Luna Witch

Luna Witch © 2014 by Nastassia BB

A kick to the ribs brought Chloe back. She curled up instinctively, biting back the cry of pain her captors were no doubt looking for, and exhaled when the heavy footsteps moved away. The cold wet floor beneath her rocked suddenly and pushed her against someone.

“Chloe.” Selena’s frightened whisper brought her an equal sense of relief and misery. Chloe pushed herself up against her friends shaking and soaked body then slide the fingers of her good hand into the Selena's cold stiff ones.

“Where are we?” Chloe whispered still blinking past the fogy haze of the sedative and evaluating their surroundings. Day break was just brimming through a clustered field of clouds on a foreboding horizon. A sky that reached down and touched the sides of the boat carrying the two girls and their five captors. The boats continued rocking let Chloe know they were at sea. A familiar sick feeling of dread rose up the back of her throat. Selena shook against her and Chloe felt the girl's forehead rest against her neck.

“They were talking about the Witch's Grave,” Selena sobbed.

Chloe closed her eyes, willed herself to stay strong, if only for Selena's sake. Terror quickly moved to hatred, a emotion she had embraced if only to survive. The past six days they had been in the Church Tribunal clutches. Suffering through one test after the other, each one laced with it's own special brand of pain, crafted to force a witch to use her powers or confess. Chloe had done neither, not even when they pressed the burning hot iron into her left hand and held it there until she blackout from the pain. A hand now more dead then alive. Chloe couldn't use her gift to ease the pain or mend the flesh for fear the tribunal would notice. Selena had tried to bandage it, but the hand had twisted into a stiff lump that refused to hold the torn clumps of clothes.

And now they were going to die anyway. Being strong and suffering in silence had done nothing. The Witch's Grave was where her kind went to die. Perhaps it was better than a public burning a confession or slip would have earned them. Even in the 20th century when you'd imagine such vulgar practices to be abolished, there was no denying the reach of the Church and their hatred of witches.

The sound of metal dragging across the boat roused Chloe from her thoughts. She turned towards the men, who dragged two metal chairs looped with chains from below deck. A cold numbness flowed over her as she felt Selena sag weakly against her. Judge Gabriel stalked towards them with a familiar sickening smile and Chloe's hatred boiled.

“I hope the journey wasn't too long,” he purred as he sat down in one of the chairs and traced the iron cast chains playfully. “Fortunately it's almost over.”

“What is this?” Chloe hissed. “What happened to our trial? You haven't proven anything! You-”

“Proven you're a witch, Chloe?” Judge Gabriel chuckled. “But we already know that.”

“But we didn't-” Chloe chocked out the words. “You were just going to kill us anyway?”

“Just figuring that out. It's not the flaming death my constituents would have hoped for, but you'll burn for eternity where you're going,” Gabriel slapped the armrest and stood. “Don't look at me like that,” he patronized, seemingly amused by her anger. “You can consider this your final test if you like. Survive and you're allegiance to Satan is proven beyond all doubt.” He spread his hands out with that hateful grin, and shrugged. “But you'll probably just sink like the rest I'm afraid.”

A rumble of thunder drew his attention, a small ripple of lightening outlined a distant coast. Chloe could feel Selena crying against her, the girl's strength was gone and Chloe had none to share. Perhaps in a different life she would have been born without this gift. Perhaps she would have parents that wanted her, instead of abandoning her on the church steps unaware of what she would become and the death sentence doomed to follow. Perhaps this life just wasn't worth it. All it had given her was pain, cold weary consuming pain. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting.

“Chloe!” Selena's scream pulled her back again as the girl's body was ripped away and dragged towards the first chair propped precariously against the side of the boat. “Chloe!” Her friends cry cut through the fog, pain, and fear. Chloe staggered forward onto her knees which earned her a firm punch to the side of her face. She almost passed out again.

