9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (47 page)

Talon
covered her mouth with his and breathed the words into her lungs. The
whooshing
of Flaymes enveloped them, nearly catching him off-guard with their sudden
appearance. He threw up a wall of magic to protect them.

Saylym’s terrified screams filled the enclosed area as the
roaring Flaymes rose around them in a solid wall. Heat licked at them, curled
around them, attempting to smash through the barrier of magic, attempting to
rip the mating pair apart. A ritualistic testing, a challenge thrust upon the couple
as a whole.

Talon moaned as he held tightly to Saylym. Shit. Where was
the bloody enthrallment that was supposed to protect them from the knowledge of
what was happening? Once the Flaymes erupted around them, they shouldn’t have
known what was happening, but they did, and the agonizing pain whipped through
them mercilessly.

Abruptly,
Saylym’s slender body vibrated like a tuning fork. Her eyes rolled back in her
head, and she went limp in his arms. Talon stared down into her colorless face,
stunned. His lips parted, but he discovered no words came to mind. His chest
heaved with terror. His heart clenched with a sudden realization that shattered
his soul.

His
mate wasn’t breathing!

There was no rise or fall of her chest. He touched her
throat with trembling fingers. No pulse was visible or palpable. No warmth
touched him. Her skin felt icy. Waxy. Devoid of life.

Talon
threw back his head and roared his grief. She was dead. He’d killed her. She’d
died in his arms because of him. The arms that held her against her will,
forced a bonding ritual on her.

A heavy, crushing pain weighted his chest, smashing his
defenses. His heart splintered into slivers of blood-red agony. Tears rained
down his face. A cloud of grief poured over him and Talon shook with the force
of his deep sobs.

He pressed her face against his bare chest and rocked, his
body shaking as though a fever burned through him. Her head lolled to one side,
as lifeless as a wilted flower.

What
had he done?

Talon
bowed his head and cursed the gods, the goddesses, Katch, the Guild and his
father.

But
he discovered he could blame no one but himself.

He
was the one who’d destroyed her.

Most
of all, he cursed himself as he lowered his head, the silken curtain of his
dark hair closing around them as he wept.

Chapter
Thirty

Martha Corey, Mary Easty,
Alice Parker, Ann Pudeator, Dorcas Hoar, and Mary Bradbury were tried and
condemned. Eighty-year old Giles Corey refused to stand trial. The Court of
Oyer and Terminer ordered the sheriff to pile rocks on him.

~Mary Bradbury

“I do plead not guilty. I am
wholly innocent of such wickedness.”

~Salem Witch Trials

 
September 9-16, 1692

Sanctuary

The
first fingers of dawn crept across the sky of Sanctuary, promising another
warm, spring day. Topaz sat outside the closet door from which Celine refused
to emerge.

They’d
reached a stalemate.

He
wanted her. Damn it, he loved the stubborn puss.

But
she didn’t want or need him. She scorned him for being an Alley. Well, by the
gods, he was an Alley Cat. She had no problem telling him, loud and clear, just
how much she hated him. He’d brought her the fattest, juiciest rats he could
find from Eldora’s house.

Celine
tossed every one of them back in his face with an indignant,
“Humph.
How dare you serve me plain, ordinary
house rats! I’ve never eaten a common rat in my life!”

If he insisted on feeding her, then she wanted rats from
the palace. Royal rats! The fat, juicy ones from the dungeons, the red ones
with the white curly tails, those were her favorite and the only ones that
would do.

Man,
was he in the doghouse. He’d never even seen a red rat, let alone one with a
white curly tail. For certain he wasn’t getting a piece of that pussy until he
won her heart.

Topaz wiped the sweat off his brow. Celine’s low opinion
of him cut to the bone. She was the number one love interest in his life. He
had no intention of losing her. She’d be his mate no matter what he had to do
to win her heart.

