MIDNIGHT HUNT: Book 3 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (26 page)

An agitated murmur rolled across the room like an ocean wave.

“And then poor Jason was mangled by the hounds of hell at her command!” Otto stood, a grimace on his face, as he pointed at her.

The gathered crowd rose from their seats. The Vollstadt villagers on one side stood shaking their fists and shouting obscenities toward her. Her friends from Kostbar yelled and protested from their side of the room.

“Her mother did the same thing ten years ago!” Otto exclaimed above the din.

The Head Magistrate pounded his wooden mallet. “Silence! That’s enough!”

After several more whacks of the hammer, the mob settled down and sat.

“No more questions. Thank you, Herr Jost.”

Otto stepped down and sneered at Monika as he navigated his way around the table loaded with the “evidence” against her—herbal jars, their house broom and her mother’s book of remedies.

Angus tossed his reddish-brown cloak back over his shoulders and picked up the book, holding it above his head. “And now for the final piece of evidence against Monika Konrads in the charge of witchcraft.”

He opened it and held it in his arms as he walked in front of the attending priests, Abbot Cromer, the magistrates and the jurors. Most everyone shrank from the book as it passed, almost cowering before the pages. Several of them nodded and muttered between each other.

“The entire book is written in the Witch’s Alphabet,” Angus announced. “Also known as the Theban Alphabet and used only by those who practice
magick
.” He completed his circle around the room, stopping in front of Monika. “Does this book belong to you?”

Monika narrowed her eyes. She would be blatantly lying if she denied ownership of the book, since they had taken it from her cottage. She was already dead. These proceedings were just a formality. “Honestly, Campbell…let us finish this farce of a trial.”

A collective gasp rose from the throng and a multitude of whispers hissed as members leaned toward each other in their private conversations.

Angus smiled. “So flippant about your fate, young lady.”

“You’ve already decided to burn us all.”

“And what makes you say such a wretched and judgmental thing?” He propped his elbow on the rail around Monika’s platform and grinned, obviously amused.

Monika smirked and cocked her head in contempt. “Four stakes and pyres have already been prepared in the courtyard. There are four of us on trial.”

“You have to admit, lass. The evidence against you is most convincing.”

“As I said, let us finish.” She glared down her nose at him.

Angus chuckled as he strolled to one of the guards standing by. The man nodded and motioned for three others to follow him and they disappeared out the side door. Angus redirected his attention to the investigating tribunal members and jurors. “By her own admission, she has consorted with a confessed werewolf—”

“Enough, please!” Monika shook her head. This trial just kept dragging on to the point of madness.

Angus’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline and a smiled brightened his face. “If you don’t settle down, my dear, we may have to do something with that mouth of yours.”

The salacious cock of his eyebrow and smoldering expression was enough to stoke her ire, but the elbow jabbing between the magistrates was the last straw. “It’s obvious what the men in this room find most important—what is between their legs.”

A mixture of gasps and laughter stirred about the room.

“Based on the belaboring of sexual interest in the endless testimonies, I’m going to make a suggestion.”

Angus chuckled. “By all means, my dear.”

“Let us skip directly to pronouncing the sentences—”

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to be patient. We have procedures—”

She raised her voice over the steady hum of the room. “Or the cock of every man who spoke against me will shrivel up and be rendered useless.”

Much to her satisfaction, several men clutched their crotches and rose to demand the proceedings be concluded. Angus twirled with amusement sparkling in his eyes and threw his head back, guffawing.

The Head Magistrate pounded his mallet, raising his hands and demanding silence. Abbot Cromer stepped forward. “It is a unanimous decision, Inquisitor Campbell. Father Wilhelm, Broderick MacDougal, Marcus Sparenland and Monika Konrads are all guilty of the crimes of heresy, witchcraft and murder.” The crowd roared, a mixture of approval and protests flying across the room from the opposing groups.

Angus raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms, smirking at her. Monika mirrored his expression.

