Witchrise (20 page)

‘You’re welcome,’ he muttered, meeting my eyes. He raised his hand in a swift aversion-spell, and the black stallion turned as though terrified, veering sharply away across the lawns and heading for the trees.

Richard squeezed my shoulder, suddenly grim. ‘Hurry, get up. Dent’s coming again.’

My fist clenched around the slender hazel wand, and power thrummed in me, my scalp and fingertips tingling. Where was it coming from? I felt overwhelmed by this sudden surge of power, too strong for my body, everything inside me trembling and on fire.

I turned to face Marcus Dent as he came striding across the grass. I felt as though a thousand bees were trapped inside my head, crawling about in a bee-gold huddle, buzzing at the underside of my skull, desperate to get out.

‘Foolish of you, Meg. When will you learn?’ Marcus lunged for the wand and hit my protective barrier, his hand bouncing back on a wave of pure fury. ‘Women’s magick! Child’s magick! It cannot last. I am the stronger here and you are only alive by my grace. Now give me that wand or see your beloved Spaniard die.’

Again the world shifted. Suddenly Marcus Dent was standing before me on the grass, Richard flung backwards by some hellish wind, Alejandro held before Dent like a hostage. Alejandro’s body still hung limp; his eyes were closed and the witchfinder’s dagger was pressed to his throat.

‘The wand,’ Marcus said triumphantly. ‘Give me the wand.’

I felt a gnawing in my guts.

‘You want to test my resolve, Meg?’ The knife pressed harder into Alejandro’s neck; two drops of blood oozed out. ‘The wand is what I came for. A prize indeed. But it was left to you as a bequest and I cannot use it without your permission. You must give it to me freely.’ He smiled grimly, meeting my eyes. ‘A fair exchange. The Spaniard’s life for your mother’s wand. What do you say?’

I stared at Alejandro. A thrush sang nearby in the branches. The blade pressed deeper.

‘Give me the wand and you shall have him.’ His smile made me shiver. ‘Why must you always defy me, Meg? For some women, my kiss has been a better prospect than the scaffold. I would offer you the same protection if you drop this defiance and kneel to me. I promise to be gentle.’

I ignored his foul taunting. Richard had fallen near the house, blood on his temple. Beyond him, in the doorway, I could see the princess staring out, her ladies tugging frantically on her arms, stopping her from leaving the house.

Everywhere I went, I dragged my friends into danger and left behind a trail of destruction. My hand wavered, then I lowered the wand.

‘Don’t you dare give up that wand, Meg Lytton!’ Richard shouted hoarsely. ‘Alejandro would not want you to give it to him. He would rather die and you know it.’ He struggled up onto his elbow and cried out, ‘
Invictus!
’

‘
Invictus?
’ Marcus repeated, his blue eyes flashing sharply from Richard’s face to mine. ‘What does he mean?’

I took a step back and stared down at my mother’s ring. It glinted on my finger, a double ring of gold.

Invictus
.

The hazel wand did not want to belong to him, I knew that much. Its power flowed as if coming from the earth itself, the good English dirt beneath my feet, strength tingling in my veins, along my arm, then out through my mother’s wand.

The spell struck Alejandro in the face like a bucket of cold water, and in the same second I yelled, ‘
Excite!
’, meaning ‘Wake!’ in Latin.

The force of the spell knocked Marcus backwards, taken unawares by my sudden attack. Released from the witchfinder’s grasp, Alejandro fell clumsily to the ground.

Marcus roared. His face shifted back to the scarred visage I remembered from the year before, his white eye glaring at me fiercely.

‘You will suffer for that, witch!’ He sketched a gesture in the air, and I froze, half expecting to be blown away or turned to stone.

But nothing happened.

My wand hand lifted again and his hands were suddenly bound to his sides as though by invisible cords, his mouth full of horrible writhing things that began to pour out furiously, leaving me shocked and silent, staring at him.

I stood watching, amazed by my own power.

Marcus Dent was choking and retching, stones and frogs falling from his mouth, a spell I had certainly not intended. They littered the path, the vomited stones glossy, small and black, the green frogs hopping indignantly away to vanish into the grass as though they had never existed.

I was stunned. Not that I regretted what the wand had done. But it was disconcerting that it could make decisions for me.

