9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (59 page)

Saylym whirled to face the podium where the royal couple
was now seated. Everyone held their breaths, waiting for their ruler to pardon
his son.

King Darak shifted closer to MeLora. She whispered in his
ears. He nodded and held up his hands to the crowd. “The ex-
waken
,
Talon, of Droth, father unknown, shall be given twenty lashes with the
Char-Flum-Rope
as directed by your new queen, MeLora.”

“Twenty lashes,” someone yelled in disbelief.

“He can’t survive ten lashes, let alone twenty,” another
shouted.

“He’s your son. A prince,” someone else yelled in anger.

King Darak frowned. “He is not my son or a prince, but an
imposter his whoring mother laid at my feet! He will be punished for her
deception and his show of disrespect for my new queen!”

The crowd rumbled its anger and disbelief.

“We have to free him,” Sage choked.

“No
. I
have to free Talon.” Saylym abruptly whipped
away from Sage and took off to the middle of the street. The crowd parted for
her, acknowledging the power she herself was just beginning to grasp.

“Hey, where ya goin?’” Sage called.

Saylym kept right on walking, ignoring Sage’s cry.

“Where’s she goin?’” He turned to Eldora. “She’s making
herself a target. She can’t do that—can she?”

Eldora shrugged. “Get that stupid eye-patch off so you can
see what’s happening.”

Sage
swore softly and jerked off the patch. “I forgot I’d put it on.”

“Uh-huh.”

Right before his eyes, Eldora’s features softened and
changed into that of a middle-aged woman. “Holy
sheeahta!
You’re not an old crone anymore.”

“What
was your first clue?”

“Dinka help with rescue, too. Have fun saving the day.” The
frog stuck her little nose over the top of Sage’s shirt pocket. “Want to help.”

“Dinka,”
Sage growled, “stay down and out of sight. That witch will blast you into
another dimension.”

“Humph.
Dinka not scared of floozy witch MeLora!”

“Well, I am. So stay down.” Sage cleared his throat as he
turned his attention to Saylym. He frowned as he saw her cup her stomach in a
protective gesture. He turned back to Eldora. “Two of the little guys? Double
Talons? All right! I’ve heard twins are common in the mortal world. Guess some
of what we’ve been told about
our
history isn’t exactly accurate. Twins!
I’m going to be an uncle!”

“I
thought you are Talon’s cousin?” Eldora said, sounding confused.

“Cousin?
Uncle? What the hell? I’ll be like an uncle to the little tykes,” Sage
declared, a sheepish grin on his face. “Twins. I can’t believe it.”

“MeLora
Winslow,” Saylym shouted.

Sage
and Eldora both groaned.

“She’s
going to get herself killed,” Sage said.

Eldora
nodded. “Perhaps. We shall see.”

The
crowd went absolutely still at Saylym’s unbridled nerve.

“She
one brave witch,” Dinka said. “I bet she fight like wild tiger.”

MeLora rose and faced the young witch standing in the
street. A smirk twisted her lips. She spread her hands on her hips and laughed.
“Why, Saylym, darling, what have you done to your hair? And you’re all dressed
up for a party. Did you lose something? Like a mate? And it’s Haven. I changed
my name.”

MeLora
turned her back on Saylym, the ultimate insult to one bearing royal blood.

“Good,”
Saylym yelled. “The Winslow name’s too damned good for the likes of you!”

“Start
the flogging!” MeLora ordered the royal guards, ignoring Saylym’s comment.

“Don’t
you dare touch the prince,” Saylym screamed at the guards. Her attention was
caught by Talon struggling to get free of the chains.

“Saylym.”

She
flinched. His voice sounded like a croaking frog. His lips moved, but his words
were swallowed by the noise of the crowd. She moved closer to the podium,
eyeing the king. The man was like a zombie seated upon his throne. He stared
vacantly into space, his eyes dark and empty.

“Leave
here,” Talon croaked.

“She’s hexed your father,” Saylym said as she finally
pushed her way through the crowd to the podium where Talon stood. “Are you all
right?” Her words were quiet, for his ears alone.

Talon
dipped his head in a brief nod. “You’re endangering our sons,” he said between
clenched teeth. “You have no right to risk their lives. Get out of here!”

