Chapter 80: Chosen Of The Light
Where was I? I vaguely recalled running. Brad. The necklace. But it was so dark and I was so very tired...
I wasn't alone. Was it the family out there? I tried to go to them, but something held me back. I struggled with what little strength I had. My hands wouldn't move. Or my feet. Even my chest felt weighted down. And I was elevated, standing higher than everyone else. I looked down, my chin hitting my chest, the weight of my head too much. I blinked slowly once. What was with the firewood? Why was I standing on a pile of it? And why did I smell kerosene? Wow, it stank.
I managed to lift my head again and noticed the people. Not the family. Wrong color. The coven wore black and these people were all dressed in-
I was suddenly and terrifyingly awake. My hands ached from the ropes knotted around them and I whimpered as I pulled and yanked. I had to get away. There was only one reason I could be tied to a post on a pile of a cord of wood.
Ohmygod. They were going to burn me alive.
I reached for my demon, screamed for her in the vaults of my mind, but she wasn't there. No. She was. But her presence was dim and very calm.
How could she sleep at a time like this?
The powder. It knocked me out. It had to be some kind of power blocker.
OhmygodohmygodohmygodohmyGOD I'm going to die!
The powder also left me physically weak so no matter how hard I yanked and squirmed I couldn't get free. I collapsed in my bindings, tears pouring from my eyes, soft panting whimpers trickling from my throat. They wouldn't. They couldn't. Mom would come. Or Uncle Frank. Sunny. Anybody. Somebody!
I was going to die.
Demitrius stood in the middle of a circle of his people, chanting something in Latin. At least I thought it was Latin. Some dumb dead language they used before they BURNED PEOPLE TO DEATH. That had me going again, straining against the ropes that cut my skin, but held me tight and refused to let me go.
No, this wasn't happening. Not to me. Stuff like this only happened in the movies.
I reached out again and again, throwing my mind out into the dark, needing someone to hear me, finally just begging and pleading for my Mom. But only silence echoed back and my demon slept on, oblivious. The tingling numbness I remembered from when I collapsed permeated everything.
The white robed Chosen worked themselves up into a frenzy. One woman tore at her hair, her hood falling back. Another man beat his chest and cried out at the moon. They were crazy. Crazy. And almost done.
I had to get away. I couldn't die like this.
Too late. Demitrius broke the circle and walked toward me. He had a stick in his hand. There was some kind of lump at the end of it. He stood directly in front of me, the smile I now hated directed at me.
"Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle," he intoned in his stupid annoying voice with his stupid annoying face smiling his stupid annoying smile I wanted to smash. "The Chosen of the Light stand in judgment of your life and your existence. You have been observed and offered redemption you rejected. You therefore stand accused of witchcraft. How do you plead?"
"Screw you." Sounds brave, right? Yeah, not so much. I wanted to use the f-word but I hated it and he wasn't worth it.
"You stand accused of demon possession. How do you plead?"
He was insane. That had to be it. It explained a lot, really. But didn't help me even a little.
"Let me go," I despised the weakness in my voice. "Please, don't do this."
"How do you plead?" His tone never changed. Or his expression.
He was really going to burn me at the stake. And I knew, looking in his eyes, there was nothing I could do to stop it. Nothing.
Still, I refused to answer. At least I could make it a little harder for him. Very little.
"You stand accused of releasing a demon onto this world."
What was he talking about? My dad? He wasn't free. Then it hit me. Not my dad. The creature. Demon magic was the fourth power. Of course. I didn't recognize it because it hid behind the other three powers, like it didn't want to be known. At least, not yet. But now that I realized it, it was so very clear.
I had to warn my mother. And had no way of doing so.
"Please," I tried again, as futile as it was. "I have to help them. That thing will kill my family."
"Then you admit your involvement."
"Will you let me go if I do?" Worth a try.
His smile deepened until he dimpled.
"And finally," he said, "you stand accused of conspiring with the undead. How do you plead?"
I stood there, mute, helpless, hopeless. Out of luck, out of excuses.
Out of time.
"Very well." He turned to the gathered white robes. "As leader of the Chosen of the Light, I find this witch guilty on all counts." Big surprise. "The sentence on the first count?"
"Death," they chanted immediately.
Had their answer all prepared, did they? I struggled again, feeling my bonds loosen a little. But as soon as I twisted my wrist to work the hole larger, the rope tightened again. No way.
"The sentence for the second count?"
"Death."
This was getting old fast. I winced as the rope cut into my skin and felt hot wetness. I'd broken through and cut myself. I'd heard of blood making stuff slippery. Didn't heroines always use their own blood to slide out of bindings?
Not this heroine. Obviously whoever tied me up didn't read the books I did.
"The sentence on the third count?"
"Death."
"Shut up!" I screamed at them, frustration bursting out of me. "Just shut the hell up! I get it. I get it! This isn't even a real trial. Where's your evidence, you creepy little freak?" I know I must have looked like a psycho. Didn't care.
Demitrius smiled over his shoulder at me before turning back to his people.
