Witch and triplets�.seventh daughter of a seventh daughter..powerful� witch hunters suspect her, capture her and send her children away but don�t know where� she escapes and tries to find her children�book 1 Gawain Aithne Brigit Drystan Nicholas Alana � new baby? Ch.1 I woke to the sun shining through my window, and the laughter of my children. My sheets were a tangled mass at the foot of my bed, and the covers had fallen to the floor during the night. Nightmares again. I had been having the same nightmare for the past three weeks, without change. I was in the garden when they came. A cloud passed over the sun, shrouding everything in gray, and a chill skittered down my spine. I spun in slow motion just in time to see my children vanish into darkness, my outstretched hand unable to reach them. I cried out their names, and woke up. I shook the memory of the dream from my head and got up to take a shower. I turned on the faucet to hot and let the warm spray hit my skin. I let the water wash away the nightmare and reached for the soap. �Gawain, Aithne.� I called to my children. The day was perfect, the sun shining, a slight breeze whisking along the scents of the herbs in the garden. I could feel the Goddess around me, protecting my children and I from harm. As I walked along the cobblestone path through our lavish garden, my children playing some childish little game off in the distance, I came upon another crystal. This one was orange, banded with lighter orange lines and giving off an almost ethereal glow. Another agate. This would be good for my protection spells. I thought. Too many good witches had disappeared lately, and although we were well known as devout Christians, it couldn�t hurt to have reassurance. I slipped it into my pouch and continued down the path. As my children sprinted to our quaint little cottage, a cloud passed over the sun, glazing everything in an ominous gray, and sending chills down my spine. When I realized the chills were the result of something else, my eyes widened. �Gawain, take your sister down to the basement.� I managed to whisper as I looked around in alarm for the intruders. �But Mom-� �Now Gawain!� I yelled and pushed them into the house, still searching frantically for danger. As the chills grew stronger and panic blasted through me, I closed my eyes, whispering, �They�re here.� When I opened them again, a man I knew well stood on the cobblestone path, looking at me with an emotion very similar to boredom. He was dressed as a priest would, the white collar reflecting what light there was and blinding me. �Mistress Bayden.� he said with authority. �Yes?� I asked, proud that my voice didn�t reveal my inner turmoil. �You are under arrest for the practice of witchcraft, as are your children. Do you have a plea?� �Surely there must be a mistake, for my children and I are faithful Christians and believe only in the Lord God. We do not worship any devil.� I said, looking him in the eye. �Arrest her.� he said in the same authoritative tone. Three men came out of the bushes, and grabbed me roughly by the arms, spilling the crystals onto the walk. I watched them fall and shatter into pieces and saw my hopes go with them. I did not say another word, for I knew these men would not listen to the pleas of a suspected witch, nor her children. I heard crashes within the house, and Aithne crying. I screamed for my children and struggled to run to them, but it was no use. I almost got free, but one of the men hit me over the head and I slumped into darkness. I awoke on a cold hard floor, my head aching and my limbs stiff. I groaned as I rolled over, stretching to feel where it hurt. It seemed to be only my head, and when I touched the bump on my scalp, I winced and what had happened came rushing back to me. I scrambled to my feet, throwing myself at the bars that outlined my cell. I screamed for my children, shouted for them, cried for them until I had no voice left, and slumped, silently sobbing, to the floor. Only the dripping of a distant leak kept me from slipping into fatigued darkness. I studied the cracks in the stone floor for what seemed like an eternity before I heard footsteps approach. I jumped to my feet, wanting to know where my children were and who dared accuse us of witchcraft. A man stepped through the door, his sharp blue eyes shining triumphantly beneath curly blond hair. It was a face I knew well, a face I couldn�t believe I was staring at now. This was a man who had been gentle, kind and loving. A man who had held me closely and had sworn to be mine always and forever. A man whose children I cried for. A man who was supposed to be dead. Ch 2. �Drystan.� I said, shocked. �You�re alive.� �And well.� he said, his familiar voice floating over me, but with an edge or hardness now. �You did this?