Chapter Fifteen

The guards entered the courtroom with Broderick, Father Meier and Marcus, who needed two guards to hold him as he yanked against and fought their hold. To Monika’s relief, Broderick’s condition did seem improved, although he still trudged as if his limbs were weighted. The swelling around his eyes and lips had gone down. He no longer limped or lurched to one side, so his ribs had probably healed as well. His worried eyes searched the room and softened when then fell upon her. She smiled. She would have loved to communicate to Broderick through her thoughts, but if Broderick could hear them, so could Angus, so she kept the ward she’d erected on herself just before the trials began.

A guard escorted her down from the platform. He and the other guards ushered the convicted into the courtyard of the monastery.

When Monika was near enough to Broderick, she reached out to touch him. His foot dragged and he tripped over himself. She gasped and retracted her hand. The ward around her and his already weakened state must have caused him to falter.

He shook his head, but his mouth tipped in a half-smile. “I’m well, Blossom. Don’t take it down for my sake.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

Each of them was escorted to a stake, bundles of sticks and branches piled to the side, awaiting proper placement. Marcus railed and growled as three guards wrestled to tie him to a stake at the far end. He continued to shout obscenities and accusations that Angus was a Vamsyrian and they were all fools. Father Wilhelm’s brow creased in a very thoughtful expression as he was being tied to his stake. He didn’t seem afraid at all, but instead regarded Marcus and Angus with curious eyes.

The guard escorting Monika looped a length of rope to the iron hook nailed high into the post and secured her wrists above her head. While he tied her waist and legs to the wooden pole, she choked on her sobs as Broderick’s shackles were hooked above his head and his body tied to his stake. Their gazes locked. “I never needed to wait, Broderick.”

His brows rose. “I don’t understand.”

“To tell you I love you. I never needed to wait.”

Tears spilled over his lashes and down his cheeks. Broderick clenched his jaw. “I know. I just thought you’d have more time to say it.”

“I’ve loved you since you first entered my dreams. I can feel this love reaching back through time.”

Broderick’s beautiful mouth curved into a reassuring grin. “Together forever, Blossom.”

“Eternally yours, my love,” she choked. The fire blood coursing through her veins would be her protection, though she’d have to deal with that damning evidence of her
magick
when it happened. But Broderick would not survive the fire and her heart constricted in her breast. She sagged against her bonds and wept.

Holding a torch in his hand, Angus strolled to Broderick as the guards piled bundles of wood around his feet. “How very touching.” Once the wood was in place, Angus grimaced and shoved the flames into the pyre, then stepped back. “Burn in hell,
brother
.”

The flames crept around Broderick, the orange light casting harsh shadows across his face as he glared at Angus. “You still won’t be at peace, Angus. You know the truth. You just don’t want to believe your life was based on a lie.”

Angus snarled and strode to Monika’s pyre, touching torch to wood. “Don’t waste your words on me. You should be saying goodbye to your beloved Blossom.”

A breeze whooshed through the courtyard, stirring dust and feeding the flames. Angus chuckled and turned his back on Broderick. He marched over to Marcus and lit the pyre. “I’ve heard enough out of you, werewolf. Enjoy your trip to hell.”

Monika’s hair lifted and flared around her as the flames consumed the pyre at her feet. The hem of her woolen gown smoldered. The garment and the ropes would burn before she did…but would that happen in time for her to save Broderick from the flames? Broderick yanked at his bonds, trying to loosen the chains from the iron hook, but slouched and panted from his efforts.

An inhuman cry lurched from Marcus and all eyes turned to him. Bones snapping and muscles roiling, he wailed through his transformation as the crowd screamed and flowed back from the pyres like sand blown from a rock.

Monika gawked.
He must have administered the blood too soon!

Angus staggered back, then stomped forward, heading toward Father Wilhelm’s pyre.

