Darko tensed. His eyes flew toward the guards but they were busy ushering the crowd inside. When he returned his gaze to the girl, she was surrounded by her parents. Her father looked like he was seconds away from exploding. Darko got it. The girl had risked a lot by practicing magic with the Brotherhood around, especially for something as ridiculous as a few small cuts. The boy would have survived, but if the guards had watched the girl healing him…
Finally the last few witches, including the girl and her parents, disappeared inside the Cologne Cathedral, and the bell stopped ringing. The guards closed the side door.
Darko was pleasantly surprised that the girl could practice healing magic, even though she probably didn’t get the chance to work spells very often. Of course that didn’t mean she was a Necromancer. But now that he knew she wasn’t opposed to breaking rules, his job to get close to her would be so much easier. At least she wasn’t a disgusting lapdog of the Brotherhood.
Chapter 5
Terror held Nela in a crushing grip. What had she done? She handed the boy over to his parents, her fingers shaking. They thanked Nela, smiled at her, but Nela couldn’t focus on what they were saying. Her eyes kept darting to the now unblemished palms of the young boy. Maybe he was too young to realize what she’d done. She didn’t dare look in the direction of the guards to find out if they’d noticed her crime. She cringed to think what they’d do to her. The family of the boy headed toward the entrance, leaving Nela alone with her terror.
She straightened and a hand clamped down on her upper arm. Her father’s angry face came into focus. He didn’t say anything, but Nela knew he’d witnessed what she’d done. She didn’t know if she was supposed to apologize or if it would make things only worse, and looked at her mother for help. But she didn’t find the consolation she’d hoped for; there was worry and fear on her mother’s face. Nela’s back, where the tattoo was, burnt fiercely as if someone was dragging a hot poker over her skin. She had to bite down on the inner side of her mouth to keep her face neutral.
Her father’s grip didn’t loosen as they approached the guards framing the small side entrance of the cathedral. From the corner of her eye, Nela could see humans enter through the wide double doors, but witches weren’t allowed to use the main entrance. Her father squeezed her arm, though Nela had been sure he couldn’t possibly tighten his hold on her. She glanced up at his carefully masked expression. The fury had disappeared behind a careful layer of deference, but Nela knew it was still there. She’d been foolish and he wouldn’t let her get away with it. Her mother gave her a gentle smile but it didn’t make Nela feel better. With every step, a new wave of pain zig-zaged through her back. Had her tattoo spread yet? Maybe one act of magic wouldn’t make a difference.
Fear seethed in the pit of her stomach but she straightened her shoulders and kept her expression calm when it was her family’s turn to stand before the guards. The men scanned them from head to toe. Nela wasn’t sure why they did it, except to make them feel small and impure. The eyes of the younger man rested on her chest for much longer than necessary but to suggest such a thing, to accuse him of any kind of interest in her, a witch, would have got her in tremendous trouble. Nobody would believe her. After all, a member of the Brotherhood would never sink as low as to consider getting close to a witch.
When Nela was sure she couldn’t take it anymore and that she’d spit into the face of the younger guard, the head guard gave a tiny nod. Her father dragged her into the gloomy inside of the cathedral. They followed the narrow alley toward the pews on the right, which were separated from the pews in the middle by a plain wooden jube. That way witches couldn’t see the humans who occupied the pews in the nave and in the left wing, but they had a partial view of the altar and the priest standing in front of it. Nela sometimes wondered if the humans ever questioned the rule that witches had to sit separate from them, or if they were too scared of the Brotherhood to allow such thoughts to enter their minds.
Nela curtsied and crossed herself before she plunked down on the hard wooden pew between her mother and father, wincing when her tender back touched the backrest. Later, when she was alone in her room at home, she would have to check her tattoo. The pipe organ sounded from the back of the church, a low, drawn-out sound like a moan. Her father was staring straight ahead, avoiding looking at her. The only sign that he was anxious was the way his fingers tugged at the cuff of his plaid jacket.
Finally the organ quieted, the last notes dispersing in the long nave. The priest began his sermon. He wasn’t a priest of the Brotherhood. He was a real priest, but Nela knew High Master Claudius and the rest of the Brotherhood would be watching from their spots in the choir. Nela lowered her head and let his words about sin and evil wash over her. She’d heard the words too many times. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a small face glancing at her. Nela tilted her head, her gaze meeting that of the boy she’d healed in front of the cathedral. Please look away. Instead he raised his small hand and waved at her until his mother gripped his arm and put it down, her expression worried.
She only had to worry about disturbing the sermon. Nela on the other hand…She didn’t want to think about it. Her father had become rigid beside her.
