9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (57 page)

Black Drayke backed away from her, then, drawing a deep
breath, he ran straight toward her like a frenzied animal, leaping at the wall
of solid magic. He slammed into the invisible barrier, bounced back, and wilted
to the floor like a deflated balloon.

Teeth clenched, he jumped up, snarling and snapping his
fangs.

Saylym waved her hand, removing the magical barrier, and
with a dainty flick of her wrist sent the athame flying through the air
straight at Black Drayke’s face. The tip was lined with rows of tiny, sharp
steel teeth. The athame halted a hair’s breadth from his right eye, the steel
tip so close, he could see the fine point quivering as it hovered there in the
air, steel teeth snapping like a rabid animal. Waiting. Threatening.

“I’m leaving, Black Drayke. I wouldn’t move if I were you,
not until I summon the athame back to me. It has a hex on it. It will stab you
through the eye if you so much as blink. It will pierce your brain if you move
a scant inch. If you try to touch it, it will bite off your hand.” She smiled,
her eyes rimmed with frost. “I promise you.”

“I’ll be there tonight,” he yelled, clenching his fists.
Frustration gnawed at him that she’d won this round, but he knew he didn’t dare
blink or move. “You cannot defeat the both of us. We’re a team, MeLora and I.”

Saylym arched a brow. “I hate to disillusion you, but I
don’t think MeLora’s much of a team player. For that matter, neither are you.
The two of you deserve each other and whatever curses you place on one
another.”

Black Drayke stared at where Saylym had been standing. The
witch had merely waved her hand and she’d vanished in a cloud of misty smoke.
In seconds, the athame flew through the air toward the cave’s entrance. He
released a shuddering breath and slid down onto the dirt floor, gulping in deep
drafts of air. His body shook with the force of his fury.

He would kill her. Given the chance, he would rip her
flesh off her bones one inch at a time. But at this moment, his confidence was
too shaken to go after her.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The
General Court of the colony created the Superior Court to try the remaining
witchcraft cases which took place in May, 1693. This time there were no
convictions.

~ Salem
Witch trials

November
25, 1692

Sanctuary

Saylym’s
entire body shook when she popped inside her home, athame in hand.

What
had just happened? She’d moved her hand, whispered the word, ‘Home’ and presto,
here she was, holding the athame. She slipped it inside its case and took in a
deep, ragged breath.

How
and what had just happened?

How
had she protected herself from whatever that bloody warlock had become?

How
had she known the hex for the athame?

The
thought to send it straight for his eye had just popped into her mind out of
nowhere.

She shook her head and finally admitted that there had
been two hexes; one to keep him from being aware she had the athame strapped to
her thigh when he was feeling beneath her skirt, and the other gave her the
power to send the athame flying straight for his eye.

It was just like before when she’d known to respond when
the statue compelled her. She’d known the chant to connect with Queen Shy-Ryn.
She’d just known. The certainty of that knowledge straightened her shoulders,
grounded her in truth. She
knew.

Somewhere, deep within her soul, the knowledge had been
there forever.

She’d just never remembered that she knew, until now.

Memories
raced through her. They mixed with the terror congealing in her gut.

A
battle brewed, a war of magical skills, and the very idea of it terrified her.
What if she failed? Her proficiency in the use of magic was chaotic and limited
at best. She was learning, but she wasn’t fully prepared, and she knew it.

Suddenly
the hairs on the back her neck lifted. The air in the room stilled. Even the
pendulum on the clock stopped swinging. From out of nowhere, two tomes dropped
onto her sofa.

Saylym stared blankly at the over-sized books. What in the
bloody hell?

“Don’t
just stand there. Open us, stupid!”

Saylym
jumped back. Magic or no magic, witch or no witch, she was never going to get
used to things talking to her that weren’t supposed to talk to her!

She swallowed and took a wary step toward the first book.
Silver eyes with swirls of violet fastened on her. The matching faces had
chubby baby cheeks, and tiny, rosebud lips that twisted into identical
half-smiles. Her sons. The smiles looked so sweet, Saylym could have wept, if
she could still weep, that is.

