9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (25 page)

~Dorcas
Hoar

“I will speak
the truth as long as I live.”

~ Salem Witch Trials

 
May 2, 1692

Page Entry…

Kran disappeared before All
Hallows’ Eve. His name was struck from the family record, from history. He was
never seen or heard from again. No one cared enough to ask questions,
especially Queen Shy-Ryn, when a consolation gift arrived for her.

The coven gave their queen a
beautiful black stallion. She smiled her pleasure but said nothing, other than
to give the command for the stallion to be gelded immediately. It was said the stud
screamed in agony while the procedure was accomplished with a dull knife.

The months ahead lay before
the queen like a black cloud. Her pregnancy was fraught with illness those five
months before she was delivered of her babe.

Poor child, it wasn’t the
babe’s fault she’d been conceived in such violence and in such a shameful,
incestuous manner, but the beloved queen could not bring herself to gaze upon
the beautiful, black-haired baby girl. She refused to suckle the child, nor
would she hold her. In her own words, she declared the babe an abomination.

Months
went by before she finally asked the name the babe had chosen–MeLora–And gods
help us, we’d all live to regret the day that child was ever conceived.

~Pages of history from the
Winslow witches.

In the Year of Samhain, 1555

Ru-Noc

Droth

City of the wakens

Black
Drayke clenched his fists and swore viciously. He wanted to kill that damned
wizard for taking so long to perfect the potions he’d ordered. But at last,
he’d collected the potion and made his way to the palace grounds where he
waited for the right moment to make his move.

Most of all, he wanted to throttle MeLora. He detested the
cold-hearted, conniving bitch.

His scheme to sneak into the palace and take control of
Queen Helayne had been delayed, therefore, delaying MeLora. They both had to
wait on Wizard Marcelo and his unstable concoctions, spending time they could
not afford to lose, time that left them vulnerable and at risk of someone
discovering their plans to overthrow the king and queen.

It was a delay that tended to make the both of them
nervous and irritable.

It also deepened their suspicions of one another.

At the moment, his one desire was to drain MeLora’s spirit
from her lush body in the most painful way he could conceive. How he hated that
witch. She was in his way, now.

No one got in his way.

His tolerance of her was at an all time low. MeLora had
played him for centuries, dragging him deeper and deeper into the world of the
Black Arts. He had been willing enough. He liked the dark world, liked the
powers it gave him.

Choosing the dark realm came naturally for him. He’d first
sampled the Black Arts when he tied his mother to a stake and set her afire
then blamed Queen Leyla for the dirty deed. Eventually, he would have done the
same thing to Zoman and Kran, but the coven had beaten him to both of them.
Before he was done, he’d have the pleasure of watching Talon burn at the stake
as well.

The day he’d found MeLora in the woods waiting for her
illumrof
lover, he'd known she was somehow different from other witches. Her powers were
strong for one so young. The aroma of her mating scent tantalized his body and
drew him to her. She was young to be so ripe and fertile. He’d grinned as his
cock swelled against his pants. He wanted her.

Even
though she’d fought him, in the end, their mating had turned more playful than
brutal.

He threw back his head laughing, knowing instantly she’d
conceived. MeLora was furious when he assured her their mating had resulted in
a son. She accused him of ruining her plans. He hadn’t known what her plans
were, nor did he care.

Pulling
free of her body, he cocked a brow at her. “Carry on with your schemes, my
sweet. You’ve given me a good ride but I have no further use for you.”

Livid bruises colored her throat and breasts where he left
his mark upon her flesh. He curled his top lip and looked her over with
distaste. “Let your human lover see you now, after you’ve lain with me. My
scent covers your body and my seed creams your thighs. You think he will not
realize another has been inside you?”

She
screeched, calling him names he didn’t recognize.

He
laughed and left her sprawled inelegantly on the quilt.

Centuries
passed before they met again. Their second mating was just as powerful and
intense as their first and it resulted in a second child between them.

