Awakenings (A Witch's Coven Novel Book 1) (14 page)

“We will be fine tonight. The danger has passed.” I closed my eyes and tried to fight back the wave of emotion that came over me. “Maybe it would be good to tell you a story. It would get my mind off of things, and then I could convince you to go back to bed sooner so that we both could get some rest.”

“I would like to help you, but I can’t if you won’t share with me what’s wrong.” Alessia did not take her hand from mine. “I want to return the favor. I might be young and can’t do much, but I can listen. And right now, I think you need someone to listen to you.” She pulled her hand from mine and crossed her legs. “What else is there to do with all this snow?”

I gave in and said, “Alright, you’ve beaten me down. I’ll tell you what’s on my mind. I expect you’ll have lots of questions, but, for now, I’m tired. I ask that what I share with you stay with you. It’s private.”

Alessia held out her hand. “Do you want me to swear to you and bond it with a spell?”

I shook my weary head. “No, I trust you. We don’t need magic to bind us. We only need our words.” I settled into my chair and thought it best to show her. But words were failing me tonight, and I might become too emotional. The swirl of the snow enveloped us, and the fire faded away. The room changed, grew, and I transported her back to the beginning, showing her my story with illusion and light. What she would think of me, I did not know, but she was right. I did need someone to listen to me. It would help, not much at first, but enough that would give me the strength that I needed to go on.

***

After the night that I spent with Charles, I did not see Stephen for a long time. The harshness of winter returned, slamming the city with snow, ice, and then bitterly cold temperatures. We women were happy though, because the war had also frozen to a halt. No more injured soldiers returned from the front and, with nearly all the eligible men already at war, the city settled into a more practical routine. I would wake early, help the remaining injured soldiers in the morning, do my chores throughout the day, and after sundown we would do our best to entertain and care for the soldiers before bed.

Denise would keep me company, and together we would sing. I had a decent voice, but Denise’s could bring men to tears. Instead of singing the sorrowful songs of yesteryear, we made up little skits. Our songs helped the recuperating soldiers forget about their troubles for a few minutes, and after a few weeks we became the draw of the local neighborhood. In the great hall, we would set up on a makeshift stage, and our house lord invited in the locals. Our job was simple. We would entertain the audience and make them forget about the winter and the war. But still after several more weeks, winter dragged on, but I still had no sign of Stephen. I did not know where he stayed, and I even tried his family home. I could not find him.

During the winter Festival of the Scales in which we celebrated the beginning of spring, Denise and I had a scheduled performance set in our local theater. We worked hard on our act, practicing our routine. It passed the time and also helped us focus on the future and hope. Denise had been given a beautiful blue dress, and I helped her the night before the show.

We finished our work for the day and rushed over to the theater to prepare for the night’s performance. We were one of several acts to go on that night, and the plan was for us to close out the show. I fixed Denise’s hair, and I watched her in the mirror’s reflection.

“You look radiant tonight. I expect that you’ll have the city at your feet after tonight’s performance.” I combed out her hair and saw that she did not smile. “If I were you, I’d take any offers of employment thrown at me after this evening. Rumor has it that there will be several traveling companies coming to see us tonight. With your looks and voice, you’re going to steal the show.”

She smiled politely, but there was no life in it. “Thank you. I’m just feeling a bit sad tonight. I wish …”

Denise let the words linger and glanced away so I could only see her profile. I kept combing her hair and replied, “Maybe he will hear your song through magic. Your songs will fly through the air on the wings of birds and comfort him at the front.”

“Cameron used to love hearing me sing. Late at night, I would sing softly in his room, and a great smile always crossed his face.” Denise forgot for a moment that he was at the front and became lost in her memory.

“Why don’t we both pretend that both Stephen and Cameron are in the audience tonight? It could be a playful game, and no one would know. It’s a foolish thing, but it might help us to deal with our loss.” I finished with Denise’s hair and then stepped back. “What do you think?”

