Assassin's Curse (3 page)

“Tommy,” she screamed, running to his side, momentarily forgetting Elizabeth.

It was the distraction the elder witch needed.
 
She was too hurt to do anything more tonight.
 
She grabbed the doorknob, pulled herself to her feet, and slipped through the wrecked door to safety.

“This is not over, girl,” came the weak, disembodied voice floating through the doorway.
 
“I’ll be back, and next time I won’t come alone.”

Without looking, Miriam threw another blast at the doorway, shattering more of the wooden frame.
 
She heard Elizabeth curse and scurry away into the night.

“Tommy, can you hear me?” she cried, bending over and probing his wound.
 

His hands were locked tightly over his chest, and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air.
 
She pried his fists aside and saw the gaping wound.
 
She inhaled sharply and tears sprang to her eyes.
 
There was no spell or magic that could heal a wound of this magnitude.
 
Her eyes traveled to his face and he tried to smile through the pain.
 

“I can see it in your eyes,” he whispered breathlessly.
 
“We would have been the envy of the nobility.
 
Take care of our babies.
 
Promise me you won’t let the coven take them away.
 
I love you so much.”

“Oh Tommy, I love you too and I’ll never let anything happen to them.”
 

She gathered Tomas in her arms and cradled his head against her chest.
 
She gently stroked his face and watched the light die in his eyes.
 
Her fairy-tale life was slipping away like the tears streaming down her face.
 
Miriam was drowning in grief as she rocked the still-warm body of Tomas in her arms.
 
How could she live without him?
 
Everything had gone so terribly wrong in a matter of minutes.

A soft cry brought her back to reality and the shock of Tommy’s death.
 
At some point during the fight the twins had stopped crying, and now stood with their chubby, little hands clutching the side of their crib and staring at her with their big, gold-tinted eyes.
 
In a moment of startling clarity, Miriam knew they would have to run.
 
Run from the prejudices of the people, the designs of the witches, and from anyone else that would try to take her babies from her.
 
With unbearable sorrow, she laid Tomas’s head gently down on the floor and went to gather the girls.
 
There was no thought of her seeking sanctuary with his mother.
 
With her son dead by witch fire, and the lies she was sure Elizabeth would tell, she would not be welcome at the Berkshire estate, granddaughters or not.

She bundled the girls into a double papoose, covered their heads, and gathered what few supplies she had in the hut.
 
She could disguise and hide them for a time, but there was no doubt that they would be hunted.
 
Her twins were the ones spoken of in the ancient prophecy and, after tonight, she realized the coven would stop at nothing to get them back.
 
With a sigh, she gave a last look around the room and her eyes settled on the still form of her beloved.
 
He deserved better than to die like this.

“I’m so sorry Tommy.
 
I never meant for this to happen.
 
I will love you forever.”

She gave him one last, longing look before turning and running into the night.
 

***

Elizabeth hid the burns on the side of her face and neck with her cowl as she limped back to her room at the coven house.
 
The coven was located in the city of Constantine, the jewel of the Tavia Kingdom.
 
The city was world-renowned, an epicenter of trade and commerce, sophisticated in both its beauty and grandeur.
 
The Constantine Coven was the largest in the kingdom, boasting both a major center for the healing arts and a magical school of academia.
 
It was in this brightest light of the kingdom that evil hid in plain sight.
 
A secret society of magic users lived within the walls of the Constantine Coven, planning and plotting their evil alongside the witches and wizards who used their skills for good.
 
These evil ones were hell-bent on domination and control of all those weaker than themselves.
 
They called themselves the Black Coven, and their leaders the High Council of the Black.

Elizabeth’s mission tonight had been at the behest of that High Council, but had been secret and unknown to any outside the Black.
 
She hid her injuries upon her return to prevent any more harm to herself arising from her failure.
 
Too many wagging tongues and rumors could spell doom to her and her compatriots.
 
If she had been successful, then the Black would have covertly controlled the twins of the Witch Prophecy and raised them to perform their one true purpose in life: finding the Witching Stone.
 
The stone was an amulet of ultimate power, the same stone that had started the ancient war of the witches and nearly decimated the witch and wizard population.
 
The stone had gone missing at the end of that war, but it was foretold in prophecy that identical twins would be able to find its secret location.
 
At present, the Black Coven was not powerful enough to come into the open, but with the stone they would be an unstoppable force and could rightly subjugate the masses beneath the heel of their superiority.
 
They just needed to find it first.
 

Elizabeth slumped down upon her bed and stifled a groan. She did not relish the thought of reporting her results to the High Council.
 
Miriam was stronger than she had expected: but time was on her side, for she knew a secret about the twins that even their mother had not figured out.
  

I can take my time getting my hands on those twins.
 
They’re no use to me until they blossom into womanhood.
 
Then we will search for the Witch Stone.

***

Catherine Berkshire was the reigning countess of the noble house of Berkshire, one of the most powerful families in the kingdom.
 
She stood stock-still in the middle of her private study, staring off into nothing.
 
This day had begun like most others.
 
She always took her morning meal in private to enjoy the beauty and tranquility of her manicured gardens before the duties of the day swept her away.
 