Although he didn’t ask, she told him she had named their
son, their firstborn, Trad. He was surprised she’d even bothered to give the
babe a name. He knew MeLora had little use for a child and when the boy turned
five, she’d deserted him, leaving him in the mortal realm to fend for himself.
MeLora placed a hex on their second child, a girl, and left her, unnamed, on
the doorstep of strangers. She had no idea what became of either babe and like
him, didn’t care.

The third child she conceived was also a girl, and again,
MeLora couldn’t be bothered with a name. Instead, after placing a spell on the
babe, she’d dumped her in the woods, not caring if the child survived or not.

Black
Drayke swore beneath his breath. Now, MeLora was like a shadow, following him
wherever he went. She appeared, watching him like that damned
Bawk
of
Prince Stry’s. He hadn’t had a single second to escape to Sanctuary and track
down Saylym Winslow.

Ah,
but he would. Just as soon as he took care of Queen Helayne and MeLora, Saylym
was next on his list of witches to do.

Saylym.
He licked his lips, savoring the taste of her name on his tongue. He knew he
was good at deception. Sneakiness was his forte.

He
slunk in and out of the shadows, gliding and blending with shrubs and bushes in
the blackness of the night as he prowled the palace grounds.

Like a malevolent spider, he remained undetected, waiting
for his unsuspecting prey. He waited for just the right moment to make his
kill, to ensnare his victim in his ever-tightening web. He waited and watched,
impatient for the Captain of the Guards to return to his post at the far corner
wall of the palace.

At last, he had a moment to mull over his plans, and savor
them. The witching hour drew nigh and he was ready to invade the palace and
conquer the queen. He snickered. He would be on the queen so fast she wouldn’t
know what hit her.

His thoughts returned to MeLora.

Deep
in his gut, he felt certain the witch spied on him. He shrugged it off. So
what? There was nothing she could do to him. He was a powerful warlock, she a
puny witch. But there was something about her that unnerved him.

Better to kill her and take Saylym for his mate. He
snorted. He could easily intimidate the bungling witch. He strongly doubted the
Winslow witch was of royal blood, but MeLora knew things he didn’t. He couldn’t
discard the possibility or the opportunity to breed a royal-blooded witch. The
powers he would gain from such a union would make him invincible.

The necessity to set his plans in motion grew darker and
increasingly urgent with every chant of Black Magick he uttered. To succeed, he
required more power. MeLora could not supply that power. Saylym could, if she
was what MeLora believed her to be.

Having deliberately chosen Captain Koran T to possess, he
waited impatiently in the cold night air for the opportunity to strike. The
captain had the authority to enter the palace without arousing suspicion or
being stopped by the inner guards stationed within the palace.

And the captain’s attractive face appealed to female
witches of all ages. Koran T was a handsome young
waken
and the younger
witches tittered around him at every opportunity. Even though witches freely
offered the use of their bodies during Beltane, it was also rumored that the
waken
showed a remarkable lack of interest.

The captain was tall, muscular, and took his duties as
Captain of the Guards revoltingly seriously. As a no-nonsense
waken
who
rarely smiled, Captain Koran T had a reputation for being hot-tempered, but
fair to the
wakens
under his command.

He
was what was known in the witch world as a
Pink
.

Most
wakens
possessed dark skin, dark hair, and had eyes that were the
deeper, richer shades of semi-precious stones. The striations appeared only at
Beltane or during mating and varied from
waken
to
waken
.

Koran
T’s eyes were an unusual shade of ice blue with the palest hint of pink around
the iris. The blue and pink pigments were so pale, his eyes were nearly
colorless. His hair was a shade of blond as to be almost white, and it lay
across his shoulders like white-gold. It was extremely rare to see a
waken
with this coloring and fairness and it indicated a stained bloodline.

Reputed to be as tough as nails, the captain had acquired
a reputation for being dangerous if provoked. He wasn’t a
waken
one
wanted to tangle with, unless one managed to catch him off-guard and made him
defenseless.