� I asked, hearing my voice trembling. �Why?� �Because Witchcraft is the work of the devil. I am merely saving you from eternal damnation.� he said, a smirk touching his lips. �I know you don�t believe that. What about all the good we did with magic? The memories we shared? Does none of that matter?� �Come now, Brigit. Surely you know better than that.� he laughed as he walked slowly closer to my cell. �My name is Mistress Bayden, and you are nothing more than a traitor and a liar.� I said through clenched teeth. �Don�t you mean Widow Bayden? And I see that you kept your maiden name. That hurts, it really does. After all we shared together.� He stepped closer, reaching out to caress my cheek. �Surely you remember the nights we spent together under the stars?� I closed my eyes, chills running down my spine. �You said I was the only one you�d ever love, the one you�d love forever, until you died?� He whispered to me through the bars. �It was you who died.� I said forcefully, lashing out. A line of blood trickled from where my nails dug into his cheek. He put a hand to it and, seeing the blood, anger filled his eyes. �You�ll pay for that, witch.� he spat at me, stalking out. �Not as much as you will.� I murmured after him, slumping back to the floor and curling up. As I cried myself to sleep, my only thoughts were of my children. I awoke to a clatter of metal against rock. When I looked up, there stood the priest with a tray of food. The water bowl he had dropped lay on its side, its contents slowly bleeding out onto the floor. �You�re awake.� He said, gently sliding the tray of food through the tray slot. He set the water bowl upright, and pushed that through as well. As I lunged for the water, he sat back, watching me. �You know,� he said as I gulped down the water. �You could save yourself. If you only confessed to worshipping Satan, then you could live you life in peace, with your children, and in the grace of God.� I didn�t say anything, knowing he would twist my words to mean anything other than their actual meanings. Once I was finished with the water, I slumped back against the wall and stared at him. �Are you not going to touch your food?� he asked, a peculiar glint in his eye. I shook my head, knowing that the food was seasoned with something other than spices or salt. �Are you not going to talk to me then?� he asked, shifting uncomfortably. Once again I did not answer. �Well then I shall talk. Do you know what we found in that broken down shack you call a house? We found the markings of witchcraft in every corner. A cauldron, odd herbs, and gemstones that my informant tells me are used very often in the Dark Arts. That alone is enough for a death sentence. But I believe you know more than you�re letting on. I believe you know who every single witch is in this town. And I intend to find out. Until then, I�ll tell your children how you cry for them. They cry for you too, you know.� At the mention of my children, tears sprang to my eyes and I spoke. �Where are they?� it came out as a hoarse whisper. �They are being kept for questioning as well. You should be more worried about yourself, mistress. Your days here will not be easy ones. The sooner you give me what I want, the sooner you may leave. You may want to remember that.� He walked slowly to the door. Stopping at the door, he turned and said, �I look forward to our next talk, mistress. It should be most�interesting.� And with that he left, closing the door behind him and leaving me to my nightmares. Ch. 3 I rested down in the corner where the darkness pooled, closed my eyes and gently laid my head against the cool stone wall, my head throbbing. �It figures you would go to the darkest corner possible.� Drystan said. �You always were melodramatic.� �I think my situation merits a little drama.� I said, without opening my eyes. �How long did you know I was standing here?� he asked, disappointment leaking into his voice. �You never left, Drystan. And invisibility spells were never your strong suit.� I said. �Yes well, I bet I know something you don�t.� he said with an air of mischief. �And what�s that?� I asked, irritated. I opened my eyes, squinting against the light. He was standing inside of my chamber now, holding something wrapped in a blanket. I lunged at him, my rage blinding me, but something held me back. As I tugged against my mysterious captive, Drystan laughed. �You can�t go anywhere.� He said. �I may not be very good at invisibility spells, but as you may remember, my binding spells were unmatchable, even by you. And anyway, you have nowhere to go. But I do have a present for you.� �And what�s that?