Angels & Magic: A Bonus Collection Page 4

  I swallowed. “I am good, I swear to you.”

  Magda trembled at the sound of my voice, but quickly regained her composure. “Place your hands in mine and we will begin.” She held her hands out towards me. Mine shook as I placed them above hers and slowly lowered them. She gasped when we touched. Her hands were warm and rough. Her fingers wrapped around mine and clenched tightly. I wanted to pull them away.

  Magda closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Relax,” she said as I struggled to break free.

  My hands started tingling, like tiny pin pricks at first. Then they started to burn. Heat rose under my skin and I tried to pull them from her. They wouldn’t budge. Her grip was solid. She started mumbling as I gasped for air. The burning stopped as quickly as it started and I blew out a breath. My arms relaxed and I watched her face. She was old. Wrinkles marred her skin and her thin lips moved as she recited words I couldn’t understand. Her once dark hair had been stripped of its color, greyer now than black. She looked strong though, as if she’d seen and fought through a great deal. I wanted to look like her, like someone who had lived. The thought caught me off guard. I did want to live, to experience something other than isolation and hiding.

  Magda stopped mumbling and tilted her head towards the sky. Her eyes remained closed and her grip on my hands tightened. A sharp pain exploded in my head and I cried out.

  “Shush, it will pass,” Magda whispered.

  The searing pain pulsed. I shook my head begging it to leave. I wanted to massage my temples, rub the pain away.

  Magda started mumbling again and the pain lessened with each word. Is she controlling this, inflicting pain on me? “Close your eyes, see as I do,” Magda said.

  I did as instructed and felt a strange dizziness wash over me. Images flashed through my mind so quickly I couldn’t make them out.

  “Relax,” Magda whispered. “Let us witness your past and what was done to you.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and willed my body to relax. The images slowed and the focus sharpened. I was viewing something as if I was there, but I wasn’t. I saw a temple filled with light angels. One of them towered in front of me, dressed in white robes with his wings extended. “Fix this witch and leave no trace. Do you understand?” he shouted. He was speaking to me or whoever’s body I was watching from.

  “It will be done,” a female voice answered.

  The image changed and I was standing in a small chamber. Stone wall all around, a slit near the ceiling to let light in. The sound of whimpering caught my attention. A woman sat on a bed, two bundles in her arms. This is my past. That’s my mother.

  The witch moved closer to my mother. I watched as she pulled the bundles tighter and pushed herself back against the wall. She was terrified.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” the witch said. I knew it was a lie. I’d heard what angel told her.

  “You’re not taking my babies. They’re mine, they’ve done no wrong,” my mother said through tears.

  I felt the struggle inside the witch, the emotions tugging at her as she moved towards the bed. My mother’s eyes darted back and forth between the witch and the babies she held tight to her chest. “I was one of them,” she sobbed.

  The witch stopped beside the bed. She didn’t want to do this. “May I?” She asked reaching a hand out to remove the covering my mother shielded the babies with. She didn’t answer. The witch eased the covering away and gasped as she took in the two tiny babies.

  “It’s not their fault,” my mother whimpered. “Punish me instead.” She bent her head down as tears fell onto her babies. A full head of black hair covered one, the other had whisps of blond. Me and Jonathan. This is how we were cursed, how he stole my body.

  The babies wriggled and my mother rocked them back and forth. She loved them. The witch sucked in a deep breath. “You know why I have been summoned.”

  My mother nodded.

  “You must give them to me,” the witch said, holding out her arms.

  My mother’s head snapped up, her eyes wild. “Never. You will have to kill me first.” Her vicious tone startled the babies and the witch jumped back. When their eyes opened her hand flew to her mouth. I saw what she saw, felt what she felt.

  “He lied,” she spat.

  The witch paced up and down beside the bed. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t take an innocent life. She’d seen what I never could. When Jonathan and I opened our eyes, the truth was revealed. The dark child’s eyes were blue not black and the other child’s were empty black pits.

  “One dark, one light,” the witch mumbled.

  “What are you going to do? You cannot kill my babies. It goes against nature, against everything a witch stands for.”

  “Don’t you think I knew that,” the witch said turning to face my mother. “I was told there were an abomination, a threat to all who lived. I wasn’t supposed to see them.”

  “And now that you have?” My mother asked, rocking the babies in her arms.

  The witch watched, her emotions ragged. I felt the struggle and the pain as she looked at Jonathan and me. She longed for a baby of her own. Her hands rubbed her temples, trying to ease her confusion. “I have to do something. I can’t just leave.”

  “I understand, but please don’t kill my babies, anything but that,” my mother pleaded.

  * * *

  Minutes passed as the witch contemplated her position. Every idea she thought of wouldn’t work. “I’ve got it,” she said, spinning around to face the bed. “I’m not sure if it will work but it will save your boys.”