The sun was shining through the tall windows and it looked to be another perfect day, but how things can change at a moment’s notice.
 
The news her morning visitor bore was unbelievable and threatened to overwhelm her.
 
She began to waver, feeling sick to her stomach, and seeing stars in front of her eyes.
  

“Are you sure it was him?” Catherine replied hoarsely, grabbing the side of her desk to steady herself.

“Yes, I saw him myself.
 
He was killed by witch fire.
 
A shot right to his chest.
 
I came as soon as I was certain.”

“Who did this to my boy?
 
Why would anyone hurt him?”

Elizabeth moved to stand beside her younger sister to give what little comfort she could.
 
Though Elizabeth rarely visited, maintaining her residence at the Constantine Coven, she was always welcomed at the family estates.
 
Today she knew her visit would not be received well; the bearer of ill tidings was seldom welcome.
 
She lightly touched her sister’s arm and, with a look of feigned sorrow, told Catherine the gruesome tale; a tale she had created to prey on her younger sister’s emotions and insecurities.

“It seemed that Miriam was having trouble accepting the role she would play as Tomas’s wife.
 
She had sent me a cryptic message earlier in the day requesting I come to her aid that very night.
 
When I received her message, I didn’t understand what exactly she meant, but I went to meet her nonetheless.
 
I found them together, Tomas and Miriam, in a little hut at the edge of the city, yelling and fighting with each other.
 
I tried to intercede and calm them both.”

“Fighting?
 
Fighting about what?”

“From what I could gather, Miriam refused to accept the responsibilities that would be laid upon her as a newly raised countess.
 
Tomas told her that, as his wife, she would be the future Countess of Berkshire and would be required to live here on the family estates.
 
She told him that she didn’t want a
noble title
or to live on any lands where his family resided.”

Catherine’s eyes became stony as she listened.
 
She knew Miriam was of low birth and could not appreciate the luxury and grandeur a noble’s life would bring her.
 
She also remembered, with a slight touch of guilt, the words that had sent Miriam crying and fleeing from their first meeting.
 

Elizabeth continued.
 
“I tried to convince her that her life would be a joyous one, but she would not listen.
 
She adamantly refused to live on the estates and told Tomas she and the girls would live at the coven if he refused her wishes.
 
I tried to calm her, telling her that her duty was with her husband, not with the coven.
 
Tomas told her he had no choice where to live and said the girls would live with him and be raised by his family.
 
I assumed he meant you when he told her that.”

A single tear trailed down Catherine’s cheek.
 
“What happened next?”

“Miriam became crazed when Tomas said he would raise the girls here.
 
She refused to be separated from them and when Tomas asked what recourse there was, she answered him with witch fire.
 
He took most of the blow full in the chest.
 
I tried to block her attack, but it was so sudden and I was too slow.
 
As it was, her attack burnt me from my neck down and took off some of my hair.
 
She is a very powerful elemental witch and I barely escaped with my life.
 
I went immediately for help, but when I returned I found Tomas dead and alone in the hut.
 
Miriam and the girls were nowhere to be found.”

Elizabeth’s part in Tomas’s death was easily pulled off.
 
Miriam’s elemental blast had taken her quite suddenly and forcibly, resulting in burns that covered a good portion of her body and had turned her hair into a disheveled mess.
 
They were easy to explain away with her lies.

Catherine walked to the door leading out to the veranda overlooking the estate grounds outside of the city of Constantine, away from the noise and the bustle of the city.
 
She opened the door and stepped out to an exquisite scene of beautifully manicured gardens and rolling hills of green grass.
 
The smells from the many intricate flower arrangements were intoxicating.
 
Today, however, she noticed nothing of the beauty around her, but simply walked to the terrace wall and laid her hands upon it.
 
Her head fell to her chest as she softly cried.
 

After giving her a moment of privacy to absorb the news of her son’s death, Elizabeth followed her outside.
 
“I’m so sorry, Catherine.
 
Please know that the coven will not rest until we find her.”

Catherine did not answer her immediately.
 
After a few moments, she looked up at her older sister.
 
There was a smoldering anger in her eyes and the vehemence with which Catherine spoke her next words caught Elizabeth by surprise.

“And just how will you do that?
 
You’ve proven yourself so
competent
this far.
 
What would you propose to do next?”

“Catherine, you make it sound as if I am the cause of this sorrow.
 
Nothing can be further from the truth.
 
I tried to help Tomas and nearly lost my life in doing so.
 
If I could give my life in exchange for his, I would.
 
I loved him like the son I never had.”

“Oh, I don’t blame you personally for his death, Elizabeth, but I do blame your coven and the teachings you all profess to follow.
 
I blame the arrogance of those privileged few who hold the power of life and death with nothing more than a thought and a wave of their hands.
 
But most of all, I blame that witch who my son loved unto his death.
 
I don’t care that you are an elder of the coven; nothing good has ever come from the power.
 
First it was Cassandra, now it is Tomas.
 
If not for that unholy power, our sister and my son would still be alive.”

“Miriam, you know Cassandra died in childbirth and you can’t blame the coven for Tomas’s death.”