“Hello, Mother. I’m Markuz, your firstborn son.” His gaze
turned to the second book. “That’s Grey-Gori, my twin and your second-born.
We’re here to help you with your magic.”

“Hi,
Mother!” Grey-Gori chirped. “Just call me Grey. Grey-Gori is such a mouthful.
Don’t you agree?”

Saylym
gasped and nodded. “Yes. I shall call you Grey.” She realized this wasn’t
really her sons, but a way for them to communicate with her. But they sounded
real, their babyish voices adorable. She smiled. Happiness flooded her battered
heart. “Hello, my boys.”

The
first book seemed to arch a disgruntled brow at her, and the face looked so
much like Talon’s, Saylym laughed. “You are your father’s son, that’s for
certain.”

“Yours
as well, Mother,” Markuz replied.

“Ye Olde Book of
Truthe,”
Saylym read aloud. “Well, that you get from me. I’m not so sure
your father knows about truth.”

“He knows, Mother,” Grey-Gori argued in an endearing
voice. “I am the seeker of all truths.”

Saylym
eyed the second book.
“Ye Olde Book of
Justice.”

Markuz nodded what might have been his head, if a head
really filled the cover of the book. “That would be me, Mother. Now, let’s get
down to business.”

By
six o’clock, Saylym was ready to fling her arms in the air and surrender to her
baby sons. She was never going to get this business of magic down. She’d broken
out every window in the house with mis-directed bolts of energy. There wasn’t a
piece of furniture left that didn’t duck, run, or scream when she came near it.
And the entire time, she could hear her sons whooping, whistling, and cheering
her on, as if she was truly performing awesome feats of magic, instead of
bungling almost everything she attempted.

By the time she dressed, it was nearly seven o’clock, but
she’d decided to play her role to the hilt. She wasn’t about to face MeLora
looking washed-out, drab, or like a drowned rat. Not like she’d looked last
time. Mumbling some words, she conjured up a short-skirted, black velvet dress
with a scalloped neckline and thin straps. Elbow-length, black evening gloves
fitted her like—well, like gloves. Around her right wrist a diamond bracelet
glittered.

At the last moment, she waved a hand over her hair and
changed the color to a soft, sable brown. No one was going to call her a ball
of blonde fluff again, not when everything depended on the outcome of this
battle.

Nerves quivering, she left the house, a wobbling bowl of
gelatin. Although the tomes had vanished as quickly as they’d appeared, her
sons were still sending waves of love, warmth, and support. They assured her
she looked divine.

Because it was early spring, the evening sunlight had
already given over to the approaching gloom. It left the small town of
Sanctuary in shadows that the old-fashioned street lights couldn’t dispel. The
darkness crept in, slow and ominous. Saylym shivered, and suddenly remembered
something her birth mother had once said, “Shadows are a bad omen.”

She paused, recalling that voice. The gentleness. The
sound of her laughter. “Mum,” she whispered. “I didn’t even know I missed you.”

She shrugged off the sorrow. She didn’t have time for
self-pity, but she made a silent promise that wherever Elsbeth was, she’d find
her.

Spring’s chilly fingers reached out, requiring everyone to
either wear or carry a cloak. As Saylym made her way past Eldora’s cottage, she
wondered where the seemingly harmless old lady was. Eldora missed very little,
so maybe she was at the town square already. She hoped so. She had a lot to
discuss with this cunning, manipulative old crone.

Biting
her lip, Saylym shook her head, hesitating as she neared the town square. The
somberness of the large crowd standing at the edges of the boardwalks brought
Saylym to a knee-jerking halt. She couldn’t see over the crowd, but the low,
disturbing murmurs of discontent caused her stomach to clench with fear.

“Look, that’s MeLora at the king’s side,” someone said
with disbelief. “I haven’t seen her in centuries. What’s going on? Where’s
Queen Helayne? She’d never stand for this.”

Saylym pushed her way through the throng until she stood
near the edge of the square and had a better view of what was taking place.
Eldora stood across the street, waving frantically at her. She gave a sigh of
relief and crossed over to where the old crone stood waiting.

“Whew! What a gathering.” Eldora sounded breathless.
“Don’t you look pretty, but you’re hardly dressed for a battle, my child.”