� I said venomously. He opened the blanket. At first I thought it was a baby, but then I saw the strawberry blond rope hair that I had stitched into the doll myself. �Aithne.� I whispered, a tear trickling down my cheek. �Yes. She cried when I took this from her, but then she was already crying. Your son tried to attack me like a dog. A pathetic attempt. But of course you�re family always was pathetic wasn�t it?� he smirked at me. I laughed, throwing him off. �You always were bad at insults, Drystan. It was what I loved most about you.� �Loved, past tense? You know you still love me.� He said, cutting off my laughter. �You can�t love a dead man. And you most certainly will be dead.� I said with fire in my eyes. His hand was a blur as he slapped me, hard. �That hurt, Drystan. So this is what you do now, beat women? The man I married couldn�t hurt a mosquito, much less anything else.� He kicked me in the stomach, making me gasp. I tasted blood in my mouth, but continued. �But then again, I guess �man� is too strong a word for you, isn�t it?� Anger radiating from him, he punched me as hard as possible, sending me careening into darkness. I woke on the floor of my cell with my hands unchained and fresh food placed before me. I was reaching for the water bowl when pain in my abdomen made me cry out and contract into a ball. A malicious laugh sounded from the doorway. �Maybe you should be more careful.� Drystan said, leaning against the doorframe. �Well, next time I�ll just have to leave you bound so you don�t hurt yourself.� �Go to hell, Drystan.� I said through gritted teeth. �I thought witches didn�t believe in hell.� He said with a smirk, walking over to press his face against the bars. �And speaking of witches, I looked into some history of the Bayden clan.� He flipped open a notebook and read, � �The Bayden clan is prophesied to produce the most powerful witch in history, a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter.� Now isn�t that interesting. Wasn�t your mother a seventh daughter? And you have six other sisters, correct?� �What�s your point?� I choked out, struggling to rise to my feet. �My point, darling, is that if you are this all powerful witch, why not use your powers to help you? Use them to find your children and go back to your peaceful little life in your peaceful little cottage.� �If I remember correctly, Drystan, you built that peaceful little cottage and loved that peaceful little life to which to you so derogatively referred.� I said, painfully crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. �And I don�t have any powers, you know that.� �We�ll see about that. You know, you look like you could use a shower. I�ll have Father Jeremiah set something up; he�s very fond of you, you know.� He strode out; leaving me reposed against the wall, fighting to catch my breath. I slid to the floor, tears trickling down my face as my thoughts went to my children. Gawain would most likely be shouting at the guards, demanding they set him free, and Aithne would be sitting quietly, thinking of a way out. I hoped they would be safe. That night it rained so hard I could feel the thunder match my sobs as I cried myself to sleep. Ch. 4 �Wake up, witch.� I awoke to a sharp prodding in my ribs, hitting bruises and making me cry out in pain. �I�m awake.� I mumbled, getting to my knees. Two soldiers were standing on the other side of the bars to my cell. One was holding the very stick with which I was recently poked. They unlocked the door and slid it aside, advancing on me. I closed my eyes and waited for them to grab me, but was surprised when I felt ropes being tied around my wrists. They pulled me up roughly and pushed me out of my cell. We went out the door and along the corridor, past other cells with many women in them. My bare feet slipped many times on the smooth stone floor, and I could hear gasps among the many whispers. �Brigit!� one called to me and I turned, seeing my neighbor Karen, in rags and much thinner than when I had last seen her. She had been a bright and cheerful witch, always willing to give tips on herbs and crystals, before she had gone missing three months prior to my own arrest. She had watched my children many a time when I had to attend to coven business out of town. Now the shine was gone from her once blond hair, the sparkle missing in her eyes. She looked beaten and hopeless, like someone who had been struck over and over without cause or explanation. I noted the scars on her arms and legs, old ones white and healed, and new ones still scabbed over. All of them were crosses, as if they had tried to burn Christianity into her. I could only nod to her as I passed and hope that the same fate would not befall me. As they led me down another corridor, we passed windows looking out onto a vast field. From the scent on the breeze, I could tell we were still in Ireland, but I could no longer identify whether or not we were still in Cavan. The guards shoved me further along until we came to a broad oak door with a polished oak knocker. One of the guards knocked loudly, and Father Jeremiah opened the door. �Ah, Brigit, welcome. It�s quite alright, gentlemen, I can handle her from here.