But Selena's fear trapped her. The sound of the rattling chains they looped tightly around her friend's neck, torso, arms, and legs grated her ears. Judge Gabriel tested the chains himself while a priest recited verses in Latin for the witch's lost soul. The men twisted the chair around so that Selena faced the boat and Gabriel, but it was Chloe she locked eyes with, the terror in those hazel brown eyes more painful then any torment they had inflicted on Chloe before.

“Any last words Selena?” Gabriel asked as he pushed the girl's gaze towards his with the hilt of a dagger. Selena coiled away, but her burning eyes met his and seconds later Chloe flinched as her friend spit into the face of their captor.

“Go to hell!” Selena's voice shook but her defiance couldn't be clearer. Moment's later it fled as Gabriel clutched the girl's shirt and ripped through the fabric revealing the brand on Selena's left shoulder, his knife soon pressed against her throat.

“Gabriel,” Chloe quickly shouted. “I have a confession to make!” They all froze. The priest who had dropped his bible hurriedly scooped it up. The men holding Selena on the ship looked between their leader and Chloe.

“A confession?” Gabriel's knife dropped from Selena's throat.

“Yes,” Chloe tried to catch Selena's gaze and give her friend some assurance. If she could buy enough time she might have enough strength summoned to free them somehow. She need a spell that would knock their captors off the ship, but not with Selena still dangerously close to the edge herself. “Bring her down and I'll confess.”

“You presume to play games with me, Witch?” Gabriel said his tone dangerous even as he turned towards Chloe. “Why delay the death of one witch for the confession of another?”

“Because a confession is what the Church wants!” Chloe answered confidently. Gabriel grunted in acceptance as he studied her.

“Your confession won't save her life,” Gabriel pointed out blunty, but his tone was curious, as if he were trying to see the trap behind her promise.

“But it will give me a chance to say goodbye,” Chloe returned and smiled weakly at Selena, who stared back at her with hopeless confusion.

“Goodbye,” Gabriel considered Selena and mulled over the trade. “A goodbye between witches for a confession.”

“Exactly, you still get to kill us both but this way the Church gets what it wants.” Chloe heard the determination in her voice and hoped its sincerity would reach Gabriel. The power was welling up inside her, licking against the chains on her wrist, flowing through every part of her except the crippled hand that seemed blocked off. It was enough, but Selena was still not safe. “What have you got to lose?”

“Me, nothing.” Gabriel shrugged as he turned to his men. Selena glanced hurriedly over at Chloe, her friends experienced eyes now seeing the power flickering beneath Chloe's skin. They shared a knowing burning frenzy of hope and trust in that look. “But you-” Gabriel turned to smile at Chloe. “You still have more to lose.”

“What?” Chloe blinked and watched as he twisted towards Selena like a snake. His knife glittered from one side to the other suddenly coated in red. Selena's pale faced tensed, her large eyes still glued to Chloe's. Gabriel stepped away and she saw the deep line of red across her friend's pale stomach, then Selena was tipped back, the chains binding her to the chair, and dropped out of sight. Chloe didn't hear the splash, couldn't hear or see anything but Selena's face. Her friend, her mentor, her everything – gone.

“I hope you said goodbye,” Gabriel purred.

What little discipline Selena had taught her in secrecy over the years broke. The power roared free with a terrify deep hunger. The chains on Chloe's wrist shattered and her grasp on reality snapped. Gabriel reacted quickly as he pulled the taser gun from his belt, but not quick enough. The waves spiraled around the ship like two howling mouths, twisting the wood and metal in opposite directions and sucking away the men and priest into its churning gut. Gabriel stumbled to his knees, and clawed at the last chair for support, his gaze locked on Chloe. Cold black eyes stared back at him as a smile crossed her pale face.

“I confess Gabriel,” the voice was not that of the 17 year old girl he'd all but broken. It was older, far older. “I'm a Witch.”

The metal below him groaned, snapped, and fell away. Water churned up beneath him, curling around his body like a serpent and Chloe's face vanished as he was pulled down into the depths of the Witch's Grave.