“Yes, I am.”

Eldora grinned. “Yes, perhaps you are. I never thought I’d
ever live to see the day a prince would be put on public display to be
whipped.” A frowned creased the old lady’s forehead. “Nothing good can come of
this I tell you.”

“Why is MeLora with the king? She’s—” Saylym shuddered as
a gust of pure malevolence flowed from the king’s consort, “—evil.”

An
odd look crossed Eldora’s face as she slanted a quizzical eye at Saylym. “You
don’t want to tangle with that one, honey. She’s bad through and through.
Always was. Took after her daddy, she did. Pure evil.”

Eldora
suddenly gasped as her gaze locked on the emeralds embedded in Saylym’s
fingernails. “Oh, baby,” she said tenderly, holding Saylym’s hands up and
taking a closer look at the brilliant stones. “It’s happened. The first
transference has taken place.” She squeezed her eyes tightly, fighting tears.
“I knew the time was drawing near. MeLora’s your cousin, Angelmine, but an
extremely dangerous—”

“Angelmine?”
Saylym arched an eyebrow. “Thank you,
Mum, for confirming who you really are.”

“Mum?” The old woman’s voice cracked as she gave a
startled laugh. “You know by now I’m not your mother. You were barely two years
of age when I took you for my daughter.” Anxiety filled Eldora’s eyes. She
hesitated, then said quietly, “I knew this day was bound to come, but I’m not
ready for it.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I was a member of
the Circle of Three Royal Coven, one of Queen Shy-Ryn’s most trusted Ladies of
the Black Illuminati. The queen sent me, along with two others, to Elsbeth’s home.
We were each to take a child, remove you from the violence there and in Salem,
and take you to safety. We did what we thought was best at the time for
everyone involved.”

Saylym pressed a kiss to Eldora’s cheek. “You may not have
given birth to me, but you’re the only Mum I’ve ever known or can remember.
You’re the best. I love you with every piece of my heart.”

Eldora sniffed and dabbed at the non-existent tears. “Oh,
child, you’ve been such a joy for me. I was afraid you’d never forgive me for
taking you from your mother. She was in no shape to care for any of you. Not
only was she seriously wounded, but she was—”

“What?” Saylym asked, curious.

“I’m not at liberty to say. I regret Elsbeth missed out on
the joys of seeing you grow into the beautiful woman you’ve become.”

Saylym
shrugged. It was probably nothing important anyway, so she buried Eldora’s
comment. “You know where my birth mother is buried?”

Eldora shook her head. “No. No one knows Elsbeth’s resting
place. She was buried after Queen Shy-Ryn’s capture and the witches that buried
her were all burned at the stake. The information died with them.”

Saylym
nodded and forced herself to ask the question, “Did you use your powers to make
me want to come here?”

Had the only Mum she’d ever known betrayed her by sending
her to a dangerous world and to a man who had deceived her almost unto death?
If so, she knew her heart and her soul would have a hard time getting over yet
another betrayal.

“No, Angelmine. It was part of the spell cast over you
long ago. Once your powers started to return, the curse would lead you to all
things magical. It would guide you to Sanctuary.”

“I
suppose it was magic that allowed me to phone you in England, when it’s so
obvious to me now, that there aren’t phones here.”

Eldora
snickered. “Of course. Forgive the small deception for your benefit. You needed
to know you could talk to me. Magic exists everywhere, but especially here.”

Saylym
looked at her through narrowed eyes. “As I recall, I was supposed to be cutting
the apron strings and making my own way.”

“You
always were too damn smart,” Eldora muttered.

“Mum?”

Tongue in cheek, Eldora gave a low cackle. “Oh, all right!
I just couldn’t toss you into Sanctuary and leave you floundering with no
understanding of what was happening to you. It was forbidden for me to
interfere or try to aid you. Besides, a witch has to learn to harness her magic
herself. No one can teach her.”

Saylym
cleared her throat and glared at Eldora.

“Yes,
well, you’re still a baby.”

“Mum!”

Eldora gave a weary sigh. “Your history, heritage and
memories were all replaced. Everything about you was erased from the archives.
You were not allowed the awareness of the passage of time.”