  “What is it?” My mother asked, sitting up straight.

  The witch shook her head. “You love them and want to protect them, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am going to hide their true nature, let their outer appearance dictate who and what they are. No one can ever know, not even you.”

  “Why can’t you just swap their bodies?” My mother asked.

  “That won’t work. I cannot remove the soul. What I intend is complicated, but I think it will work. You have one dark and one light son.” The witch shook her head.

  My mother sighed. “Love is not a crime. They were conceived out of love.”

  “Does the father know?”

  “No. I have not seen him. When it was discovered I was pregnant I was kept here. I refused to tell them who the father was and this was my punishment.”

  “Good that will make this easier. I need you to place the babies on the bed.”

  My mother held us tighter.

  “Please,” the witch said. “There’s no time. They will be back soon. I won’t kill them, I promise you.”

  Ever so gently my mother lowered her head and placed a kiss on each of our foreheads. “I will love you always,” she whispered.

  The witch moved closer, taking the babies and placing them on the bed. She started chanting, her hands held over them. My mother sobbed. “Will it hurt them?”

  “No,” the witch said and I knew she was lying. She placed her hand on my mother’s forehead and mumbled. I watched as her body slumped, eyes closed, and she slept.

  The witch got straight to work, all the time telling herself she was doing the right thing. “I will disguise them, let the outer cloak the inner, and then cast a memory wipe on all who know of them. I’ll create a new memory, a battle, and each child a spoil of the war.” She leaned over and touched the forehead of the dark-haired baby. “You are pure of heart a true being of light, but you will remain cloaked in darkness. You will be given to the light angels so your soul remains untouched. I am sorry for what I am about to do. Your mother loves you, but she will believe that you are dark.”

  I watched as the baby, me, kicked and struggled as she chanted. Little legs fought so hard and the screams pierced my heart. Bright blue eyes dimmed and drained of color. In their place, black gaping holes. The baby stopped screaming and fell asleep. The witch moved to the next baby, Jonathan. “You are evil through and through, but you
too will be trapped by outer appearance. You will be given to the dark ones; your mother will have no recollection of you.” She began the process. Jonathan didn’t kick or scream as his eyes changed. He gurgled and then fell asleep.

  The witch sucked in a deep breath. “And so, it begins.” She cast a powerful spell over the entire realm, crafting a memory so powerful. All in the realm believed that a great battle had taken place and that Jonathan and I were the trophies. The witch then cast another spell on my mother making her believe that she lost the child she’d been carrying and that her punishment for loving a dark one was to raise me as her son. Jonathan was given to our father and he too was believed to be the spoils of war. He had no memory of meeting or loving my mother. It was the perfect curse.

  As the witch placed me into my mother’s arms she whispered in my ear. “You will suffer a great deal child and there is nothing I can do to help, but remember, light will guide the way and when the time comes, shine brighter than you could ever imagine. This curse will hold and you will be safe for now. I’m sorry.”

  The image warped and refocused again. The witch now held Jonathan and was placing him in the arms of our father. Again, she whispered, but she shuddered as she did so. “Child of dark, there is a sliver of light buried in you. I pray that it will take hold and grow.”

  Once more my vision blurred before sharpening and this time the witch was alone in a forest clearing just like the one Jonathan and I had stepped into. She knelt, her head in her hands as she wept. “What have I done?”

  Someone, I couldn’t see who, cleared their throat. “Recca, what ails you?” It was a man’s voice.

  “I have carried out a great atrocity, Malcom,” she sobbed.

  The man placed his hand on her shoulder. “You could never do harm. Tell me what happened.”

  Recca told him what had happened. She spoke of the curse she had been forced to place on two innocents.

  “Surely there is a way to undo it?” Malcolm asked.

  Recca trembled. “There is always a way to undo a curse, but I’m not sure this one will ever be broken.”

  “Why not?”

  “Only a seer will have the power to undo what I have created. A witch pure of heart that will look beyond physical appearance.”

  “We shall find a seer then,” Malcolm said, helping her to her feet.

  She looked up at him. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I am the last one. No seer has been born in two generations, Malcolm.”

  He pulled her tight to his chest and she sobbed.

  The image dulled and I started as a hand gripped my shoulder. My eyes flew open. “Jonathan!”

  He placed his hand over my mouth, a finger to his lips as he shook his head. Magda opened her eyes. “You shouldn’t be in here,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” Jonathan said, a slow grin creeping across his face. “But I believe this vision involves me also.”

  Magda shook her head. “The other baby,” she gasped, putting all the pieces together. “It, was you?”

  Jonathan bowed. “Correct.”

  “Was that real?” I asked Magda.