So if Celine wanted fat, juicy, red rats with white curly
tails from the palace dundgeon, so be it. “All right, Toots,” he shouted
through the door. “I’m going to the palace. I’ll bring you back a sack full of
fat, juicy rats. I’ve put a spell over the house, so don’t try to escape or
you’ll get zapped with power bolts.”

He glanced over his shoulders to the sound of Celine
opening the closet door. She peeped around the edge of the door at him.

“It might take me a couple of days to fill a sack. You
just rest, cupcake, until I return. I’ll find you the best rats available.”

Topaz
left, his steps high. A pleased grin played at his mouth. He planned on keeping
his little Persian busy for the next few years raising his kits–that is, if he
ever managed to mate with her. He hummed beneath his breath. Quietly, he
mumbled a low chant. In an instant, he was outside the palace walls in Droth.

His
Persian. He’d fallen for her in the second it took his heart to go from one
beat to the next. With her in his life, his life would be full and rich. For
sure, she’d keep him on his toes, so to speak. He couldn’t wait to give her a
batch of kits. The idea of making pretty little girl kits with her that looked
just like his sweet Celine thrilled him to his soul. The thought of becoming a
daddy felt pretty damn good, too.

In the meantime, he’d hunt and stock up on rats. By the
time he finished with Celine, they’d need the food for energy. He licked his
lips. Most likely he’d have to stalk her. Again, she’d probably play hard to
get, but it was all an act to keep him interested, and he’d be careful not to
make such a quick leap next time.

Stalking the hot Persian was fun. He enjoyed the chase.

But game time was nearly over. He wanted her. His sweet
Celine had run out of time.

“I
feel good. So good. I’m gonna nail yo-ou.”

* * * *

Droth

Black
Drayke left Queen Helayne’s chambers for the second morning in a row. He paused
just outside the door and rubbed his aching balls. Why was his lust to mate so
damned unquenchable? His body ached. His cock throbbed. Still, he was pleased
with the hours he’d just spent with Helayne. He felt like smacking his lips
with the pleasure, instead, he allowed a smug smile to curve his lips. He
wouldn’t be returning to the queen’s chamber.

After
two nights of torture, there wasn’t much fight left in her. He’d made certain
of that. It pleased him to know he’d left her there in her chambers, suffering.
Of course, MeLora would be furious with him. He shrugged. Ah well, he felt
great anyway.

Regardless, he’d accomplished what he set out to do, and
something he hadn’t anticipated, still, he was finished with the queen. He
snickered as he progressed down the hall. Ah, it felt damned good to gloat.

Of
course, the atrocities he’d committed on Helayne went a long way in making him
feel this smug superiority and satisfaction, even if the acts were all done
through the demon that presently lived inside him. At last he felt somewhat
avenged against Talon for costing him his teaching position at the academy.

And
he’d had a damned good time obtaining his revenge.

He
snickered, remembering the horror that flashed in Helayne’s bruised eyes as he
sipped at her soul. Kallibus hadn’t approved of all the things he did to
Helayne, but since the demon couldn’t detach his body from his at this time, the
demon had to remain silent.

For the first time in his life, Black Drayke indulged
his
every whim, every fantasy, with
Helayne. She’d eventually stopped struggling against his dining on her spirit.
Once she became passive, he lost interest.

MeLora, the cold, conniving bitch, had outmaneuvered him
and taken up residence in the palace. She had moved into the east wing and King
Darak settled in the quarters with her. The king hadn’t left her side, except
to consult with the guild, which MeLora now sought to control.

He wanted to blast the ancients into the universe and
blame it on Talon, but it seemed as if MeLora had put a halt to his schemes and
had made new plans that no longer included him.

First chance he got, he would cast her soul into oblivion,
so far it would never find its way back to her body.

Black
Drayke swore. Yesterday, he’d discovered a magical wall MeLora had somehow
thrown up to protect the entire east wing, the guild, and the council chambers.
He’d been searching for MeLora to complete his revenge when he’d inadvertently
run into the wall, so hard it’d knocked him on his ass. For some reason, he
couldn’t penetrate her spell and break it.

