“I hereby pronounce Mrs. Rebecca Vogel guilty of Maleficium and sentence her to death by burning at the stake. The sentence is to be executed within three months of this judgment. May God protect those worthy of his kindness.”
Nela sucked in a deep breath, the first breath since the Grand Master had started talking. Her father dropped her hand, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his expression slack except for a twitching in his jaw. Slowly Nela’s mother sank down on her chair but two guards came up to her and dragged her back to her feet. Nela’s legs began moving before she knew what was happening. All she knew was that she needed to get to her mother, to be close to her. Her father grabbed her wrist to stop her from running to her mother but she shook him off. One of the guards at the main doors turned her way as she stormed across the room. “Mom! Wait!” she croaked. Her mother twisted her head and peeked over her shoulder. Nela threw her arms around her mother’s neck, burying her face against her shoulder.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Please don’t worry about me. And listen to your father. He knows best.” She sounded so collected but Nela could feel her mother’s body shake against her. Nela didn’t understand how her mother could be so calm. Wasn’t she afraid of the pain? Of death? Nela was terrified, how could anyone not be? And how could her mother still be on her father’s side after what he’d done? After how he was acting now? Standing back like the rest of the audience, instead of trying to rush toward her and hold her in his arms one more time. Relentless hands gripped her shoulders, but she clung to her mother, trying to remember her familiar smell. But the once so familiar smell of her herbal shampoo and vanilla perfume was gone and replaced by a mix of sweat and dankness. The grip on her shoulders turned cruel. Nela was certain that it would leave bruises. The guards were too strong and eventually she had to let go of her mother.
“Get a hold on yourself,” a guard snarled. “If you don’t show some respect for the court, we’ll have to throw you into the Witch Tower for a few days for disturbing the trial.”
Nela couldn’t bring herself to care. Her face was coated with tears. She quickly wiped them off, not wanting to cause her mother any more heartbreak. Her mother’s eyes too were filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. “Be strong. Be brave,” her mother said before the guards led her through the doors and back to her cell in the Witch Tower.
Nela knew her mother was so much stronger than she could ever be. But what had she meant with ‘be brave’? Was it a hidden message? Nela didn’t get the chance to ponder it any longer; her father appeared at her side and gave the guard of the Brotherhood who was still gripping her arm a curt nod. “If you allow, I’ll take it from here,” he said quietly. The Guard released Nela and gave her a push toward her father.
“You should learn to reign her in. A woman should know her place,” the prosecutor said. He’d sneaked up on them and was watching them with cold eyes. Nela had to bite her tongue.
“Thank you for your advice,” her father murmured and Nela almost lost it then. He led her out of the courtroom and down the stairs of the old city hall that the Brotherhood used as their headquarters. She kept silent until they were outside. She couldn’t stand being near his calm demeanor. She wanted to scream and rage, wanted him to do the same. She ripped away from his hold.
“Thank you for your advice?” she threw his earlier words back at him.
He shook his head, his eyes scanning their surroundings. “Nela, please stop acting like a petulant child. There’s no reason for you to throw a tantrum.”
He actually said it in a serious tone. “No reason? What about Mom being sentenced to death? We’ll have to watch her burn!”
Her father blinked at her, slowly like a lizard watching a fly. Then he closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he didn’t look quite so out of it. “Let’s not discuss this in the middle of the street.” His eyes flitted toward the courthouse.
“No. I’m sick of watching you do nothing.” She stepped back and then she started running. She needed to get away from him. She needed Darko. He would know what to do.
“Nela, wait!” She could hear her father running after her, calling her name over and over again, but she didn’t slow. And she knew she was drawing too much attention to herself with her actions, but she was beyond caring about what the Brotherhood wanted. What she was going to do next would put her on the Brotherhood’s hit list anyway. Even if it meant getting her own stake to burn at, Nela wouldn’t let her mother die. Her father could bear everything with stoic calm if he thought he could live with himself being a coward, but she would fight. She was a necromancer after all.
Chapter 25
Nela didn’t stop running until she arrived at Darko’s apartment building. She rang the bell several times, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She felt in a daze after her mother’s trial. As if everything had lost its color and smell, as if the world around her had lost its meaning, its right to exist even.
After the seventh try, Darko finally buzzed her in and she hurried up the stairs, ignoring the burning in her lungs and the thrashing of her heart. Darko waited in the doorway, and realization settled on his face when he spotted her. She flung herself into his arms and for a moment remained there, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat, trying to match her own to its steady thump-thump.
She let Darko guide her into his apartment and heard the door click shut behind them before they stepped into the living area. A fire was roaring in the small stove and the smell of burnt wood and sage filled her nose. Her throat corded up even worse at the sight of the yellow flames eating away at the branches, leaving nothing but black bark behind. Darko pulled her down onto the sofa with him. His hands were stroking her hair in a slow rhythm and like before he was whispering words in Yugoslavian to her. Even though she didn’t understand them, they were soothing. Or maybe because she couldn’t understand them. She was so tired of false reassurances. Her pulse pounded in her temples despite having sat next to Darko for a couple of minutes. It had nothing to do with her running.