Saylym
arched a brow. “So you know about the babes? You want them?”

“Don’t
be absurd. Of course, I know about them, I’m a
waken
.
Wakens
know
these things. And yes, I want them with all my heart. Do…you?”

She
looked down, slid a palm across her stomach. “Yes.” Looking back up, she stared
at Talon. “Our sons will need their father. I’m not leaving you here to die.” Saylym
tried to hide the hurt she felt. Talon might want his sons, but he hadn’t said
anything about wanting her.

“Don’t
turn your back on her. She’s evil,” he said abruptly.

Saylym
hesitated at the hot rage in the greenish-gold depths of her husband’s eyes.

“She’s
related to you,” he said. “I thought for awhile you and she planned this
together, but I realized you couldn’t do such a thing.”

“No,”
Saylym replied. “And yes, we are cousins. I had no idea I even had a cousin.”

“She and Black Drayke contrived to murder my mother and
seize control of the crown.”

Saylym
tilted her chin, aware of the hurt washing over her face. “How could you
believe, even for a moment, that I’d do something so evil? I swear to you I had
no idea of their plans. But allow me to return the favor. Were you involved in
the conspiracy to terminate my soul?” Because she already knew the answer, she
turned away before he could reply. Unfortunately, in turning her back on him,
she also turned her back on MeLora.

Talon
swore. “Don’t turn your back on her,” he yelled.

Rage stirred within Saylym. She whipped around. She was
furious with her husband, and he was damn well going to have to crawl to win
her back. She felt like putting a hex on him, changing him into a jackass,
maybe.

Still, she’d heard the pain in his voice at the loss of
his mother. He’d voiced concern for her, his mate, despite his suspicions. Damn
it. Against all reason, she loved this man. She didn’t know if she could ever
forgive him for the lies he’d told her or the things he’d done to her without
her consent, but she still loved him.

Maybe after he did a lot of begging she’d forgive him. He
belonged to her, and by the gods, as Talon was fond of saying; no one else was
going to harm him.

But how was she going to free him from those damnable
chains?

She reached for a chant, but could find none. Instead, she
felt the weight of invisible shackles around her wrists and arms. She shook her
hands instinctively. The chains binding Talon dissolved, freeing him. She
turned and walked away from him.

Saylym glanced over her shoulder at the crowd’s gasp, and
saw Talon, free and unfettered, tumble on to his rear. She smiled. Now that was
totally cool, in so many ways.

MeLora
shrieked with outrage and raced toward Saylym. She halted a few feet away from
Saylym, swept her arms in a circular motion and drew a ball of fire into her
hands. She flung the flaming ball straight at Saylym’s back.

“Look
out,” Talon warned.

Saylym
twisted around, an eyebrow arching at the speeding fireball.

Sage shouted a warning as well. He leaped toward her,
grabbing her and shoving her behind him, blocking the ball of flames.

The crackling and snapping of electrical energy rent the
air, terrible in its power. The flaming sphere slammed into Sage’s chest,
knocking him backward into Saylym. They both crashed to the hard ground.

Saylym wiggled her way from underneath Sage’s still body.
“Sage!”

Her bottom lip quivered. Sage didn’t move or open his
eyes. A blackened circle of smoke spiraled upward from a gaping hole in the
center of his chest. A low groan slipped past his blistered and charcoaled
lips. He clutched his heart, his big body quivering.

“Had to save you,” he whispered. “You…and…the little
ones.”

Swirling
red, blue, and silver lights circled overhead, surrounding him, whirling faster
and faster, until the air sizzled with intense heat. Chains of white-hot
electricity crackled and popped. Then a loud
whoosh
exploded, and Sage
vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Sage,”
Saylym screamed. “Sage!”

“Don’t
child, he’s gone,” Eldora said sadly.

Saylym
doubled over, consumed with grief. She knew this cousin was dear to her mate.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“He is no more,” MeLora announced and threw back her head,
laughing deeply in her throat. A fanatical gleam lit her dark eyes as she
abruptly flung a second fireball. It blazed a fiery path toward Saylym’s head.