He
couldn’t believe MeLora was capable of thwarting him.

Where
would she get such powers? Probably the wizard had concocted something for her.

But
he would find a way around her Black Magick.

There
was no way a witch could outdo him, at least, not one he’d allow to live and
tell the tale. Black Drayke grinned, his thoughts returning to Helayne. He
whistled softly as he strolled down the wide hall, savoring the knowledge he’d
broken something Talon loved. He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, yes,” he
hissed between his teeth. “I’ve definitely ruined forever something the prince
dearly loves.”

And
he wasn’t finished.

He
suspected Talon had never before become emotionally involved with a witch, had
never produced children, because he’d known Black Drayke was a threat and would
somehow find a way to destroy anything he loved.

“I
hate him.”

His
goal to see that the
waken
suffered would soon be fulfilled.

Black Drayke glanced around the wide corridor, realizing
there was no color left in his vision. Everything was black, now. Black walls.
Black ceiling. Blacker floor.

Even sunlight couldn’t penetrate his field of ebony
vision. The lights from the many-tiered chandeliers overhead glowed like darkly
sinister beings.

His body was completely demonic now. Fully developed wings
lay beneath his shirt, neatly tucked in place. The inside of his mouth ached,
sore and tender from the force of the razor sharp fangs stabbing through his
gums. His cock weighed heavily, thick and broad.

He
snickered when he thought how Helayne had fought and tried desperately to
scream. She couldn’t escape his teeth. He’d ripped her flesh from the bone,
nipping at her like a hungry piranha. It pleased him to know her body bore
hundreds of his bite marks.

He
licked his lips. Her flesh tasted nearly as delicious as her soul.

He
didn’t care if one of the many guards saw him now as he moved down the
corridors. He was unstoppable. Power and magic
zipped
through his body,
creating little bursts of static electricity that shimmered around him like a
bright halo. Magick. So much magick–streamlined power, pure energy at its most
formidable, and it was all his. Just let Talon come for him. Oh, yes. He wanted
the prince to make a move against him. He looked forward to the confrontation.
The second greatest pleasure in his life was going to be in blasting the
younger heir to Droth to another plane.

He’d
rip Talon’s heart out with his fangs and eat it.

Last night, before coming to the palace, he’d swallowed
the last vial of potion Wizard Marcelo had concocted for him. As he drank the
bitter drops, he’d pulled the wizard toward him with nothing but the strength
from the crackling sparks flying from his fingertips.

“What
are you doing?” Wizard Marcelo croaked, terror in his ancient eyes. “Stop it!”

“You
are
nothing
, old man, nothing but a witness who has become a liability.”

The
stunned surprise on the wizard’s wrinkled face was priceless. Then he’d sucked
the magical power from the useless wizard. To take care of the withered
remains, he’d simply snapped his fingers and burned the remaining shell to a
crisp.

Now it was time to leave the palace. He slowly descended
the Grand Staircase and walked out the wide double doors. No guards stopped
him, because there were no guards left alive patrolling the outer rims of the
palace. He walked over and around the charred bodies that lay scattered upon
the palace grounds like blackened lumps of coal.

He really must make an effort to locate Captain Koran T.
The good captain just seemed to have disappeared from the palace and Droth,
leaving it vulnerable to all types of unsavory events, but he couldn’t hide
forever.

He’d never thought the man a coward.

Drayke grinned. Soon, the captain would taste a real
warlock’s revenge.

Chapter Thirty-One

Margaret Scott, Wilmott Redd,
Samuel Wardwell, Mary Parker, Elsbeth Faulkner, Rebecca Eames, Ann Foster, Mary
Lacy, and Elizabeth Hobbs were tried and condemned.

~Salem Witch Trials

September 17, 1692

Sanctuary

“No.
No,”
Talon shouted. Saylym remained
still, lifeless. He stood bent over her, silently praying to the gods to spare
her. As soon as the wall of Flaymes died away, he’d released her. It hadn’t
made a difference. She remained just as pale, just as cold and just as dead.