Eternity: Immortal Witches Book 1 (The Immortal Witches) (4 page)

I found her, and my heart shattered. She lay still, her neck broken, her eyes open but no longer beautiful nor shining like onyx. They were already dulled by the filmy glaze of death.

“Mother! No, Mother, no!” I gathered her into my arms, sobbing, near hysteria as I held her close, and rocked her against me. “You can’t be gone! You can’t leave me this way. Why, Mother?” But she did not answer, and so I screamed my question again, to the earth and the sky and the corpses all around me. “Why am I still alive? Why do I live, and not my precious Mother? Why?” But I knew I would get no reply.

Not from the dead. Not from my mother. Her spirit no longer lived in this body. She was gone. Gone, and I was alone.

Eventually I sat back and looked down at her poor body, an empty shell, yes, but even so ‘twould not remain here in this vile place. Not while my heart still beat on.

Gently I lifted her in my arms. I was taller, larger than she. But even then it should not have been so easy to carry her. I thought perhaps ‘twas my grief making me strong.

I made my way out of the pit and took my mother’s body into the forest nearby. And there, I scooped away the snow, and scraped out a grave for her with no more than my two hands and a flat stone for a tool. My nails were split, my fingers bleeding and throbbing with cold when I finished, but I was beyond noticing the pain. I buried my beloved mother there, and then I lay upon her grave and cried.

* * *

When at last he reached the gruesome place of the dead, Duncan shuddered at the sight of the bodies strewn there. He pressed a handkerchief to his face, and even then the stench was sickening. And disease, too, hung on the very air here. One could smell it, almost feel it. Yet he searched for the dark beauty among the dead.

“Where are you?” he whispered as his gaze scanned the carrion. That she should be here in this filth even for a short time brought a fury more powerful than any he’d felt before surging through his veins. What was it about her that caused such reactions in him? Why did he care so deeply for a girl he did not even know?

“Duncan!” a voice called, and he turned. “Come away from there afore you take ill!”

At the rim of the pit a young man Duncan had called friend since they were lads together in Scotland sat astride his horse. Samuel MacPhearson leaned on the pommel, looking down at him.

“I'll nay go until I find them,” he said.

“Well, you willna find them, my friend, for they be elsewhere. I searched myself only an hour ago. Arrived here faster by horse, I suppose, than you could by foot.”

“Are you certain?” Duncan asked.

“Aye. I wouldna lie to you about this, Duncan. I can see ‘tis important to you. Or she is. Did you know the lass?”

“Nay,” Duncan said, making his way to the edge. “But it felt as if I did.” When he began to climb up, Samuel dismounted and bent to offer a hand. Duncan got his footing at the top and brushed at his soiled clothes. Homespun, and barely fitting. But all he had, once he’d discarded the robes he no longer felt able to wear.

“Why were you looking for them, Samuel?” Duncan asked.

“Same reason as you, I’d guess. To bury them proper. I liked what was done no more than you did, Duncan.” He looked out over the dead and grimaced. “I didna find them, though.”

Duncan’s heart twisted. “Where can they be?”

Samuel smiled, but ‘twas bitter. “No doubt your friend Dearborne would claim they used black magic to rise up an’ walk away. But I suspect there’s a far more simple solution. Some relative came for their bodies in secret. It happens, Duncan.”

Duncan nodded but met Samuel’s eyes. “Nathanial Dearborne is no friend of mine.”

“He was here, you know.”

Duncan frowned. “Nathanial? Here?”

“Aye, lookin’ for those two women himself, I do believe. An’ if he got here afore me, Duncan, he must have run his horse ragged the whole way. I meant to ask him why that was, but he beat a hasty retreat when he saw my approach.”

The thought of that bastard laying his hands upon the girl set Duncan’s teeth on edge. “He didna find them? You’re certain of that?”

“Certain as I can be,” Samuel said. “He seemed to be still searchin’ when I arrived, and he had no bodies o’er his saddle when he galloped away.”

“What could he want with them?”

“Nothing good, I’ll warrant.”

“The bastard.”

Samuel’s brows rose in twin arches. “Ah, so your great teacher is a bastard, now, is he?”

Duncan sighed, looking at the ground. “You were right about him all along, Samuel, an’ I should’ve listened to you. Aye, he’s a bastard, an’ a killer, an’ I told him as much.”