She had to calm her breathing and the raging fear in her chest before she spoke. She didn’t want to break down crying again. She’d cried enough for a lifetime in the last couple of months.
Be strong. Be brave.
Her mother’s voice rang in her mind on repeat and gave her the necessary strength to draw back from Darko’s embrace.
Darko’s hand dropped from her hair and she reached for it. “The trial didn’t go well,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Of course he knew better than anyone else that the Brotherhood didn’t show mercy.
“They found her guilty of Maleficium,” Nela whispered. “They’ll burn her at the stake.”
Darko nodded as if he hadn’t expected anything else. “The Brotherhood doesn’t seek justice. They seek our destruction.”
“I know.” She looked into his eyes. “You have to help me free my mother. Please Darko. I’d do anything to save her. I can’t watch her die. I wouldn’t survive.”
He flinched almost imperceptibly. “The Witch Tower is warded against magic, so it’s almost impossible to break in. I’ve never heard of anyone successfully breaking out, or in for that matter. The magic on that prison is old, almost as old as the one protecting the Walpurgisnight Celebrations. Neither you, nor I have the power or knowledge to penetrate the magical barriers.”
“I don’t get it. How is it possible that people accept that magic guards a prison of the Brotherhood and the brothers themselves, but we are not allowed to practice? People should be just as scared of the Brotherhood handling magic as they are of us.”
“Maybe some are, but they aren’t the ones speaking up. And the Brotherhood always justifies their actions with their mandate from God. They’re acting in the name of Good and we are acting in the name of Evil. End of story for most people.”
Nela slumped against the backrest, feeling devoid of energy. “There has to be another way to get into the Witch Tower and get my mother out. Maybe we could b
ribe one of the guards.”
Darko made a disbelieving sound. “They’re members of the Brotherhood out of conviction, not because of money. They’d never help us. They’d risk their salvation. If there was a chance of bribing them, someone would have tried it before.”
“But maybe some of them have doubt. We could ask around, right?”
Darko’s dark eyes bored into her for a long time before he sighed. “I can ask Mikael. But don’t get your hopes up. The Brotherhood is impenetrable.”
“Maybe he knows more about the barriers of the Witch Tower. He knows many people, so maybe there’s someone among them who could break in.”
“Nela, please don’t pin all your hopes on this idea. The Brotherhood has been using the Witch Tower forever and the security measures have only grown over time. They use modern security systems like cameras and motion detectors in addition to human guards walking the perimeter. So even if we got past the magical protection, which is highly unlikely, there are still the other security barriers to consider. The Witch Tower is like Fort Knox.”
“I won’t let my mother die,” Nela said in a choked whisper.
Darko wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple. “I know. We won’t. There are other options. Maybe we could try to free her when they’re leading her up to the stake. There are always so many people around. We could cause a commotion, some kind of distraction, and then rescue her.”
“That’s too late. If anything goes wrong we won’t get a second chance if we act so late.”
“We won’t get a second chance either way. The Brotherhood would triple their security measures if we attempted a rescue and failed. We’d never get close to her again. They’d probably kill her on the spot just to make sure she didn’t slip out of their hands again.”
A deep sense of hopelessness washed over Nela. “We have to figure out something. Maybe we can use my necromancing?”
“You aren’t able to control your powers and your tattoo would probably kill you if you tried to raise a bunch of bodies.”
“Then take me to Mikael. I want it removed.”
Darko’s dark brows drew together, but there was a hint of eagerness in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to bear the mark of the Brotherhood anymore. They sentenced my mother to death. I hate them. I want nothing of them on me.”
Darko glanced at the clock. “It’s only 3pm. Mikael won’t be at the Chandelier Hall yet, but I think we can find him at the Black Market.”
Nela jumped up from the sofa. “Let’s go.”
“Whoa, not so quick.” Darko rose slowly. “Once your tattoo is removed, there’s no going back.”
Nela frowned. “Why are you suddenly being so cautious? It was you who wanted me to go through with it in the first place and now you want to stop me?”
Darko touched her shoulders. “I don’t want to stop you. I just think that you’re not thinking clear because of the trial. I don’t want you to regret it.”
“Honestly, Darko, I’ve been determined to get rid of the tattoo for a while now. The only thing I would regret is not helping my mother.”
***
Nela and Darko appeared in a dark chamber. The air was stale and a hint of sewerage carried in it. There was no breeze and no sound. Nela couldn’t make out her surroundings. She felt Darko shift beside her and suddenly two torches lit up on either side of them. Her breath caught in her throat. “You have to teach me how to do that,” she whispered. Shadows flickered on Darko’s face. “Is it dark magic?”
“No. Fire is a life force, an element. It’s good magic, despite its destructive abilities. It usually takes lots of focus but the torches have been enchanted to spark easily. You just have to want them to burn and think of nothing else.” He put a hand on her lower back. “But now is not the time for lessons. We should get down.”