Saylym had only a fraction of a second to react. She flung
up her hands, fingers pointing out. Emerald mist blasted from her fingertips,
freezing the fireball in mid-air. It crashed to the ground and shattered into
thousands of pieces of sparkling ice chips.

“Ahhhh!”
spilled
from the awe-struck crowd.

Talon tried to stand up, but he staggered, too drained of
his powers even to stand up straight. MeLora whipped around and blasted him
with an electrical current. Talon jerked, groaning as the burning charges hit
him smack in the chest. His knees buckled and folded out from under him. He
collapsed back upon the podium like a bag of wet cement.

“You
bitch!” Saylym flung a bolt of fiery energy toward MeLora. Screaming, MeLora
whirled and ran, hunkering down behind the king and his throne. The burst of
energy slammed into King Darak, knocking him off the throne. He fell near
Talon, his eyes closed, a trickle of blood spilling down his chin.

“Dad!”
Talon crawled toward his father.

“Don’t
touch him,” Saylym screamed.

MeLora
jumped up, flinging bolt after bolt of electrical spears at Saylym.

Saylym
flinched as one of the spears struck her shoulder, searing her skin. She
staggered back and fell on her butt.

For one despairing moment, for one hideous
eternity-stretching instant in time, she yielded to the belief of others. She
was indeed a bungler of magic. She couldn’t win this battle.

“Saylym,” called Talon, agony in his voice, not for
himself, but for her. “You’re a witch, sweetheart. A royal witch. Get up off
your ass and fight! I believe in you! Believe in yourself!”

She
nodded, drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She did believe in herself. Not
because of his words, or his sudden faith in her, but because of the power that
budded, then blossomed, flowering inside her.

Saylym rose to her feet, ignoring the raw ache burning her
arm. She was not a bungler. She was a witch. A royal witch. And that bloody
Wicked Witch of the West had better start praying for a bucket of water.

Concentrating all her energy on where MeLora stood, Saylym
let an icy smile settle on her lips. The tingle started in the pit of her
belly. It traveled up her spine and into her brain, building and building. Her
body trembled. She felt the vibrations escaping through her fingertips and her
toes. Around her, the wind howled, gathered in strength, so strong it nearly
knocked her over as it rushed toward her.

The ground beneath her feet moved, buckled inward, and
then belched upward, before settling back in place to roll beneath her feet
like a giant tidal wave.

A
deafening crack of thunder boomed. Saylym held up her arms and loudly chanted.

“I
call on the Powers of the Earth, Moon, Sun, and Stars.

I
call on the Elements of Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.

To
all witches who have passed and those yet to come.

Hear
me, come to me, help me drive this blade home.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I having six children and
having little or nothing to subsist on and being closely confined can see no
otherwayes but we shall perish. Therefore may it please your Excellencye your
poor and humble petition’r doe humbly beggye to take it into yo’r pious and
Judicious consideration that some speedy course may be taken w’th me for my
releasement that I and my children perish not.

Petition:

~Elizabeth Faulkner, Sr.

Salem Prison

December 3, 1692

Sanctuary

Saylym
balanced the athame in the palm of her hand. Slowly, she released her hold and
the blade hovered in the air, anxious to do her bidding. She whispered a
command and the athame flew straight at MeLora, spinning end over end until it
reached its target. The blade buried deep in the evil witch’s shoulder, the
hilt vibrating from the intense force of the blade piercing bone.

MeLora screamed. She clawed at the hilt, wrenched the
dagger free, and tossed it at Saylym, cursing at the younger witch.

Saylym held her ground. When the athame drew close, she
reached out her hands and blasted the knife with frosty ice from her
fingertips. The athame froze in mid-air. Saylym grasped the blade, and gently
blew on it. The ice melted and dripped to the ground. “Next time I’ll send it
straight through your black heart,” Saylym said quietly. “You do not rule here,
MeLora
Haven.
You will never reign here. Take your leave or die!”

*
* * *

Suddenly the slow,
whump-whump-whump
of heavy wings
flapping filled the night sky. Black Drayke hovered above them, a giant
monstrosity in the heavens, raised from the pits of Hell. His face morphed into
the evil, grotesque mask of a gargoyle.