  “I believe so,” she replied.

  “And these visions, you’ve had them before?”

  “No. The seer line ended with Recca. There has been no one else.”

  “Looks like it just restarted,” Jonathan said, towering over Magda.

  “Is there are way to break the curse?” I asked, watching Jonathan carefully.

  “A reverse spell could be performed now that I know the incantation Recca used, but it will take time.”

  Jonathan stood still, one hand gripping his chin. I’d seen him do this before, contemplate his next move.

  “Brother, we can be free,” I said.

  “So, it seems.”

  I didn’t like the way he spoke. Something was off.

  Magda watched our exchange. Her eyes wide. She sensed something too. “I will inform my coven, we will need all of our energy combined to cast the spell. Recca was very powerful. A witch like her has not been born since.” Magda stood to leave. She cast a final glance at me before pulling the covering aside.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I snapped at Jonathan when she’d left. “We have a way to end this curse once and for all, and you’re…I don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Jonathan grinned. “Can you believe it. All this time you were the key to breaking the spell.”

  “Huh?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “She got a vision from touching you, Flynn. You activated the means to end this torture.”

  “You think so?” Was this true? Had I activated something in the witch and caused the vision?

  “Come, let us see what the rest of these witches think.”

  I followed Jonathan outside. Magda sat in the center of the group of women. They all looked up on our approach, eyes wide.

  “Flynn,” Magda said, motioning for me to step closer. “Please take a seat so I may show the others your true nature.”

  I did as she requested. Magda too my hand in hers, her other hand linked with the witch beside her. This continued around in a circle until all the witches linked hands. A slow burn pulsed in my fingertips, spreading through my hand and up my arm. I tried to pull away but couldn’t. The other witches closed their eyes and tipped their heads back towards the sky. I heard the gasps and mumbles. My eyes closed with the pain. My arm felt like it was on fire. I tugged again. Magda released my hand and I gasped for breath as the pain receded.

  “You all saw as I did. Recca was forced to spell the children and it troubled her greatly. We must undo the curse so her spirit may find peace.” Magda spoke and the women all spoke their agreement.

  “They all saw?” I asked.

  “Yes, boy. You have awakened the seer gene somehow. We can reverse the curse.” Magda took my hands in hers and squeezed gently. “You will have your freedom.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I turned. Jonathan moved quicker than light, a knife in his hand. He sliced across the throat of each of the women before holding Magda’s head back. The knife pierced her skin.

  “Jonathan, no!” I screamed as I watched the tip of the blade sink into her skin.

  “The curse will never be broken,” he shouted as he plunged the knife in further and ripped her skin apart. Blood spurted out soaking my face as I raced forward. I was too late. Magda gurgled and choked on her own blood.

  “What have you done?” I roared as Jonathan laughed and let Magda’s body slump to the ground. “This can’t be happening. She can’t die,” I mumbled as I wrapped my hand around her throat. I tried to stop the blood, her life from leaving. It was no use. Magda died in my arms and Jonathan stood watching.

  In a fit of rage, I lunged at him. “Why?” I screamed as I pummeled his face.

  He laughed. “You really think I want the curse to end? Why would I, brother, I have the best of both worlds.” He pushed me away and took to the skies.

  I stayed. I don’t know how long I sat looking at the bodies of the dead women. It was all my fault. I buried them along with my hopes of ever having the curse lifted.

  Jonathan stayed away from me, hiding from my wrath I assumed. I didn’t care, he could stay gone forever. Ten years passed before I felt burning in my head once more. Visions exploded in my mind, a girl, barely a woman, standing beside a tall oak tree. She looked so serene, her skin flawless. Black straight hair flowed over her shoulders and when she looked up, her green eyes sparkled. I wanted to reach out and touch her, make sure she was real. She sat down against the hard bark and sighed. Something troubled her, I could feel it. Confusion, isolation, horror. Emotions burst within me. I reached out with my mind until I found her location. A new seer had awoken. I knew where she was. The curse could once again be broken.

  2

  Find out what happens to Flynn and Jonathan and the witch that might be able to save them in, The Cursed Angels – Book 1 Visions, available now in the Angels & Ma
gic Anthology.

  The Belgrave Legacy

  A Short Story

  Zara Hoffman

  Short Story Collection.

  Copyright ©2017 by Zara Hoffman.

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  Short Story Collection/Zara Hoffman — 1st ed.

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  Book Cover Design ©2017 Jennifer Munswami, Rising Horse Creations

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  Title Font ©2015 Jennifer Munswami, Rising Horse Creations

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  For Clara and Zita

  1

  A witch is always on the edge, between the light and the dark, good and bad, making choices every day, judging all the time. It was what made her human.

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  ―TERRY PRATCHETT