AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“One is not a witch. We are sworn to protect the innocent!” someone interrupts.
Caleb’s eyes narrow on him. “She was in the company of witches. She is as guilty in God's eyes.”
“In your eyes!” the same man yells.
Caleb grins, then leaps off the platform. I notice he keeps one arm close to his side, that hand fisted. I wonder if he’s the one the dog attacked. As he stalks toward the man who spoke up, the others clear away. The outspoken man backs up as Caleb approaches. Caleb is maybe six feet tall. He’s built moderately. The others all look to be younger than him. More capable than him.
“That’s right. In my eyes. Thank you for clarifying that, Brother Amos. It’s the same thing, isn’t it? I decide who hangs.”
“If we kill even one innocent, our souls are damned. You know what the Prophet says. Scripture is clear—”
“I am both Prophet and scripture,” he says more calmly, and as he says it, he licks his thumb and draws the sign of the cross on Amos’s forehead. “I thought I made that clear, young Brother.” Caleb raises his hand to beckon the two who were flanking him to approach. “Take Brother Amos into the church. Remind him of his role as an initiate.”
“No!” Brother Amos cries out as the two guards close in on him, each about twice Amos’s size as they take an arm each and lead him away.
“The meek shall inherit the earth and penance shall make you meek,” Caleb calls out casually as he ascends the stage once more.
The four remaining men exchange glances as they watch Amos being dragged away.
“Anyone else need reminding who decides what?” Caleb asks with an unhinged grin, glaring at each man in turn.
They all quietly shake their heads as organ music begins to play loudly. Caleb takes a moment to glance at the church and, closing his eyes, smiles momentarily before addressing the men again.
“Brother Paul, go have your turn. You may have your pick of the two.”
My stomach tightens.
Two.
Brother Paul walks eagerly toward the cabin where they’d just taken Raven and Bec. Without another word between us, Emmanuel and I stalk in separate directions, Emmanuel toward the cabin following fucking Brother Paul and me toward the platform, my vision blurred but for one man.
Caleb’s expression when he sees me is disbelief at first. His eyebrows rise high on his head, and he stops talking mid-word. The brothers turn to follow his gaze, that music blaring some dark tune appropriate for the evil taking place here.
“Where is my wife?” I roar.
It’s not until I am almost to the platform that two of the brothers jump to act, attacking me. They only manage to slow me down long enough to shove them away.
Caleb is the one I want.
“Where is she? Where is Willow?”
As the two scramble to their feet, the other two attack, and Caleb screams to his soldiers, but they don’t seem to hear him over the organ music. The two new attackers put up a better fight as the first two join them, making me shift my attention from Caleb to handle them.
I pound my fists into their faces, sending them to the ground. One grabs my ankle as my fist connects with another’s jaw, and I’m taken off balance. I drop to the ground, bringing one brother with me while another picks up a stick and begins to beat it on my back. He’s clearly not an experienced fighter, but he is fucking irritating.
I get to my feet, wrestle the stick from him and smash it across his face with an inhuman battle cry. Blood splatters me, and he goes down hard. Another one is on his knees, getting up, and I smash his head next before being pulled down again. This time when I’m down, I drop the stick. I take the two remaining brothers by their oversized rosaries and twist their lengths around my fists, strangling them the way they would have strangled Willow, Raven, and Bec with their ropes and nooses. But when I see Caleb running in my periphery, I drop the rosaries, unsure if the men who stopped their fight moments ago are dead or alive. Uncaring.
I get to my feet, but as I do, the church door opens. It takes the two soldiers, who are surprised at the scene they’re seeing, a moment to rush me, to attack, with their fighting skills better than the four combined.
All the while, I hear the sound of running, of an engine starting.
Of Caleb getting away.
“Azrael,” I hear in the distance, but it barely registers because Caleb’s escape enrages me.
I let out a roar as I fist a hand in each man’s too-long hair, grip tight, and slam them together so hard, I hear the sound of skulls smashing, feel the reverberations of bone splintering as I do it again and again and again.