� He ushered the soldiers out and turned to me. I glanced around the room to see if there was an escape route. There was a door directly across from me, but I didn�t know where it led and Father Jeremiah�s kindness had thrown me. The room was completely natural; everything was made of wood and there were plants everywhere. There was a stained glass window behind the mahogany desk with its mahogany chair. He positioned himself behind it, gesturing for me to take the seat in the chair across from him. �Brigit-� �Mistress Bayden.� I said, glaring at him. �Ah, yes. Forgive me. Mistress Bayden, we are very pleased to have you here.� �Where is here?� I asked, interrupting once again. �Ah, that is knowledge that must be kept clandestine.� He said, folding his hands. �You understand, of course.� �Where are my children?� I demanded, still glaring at him. �Your children are safe, as are you. Now why don�t we remove those ropes? They look very uncomfortable.� He moved around the desk and carefully untied the ropes holding my wrists together. Rubbing my wrists, I stood. �As am I?� I echoed. �I�m being held against my will in a strange place being accused of worshipping Satan. How safe does that make me?� �The showers are this way, if you want to get clean.� He continued, ignoring my comment. �We have soap and hot water.� He smiled at me, almost genuinely. But the smile did not reach his eyes; they held the same disinterest as they had when he arrested me. I did need a shower, however, so I let him lead me through the mystery door. The walls were cover from ceiling to floor in marble, the purest of white. It literally sparkled with different colors cast from the sunlight leaking in through the numerous stained glass windows. The place was deserted, and there was an uneasy quiet to it, as if the polished milky stone withheld dangerous secrets. I put a hand to the floor and closed my eyes, trying to feel those secrets. I squatted there for a minute, seeing and feeling nothing. Just before I gave up, I trickle of a memory leaked into my mind. It got stronger as I held onto it, showing me more. It was from the viewpoint of a young girl, stumbling in on something she shouldn�t have. I walked into the showers to restock to the towels when I heard a noise. There shouldn�t have been anyone there; it was after hours. It sounded like two people, though I didn�t recognize the voices. As I rounded the corner, I saw Father Jeremiah and a woman. He was pressed against her, hurting her, or so I thought. When I peered closer, I saw his hips pushing against her naked body, pants down around his ankles, and his hand on her breasts. She had her eyes closed, tears leaking from them and raking lines through her dirt-smudged face. She was whimpering softly; he was moaning. When it dawned on me what was happening, I gasped loudly, making him reel around and see me. His penis was swollen, standing erect from his hips. Dark curly hair surrounded it like a wreath, his thighs pale against it. The woman collapsed to the floor sobbing, and brought her knees up to her chest. She started rocking back and forth, hugging herself and crying. �What are you doing?� Father Jeremiah demanded, rage spilling into his eyes. It took me a moment to register what he was saying; I could not tear my eyes away from the woman. �I � I was restocking the towels.� I heard myself say. �You will forget you saw this and go about your chores.� He said lowly. I nodded and turned to run out. As I reached the door, something slammed into my head, knocking me to the floor. I heard the woman scream as I watched the blood pool around me before my vision clouded and finally went black. Ch. 5 Father Jeremiah yanked my hand off the floor as the last image faded from my mind. As I stood up, I could feel the tears wet on my face, and knew I looked horrified. �What did you see?� he demanded, looking at me intently. �I didn�t see anything, Father.� I said, struggling to keep my face straight. �Then why are you crying?� he asked, raising an eyebrow. �My children would love to play in here.� I said lamely. �They love smooth stone.� He was silent for a moment before saying, �Alright. You can take you shower in any of these vestibules. You understand I must keep an eye on you, so you don�t try to escape and hurt yourself or others.