9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (61 page)

Talon
drew her to his side and held her close. “When I make love to you again,” he
whispered against her ear, “it won’t be like before. It’s the bonding ritual
that made it so painful for you,
La-Scheme
and the power of your magic.
It won’t hurt next time. I swear.”

And
he silently promised himself it wouldn’t. He’d do whatever it took to make
certain her body accepted his with ease. He slid his fingers over the emeralds
embedded on her nails. “Those are…
sheeahta!
You went down there, after me telling you not to. Saylym, I swear—”

She placed a hand across his mouth silencing him. “She
summoned me. I could do nothing but obey her command.”

He
nodded his understanding. “Can you restore my power? My magic?”

“I can do that,” she said with confidence.

“Will you?”

“I will.”

And he knew she was telling him many things in those two
simple words. She was granting him a second chance and this time he would not
fail her.

Talon’s breath caught in his throat in a little hitch. “I
have no idea what has become of the ancients or my mother. The kingdom is rocky
with a king who no longer has control of his own mind. Ru-Noc will collapse
under MeLora’s reign. My people are in turmoil, afraid for their future, and
all I can think is thank Samhain I have you.” He stroked the emeralds. “I want
to hear about these. I want to know about Queen Shy-Ryn and the powers you’ve
acquired.”

With a soft growl, Saylym tugged him closer and stroked
his cheek. A secret smile curved her lips. “Well, once upon a time, in the Land
of Witches, Wizards, and
Wakens
, there was this powerful witch queen…”

Epilogue

Governor
Phips pardons the remaining accused of witchcraft.

~Mary Easty

“. . .if it be possible no
more innocent blood be shed…

. . .I am clear of this sin.”

~ Salem Witch Trials

May, 1693

Ru-Noc

Droth

City of wakens

In
the palace at Droth, a gilt-framed mirror exploded, sending thousands of tiny
pieces of mirrored glass across the chamber. Behind the jagged shards of
mirrored glass, Helayne crumpled to the floor in a crushed heap.

For
a long moment, she lay there gasping, the bruises on her battered face and body
throbbing painfully. It hurt too much to move. Her hands hung useless at her
sides. Splinters of exposed bone poked through her skin. It would take years to
heal.

Slowly, painfully, she crawled across the floor, using her
arms to drag herself up to the bed. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and
upper lip. Her broken body screamed in silent agony, a scream only she could
hear or feel.

The bedding, the entire chamber, carried the sweaty scent
of stale sex. Black Drayke’s odor lingered on her body. Helayne turned her head
and vomited onto the floor. Her body trembled wildly, shaking with rage and
hatred.

How
had she escaped the prison of the mirror?

Something
had broken the magical spell, but what?

He wasn’t dead. She could still feel Black Drayke’s power
humming through her body. No, he wasn’t dead, but he was too weak to hold the
enthrallment over the mirror and keep her prisoner. What could have weakened
him so?

Black
Drayke would never have freed her. He derived too much satisfaction tormenting
her. She sobbed, her chest heaving with the force of her unshed tears. Shame
washed over her. It spread, until she wanted to scream with the humiliation and
the unfairness of it all. Her life, her world, had been destroyed by Black
Drayke and his evil cunning. She couldn’t bear thinking how his body had taken
hers. She’d tried so hard to fight him but he was so much stronger.

Bitter grief struck its powerful fist to her heart. She’d
lost her mate to another woman. With no warning and no time to fight for what
was rightfully hers, she’d lost Darak. The image of him kissing that woman, and
the fact he’d enjoyed it, would haunt her for the rest of her days.

He’d turned his back on her and deliberately handed
her
over to Black Drayke.

That was something she’d never forgive or forget. Her mate
standing there laughing the second night when Black Drayke forced her inside
the bedchambers was a picture burned into brain. Darak hadn’t cared what Black
Drayke intended to do to her.

Black Drayke, forcing himself on her, worse than a
monster, spilling his seed inside her.

Even now it grew.

Helayne
retched at the thought of the abomination Black Drayke had planted in her womb.
She wanted the babe out of her. She’d rather Black Drayke had killed her than
left his seed rooting in her belly.

She
would never forget the shock on his face when he impregnated her. He hadn’t had
a clue she was fertile. Afterward, he’d thrown back his head and laughed at
what he’d done to her. “Oh, my dear, what an unexpected bonus. You conceived.
Whose seed ripened your womb? Mine…or the demon’s? I claim the child. My son.
How very stunning,” he whispered. “Well, I simply can’t steal your soul now. I
want the entire kingdom of Ru-Noc to know I fucked you. How they will scorn
you, their perfect queen, a whore who spread her legs for two males at once.”

She
didn’t know if she carried warlock or demon, but no matter, she did not want
this child. Slowly, she slid her arm across her stomach. The babe nestled
inside her womb reached for her. Helayne jerked her arm back, clenching her
teeth at the agonizing pain that slammed into her. She couldn’t risk carrying
that monster’s child. Merciful Samhain. She’d couldn’t give birth to Black
Drayke’s son. A son.

The child moved, silently crying for her, reaching for her
again and again. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t bring herself to assure it
of her love. She
couldn’t.
Not now. Not ever.

Helayne curled into a tight ball on the bed and let her
heart weep its silent tears. It took her a moment to realize that a faint,
gentle flutter touched her face. It touched her as though puzzled. Then the
faint quiver seemed to caress her heart. It bathed her with purity and
sweetness.

Helayne gasped, jerking back, but the soft, butterfly-like
fluttering continued, offering her comfort, flooding her with warmth.

The
child.

The
babe.

A strangled laugh filled with wonder escaped her. The babe
was comforting her?

How could something that came from Black Drayke’s evil, be
good? Gentle? Caring?