‘Hurry!’ I urged Alejandro, who was scrambling to his feet, unsteady, his face dark with fury. ‘It’s Marcus Dent. He put a spell on us all. We have to get back inside the house. I can protect us far better there.’

But Alejandro was too quick for me. His eyes met mine and I saw an unspoken apology there. Then, in a flash, he grabbed up Marcus’s dagger and turned, thrusting it deep into the witchfinder’s side.

Marcus made a strange noise in his throat. He stared at me past Alejandro, wide-eyed, his mouth still bubbling with green frogs, then collapsed, sagging against Alejandro. He grabbed Alejandro’s shoulder, muttering a few words hoarsely into his ear. Then his eyes closed and his fair head fell back limply, the witchfinder’s mouth open, empty at last, his lips glistening with what looked like frothing green bile.

I stepped back, watching in horror as Alejandro tilted Marcus back onto the grass, then straightened, looking down at the blood on his hands.

The silence was terrible.

Alejandro turned to me, his expression agonized. ‘Get back inside, Meg. I will take care of this.’

‘Let me help you.’

‘Look,
la princesa
is at the door. She will come outside if you do not reassure her that it is over. That Marcus Dent is dead.’

‘Forgive me, Alejandro,’ I managed, my throat suddenly clogged with unshed tears. ‘This is my fault.’

He held out his arms. ‘Come here,
mi querida
.’

Not caring at that moment what anyone might think, I burrowed into his shoulder, and breathed in his heat, the masculine smell of his body. I felt no triumph. Just an intense weariness, and a nagging fear that the Lady Elizabeth would order me to leave her household again.

Marcus Dent was dead.

Alejandro had killed him.

But could it really be that simple . . .?

As though sensing my mood, a cloud darkened the face of the sun. The shadows of the beech and oak trees around us seemed to grow longer, stretching cold black fingers towards us across the lawns.

‘Alejandro,’ I murmured.

He drew back and looked down at me. His face was a bloodied mess, one of his eyes swollen. ‘Meg.’

It was a measure of our topsy-turvy love that this struck me as one of the most significant exchanges we had ever had.

‘The prophecy said Marcus Dent would die at the hands of a witch who had raised a dead king.’

Alejandro nodded. He met my gaze thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it was more of a curse than a prophecy.’

‘What now?’ I asked simply.

‘Now you go inside.’ Alejandro kissed my forehead. ‘I will say the last rites for Master Dent. Then Richard, William and I will bury him together. Somewhere discreet in the woods. Not on consecrated ground. He does not deserve a holy burial.’

I nodded my agreement. Turning, I glanced reluctantly towards the body – and froze in horror.

The dead, wide-splayed, motionless monster that had been Marcus Dent was stirring. A leg jerked, then an arm. Slowly the fingers of his right hand groped at the grass, as though searching for the bloodied dagger which had dealt his death-blow. Then his eyes opened, and the dead white eye swivelled round to stare at us, sinister and unearthly.

‘Alejandro,’ I whispered, my fingers gripping his arm. ‘Look at Marcus.’

Alejandro spun on his heel, staring back at the man we had both thought dead.

I heard a sudden thud of hooves and turned in search of the sound, my breathing constricted. The black stallion had reappeared, galloping swiftly out of the trees and back across the lawns towards us.

The horse circled Marcus, who had staggered to his feet now, dagger in hand. The witchfinder’s face was white as his collar, and withered too, like that of a very old man, his one blue eye the only flare of colour left. His black doublet was horribly stained with blood; I could not bear to look at it.

Richard too was on his feet again, groping his way up the house wall. He called hoarsely, ‘Meg, don’t let him escape!’

But it was too late.

Marcus had already gripped the horse’s long mane, and with a muttered enchantment was transported onto the animal’s back. His arms clutched the strong neck as the stallion reared, dangerous hooves flashing out, then the animal galloped away with him.

I raised my wand to strike Marcus down as he fled, but Alejandro was running after him. I lowered my arm slowly; I could not risk hurting Alejandro by mistake.

A moment later, the stallion had vaulted the boundary wall and disappeared from sight, thundering across the fields with Marcus on its back.

Alejandro gave a gesture of despair and came limping back to me, his chest heaving.

‘Forgive me, Meg. This is my fault. I thought him dead.’

