Heart of the Witch (39 page)

Kayne's face.

But she also remembered something else. She had not been the only person hanged for their crimes. The execution was carried out three days after the trial—and her mother shared the scaffold with her. Not for witchcraft, but for the murder of her daughter's accuser.

Moved by the memory of her mother's love, Ravyn experienced a spike of regret. How had she never remembered that detail before? Maybe knowing how her mother had once loved her would have helped repair their current relationship. But it was too late for that now. She needed to concentrate on one other detail, the detail that could perhaps save Nick's life. She had to remember how her mother had killed Kayne.

She opened her eyes and gasped. Nick was lying facedown on the floor, his hands pressed against the ground as he struggled to stand, even though he was slipping in his own blood. Anguish ripped at her gut, formed a tight band around her heart and throat, almost as if the noose was, at this very moment, tightening around her neck.

"Nick!" She spoke, but it was no more than a whisper. He couldn't hear her, just as she couldn't help him. Not unless she could remember—and even then, would it be possible to save him? Would the instrument of Kayne's death be a means at their disposal?

Think, Ravyn, think!

In her mind's eye, her mother was standing on the platform next to her, billowing gray skirts flapping in the wind, a smile for the daughter by whose side she would perish, love shining in her beautiful blue eyes. But Ravyn had to remember more, had to remember it all, had to know how Kayne had been killed.

A shattering noise broke into her thoughts, and she raised her eyes to see Nick sliding down the wall beneath a broken window. Kayne stood over him, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, an unholy smile spread across his features. Then another image superimposed over the one in front of Ravyn's eyes: Kayne of long ago, lying in a pool of blood, a jagged shard of glass protruding from his chest.

She couldn't have seen this! She'd been in jail at the time! And yet she knew this was how Kayne had died.

"Nick!"

Her voice was stronger now, but she didn't think he heard. He sat slumped on the floor against the wall, his head lolling on his chest, eyes closed. Was he dead? She struggled against her bindings, but it was no use. They were too tight. She couldn't free herself, couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as…

Suddenly, a sensation came over her, and she realized she no longer felt the effects of the drugs Kayne had given her. Somehow, they were wearing off! Was it her concern for Nick, her love for him, creating a magic that overcame all? Just as her grandmother suggested. And Kayne was so intent on his destruction of Nick that he didn't notice.

Although her arms were bound, Ravyn was able to lift her fingers enough to point toward the shattered window above Nick's head. Clenching her teeth, concentrating with all her might, she willed the current to move through her, willed the power to return, at least for this one act. She felt a tingle and almost giggled with relief. She could do this!

Kayne towered over Nick's prone form, hands on hips, a look of delight on his face. "You're finished, mortal. After the transformation, you die." He let his head fall back. Eyes closed, he began to speak, the words pouring out of him in an insanely fervent litany. "O mighty Darkness, I beseech thee. I seek another soul. I will you to transform it from this feeble husk…"

Ravyn felt the tingle of magic grow into a current in her veins, and blue flame charged from her fingertips. A particularly lethal-looking shard of glass jutted from a piece of the barn's wooden window frame. The makeshift weapon shook loose and fell to the floor next to Nick's splayed hand.

"Nick!" she shouted, hoping to rouse him enough that he could fight back, end Kayne's life, save himself. But he didn't move.

"Nick," she tried again, this time her voice a shriek of hopeless agony.

Kayne stopped speaking, opening his eyes and turning to her. "It's over. Soon you'll be mine and he will be vanquished. Accept it, my love. You are mine."

"I hope you rot in hell," she spat.

Kayne started to say something, but his words were cut off by a groan from Nick. Kayne looked down at him. "What was that? Are you trying to say a few last words? I suppose I can give you that."

Kayne crouched in front of Nick, hands dangling between his knees. The loincloth bulged. He reached out and slapped Nick on the side of the face, then cupped a hand behind his own ear. "Speak, mortal. This will be your last chance."

Ravyn couldn't hear the words, but she saw a look of amused confusion cross Kayne's face. "Say that again, you pathetic excuse for a man. I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

"I said"—Nick's voice was suddenly loud and strong as he opened his eyes and raised his bloodied face toward Kayne—"you should have worn more clothes!" And with that Nick brought his weapon up and into Kayne's unprotected groin. As he pulled it back out, Kayne roared and fell backward, his face twisted in pained surprise. Although she could see that the shard of glass had sliced Nick's hand, he didn't appear to notice. Seemingly imbued with renewed energy, Nick pounced on Kayne and drove the jagged glass into his chest. His enemy grunted, then fell still. Kayne was dead.

Ravyn closed her eyes, let her head fall back in relief. It was finally over.

Nick stood over Kayne's body, breathing heavily. There wasn't a part of him that didn't throb with stabbing pain, but he felt more elated, more alive than he had in years. He'd won! Ravyn was free!