The priest glared and recited the incantation, throwing Angus backward into the crowd, knocking into a guard so hard, his helmet flew from his head. “The Inquisitor is a Vamsyrian!” The priest cast another ward at Angus, but he twirled his cloak like a shield and advanced, unaffected.

“The cloak,” Broderick said. “Wilhelm! The cloak makes him immune to the incantation!”

Monika gasped and her heart thrummed wildly in her chest. “Broderick! You’re not burning!”

He dropped his gaze to his clothes, which were on fire, then grinned. “How?” he yelled over the roaring flames.

Monika laughed. “My blood! You fed from me!” Tears streamed down her face and she hollered with glee. Tugging at her bonds, the burning fibers were loose enough for her to break.
At last!
Hands free, she pushed the flames down with her palms until they flickered and died. She did the same for Broderick.

Marcus howled as he completed his transformation and broke through his bonds, leaping from the fire and heading straight for Angus.

“Monika! Angus!”

She whirled and called flames to her hands, then lunged as she thrust her palms out casting long streams of fire toward the werewolf and Angus. Marcus roared and patted his hulking arms to douse the flames. Angus twirled his cloak, which had taken the brunt of the blast, swept it from his shoulders and stomped out the flames, cursing.

Another howl echoed across the monastery…then silence, save Marcus grunting and patting the flames on his body. Monika darted her eyes around the buildings.

Bursting through the gate, another werewolf pounced into the courtyard and tackled Marcus. The two beasts wrestled and swung at each other, scattering the remaining villagers, who vacated the area. Marcus dashed for the gate, exiting the monastery, with Symon snarling close behind.

“Papa!”

Angus charged toward Monika and Broderick rattled off the incantation, hurling Angus through the air and pinning him to the stone wall of the reception building. Monika shoved the blackened and smoking wood aside to get to Broderick, but she couldn’t reach the hook to detach his chain. She wheeled to and fro looking for something to stand on or give her leverage.

Father Wilhelm cried out. The flames from Marcus’s pyre had spread, and the priest was about to be burned alive. Monika thrust her hands forward and the flames parted, bending away from Meier until they petered and died. She ran to his side and yanked at the burned ropes. Luckily, the rope holding his hands above his head was easy enough to untie and set him free. Meier winced and limped away from the wooden post, leaning on Monika for assistance.

Angus’s screams suddenly stopped and she twisted to find him on his hands and knees, panting on the ground. Broderick recited the incantation again, but Angus didn’t move.

She encouraged Father Wilhelm to sit on the ground, and helped lift his robe, exposing his thin legs and the burns marring his flesh from mid-thigh down. The priest trembled and moaned. “I know,” she soothed. “We’ll mend you in just a moment and you’ll be amazed.”

He tried to smile and nodded.

Monika snatched a partially burned stick from the ground and used it to lift Broderick’s chain from the iron hook. He fell into her arms and she grunted from his weight. “Help me, darling,” she groaned.

Broderick staggered, but recovered his footing and shuffled to where she’d set Father Meier. Setting him beside the priest, she kissed his brow then searched the empty courtyard. Abbot Cromer poked his bald head above the bushes along the far wall, then ducked with a gasp when he realized Monika spied him. She passed Marcus’s burning pyre, gloving her hand in dancing flames, and marched toward the old man. “Come out from behind there and get me the keys to the shackles or I’ll singe your head.”

“Friedrich!” he wailed through the branches and leaves. “Give her the keys to the irons!”

Monika backed away, releasing the flames, and scanned the area, looking for Friedrich. A jingling of metal chimed to her left and a guard stood up from behind a toppled trestle table, dangling a set of keys on a ring. She dashed toward him and held up her hand. “Toss them to me!”

He nodded and threw the keys, ducking back behind the table, and she caught them with both hands. Whirling on her heel, she lifted her scorched and tattered tunic to race back to Broderick. Kneeling at his side, she fumbled with the irons, trying to find the right key while he winced and hissed. “I’m sorry, my love.” But she finally swung them open and freed his hands. He sighed and slouched with relief.