“Down?” Nela took a close look around. They were on a concrete platform, surrounded by plain brick walls and a brick ceiling, which ended only a couple of inches above Darko’s head. Dark spots covered it where water had destroyed the stone and inches from Nela’s feet a puddle was slowly filled by a constant dripping from a crack in the ceiling. The platform was small. Darko and Nela had to stand close, as not to touch the moldy walls. On their right side the platform was bordered by a rusty balustrade – which was so ramshackle that Nela doubted it would prevent them from plunging to their death if they leaned against it. She wasn’t sure how far down the fall would go; all she could make out was blackness.
“Come on,” Darko urged, and pulled her toward the stairs that led down from the platform to whatever lay below. Nela gripped the railing; it was cold and rough, and quivered in her hand. Their steps echoed as they made their way down the staircase. Torches lining the walls burst to life whenever they passed them. Nela wasn’t sure if it was Darko’s doing or if there was some kind of magical motion detector in place. Nela still couldn’t make out the ground, even though they’d followed the winding stairs for several minutes. The walls that hugged the staircase had arched holes in them every time they reached another platform. Nela could have comfortable lied down in each of them, but she didn’t quite get their meaning. Maybe they were for safety; a place where people could find shelter in case the desolate staircase broke down. “What are they for?” Her voice echoed in the narrow space until the words died away in the darkness.
“In the past these were tombs. People put their coffins in there. Especially people from unwanted parts of society had to hide their dead here. Witches mostly. But in the last few decades the holes have been empty.”
Nela shuddered as they passed another platform with two holes in the wall. The thought of dozens of dead bodies left in this dank place gave her the creeps. She was glad that they were long gone. She wouldn’t have wanted to walk past them. Eventually light carried up from somewhere below them. Nela peered over the railing and finally saw the ground. She quickened her steps, eager to get out of the shadows and into the light. When they turned the last corner of the stairs, the remaining steps opened up to a long but very low hall. There was a hand-width between the top of Darko’s head and a rough, brown stone ceiling. Torches lined the walls but their flames were surrounded by an almost invisible, shimmery barrier that prevented the fire from spreading. And that was a good thing because the entire underground hall was crammed with stalls, their canopy roofs touching the ceiling. Many of the stalls were closed, the curtains draped in front of their display. The smell of herbs and sewerage was strong and Nela wrinkled her nose. Darko and she immediately attracted the attention of the few vendors who were open for business today. Their eager eyes seemed to be glued to the stairs, always waiting for customers. Nela couldn’t blame them. There were only a handful of people mingling in the aisle between the long row of stalls.
“Is it always like this?” Nela whispered as she followed Darko past the first few booths. One of them had an array of candles and torches, the next vials with liquids in all imaginable colors, the next herbs, but by far the strangest display was the one they finally stopped at. Mikael sat in a chair, a small square antique table balanced on his knees where he was playing Patience. His hands moved quickly as he uncovered one card after the other.
Nela’s eyes grew wide as she took in what was for sale in his booth. There were piles of animal bones – at least that’s what Nela hoped they were – spread on the left side of the display table. Some of them were tiny and looked like they might have belonged to a mouse or a squirrel once. But one bone in the center of the booth was a massive femoral. It must have belonged to a huge horse, or something even bigger. Glass jars bigger than Nela’s head lined the right side and contained everything from a pig fetus, over a king cobra to a human foot, which seemed to have been half-eaten away by some kind of bacteria. Nela couldn’t even begin to guess what someone would want with something like that. Did people use these things for Dark Magic? For deathly potions?
Mikael’s red-blu
e eyes looked up from his game of cards and found them. He put the table aside and rose. “What can I do for you Darko? The usual?” His gaze darted to Nela before it returned to Darko who shook his head. “No, I’m not here on behalf of my Master.”
“You aren’t?” Curiosity rang in Mikael’s voice. He made a gesture toward a corner with herbs. “Maybe a contraception potion?”
Nela’s skin grew hot. She quickly stepped forward and lowered her voice. “No, nothing like that.” Darko was watching her with an intensity that made her nervous. He didn’t seem that opposed to the idea of a contraception potion. But that wasn’t why she was here. “It’s because of what we talked about last time.” She glanced around. Many of the vendors in the nearby stalls were pretending not to watch them, but it was obvious that they were eager for even the tiniest morsel of gossip. She wasn’t sure if these people could be trusted.
“We talked about a lot of things. Nothing that helped pay my rent, that’s for sure,” Mikael said, sinking back down on his chair and pulling his card table closer once more.
“You know what I mean,” Nela hissed, but Darko put a hand on her arm. “Mikael, we need your help with Nela’s tattoo. We can pay.”
Mikael raised his white-blond eyebrows. “So you’ve come to your senses. I assume this has something to do with your mother’s trial? Rumor has it that she’s been sentenced to death for Maleficium.”
How could word have gotten out so fast? “Where did you hear that?”
Mikael shrugged. “Things like that get around fast. She was well liked down here.” He nodded in the general direction of the other vendors.
Nela leaned forward, hands on the table between the mouse bones and a few small vials. “Then maybe you can help us.”
“Nela,” Darko said in warning but she ignored him.