Nela closed her eyes throughout the remaining service. When it was finally over, the humans were allowed to leave first while the witches had to wait in their pews until a guard gave them a sign, but eventually Nela and her family left the cathedral. Nela sucked in the crisp air, glad to be outside, away from the hateful sermons created by the Brotherhood. Her father hastened away from the cathedral and Nela and her mother had to jog to keep up with him. When they couldn’t be seen from the cathedral anymore, he stopped abruptly and whirled on her, his face masked with fury. “What did you think you were doing back there?”
Nela froze, taken aback by her father’s anger. He was a dispassionate man and seeing him like that unsettled her. “I don’t know. I just wanted to help. I didn’t think.”
“You didn’t think,” he repeated. “Yes, you didn’t think of the consequences for you and your family.” He kept his voice low. Even though they were speaking in English that didn’t protect them from being overheard. Most Germans learned English in school and would understand what they were saying.
Her mother put a hand on his arm. “Felix, I think it’s enough. Nela didn’t mean for it to happen. She wanted to help a small boy.”
“The Brotherhood won’t care. She broke the law and it will be obvious for everyone who sees her back. She acted foolishly and recklessly.”
Nela pressed her lips together.
“You won’t ever use magic again, understood?” her father growled. Ever since Nela had received her tattoo her father had become even sterner. He treated her as if she was a ticking time bomb. She didn’t understand why he was acting like that. Didn’t he ever want to work spells?
“I’m a witch,” she whispered harshly. “Why has God made me a witch if he doesn’t want me to practice magic?”
Her father looked around, but there was no one close by. He raked his hand through his dark brown hair – the only thing they had in common – before he spoke again. “You won’t talk like that. You’ll get us all in trouble. Stop being ridiculous. It’s blasphemous what you’re saying. We have to abide by the Brotherhood’s laws. Witches aren’t allowed to use magic.”
Nela could feel magic tingling in her fingertips and her back burned fiercely. She wanted to do magic, now more than ever.
“You sound like High-Master Claudius. I’m so sick of you acting like you aren’t a wizard.” Nela turned around and ran away. She would lose it if she had to keep looking at her father. She hurried into one of the smaller alleys and then into another until she was certain she’d lost her parents. Then she leaned against the wall, suddenly glad for the pain in her back since it helped her focus on something else than her fury and the magic crawling under her skin.
***
Darko pressed against the wall as he watched the
fight between the girl and her parents. A smile twisted his lips. If the girl were closer to her parents, his mission would be more difficult. Suddenly the girl whirled around and stomped off. Tiny sparks of magic flickered between her fingers. If she didn’t learn to control her magic, she’d get herself killed before he could get his hands on her. He cursed and hurried after her. He could hear the voices of the girl’s parents rise in anger but when he turned the next corner their words died down. He could see the girl turn another corner and he sped up to catch up with her. He rushed around the next corner, the thrill of the chase quickening his pulse, and stumbled to a halt. The girl was leaning against a wall in the alley, staring down at the cross hanging around her neck, clutched in her fingers. Fingers that were still sparking with magic.
Darko despised witches who wore the cross to please the Brotherhood. Did it even mean anything to her? A long time ago he’d believed in something; that was before the villagers of his hometown had burned a cross into his chest. It didn’t hurt when he practiced magic. Actually it didn’t hurt at all anymore, but it was there on his chest. It was the only cross he’d ever wear again. He could have removed it with magic, but he needed it as a reminder and warning of what humans were capable of. Not that he was in danger of forgetting it. Nobody could forget, much less forgive, what had been done to him and his family. Behind his eyes, he could see the image of the branding iron in the shape of the cross, glowing a deep orange. He could remember his crippling fear when the burning iron had been only inches from his chest. He’d struggled but three men had held him down. He’d pleaded and screamed but they had chanted, their eyes feverish with their beliefs. He had been less than human to them, an evil that needed to be purged. He remembered the smell of burnt flesh when the searing cross was pressed against his skin. He remembered the agony and his high-pitched screams, and then he remembered nothing as his body had surrendered to blissful unconsciousness. But they hadn’t allowed him even this small reprieve. They’d woken him with cold water to his face, so he could watch as they ripped open the blouse of his little sister, only eleven years old. She’d pleaded Darko to help her and he’d wanted to. He’d tried but his magic, magic he’d never used in a bad way before that day, had been paralyzed by his fear. He was helpless and useless. He had to look into his sister’s terrified eyes as they burnt their cross into her stomach. And her screams, they still haunted him every night. He pushed the memories away. There was nothing but pain associated with them. Whatever the cross meant to others, whatever it meant to the girl, for him it had a different meaning and always would.