“Oh, darling,” she whispered, examining the burns on his wrists and the back of his hands. She put her wrist to his mouth and Broderick gasped, his eyes flaring with a silver glow. “Drink, love.”

“Monika, I—”

“Drink.”

His mouth latched onto her wrist and she swooned as he fed.
What a glorious sensation.
How could I have rejected this in my previous life?

“Monika.” Broderick’s voice coaxed her from a drunken haze.

She smiled with hooded eyes and assessed his skin, then nodded. “Yes, much better.” His burns had healed completely, but his skin was now scarred and pink.

Broderick swerved his head left and right as he searched the courtyard. Apparently finding what he sought, he rose and trotted over to a discarded guard’s helmet. Returning to her side, he knelt beside her and handed her the headpiece upside-down. He gashed his forearm with his fangs, letting his blood pool into helmet. His wound closed almost immediately and he dipped his fingers into the blood. “Father Meier?”

The priest sat dumbfounded, his eyes bouncing between them. “I…I…what have…” Wilhelm’s shoulders drooped and he nodded. Meier hissed and moaned as Broderick applied his blood, but as the burns faded, the priest breathed easier. He grinned. “Thank you.”

Broderick set the headgear aside and slipped his hand behind Monika’s neck, pulling her in for hard kiss. Resting his forehead against hers, he smiled. “You’re amazing.”

“How touching.” Angus glared, his arms crossed, as he paced no more than a six feet in one direction before he pivoted and paced the other direction the same distance, obviously the confines of the invisible prison Broderick had erected.

“I know of the prophecy,” Father Meier said as the three of them approached the furious Vamsyrian. “We cannot kill him.”

“Correct.” Broderick also crossed his arms and the two brothers faced each other in a silent stand-off. Only now did Monika see the familial resemblance. She’d been in too much pain and immersed in the chaos to notice it before.

“We have the ability to imprison him until the prophecy can be fulfilled.”

Angus glanced at Wilhelm, then narrowed his eyes at Broderick.

A tick worked at Broderick’s jaw, his chest rising and falling rapidly under whatever turmoil raged in his mind. Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his face, then clenched his fists. He shook his head. “We have to set him free.”

“What?” Wilhelm stood between Broderick and Angus, demanding Broderick’s attention. “Are you mad? As I understand it, he has done nothing but try to kill you. You can’t let that happen.”

Broderick snorted and punched his fists into his hips. “You people of the
Tzava Ha’or
have a talent for stating the obvious.” He pushed Wilhelm aside and regarded Angus.

“You really think her soul will perish if either of us dies.” Angus’s statement was not a question, but confirming a fact.

Broderick nodded. “And I know that knowledge gives you leverage against my heart,
brother
. I could very well have you imprisoned.” After a long pause, he released a seething breath. “But you and I will never overcome our differences if I am the one to take your freedom. The prophecy cannot be fulfilled until you and I end this war.”

“That will never happen,” Angus growled. “So you might as will put me away.”

Broderick stepped forward, until he was a mere foot before Angus, his face twisting with anger. “There is much bad blood between us and I don’t relish doing anything but driving a silver stake through your heart. But I’ve reluctantly come to understand…your quest to have my head was based on a lie. Whether you want to come to terms with this fact or hold onto your anger is your choice. Now that I know the truth, I will not be the one to bring you down. In spite of everything that has brought us to this moment, you are my blood.” The muscles at Broderick’s jaw flexed. “And you’re the only blood I have left.”

Angus pounded his fist against the barrier. “Don’t pretend you’ve had a change of heart! It’s too late for that, Rick!” He paced a few steps, raking his fingers through his auburn hair, then whirled to Broderick, pointing a rigid finger. “You let this barrier down and I will kill her and then you!”

“You are a fool if you let him go!” Father Meier snapped.

“Monika.” Broderick cast her a penetrating gaze.