� He smiled, a smile overshadowed by a smirk. I chose the shower nearest an enormous stained glass window. The window was beautiful, a sunset floating behind an ancient ashen castle. An emerald island surrounded the castle, engulfed in azure water. There were creatures painted in the water; monsters that guarded the castle. And far off in the distance was another emerald piece of land; sanctuary. I tore my eyes from the window and stripped down, turning on the hot water. The soap smelled like fresh vanilla, its scent wafted into the air and coated everything. As I stepped under the warm water, I closed my eyes and thought of home, of my bathroom, where everything smelled the same; like me. I pictured the crude showerhead and the drain that led outside. As I lathered the soap and began washing myself, I pictured it as if I were there, at home, taking a shower before making my children breakfast and starting the day. A noise made me open my eyes, and I was startled to not see my home, but the colorless marble bathroom of the castle. The priest was watching me soap my body, his eyes definitely focused now. He had begun to rub his groin, moaning softly. As I rubbed the soap over my breasts, he unzipped his pants, revealing an enormous bulge in his underpants. He continued to rub, making the bulge tumefy and he moan louder. The cloth of his underwear was stretched tight, his penis begging to be freed. He slipped a hand inside and stroked himself more, his head bent back in pleasure. Finally he tore down his underpants, exposing his erect organ, bloated and pulsating. As he moved his hand up and down his shaft, his moans increased in volume. As I turned to wash my face, I heard him come up behind me quickly and pin me against the wall. Carefully, with himself pressed so hard against me I could feel his length jutting into my back, he reached around and turned off the water. I struggled against him but he pushed me farther into the wall, making me cry out in pain. As I fought him, he moved down and entered my rear from behind, tearing into me. I screamed in terror and pain, still trying to fight him as his penis ripped me apart inside. Tears streamed down my face as he pumped inside of me, grunting at each thrust. The coarse sound of his testicles against my backside scratched my ears, making me fight harder. He spun me around so hard I hit my head on the marble wall and saw stars. I would have fallen to the floor, but he caught me and held me up, pinning my arms to wall as he drove himself into me again. I didn�t fight him, knowing my time would come, the opportunity presenting itself the very moment he let go of one of my arms to fondle my breast. I slowly reached for the soap, lathering my hand. When the soap was thick and foamy on my fingers, I jammed my thumb into his eye. Roaring with pain, he fell back, clutching at his eye. I quickly grabbed my clothes and, cushioning my face with them, dove through the stained glass window. Ch. 6 The window from which I had jumped was not that far from the ground. But when I landed, my head smacked against the frozen earth causing me to see stars. I immediately pushed myself up and ran, thoroughly aware that I was naked, but knowing that I couldn�t waste time putting on my clothes. I only got a couple of steps before my legs buckled underneath me. Not trusting the food they put in front of me had finally cost me. I lay there on the cold ground waiting for the shouts of guards and pounding of footsteps, but none came. It was only when I began to close my eyes and sink into the fatal fatigue that I felt warm strong hands picking me up. I whimpered softly, but I could not fight back, and part of my mind would rather be in warmth in captivity than dying in the cold. Before I drifted off, I caught a glimpse of an azure ocean, and beyond it, an emerald sanctuary. I awoke fully clothed in a strange bed, in a strange room. I looked around for bars, panicked that I had been caught and was to be punished as soon as I was well. I relaxed slightly when I saw a roaring fire in a brick fireplace and stone walls. This was a place beneath the castle, for there were no windows and no marble. The priest would not have allowed such poor taste where it could be seen. As soon as I thought of him I shivered. Suddenly I was too hot, and threw off the covers. I was burning, like I was on fire, like my blood was lava and it was going to roast me from the inside out. I started screaming and clawing at my skin, trying to get it out, get the fire away from me. Someone rushed in and yelled for others to help. I screamed louder, raking my nails down my skin, spasms rocking my body, my back arching. I screamed until the pain made me pass out, made me sink into a peaceful quiet. We were running through a forest. The branches whipped against us as we ran, but we kept going. We could hear the men behind us, shouting to each other and crashing through the trees. He grabbed my hand, and we burst into a clearing. A clearing that ended with a waterfall, and nowhere to hide. As the men burst out of the trees behind us, he looked at me with those amethyst eyes, and we jumped into the foaming darkness below. Ch. 7 I awoke gasping for air and tried to sit up, but couldn�t. There were ropes binding me to the bed, and as I grunted and struggled, a man walked into the room. When he saw me, he shouted �Marianne! She�s awake!