He turned, but the smile on his face died as quickly as it had appeared. A coil of ropes lay like a discarded pile of snakes on the floor where Ravyn had stood. The space was empty.

He walked slowly to where she'd been only moments before, taking his time. Perhaps, miraculously, when he reached the spot, she would reappear… ?

It didn't happen. She was gone. He dropped to his knees and scooped the ropes up in his hands, his physical pain a mere twinge compared to the agony ripping through his heart.

"Ravyn!" The cry tore from him, echoing in the now-quiet room. He looked around wildly, as if hoping she'd just been playing a trick on him, an inappropriate and badly timed game of hide-and-seek. But she was completely, irrevocably, gone.

Tears fell, mingling with his blood to form a pinkish brine that dripped onto the dusty floor. His victory was hollow at best. He'd beaten Kayne, only to lose the woman he loved.

Ravyn opened her eyes and looked around, then frowned in confusion. The last thing she remembered was confronting Kayne, and now she was lying on her living-room floor. The room was dark, in wavering shadow.

She rose and rested her elbows on her knees, dropping her head into her hands. How had she gotten back home? What had happened with Kayne? She tugged on her hair, as if that could pull the memory from her mind.

She'd tracked the Tin Man to his basement. That high school girl—he'd intended to kill her. The picture of his mother, the suicide. She remembered all those things, and that when Kayne had called to her, she'd gone to a barn. She'd tried to trick him, but… She lifted a hand to her neck. She remembered a noose, then nothing.

What had he done to her? Slowly she stood and looked down at herself. Her clothing was a tattered mess. Red spatters marred the white of her blouse. Blood. She lifted her fingers to her lips. They were puffy, painful. But she couldn't recall exactly how it had happened.

She turned on a light, then went upstairs and took a shower, tossing away her shredded clothing and putting on a burgundy robe. She was blow-drying her hair when, over the noise of the dryer, she heard someone pounding on the front door.

Shutting off the dryer, she headed down the stairs. Halfway to the door, the pounding increased, and she heard a man shouting her name. She looked through the peephole and saw him leaning with his palms against the door. He was a mortal, tall with dark hair. She couldn't see his face well because his head was bowed, but she didn't know him. She was sure of it. He looked as if he'd been in an accident or a fight—a one-sided fight, where he'd been the loser. His dark blue shirt was spattered with blood.

"Who is it?" she asked through the closed door.

His body tensed for a split second; then he relaxed. He tilted his head back and she got a better view of his battered face. It was worse than she'd first thought.

"Ravyn?" He smiled, and the smile was incongruous with his pulverized face. "Thank God! It's Nick. Please. Let me in."

"I'm sorry. I don't know you. You need to leave."

The smile vanished from his face and he squeezed his eyes closed. "Ravyn. Please. Let me in and I'll explain. You
do
know me."

She let out a loud breath and said, "Listen, you need to leave right now, or I'll call the cops."

"No, you won't." One side of his mouth twisted in a grin. "You don't even like cops. Just let me in for five minutes, and after I've told you what I've come to say, I'll leave. I promise." He held up three fingers like a Boy Scout.

"No," she said firmly. "Just go away. I'm not interested in anything you have to say." Why was she even standing at the door arguing with this lunatic? If she ignored him, he'd eventually give up. She started to turn, but his next words caused her to freeze.

"Not even if it's about Kayne?"

She hesitated just a moment before whirling back and jerking the door open. If he meant to harm her, it wasn't like she was helpless. She stood back and let him pass, and when they were both inside she shut the door and turned to face him, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. "What do you know about him?" she demanded.

"I know about Kayne, about Haleck…" And then, more quietly, "About Sorina. For God's sake, Ravyn. It's Nick. Don't tell me he won and you can't remember."

Closer up, the stranger looked even worse. His face was bruised, his lips swollen and cut. One eye was a bloodred and vibrant blue slit. The other was uninjured. The blue iris glittered at her like the surface of a sun-dappled ocean.

She clenched her teeth and said, "I don't know you, and I don't know how the hell you know me. But what do you know about Kayne? Where is he?"

"He's dead."

"How?"

He sighed and moved closer to her. "I killed him. With your help. Not even an hour ago. And just before that, you told me you loved me."

She shook her head. "You're insane."

"Maybe. Because I know what you are, and it's like nothing I've ever seen, like nothing I've ever known. Nonetheless, I'm willing to risk it."

"You know that I'm—"

"A witch? Yes. I only recently found out, and I'll admit it's hard to accept, but I was just engaged in a battle to the death with another witch to save you, so I pretty much have to accept it. Kayne said you'd be spared but would forget me. I didn't believe him, because I have to believe that our love is stronger than any curse. How can this world exist if the forces of darkness are stronger than love? I don't think I want to live in that sort of place." He gripped her arms and pulled her close, searching her face with his gaze. "You have to remember."