Yet
she knew the child had a pure soul. Her son. This was her son, but who was the
father? Black Drayke? Kallibus? Her baby, the son of a demon or a warlock?
Whichever, he’d dwell in a cold, hostile world. No one would ever love him, not
even her. She knew in her heart that she couldn’t. The child had been conceived
in violence, forced on her. No, she’d never love him.

But
he was hers and hers alone. She’d keep him, raise him, and one day, she’d exact
her revenge.

Helayne wept deeply for the losses in her life. Her
children. Talon had seen the
image
of her
.
He believed her dead.
She’d rather allow her children to believe this than have them see her heavy
with Black Drayke’s seed, or even the demon’s seed.

She tried desperately to ignore the tiny life reaching for
her, but she couldn’t. Even as she shuddered, she placed her arm protectively
across her stomach assuring it she would be all right.

There were black day’s ahead, blacker years. But if it was
the last thing she ever did, she swore she would bear this child and set him on
MeLora’s and Darak’s child. She would die before she would ever allow MeLora’s
son to take the throne from Stry.

Helayne pushed herself off the bed, whispering soothing
words, reassuring the babe that his future would be filled with greatness, just
as Black Drayke planned. “You shall be called Cynner,” she said.

But
now, she had to escape, secure a safe haven for her and her son. Talon believed
her dead. Let him continue to believe that.

Let
them all believe her dead.

Chanting softly, Helayne vanished from the royal chambers.
But one day, she’d return. She’d return with Cyn, and there’d be hell to pay.

She’d
have her revenge.

One
day…

To Be Continued

Author’s Note

As a means to move the story
along and instill the tragedy of the female witches brought near the brink of
extinction in Witch’s Brew, I took great liberty in the number of accused
witches and the number of deaths that actually occurred during the Salem Witchcraft
Trials of 1692. In reality, a single death was too great a number for such
superstition and greed.

By the time the hysteria had
spent itself, twenty-four people had died, nineteen were hanged on Gallows Hill
in Salem Town, but some died in prison.

Giles Corey at first pleaded
not guilty to charges of witchcraft, but subsequently refused to stand trial. This
refusal meant he could not be convicted legally. However, his examiners chose
to subject him to interrogation by the placing of stone weights on his body.
How very sad that this eighty-year old man survived this brutal torture for two
days before dying.

In 1706 Ann Putnam, Jr. asked
the congregation for forgiveness for her involvement with the Salem witch
trials.

GLOSSARY FROM THE WINSLOW WITCHES OF
SALEM

ANZUS GEVO
-
DIVINE GIFT

ARK TREES
-
A TYPE OF OAK TREE

AZREL
-
STIMULANT FOR MALE DEMONS

BAVAR ROOT
-
A BLACK SHRUB/BUSH

BAVAR ROOT
SOUP
- BLACK SOUP MADE FROM THE BAVAR ROOT SHRUB/BUSH

BAWK
-
A RARE BIRD, HALF-HAWK, HALF-BAT

BELTANE
-WITCHES
MATING SEASON

BLACK
SLUMBER
-
SLEEP
OF THE DEAD

BESOM
-
WITCH’S BROOM

CHANGELING-
A
NEWLY TURNED VAMPIRED, USUALLY A HUMAN THAT’S BEEN CHANGED.

CHAR-FLUM-ROPE
-
A FLAMING WHIP USED TO PUNISH THE WITCHES/WAKENS

CHOCCO
-
CHOCOLATE

CONTAINER
UNITS
- CELLS FOR HOLDING SOULS AND/ OR BODIES

COPSTER
-
POLICE

CORMEL
-
CARMEL

CROWNING
-
THE PRIME STATE OF BEING FOR
A MALE VAMPIRE WHEN HE’S READY TO FIND A MATE.

DISIAC
-
A PREPARATION FLUID TO PREPARE A FEMALE FOR SEX WITH AN UNDERWORLD GOD.

EL-LOY EGG
-
AN EAGLE’S EGG

ENFORCER
AGENT
-
SECRET AGENT

FEMMA-LENE
-
FEMALE

FIREBON
LIONS
- MAGICAL, STUDLY LIONS THAT DWELL IN THE UNDERWORLD

FIRST
BRIDE
-
THE
MOST IMPORTANT CHOSEN BRIDE OF A VAMPIRE TO BE THE MOTHER OF HIS OFFSPRING.

FUTHAR
-
THE PROPER NAME FOR THE FAMILIAR RACE

FUTZ-FUZZY
-
FUCK FUZZY

FYDE-FARZ
-
SHIT

GRUBO
WRESTLER
- AN OVERWEIGHT WARLOCK WRESTLER

GRUBIT
-
A RABBIT

HANDFAST
-
MARRIAGE

JABBER
ENGINE JETSKEY
-
A
MAGICAL HIGH-POWERED ENGINE ATTACHED TO A BESOM

JUKEY
-
A FORM OF CATNIP DRUG, HIGHLY ADDICTIVE LIKE OPIUM

JUNUS VINE
-
A STRONG VINE WITH THE ABILITY TO COME TO LIFE AND WRAP AROUND YOU.

KYDOR
-
THE GREAT SALT PLAINS ON RU-NOC

ILLUMROF
-
MORTAL/HUMAN

IMPURE
-
HALF-HUMAN, HALF-WITCH

IMAGE
-A
LOOK-ALIKE

INFERITLUS
-
A VIRUS THAT LEAVES A WITCH STERILE

ISH-CROM
-
ICE CREAM

KIERAN
-
SWEETHEART

KNOCKROOT
-
A CERTAIN TYPE OF TREE ROOT FROM THE KNOCKROOT FAMILY

LA-SCHEME
-
DARLING

LEETH
-
THE HEAVY URGE TO SLEEP

LOBSTROID
-
LOBSTER