That
was going to be hard to do.

Black
Drayke waited, lurking in the shadows, plotting to catch Koran T off-guard and
inhabit his rugged body.

But
the good captain had been away from his post for the better part of an hour and
it didn’t appear he was going to return any time soon.

Black Drayke swore violently as his frustration mounted.
All his plans now depended on the captain being at his post tonight. When he
inhabited Captain Koran T’s body, he’d tell him a thing or two about remaining
where he was assigned.

Black Drayke snarled and muttered beneath his breath. What
in the name of the gods’ kind of captain deserted his post?

What
kind of protection was that for the king and queen?

Ah, the poor King. Even now, MeLora was inside the palace.
At this very moment, she was most likely weaving her Black Magick around King
Darak.

His smile turned cold. MeLora was good at Black Magick.
MeLora was good at many things, but not good enough to be the mother of the
future king. He was glad he’d understood this before it was too late. Now that
the wizard had come through with his potions, all his plans could be realized.

Black Drayke paced in the shadows and threw venomous looks
at the palace, but at this moment, his hands might as well have been tied
behind his back. He could not get past the posted guards or their keen magic,
and nor could he enter the queen’s chambers as Black Drayke.

Where
in hell was Captain Koran T?

* * * *

Captain Koran T stood at attention before King Darak and
Queen Helayne in their private chambers. He choked back the angry snarl he felt
like emitting. He couldn’t very well rage at the royal couple.

Instead, he eyed the king with a mixture of curiosity and
a certain amount of caution. He’d worked his way up the ranks to get where he
was, ignoring the frequent remarks about his bloodline. He hadn’t lost his
temper then and he had no intention of losing it, or his position, now. So he
listened to the king outline his plan and reined in the need to knock King
Darak on his royal ass.

When the king finally grew silent, he gave a slight nod
and asked, “Why me, Your Majesty?”

King Darak met the Captain of his Guard’s pale eyes with a
level look. “Because my sons are away on assignment. For their continued
safety, there was no choice but to get them out of Droth before all hell breaks
loose. That leaves you, Captain. You’re the only other man I trust with my
daughter’s safety.”

Koran T felt color heat his face at the royal compliment.
“You want me to escort Princess Kali here for the Beltane season? To the
palace, Sire?”

Darak’s brows snapped together in a frown. “Absolutely
not! Under no circumstances are you to bring my daughter to the palace. Not
until you have received word from me personally that all is well. You will
escort her to Valerian’s castle and remain there with her until further
notice.”

Koran T’s ice-blue eyes widened, the pink striations
darkening with shock. “You want me to take her to the
illumrof
world?
And stay at a vampire’s lair?”

He couldn’t hide his incredulity, but more shocking was
the fact that the king had ordered him to remain with the princess. Alone. Just
the two of them. At Beltane.

“Valerian
would never harm Kali,” the queen said softly. “He’s aware of your pending
arrival and has readied the west end of the castle for your occupancy.”

And
what about me?
My blood is tainted with the sins of my forefathers.

He
could very well harm Kali.

“But…it’s
rising Beltane,” Koran T said hoarsely.

No!
He couldn’t do this. They couldn’t ask this of him. They had to be crazy
ordering him to spend an unspecified amount of time alone with their very
beautiful, but unpredictable daughter. He-he…he knew what he’d do, and he’d end
up with his head served to the king and queen. Sonofabitch!

“Believe us, Captain, we’re very aware of the season,” the
king replied dryly.

Inwardly,
Koran T squirmed. Did he have a choice in the matter? He barely kept from
snorting. Not likely. He was under royal command. The gods save him, because
for certain, he couldn’t save himself. Either way, he was a dead man.

He couldn’t keep the ice from his voice. “I’m sure you’re
both aware the princess isn’t going to like me removing her from the academy.
She isn’t likely to make it easy.”