“Indeed,” Samuel said, slapping Duncan’s shoulder. “Half the town knows of it by now.” He tilted his head to one side. “They’re sayin’ she bewitched you, Duncan. Stole your heart right there on the gallows.”

Duncan lifted his head to meet his friend’s eyes. “Perhaps she did,” he whispered.

“Aye, I can see this has shaken you deeply.”

“An’ what’s shakin’ me more is that I willna know where she rests. Even that small comfort has been stolen from me. ‘Twas wrong, what was done to her, Samuel.”

Samuel nodded. “‘Tis yet another reason I’ve decided to move on. I’m takin’ Kathleen and leavin’ this place. An’ Duncan, my new bride an’ I would be proud to have you come along with us.”

Duncan searched Samuel’s face. “Where will you go? Back to Scotland?”

“Across the sea, my friend. To the New World. They say ‘tis far different there. Opportunity for every man. The rich an’ the poor, livin’ as equals.”

Taking a deep breath, Duncan thought hard about saying yes. He’d heard talk of this New World, this America, where religious persecution, ‘twas said, did not exist. Wild and new and exciting. The idea appealed. But he had matters to attend to. Responsibilities to uphold.

“I’d like nothin’ better than to do just that, Samuel. But not now. I must first return to Scotland to face my father with what I’ve done.”

Samuel shook his head. “Angus will be furious, no doubt. He paid Dearborne an’ the Church a goodly sum to take you in for trainin’.”

“And I’ll repay every bit,” Duncan vowed.

“After you’ve repaid the debt to your father, Duncan, what then?”

Duncan shrugged, looking off into the distance, seeking something he couldn’t name. “I dinna know. In truth, I just dinna know.”

Samuel slapped his shoulder. “If you decide to join us in America, my friend, just come along. We’ll welcome you gladly.”

“Thank you,” Duncan said. “I just might, at that.”

“I hope you will.” Then Samuel frowned. “In the meantime, Duncan, I hope you’ll put this day’s doings behind you. You’ve a haunted look about your eyes that worries me.”

“Haunted,” Duncan muttered. “Aye, ‘tis the way I feel. I think that bonny lass will be hauntin’ me for some time to come, Samuel. An’ I doubt—rather seriously doubt—there’s any way on God’s earth I can put her memory behind me. I’m not even certain I want to.”

* * *

Hours passed as I lay weeping atop my mother’s grave. And then the day itself waned as well. ‘Twas night again before I could even think of leaving her, even wonder about what I was to do now. And ‘twas then I recalled her words to me the night before. I had promised I would do as she asked. I had promised her. I must keep that promise. But first....

I dried my tears, tried to reach for the calmness necessary to do what must be done. I searched for that serene place inside me. My breathing deepened. My heartbeat slowed. In silence I pointed my forefinger at the ground and drew an invisible circle round my mother’s resting place. And within that circle I sat, closed my eyes, and wished my dear mother goodbye.

For just a moment the wind whispered through the trees overhead in such a way that it seemed my mother’s voice spoke to me. Be strong, Raven. l am with you...always.

“Mother?” Rising, I looked all around me, but saw nothing. Only the very thin sliver of the newborn moon appearing in the sky. Like a sign, to start anew. To find a way to go on.

‘Twas what my mother would have wanted.

I brushed my fresh tears away and nodded. ‘Twas time. But I did not close the circle I’d cast. I left it there, willing it to protect her unmarked grave from harm of any kind. That done, I forced myself to leave her there, so that I could begin doing what she’d asked of me.

I followed her instructions to the letter, sensing she might know, somehow, and be disappointed in me if I did not.

I went to our cabin under cover of darkness, and slipping inside I saw chaos. Our home had been stripped of anything we had of any value. Blankets and clothing, our copper and iron pots. Everything. Even my mother’s precious cauldron, which I’d hoped to take with me that I might be reminded of her each time I brewed a magical potion or used it in ritual. She’d painted a tiny red rose upon its face. It had been her most cherished possession.

But it was gone now.

Something glittered up at me from the floor, and I bent to scoop up a tiny bit of amethyst the looters had somehow missed. Caressing it as if ‘twere a diamond, I placed the stone in my pocket.

