All That Stood Between
by Kaci Curtis
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
Rose grasped at her chance. Whirling, she thrust her arm downward, sliding the knife the rest of the way free of her sleeve and into her hand. She gripped the blade, slicing her palm open with a hiss of pain. The creature was just beginning to step back when the first drops of her blood splattered to the floor, and onto the sigils she had so carefully etched there. The knife clattered alongside them.
At the touch of her blood, the ancient symbols glowed red hot, rising from the stone like a banner writhing on a strong wind. They encircled the creature, swirling closer with every pass, a whirlwind of power that burned deeply in every place that it touched.
Rose panted, her extended hand showering more blood onto the floor, lighting up every sigil she had labored for hours to place. Hope began to unfurl within her, a fragile blossom against the savagery of winter.
The creature bellowed, rattling the frosted panes of glass in the window. It bit chunks out of any sigil that passed too close to its mouth, ripping them apart like fragile birds. It swatted others from the air, sending them crashing to the floor, where it stomped them out with its powerful, clawed feet. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone.
When the last sigil had flown at the creature, and there were no more to summon with the power of her blood, Rose brought her dripping fist to her chest and ran.
Herbs would do nothing against the creature if the sigils had not been able to ensnare it. All that was left was to escape, to make it out of the cottage and somehow manage to seal the creature within. Her last hope was to simply contain it, perhaps long enough for another of her kind to be summoned to help her deal with it.
She hit the doorframe with her shoulder as she stumbled out, and even managed to get a foot onto the first step. But then a mighty hand snaked out and gripped the back of her shawl.
The creature hauled her back inside the cottage, slamming her against the table with a ferocious snarl. She stumbled, sending her teacup crashing to the floor. The valerian elixir splashed outward, completely useless.
“At last, you show your teeth,” the creature laughed, crushing porcelain shards beneath its bare feet as it advanced.
Rose cried out as it wrapped its hand around her throat and lifted her from the floor. Its burgundy eyes filled her vision, completely merciless, as she struggled to ensnare a breath. The window behind her... if she could only get to the window...
“I will have what I want from you,” the creature hissed, “because you are going to give it to me. If you refuse, I will destroy everyone in this village. I will go from house to house, ripping them apart. And I will make you watch while I do it.”
Rose clawed at his hand, heedless of the wound in her palm that gaped wider with every feeble attempt to free herself. She could not breathe; she could not breathe...
The creature dropped her, and she hit her head on the table’s edge as she fell, sprawling in a heap to the floor. Spots of light danced before her eyes as she struggled to orient herself.
“Give me your hand!” it demanded, extending its own as though it meant to help her up.
Rose bared her teeth. She lunged backward, beneath the table, scooting to the far wall. Praying that he would not bend to place his weight upon it, she surged up, willing herself to stand, to bear the weight, as she flipped the table onto its side. Only a few feet separated her from the creature, but perhaps having the table between them might buy her a precious second...
She flung out a desperate hand, murmuring the ancient words, and the glass of the window shattered. She dove for it, heedless of the glass shards that stabbed into her shoulders and waist as she careened through and fell to the hard, cold ground outside.
There was a throbbing pain in her ankle and, as she scrambled to her hands and knees, gulping down mouthfuls of the cold air, she glimpsed the fresh gash. But there was no time to do anything but get her feet under her and run.
The creature stomped down the stairs at the front of the cottage, eyes blazing with indignation. “You bore me with your antics, little witch,” it said. “Your sister was much more reasonable.”
Rose stumbled, her heart thundering. “Liar!”
Her sister was several days travel away, high up in the mountains that would already be covered with drifts of snow. She was well protected, living among others of their kind, who would never allow such a creature to harm one of their own. Not without a fight.
It was lying. It had to be lying. She took a few more hasty steps, favoring the ankle that pulsed blood steadily onto the dry, dead grass.
“Iris,” the creature mused, stopping Rose in her tracks. “Your mother had a fondness for flowers, I suppose. How typical of nature-loving witches.”
Rose’s mind raced. The creature knew her sister’s name. How did it know her sister’s name? Was it possible, had he really...
It laughed, a sound that seemed capable of splintering her heart apart. “Lovely little Iris. Would you like to know what she tried to trade me, when I came for her magic?”
Rose clutched the useless shawl tighter around her throat, as though seeking comfort from any embrace, even an inanimate one. “No.”
“She told me where to find you,” the creature crooned. “She gave you up, hoping to save herself. I still killed her, of course. And the other old witches who tried to protect her.” It huffed a laugh, as though the final stand of the mountain witches had been a weak thing, indeed. Hardly of note.
The roar in her head eclipsed the sound of its laughter. Her fingers crooked into claws as the full might of her power erupted, shattering outward like sparks from a dying star. It lanced into the creature, lethal as blades, slicing and slashing with every bit of energy that she still possessed.
“No!” she cried. It was a denial, and a plea, and the cleaving of a disillusioned heart.
She tripped over a fallen limb, and her ankle gave out, sending her tumbling to the ground once more. The stars wheeled above her, bright and crisp in the winter sky. Like emotionless eyes, watching what happened below without a shred of warmth or sentiment.
The creature loped towards her; she could feel each of its steps, shaking the frozen ground. Her plans had failed, and her power was depleted. She could barely feel it, muddled and sluggish like the last, desperate inches remaining in a pond.