� He rushed to me, mumbling apologies and quickly untying the ropes. A woman rushed into the room carrying a water bowl and a sponge. I was burning up; the fire was too hot in the fireplace. I murmured, �Hot�� and tried to get up. Marianne pushed me gently back down whispering, �Shh, you need to rest, you have a fever.� She dipped the sponge into the water and placed it to my forehead. I instantly relaxed my head against the pillows, grateful for the cool water. I managed to whisper, �Thank you,� before drifting off to sleep. Over the next few days, at least I thought they were days; I drifted in and out of consciousness. I had the same dream over and over again until I cried for something new, anything. I was cold one minute and the next I was burning, and once I lost my voice, my screams were silent. If I ever believed in hell, this was it, until one day it stopped so abruptly I was shocked out of sleep. For a moment I thought I was back home, that it had all been a dream, and I was in bed, safe with my husband. I snuggled back into the man sleeping with me, breathing in deeply, relieved that it was just a nightmare. But my brain told me something was wrong. For this wasn�t my bed, or my house, and this certainly wasn�t my husband. This man had deep brown hair instead of the gold straw that Drystan proudly donned. I leapt out of the bed in panic and backed up quickly, knocking over a bedpan. The noise woke the sleeping man, who rose out of the bed quickly and walked toward me. I backed up as fast as I could, falling and scrambling to get away. When I reached the wall I pushed myself into it as fast as possible, willing him not to touch me. He called for someone, and a woman came in holding sheets. When she saw me cowering in the corner she dropped the sheets and quickly rushed toward me. She reached out to touch me, and a chill ran through me. I pushed her away, but not with my body. It was as if a pressure had been building up, and I had just now released it. She flew backward, hitting the far wall and slumping to the floor unconscious. The man walked toward me slowly, reaching out his hand. I cringed and pressed myself into the wall further, my eyes shut tight. I waited for him to hit me, or grab me, something. Yet all I felt was his breath on my face. Gradually I opened my eyes, only to see his directly in front. They were the most beautiful shade of purple I had ever seen. The man with the amethyst eyes. From that moment, I knew I could trust him. He held out his hand, and I took it. His hand was smooth and warm; the same hand that I had felt save me from the cold. He gently pulled me up, catching me as my knees buckled from beneath me. I gazed into his eyes, lost in a sea of lilac, plum, and lavender. I could feel his chest with my hands, his heartbeat quickening as we stood there for a moment just looking at each other. Then he led me back to the bed and we laid down, falling into darkness together. And for the first time in a long time, I finally felt safe. Ch 8. Over the next couple of days, I learned about the man with the amethyst eyes. His name was Nicholas, and he slept with me every night and was gone every morning when I woke up. He brought me food and water, which I ate almost immediately. I refused to talk to anyone else, and he only left my side so I could bathe. There were other women who came and went frequently. They were all slaves in the castle, Nicholas told me. They worked for the priest, who did not know I was there. It had snowed extremely hard the day I jumped out of the window, and the guards thought I had not lasted the chill. They would look for my body when the snow ceased to fall. We did not know what to do when that time came, but I was not too worried about it. I needed to get to my children, and I would leave when my strength had returned. Nicholas explained to me my powers, for now I knew I had them. They had never revealed themselves until I had truly needed them, until I felt the most in danger. I was supposed to be the most powerful witch the world had ever seen; a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. As the days went on, Nicholas stayed with me more and more. He would eat his meals with me and spent almost