Our dried herbs had been torn from the walls and trampled beneath booted feet. Not a stick of furniture nor even the braided rugs that had covered the floors remained, and I knew without checking the shed that the horse had been taken as well. They’d left nothing untouched.

I went to the hearth though, tugging at the smooth round stones until I found the very large one that came free at my touch. And then I set it aside and reached into the hole it left. There was a cloth bag there, stuffed full. Frowning, I pulled the bag out and sat down on the floor, untying its drawstring and looking inside. There was a smaller pouch within its folds, a pouch I found to be heavy with coin. And a dark, hooded cloak, lined with fur, all rolled up tight to make it fit in the bag. And there was a book. A beautiful leather-bound grimoire, filled with page upon page of my mother’s delicate script.

I opened the cover and saw a necklace, a golden pentacle, with a cradle moon adorning one curve of its circle and the beautiful image of a goddess reclining in the moon’s embrace. I lifted the pendant and beneath it, on the page, saw a note just for me.

My dearest Raven,

If you are reading this, you are on your own now. Do not mourn me, child. If my lifetime ended, ‘twas only because it had served its purpose, and now I will go on to another. But for you, child, ‘tis only the beginning.

Wear the pentacle, for it holds all the magic I ever possessed. My strength and my wisdom are within it, and they are yours to call upon so long as you wear it. But keep it near your heart, and not out for the world to see. ‘Twas never mine to wear. I only held it in trust for you. It marks you as who and what you are.

In this book are all the secrets I’ve learned. But the one I will tell you now is the most important of all of them. My daughter, my beloved Raven, you are not like me. And the path before you will not be an easy one.

Raven St. James, you are an immortal witch, a High Witch, though you’ve never known such beings existed.

When you suffer and die for the first time, you will know that what I say is true, for within a short while your body will revive itself. And from that moment on you will be stronger than before, and will never grow older.

I know this must shock you. But you are not the only one. There are others like you, though their numbers are few. And not all of them are good and pure of heart, as I know you to be.

The stories of them have been handed down through the generations of my family, and I will tell you all I know, and hope you put the knowledge to good use, to keep you safe. But I fear there is much I do not know, Raven. Things you will have to learn on your own.

There are two kinds of immortal witches. The dark, and the light. The evil, and the good.

In some previous lifetime, my daughter, you died while attempting to save the life of another witch. Because of this, you were born into this lifetime with the gift of immortality. But this is only one of two ways that gift can be passed on.

The other way is far more sinister. By taking the life of an immortal witch, one also takes that witch’s immortality, indeed, all of her power. I can imagine you crooking your delicate brow as you read this, wondering how one can kill someone who is immortal. There is but a single way, child. And that is to take the witch’s heart from her very breast, and to lock it up in a small box where it will go on beating forever. Whoever retains the box, retains the power. Witches created in this way are dangerous to you, Raven, for they are never content with the power they have acquired. They cannot be, for eventually, the captive heart will weaken, its life force drained by the dark one who took it. The Dark Witch begins to weaken, to grow pale and sickly just as any mortal suffering from the ravages of old age might do. And so the witch must kill again and again, in order to survive.

Always beware of others like you, Raven. For you’ll have no way of knowing whether they be dark or light. You will recognize them as Immortals, however, by the necklace many of them wear, one such as the one I give you now, and by the first touch of their hand. I do not know how or why that is, but I know ‘tis true. Be careful, my love. Let no Dark Witch take your heart.

Hidden in the center of this book is a dagger that has been handed down through the generations of my family from time immemorial, just as this pendant was, to be held for the day when a special one was born to us. ‘Tis as if they knew, somehow. ‘Tis yours, Raven, meant for you all along, I am certain. Keep it with you always and learn to wield it with skill. You will need to defend yourself from attack by those others. Above all, child, trust no one.

No one.

And know that wherever you are and for as long as forever, my love remains with you. Always with you.

Your loving mother, Lily St. James

Blinking in shock at all I had read, I let the book fall open to its center and saw a jewel-encrusted dagger, tucked inside its sheath and hidden by the clever way my mother had cut away the centers of some of the pages. I took the weapon in my hands, turned it slowly, felt its weight, and tried to imagine myself using such a tool to do harm to another living being. The thought made me shiver. I did not believe I could ever do it.