"And on the fourth and final count, what is the sentence?"
They waited a heartbeat, like they couldn't stand to say it, they savored it so much.
"Death."
Demitrius turned back to me. He wasn't smiling anymore. He looked very sad.
"I'm sorry, child," he said. "The Chosen have spoken. Death, on all four counts."
I started swearing, this time using every word I ever learned. It didn't help but it let me vent and was all I had left.
The man standing next to Demitrius held out his hand. There was a grinding, scraping sound and a thin flame appeared. A lighter. Demitrius bobbed the lump-covered stick toward it and the lump caught fire.
A torch. It roared to life, casting an evil glow across Demitrius's face.
"I wish you safe journey," he said. "May the Light cleanse you and send your human soul safely home, Sydlynn."
I screamed and lunged and fought as the torch descended, but it didn't do one lick of good. The fuel-soaked wood caught instantly and started climbing toward me. Heavy smoke billowed, blocking my vision, making me choke. I sobbed, terrified, sagging in my bonds one last time, giving up.
The fire rose to consume me.
My fighting spirit refused to lie quiet. I found myself throwing all my weight against the ropes again, over and over, while I hurtled my mind against my demon, trying to wake her, to summon someone, anything to break free. I buried my face in my shoulder, trying to filter the smoke through the cloth as I breathed, but it buffeted me as the fire rushed over the kerosene.
I could hear the Chosen crying out, cheering for my death. They were celebrating. It was so unfair! How dare they judge me and my family? But even my anger wasn't enough.
The smoke parted for an instant and I saw the scene before me with crystal clarity. When I realized what was happening, I wanted to laugh. And cry. Not to mention run away screaming.
Because that's what I was hearing. Screaming. Not celebrating after all.
The Chosen had an uninvited guest. In snapshots taken between gusts of smoke, I watched the creature turn on them, appearing and disappearing in the shadows, its hideous face lit by the climbing fire. Harsh laughter carrying through the shrieks of the dying, yellowed fangs turned bright crimson as it fed. Blood erupted over white robes, painting the trodden grass with shining pools. I choked back a sob tinged with bile as a head flew, set free in a jerk of the thing's magic-fed hands, sending it tumbling into the flames below me.
The scent of burning hair drove a fist into my stomach.
A surge of smoke returned and I coughed, my lungs burning, but was suddenly grateful for the cover it gave me. The increasing crackle of the rising flames didn't quite drown out the pleas for mercy. Nor did they soften the harsh cackle of the murderer. But it was just enough I could pretend even while the replay of that bodiless head spun around and around in my mind. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep them from stinging. My mind drove me to fight and fight against the ropes around my hands and feet. Animal instinct told me if I could get away now, they wouldn't be able to stop me.
Something touched me and I screamed, taking in a lung-full of smoke, making me retch and cough. Strong hands took mine and I felt magic shatter the bindings. I was thrown over a broad shoulder and felt us leap free of the fire, landing hard, rolling over. I gasped for air in the cool night, flipping on my side to throw up everything in my stomach before falling back again.
Quaid hovered over me, face pinched with terror. He didn't speak, just gathered me into his arms and ran.
We made it three steps before someone grabbed my feet and swung us around. Demitrius looked demonic himself, covered in blood and soot, his cherub face twisted with madness, the torch still in his hand.
"You did this," he shrieked at me, raising the torch. "You brought that creature here! You will die for what you've done!"
He attacked with the flaming stick. Quaid dropped me, deflecting the fire with his power while he struck out, taking the Chosen leader's legs out from under him.
"Quaid," I called out as Demitrius raised his free hand, "look out!"
The white powder hit a wall of energy and combusted.
"You missed," Quaid snarled. He sent Demitrius flying backward, pinning the man to a tree, the limbs folding forward to encase the madman in a wooden net.
I staggered to my feet, my hand meeting Quaid's. At his touch, my demon roared to life, demanding to know what the hell just happened.
I glared at Demitrius, wanting to kill him, to do to him what he was about to do to me. The torch flared at my command and my demon howled for revenge when she understood what I was doing and why.
But Quaid's magic slid around me, through me, just like it used to before I'd accepted Brad's gift and the power tied to it, and he managed to reach us both before my demon and I could act.
You're not like him, Quaid sent. Let it go.
He almost killed me! Quaid absorbed the rage, the hate and held me closer with his velvety magic, all sticky caramel and warm chocolate.
He'll get his. But we have more important things to do. Syd. Syd!
He was right. And Demitrius Strong would keep.
"Sit," I growled at him, wrapping him tighter to the tree. It wore me out, the tingling numbness dumbing me down. "Stay. Good dog." I looked up at Quaid and he smiled.
"Nice touch," he said.
"Thanks," I answered. "After you."
I followed Quaid deeper into the forest, ignoring the screams of the Chosen leader as he called after us.
"You will pay for this, Sydlynn Hayle! I shall avenge my people! You will not be cleansed for your soul to be free! For this, I will see to it you suffer for all eternity!"
Good luck with that, I thought. Get in line.
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