the entire day in my company. I learned that he had been born in the castle, and had been a slave since that day. His mother had been a slave, his father a guard. Both were killed when the priest learned of their sins, and he was put to work as soon as he was able. He didn�t even know what his parents looked like, as I had not known my mother or father. As the months went by, Nicholas taught me how to fight many different ways and how to control my newfound power. Every day I put on more and more weight, and the color came back to my face as my strength returned. Then one day I decided that I was ready. I gathered my clothes and other things I needed into a leather sack, and went to leave. Nicholas stood in the doorway, the uttermost look of pain on his face. �You�re just going to leave.� He said, his voice empty. �I have to find my children.� I sighed, my eyes pleading with him to understand. �You feel it, don�t you?� he asked, walking to me. �Feel what?� I asked. �How I feel about you.� He took my hands in his and raised them to his chest, bringing me close. �How you feel about me.� I shook my head, not knowing what to say. He lifted my chin to look me in the eyes, his a pale shade of lilac. �I have to leave.� I said, tears filling my eyes. I pulled my hands from his and walked toward the door. �I can�t do this right now.� �Do what?� he cried, turning. �Admit that you love me? Why can�t you do that?� �Because I do!� I shouted, spinning around. �I do love you. But if I love you, it means-� �Means what? Why can�t you let yourself love me?� he asked, tears streaming down his face. I took his face in my hands, laying my forehead to his. �If I love you it means that I forgot about my children,� he opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off �even for a second. And that is one thing I could never forgive myself for.� He moved his head suddenly, his lips pressing to mine, warm and needy. A hunger flared within me, and suddenly I was drowning in him, drowning in his warmth. He tasted sweet, like honey, and I hungered for more. He pressed closer to me, his tongue exploring deep within my mouth. My hands stroked his neck as he slipped his hands under my shirt, feeling my skin with his soft hands. I pulled his shirt over his head as we moved toward the bed. My hands explored his muscles as he gently laid me down on the soft mattress. I lost myself in him that night; we lost ourselves in each other. Our souls entwined and knotted together to create a prismed mass we could call our own. And as we exploded into ecstasy, I knew that I could not now nor ever leave him behind. We pledged our souls and our bodies to each other forever. Ch. 9 I woke the next morning in his arms, warm and safe. I could tell by his breathing that he wasn�t asleep, so I raised my head to once again get lost in his eyes. �What are you doing?� I asked sleepily. �Nothing, just watching you sleep.� He said, smiling and gently kissing me on the forehead. I closed my eyes and snuggled closer to him, fitting my head perfectly into the crook of his neck. Just as I was drifting back to sleep, a door down the hall banged open. There were shouts and heavy footsteps, followed by more doors banging open. We jumped out of bed, Nicholas running to the door and peeking out. �It�s Father Jeremiah!� he said urgently, shutting the door quietly and hurrying back to me. �He�s searching for you.� �No, no!� I said pacing. �If I had left last night-� �He still would have come.� Nicholas said, looking me in the eyes and taking my hands in his. �What are we going to do?� I asked, my eyes filling with tears. �We can�t escape, and he�s getting closer! He�ll kill you, and I don�t even want to know what he�ll do to me.� I shivered. Then a thought flashed across my mind. �Hold on to me.� Without asking any questions, he pulled me tightly to his chest. I focused on clear water, and air, shutting my eyes and trying to feel nothing. I concentrated on not feeling my heart pounding against Nicholas�s and his arms tightening around me, as the noise down the hall got closer. And as the door to our room slammed open, rocking on its hinges, I held my breath and opened my eyes. Drystan sauntered into the room, his sharp blue eyes looking for anything that moved or looked unnatural. Father Jeremiah followed closely behind, waiting for Drystan to cess out any danger that may befall them. Father Jeremiah had an eye patch on, and I laughed inwardly. They walked carefully, tiptoeing as if the floor would give way beneath them, letting them plummet to the depths of hell. Drystan held out a hand and began pawing at the air as if trying to touch something he couldn�t see. �Are they here?