, grabbing Graham by the arm and yanking him forward with the gun pointed at his head.
He froze, his eyes full of shock as he looked down at her, and she shook off her feeling of guilt, taking control of the situation.
“Right. Now you know what this does,” she said, voice steely and sharp — the men fell silent at once. Old combat trick — there was a certain tone of voice that cut right through to the lizard brain and made people listen. “Imagine that chair is your colleague’s skull. Got me? Don’t try anything stupid,” she warned Graham, her voice hard. “You’re coming with me.”
“Okay, okay,” he said simply, lifting his hands the way she’d lifted hers earlier, when he and Adolf had had her at the point of a sword.
The guards were shifting restlessly, their hands on their swords — but she could tell they were far too frightened of the weapon in her hand to do anything, now that they’d seen what it was capable of. She kept her attention on Graham as she swiped her phone off the table, feeling relieved as she tucked it safely into her pocket. Cristabella and Matthew had drawn close together, and they were wearing identical expressions of fear and dismay — but Matthew’s face was twisted with rage as Bethany began to guide her new captive toward the door of the tent.
“You won’t get away with this, witch,” he snarled, his face a mask of hatred. “You’ll be on the list with all the others… we’ll tear you limb from limb when we capture you, and we’ll do it slowly.”
She ignored him — she’d heard worse threats before, and at any rate, her focus needed to be on getting out of the camp safely. The rain was coming down harder now as they stepped out of the tent — it was pitch dark, no moonlight to see by, but to her relief it seemed that nobody had bothered braving the rain to investigate the strange sound they’d heard. Did they believe it was her that had been responsible for the destruction of the chair, or the gun itself? Hopefully it was her — that would give her a little bit of time. She jabbed Graham in the small of his back with the gun and they set off moving toward the trees — the trees on the opposite side of the camp to the castle.
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 11