“Now,” it crooned, dropping to one knee beside her, reaching a hand out to brush hair from her forehead, “I’m going to take what you love most. But I’ll give you something in return, I assure you.” Its fingers tightened in her hair, wrenching her closer. Its breath was hot against her ear.
It slammed its free hand to her chest, and Rose tried to scream. She tried to kick, to fight, to use those last dregs of power. But all she could do was choke on useless emotion as the creature’s hand seared through her shawl and shirt, down into flesh and bone.
Had Iris done this to her? Had Iris fought at all, as Rose would have fought to the end to save her sister’s life?
She felt her magic draining out of her, being sucked away, absorbed as easily as drops of water into a depthless sand. She had nothing, was nothing, without it. It was the promise of unity, consolation on a lonely night, and a shield against the darkness. It was the very essence of her being.
“You witches are all the same,” the creature huffed against her hair. It shuddered against her, as though every drop of magic it drew from her was pleasurable. “You act so noble, holed up in your little caves, or your huts and cottages, living on the fringes of those who don’t even appreciate your protection.”
Rose was seized in its grip, and only its massive hand kept her from slumping back onto the frozen ground.
“You trick yourselves into believing that you love others above all things,” it continued, its voice as sultry as a lover’s. “But deep down, you love your magic the most. Every single one of you.”
It released her, and Rose collapsed, wheezing. A hand fluttered to her chest, to assess the damage she would surely find there. For where there had once been a deep pond, full of brightly colored little fish, and floating lilies, and the musical trickle of water...
There was now only a barren, cracked desert, where magic would never flow again.
The creature leaned over her, a smile splitting its face. “I’ll keep my end of the bargain, Rose. Something in return.”
Without warning, it clamped its hand over her face. Its broken nails scratched along her hairline. She didn’t have the breath to scream.
“Your sister bored me,” it drawled casually, as though they once more sitting around the table, holding hot teacups. “She was a disappointment, after all the effort I expended to find her and the crones who tried to keep her hidden.”
She could barely focus on its words. A terrible pull began, from the deepest chambers within her. There was brutal pressure; relentless suction. Something was dragging Rose out from beneath her own flesh, hauling her very essence away. As though it gripped her soul by the ankles. She clawed among shattered pieces of herself, tiny bits to cling to, but none were strong enough to hold her. They ripped out by the roots like seedlings.
“But you, Rose...” the creature dipped its nose to her neck, inhaling deeply, “you’re a fighter to the core. It would be a shame to waste such potential. I may have need of it.”
The pressure intensified, becoming a searing, burning thing. Rose had the terrifying realization that she was disappearing, vanishing from existence. A struggling flame doused suddenly with frigid water. She felt like little more than smoke on a breeze. Her vision paled; the smug voice of the creature dimmed. Where was she going? Would Iris be there?
Rose lost her grip on the last dregs of her essence as the gloating presence that clutched her in its grip succeeded in prying her from her body. She tumbled through darkness, careening into an abyss. Abruptly, all inner monologue ceased. She ceased, with a wrenching finality.
The creature leaned back with a chuckle. It released its grip on the witch’s face, letting her head flop to the earth with a thud. “So long, Rose. I hope you enjoy the pleasures of eternity, as I do.”
It stood smoothly, flexing its shoulders and rotating its neck, as though adjusting to the swell of power it had added to the hidden hoard beneath its skin. It had hunted dozens of witches, seduced and tortured and hounded, and they had all broken in the end. Some had made a marvelous game of it, and been worth the effort it took to find them. Some had crawled piteously. The end result was the same.
The creature strode away from the forest, towards the lanterns and lit windows of the unprotected village. The people holed up inside their houses would never know the depths that a young, brave witch had fought to keep them safe. Few would have cared, had they known. But some would have.
Not enough of them. They had not deserved her protection.
It had traveled a long way to feed on Rose and her delicious magic. And there were still others out there somewhere; tender, gifted prey to flush out from their hiding places in the world. But for tonight, the creature would relish its victory over the witch. It would enjoy itself, a bit drunk on the lightness of the stolen magic that now trembled among others of its kind beneath the prison of the creature’ skin.
The body that had once belonged to Rose sat up as the creature stalked away. Dead leaves and twigs tangled in the long hair that swayed as she rose gracefully to her feet. There was no sign of a limp as she ambled towards her cottage, no sign that she felt the bitter cold as she slowly ascended the stone steps. Something waited there, wrapped in a thick blanket. The babe inside shifted, crying out, and one pale, bare arm broke free of the confines of the blanket.
It seemed the missing child was not dead after all. Rather, it had been collected for her; a life debt in exchange for the loss of her magic.... And the essence of her very soul.
Screams began in the distance, but Rose did not turn towards them. Did not seem to care. She bent, lifting the child into her arms before she stepped across the threshold, into the cottage. Wards that she had carved there shriveled as she passed beneath them, melting away into the wood with a mournful hiss.
The screams grew louder as people fled their houses, trying to hide in their barns, among their animals, or in the dark and ruthless woods. Rose turned to close the door, the baby tucked into the crook of her arm. But in the narrow opening, just before the door closed with a gentle click of the latch, her eyes gleamed a startling burgundy, lit from within by a cold fire that had burned everything else away.
Copyright © 2021 by Kaci Curtis