� whispered Father Jeremiah. Drystan stood still for a moment, sweat appearing on his brow with the effort he was expelling. Finally, he let his hand fall to his side and sighed. �No.� he said, and stalked out of the room. Father Jeremiah lingered for a moment, but quickly followed Drystan. Nicholas started to release me, but I felt something wasn�t right, and clung to him tightly. Minutes passed, a half-hour perhaps. Just when I was about to relax my grip, the air near the door began to shimmer, and Drystan took shape. �I know you�re here, Brigit.� He called, a smirk playing across his face. �I will find you. Even if I have to tear this place to the ground, I will find you.� Anger poured through my veins like lava, heating my body. Nicholas felt it too, because his grip tightened even more around me, holding me in place lest I decide to take action and reveal us. As Drystan turned to walk out the door, I flicked my fingers; the slightest little motion. The door slammed shut, locking Drystan in the room with us. I wiggled away from Nicholas and released the invisibility spell, but only from me. Nicholas remained hidden, safe for now. �Hello, Drystan.� I said, as he whirled around to face me. �I knew it!� he gasped. �I knew you were in here! I could feel it.� �You never did trust your own power, Drystan. That�s why you were always so weak.� I said, letting my rage take over and speak for me. �Weak? That�s a laugh, coming from a witch who couldn�t even save her own children.� He spat at me. My eye twitched, sending him into wall and holding him there. �Where are they?� I asked, my voice dangerously low. He grinned at me, body pinned to the wall. �Where are they?� I roared, flinging out my hand. Deep red scratches appeared across Drystan�s shirt. He grimaced in pain, but didn�t say anything. �Where are they?� I yelled, slashing him once more. A ring of fire engulfed me, but I was not burned. Blood began to pool underneath him, but still he didn�t say a word. I cut him more and more, I hacked at him, but he wouldn�t say anything. Just as I was about to deal a fatal blow, Nicholas came up behind me. He winced as he entered the fiery circle that surrounded me, but did not stop. It was only when I felt his touch that the anger seeped out of me, replaced by deep sadness. I crumpled into his arms, sobbing. He held me while I cried, wanting more than anything to feel my children in my arms. When I was finished, I stood up slowly, leaning into him. I turned towards Drystan, who had fallen to the floor in a heap. He was no longer conscious, so I didn�t say anything. I was not a murderer, so I would not kill him. But I would leave him with a memory of me, and an everlasting fear. I place my hand upon his wounds, closing my eyes and picturing them healing, but not completely. He would always have these scars to remind him of me, and what he stole from me. When I took away my hand, a pentacle stood out on his chest; a sign of what he had believed in once, but denied for his own benefit. No magical or mundane means could get rid of the mark; he would have it until the day he died. I smiled with satisfaction and stood. Using this much magic had made me weak, and Nicholas had to carry me down to our awaiting boat. We sailed away that morning, and as I drifted into an exhausted sleep, I would have sworn I heard a man screaming and children crying. Ch. 10 I woke to the gentle rocking of the boat and bright sunshine pouring onto my face. I was in a wooden bed, the straw mattress scratchy and uncomfortable beneath me. As I rose, the room spun and I fell back down. �It must have been from using too much magic,� I thought. I grounded myself and slowly tried to rise again, this time without any problems. The room I was in was extremely small, with no real decorations except for a picture of a woman. I walked over the picture to get a closer look. She looked oddly like me. She had auburn hair, like mine, but her eyes were green, whereas mine were gray. Our noses were identical, and something about the way she was sitting was familiar to me. �That picture has been there ever since I got this boat.� A man said, stepping down the stairs. �An old man sold it to me just before he died. She was his true love, I think. I haven�t been able to get it down. It�s like its got magic holding it up.� �Maybe it does.� I said, smiling and turning toward him. We walked up the stairs and onto the deck, where Nicholas was waiting. �Hey, you�re awake.� He said smiling and drawing me into his arms. I giggled as we kissed, my arms wrapped around his neck, his caught in my hair. �How long have I been sleeping?� I asked, finally pulling back. �About a day.� He said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. I turned to look out over the sea. �Where are we?� I asked, looking out at the calm ocean waves.