“I think you did a fantastic job on my hair, but I think you’re crazy to be so worried over Stephen.” She turned around and faced me. “If he loves Charles so much, he should be happy for him that he’s found love with you. Let him go and move on. You’re wasting too much of your worry on him.”

I sat down in the chair next to Denise and sighed. “He was a good friend, and I miss him.”

“How good of a friend was he to desert you so? To punish you by not being with you during the war and helping with the soldiers tells me much.” Denise added a little touch of rouge to her cheeks and then brushed some color onto her lips. She looked radiant.

“I took away any chance of hope he had that he and Charles would be together. Even if it was just an imaginary hope he kept inside, I dispelled any illusions.” I borrowed some rouge from Denise and added a bit on my cheekbones. “I just miss him.”

“What does Charles say about the whole thing?” Denise smiled into the mirror and blotted the color on her lips by pursing her lips on a cloth.

“He doesn’t know that Stephen ever liked him, and I’m not going to say anything. I’ve only seen Charles twice since that night, and he’s having his own problems. I don’t wish to burden him with mine.” I stood up and heard a knock on our door.

A young girl opened the door and said, “The show is about to begin.”

She left before we could respond to her, rushing off to the other rooms to tell the other performers that they needed to head to the stage. I took Denise’s hand in mine and squeezed her hand.

“I’m nervous. I’ve never played to such a large audience before.” I took a deep breath and then slowly let the air out, trying to relax. It helped, but not enough.

“Being nervous is a good sign. It’ll keep both of us on our toes.” Denise took my other hand and faced me. “We’re going to be fantastic tonight. Let’s have fun and give everyone a good time. In the morning, people’s problems will still be there, but for tonight, let’s make everyone forget for a while. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” I squeezed her hands once more for luck, and then together we left our tiny room.

We walked through the hallway together and passed by some of the other performers. A juggler and his brother were on stage, getting a good laugh from the audience. They juggled cucumbers and eggplants, pretending to stick them into various orifices in their body. When they’d force one into a pretend hole, they’d try another in a different slot and out would pop the first one. The younger brother held his head in his hands and ran around the stage, trying to pick up the fallen vegetables. He would juggle them and then toss them over to his brother, who would try to store one away and another one would fall out. The speed at which they juggled and the skill they had helped entice the crowd to cheer them along. The audience began clapping to quicken the pace and the brothers kept up until they fell down in a heap on the stage.

The crowd cheered and a few pieces of copper were thrown at them in tribute as well as a few flowers. The brothers collected the coins and bowed. I held onto Denise’s hand and squeezed it. We were on next. When the brothers finished, a jester tumbled up onto the stage to announce us. He faced the audience and bowed to them. He took off his hat with several bells sewn in and waved it over his head to quiet them down.

“For our next act, you’ll be treated to some sweet sounds by the likes of the Trouble Sisters. They’ve played locally in their house, but this is their first big concert. I ask you to not throw anything at them—unless it’s coin at the end.” The jester bowed and then pretended to fall off the stage and tumbled into the audience, laughing all the way.

Denise glanced at me and then pulled me with her to the acting area. When I looked out, I saw hundreds of curious faces staring at us. Some had started to clap politely to give us a warm welcome while others waited for us to begin. I turned to Denise and nodded to her. She came forward to the center of the stage and greeted the audience. “Thank you, thank you! Tonight we’ll sing a song or two about the good times …”

“You mean during sex?” I chimed in.

Denise pretended to be angry at me and continued, ignoring me. “And we’ll sing about our families and friends who are not here …”

“Because they’re too busy having sex.” I rushed in front of Denise and held a cucumber in front of me like a penis, gesturing at the audience.

A good-natured laugh rippled through the audience at my antics.

Denise pushed me away and said, “No, I’m talking about the good times we’ve had in the past and the ones we’ll have in the future. Our singing will make you want to join in …”

I got back up and jumped in front of Denise and shouted, “Because she just rubbed one out and you want some more!”