‘So did I.’

‘I don’t understand it. The wound should have been fatal.’ He looked down at his blood-stained hands, a kind of horror on his face. ‘Though I am glad, in a way.’

I nodded, understanding what he meant. There was always a darkness out there, ready to swallow us if we made a mistake. It had taken the witchfinder long ago. To have killed Marcus might have driven Alejandro into the darkness too.

The Lady Elizabeth was outside, administering to Richard with Kat Ashley at her side. The conjuror’s apprentice looked badly hurt, his face creased in pain, and I felt suddenly ashamed. I had not realized until that moment that he had been injured, not simply knocked down.

I ran across to my friend, who had sagged against the wall again, unable to walk. There was blood on his face, perhaps from a bump on the head, but otherwise I could see nothing.

‘Where are you injured?’

He had closed his eyes, but opened them again. ‘My back. I had a rough landing when Dent threw me backwards.’

‘But you can walk? You can feel your legs?’

‘Aye, a little.’

William lifted Richard as though he weighed nothing. ‘I will carry Richard up to his room,’ he announced unsteadily, not meeting my eyes. I guessed he was a little afraid of my power. ‘If Alice could fetch hot water and cloths, we can make him comfortable at least.’

When they had gone, the Lady Elizabeth rounded on me sharply. Her face was pale, her small dark eyes fixed on my face. ‘Did you know Master Dent was coming here today?’

‘No, my lady.’

‘Kat was right,’ she said abruptly. ‘You bring this house more trouble than I can afford.’

‘Forgive me—’ I began wearily, guessing that she was about to dismiss me.

She held up a hand, interrupting me. ‘But you have done me good service too. And we Tudors do not forget loyal servants.’ She met my eyes, her look stern. ‘I will not send you away, Meg. You have caused a mess here, and it is only by remaining that you can protect me from it.’

‘My lady?’

‘It is time you rid the world of this Master Dent. The man has become troublesome, and his testimony alone could damage my reputation a thousand-fold.’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘Vomiting frogs? The whole sky turned black as night in the middle of the day? Our minds and bodies taken over by a spell? If my sister were to hear of these happenings, I would face torture at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition until I confessed myself a witch too.’

‘I will do my best to prevent that, my lady.’

‘See that you do. For I will give them your name first if I am arrested. And keep out of my way until the thing is done.’

The Lady Elizabeth swept away into the house, her back very stiff, Kat Ashley and Blanche Parry following her with fierce looks thrown back at me.

I thought of what Marcus had said.
A virgin queen
. Was that what lay ahead for Elizabeth, a reign without a husband? It seemed unlikely. I could not imagine such a passionate young woman welcoming a chaste existence. But then, none of us were privy to the secret workings of the Lady Elizabeth’s heart. Perhaps she would rather be alone than marry a man for whom she had no love, as many noblewomen were forced to do.

And who was Dent’s ‘excellent informant’?

‘Meg?’

I turned.

Alejandro was waiting, the cut on his face weeping blood again. Impatience, love and frustration all surged inside me as I examined his battered face.

‘You’re so stubborn. Will you at least let me tend that cut before it gets infected?’

He nodded, his eyes very dark. ‘But only if you let me come to your bedchamber first,
mi querida
.’

Five minutes later, I closed the door to my bedchamber and turned, only to find Alejandro a few inches away, watching me, his face bloodied and raw.

‘Alejandro?’ I whispered, my eyes widening at his intent expression.

His hands came down either side of my head, pressed flat against the wood of the door. I stared up into his face, astonished and a little afraid of this new Alejandro, so serious and determined.

‘May I kiss you?’ he asked.

‘Th . . . that would hardly be right . . . or fair . . . to either of us,’ I stammered, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. ‘I have already told you we will not be getting married. And the Lady Elizabeth . . . it is her household . . . she forbade me to be alone with you . . .’

‘I do not care about that. Well, I care. But not at this exact moment. Right now all I want to do is take you in my arms,
mi querida
, and kiss away the memory of what just happened.’ His eyes flickered, and suddenly I saw the emotion raging inside him, emotion he had been struggling to suppress.

I was hardly breathing, still as a mouse. Something in me had latched on to the emotion in him, and was driving us both forward, inexorably, towards the one thing we most certainly should never consider.