Denise pushed me away, and I fell to the ground. She rushed in front of me and tried to get the attention of the crowd. But I stood up, pretending to hump her from behind with the big cucumber. The audience laughed, and when Denise spun around to check on me, I switched on my most innocent face and started to pretend that I was smoking the cucumber like a pipe. The crowd laughed and a few coins were thrown onto the stage. We ignored the coins, and Denise turned back around, pretending to sing, but the crowd laughed loudly when I turned away from the audience, stuffed two large cantaloupes under my shirt and pretended that my breast size had just magically increased. Denise turned around and saw me holding the cucumber between my legs and holding my two new melon breasts, and I froze. I glanced away, pretending that if I couldn’t see her that she couldn’t see me, and the audience lost themselves in the raucous.

Denise stared at me in shock for a few moments to let the crowd laugh, and when everyone quieted down, I broke out in song. Clear and sure of myself, I burst into our first song.

Lovely is the night and joyous is our day

Tonight we’ll bring you on your way

Through the city and the forest trees

We’ll sing with you like buzzing bees

And you’ll laugh and sing with us tonight

So that together we’ll all remember our dearest might

Sing for our fathers and sing for our sons

We remember them all

We remember them all

I finished the song and the crowd’s mood had turned from wild to one of respect and praise. Denise had joined me midway through, and we sang the song as a round, inviting the audience to join us the second time. When we finished, we grabbed hands. I had long since dropped the melons and the cucumber, faced the crowd and belted out my song. Though I had a strong and solid voice, Denise resembled a song bird in flight. She would hit such high notes and then tumble back down to my level of singing. Together we would harmonize and end together in perfect unison.

The audience threw more coin at us, and we bowed several times. When I glanced out to the audience, I could only see the faces of those within the first few rows. But I could tell from the crowd’s enthusiasm that we had won them over. Denise put her arm around me and I her, and we started off on our next song. The crowd leaned closer to the stage, and Denise sang, “There was trouble in my heart, but not in my soul. Together we will make it through the …”

A loud explosion went off in the back of the hall, and the screaming began. Out of instinct, I flinched and blocked my face with my arms. I could see smoke in the back of the room and people pushing forward. Denise had stopped singing and pulled me away from the front of the stage. That’s when the first arrow hit her in the shoulder. She screamed and went down hard, clutching at her wound. I rushed over to her and shielded her body with mine. I heard more screams and saw that from the upper balcony several archers picked off people in the audience below them.

I searched for someone to help me, but people headed toward the stage, climbing up on it and then running off through the back to avoid being hit with arrows. Not knowing what else to do, I dragged Denise off the stage toward a small waiting area for the actors. Women and children ran by us, and I heard the clashing of swords coming closer. Denise had fainted from the pain, and I inspected her wound and saw that the arrow had shot clean through her. She bled out badly, and I knew that I needed to stop that. Ripping off a piece of my dress, I balled up the material and placed some in the front and back of the wound and applied pressure. I watched as an elderly man ran past us toward the nearest exit. He had an arrow lodged in the small of his back that he could not reach and ran screaming past me.

Another clash of swords sounded even closer, and I saw an older man brandishing his sword in front of him, holding it in a defensive posture. He positioned himself before us and stood his ground, waiting for his opponent to rush him. He did not have long to wait. Running with his longsword out, a large man with grizzly beard, braided hair, and markings on his arms came rushing toward the old man. A wave of fear washed over me, and I wet myself. A Southern had found us. Fearful thoughts swirled inside my head. If there was one Southern here, then there would be others. The archers, the clashing of swords, the magical explosion in the back of the theater, a sinister plot popped into my head, and I pulled Denise close to me.

The Southern swung his sword at the older man. The two swords clanged together and the older man fell back but stood his ground. The Southern lifted his sword again and this time instead of swinging, he thrust his weapon forward. He cut through the older man’s defenses and his sword pierced through leather, skin, and muscle. Yelling from bloodlust, the Southern crashed into the man and knocked him to the ground. He had dropped his sword and tried to defend himself with his hands, but the Southern simply pulled his blade out and then crashed it back down through the man’s chest. The older man gave a grunt of surprise, and blood came out his mouth and he died.