But he had to gain the girl’s trust and couldn’t let his hatred get the better of him. He already knew how to attract her interest. She wanted to learn magic, he was sure of it. Why else would her magic be so close to the surface that it actually flickered between her fingers? He’d just have to figure out a way to approach her. The hairs at the back of Darko’s neck rose and he tensed, looking around for a sign of danger, only to find her eyes directed at him.
***
Nela caught movement to her right and quickly dropped her cross, turning to face whoever had followed her. It was a guy, only a couple of years older than her, with impossibly dark eyes. She could barely make out his pupils; his irises were too dark. He was dressed in a long black coat, his black hair shaggy. It wasn’t a purposeful rugged look like that of so many guys. Rather it looked like he didn’t care enough about his appearance to bother combing his hair on a daily basis. He was pale as if he didn’t often go out during the day. By now he was returning her gaze, but Nela didn’t feel embarrassed for scanning him. He had started it and with this realization came a new worry. How long had he been watching her? She should have paid more attention to her surroundings. Her parents always emphasized how important vigilance was to stay under the Brotherhood’s radar.
Fear flooded her. What if the Brotherhood had sent the guy after her for healing the boy? She’d thought the guards hadn’t seen anything, but maybe there had been other guards Nela hadn’t noticed, or maybe one of her own kind had betrayed her. There were spies and snitches among them, always keen on getting in the good graces of the Brotherhood, no matter whom they’d have to take down for it. If someone had told on her, she’d burn at the stake for her crime.
Nela straightened and squared her shoulders. There was no use in speculating and panicking. “Why are you watching me?”
His expression registered surprise but as quickly as the emotion had come it was gone again. He came closer, his strides long and fluid, the hem of his coat swishing softly. Nela stood her ground, even though her body told her to back away. “Are you a member of the Brotherhood?”
He let out a laugh. It sounded raw and unpracticed. “The Brotherhood wouldn’t have me even if I wanted to be one of their brothers.” Something dark flashed across his face. He had almost reached her by now and the uneasiness Nela had felt before was now an overwhelming sense of danger. He moved his arm in an arc, his lips moving too quickly, his words too quiet for Nela to catch them, but a silvery dome shimmered into existence around them and then blinked out of view. But Nela knew it was still there, she could feel it. The sounds from the outside were dimmed.
“What did you do?” she demanded, finally taking a step back from him. She reached into her back where she stashed a can of pepper spray that her father had given her when he hadn’t hated her. She didn’t pull it out yet. She needed to wait for the right moment to catch him by surprise.
“That’s an invisible shield to keep us save from unwanted eyes and ears. I prefer a private conversation.”
That was too much. This guy was a crazy stalker. Nela ripped out her pepper spray and pushed the button. With a hiss the spray blasted toward the guy. His palm shot up and a wall of magic appeared before him but not before the first burst of pepper spray hit him square in the face. The remaining spray bounced off the magic field and struck Nela in turn. She gasped and tried to rub her eyes that started burning fiercely. She knew she needed to run but she couldn’t see through her watering eyes.
“Are you crazy?” the guy muttered. “What did you do that for? Damn, that stuff burns.”
“You know nothing of burning,” Nela said. Her nose had started running too.
“Oh believe me, I do,” the guy said quietly. She heard his steps come closer and braced herself. She would kick out if he tried to grab her. “I can help you with the burning. But put the pepper spray down first.”
“No way,” Nela said.
The guy sighed. “Then at least promise me to wait before blinding me again.”
Nela’s fingers around the can tightened. She wouldn’t promise that guy anything. She didn’t even know him, much less trust him. Only rapists and thugs followed a girl into a deserted alley and enclosed her with a magical wall. Once again, she wished she could use her magic for defense. It would have made her life so much easier. Maybe not in this case, since the guy seemed more than capable with his spells, but in general. She squinted through her watering eyes. They burned almost as badly as her back by now. She could make out the outline of the guy. So close up he was a head taller than her. That didn’t make her feel better. Her hand with the pepper spray twitched. Maybe this time she would be quicker than him and then she’d run, even if she couldn’t see where she was going.
“Okay. Apparently this isn’t going to work,” the guy said impatiently. “If you prefer to stay a blubbering mess, then be my guest. I won’t stay to let you assault me again.”
Reluctantly, Nela lowered the pepper spray a few inches. Her muscles were so tense, she was sure they would snap any moment. She’d healed the boy in front of the church, but that had been instinct. She wasn’t sure how she’d done it. She tried to focus on her eyes, on the watering and burning, but nothing changed, except that her tattoo began tingling as if it could sense that she was trying to perform magic.
“What are you doing? You’ve gone all cross-eyed,” the guy asked. He was so close that he was all she
could make out with her blurry vision. “I’m going to touch the skin next to your eyes now and then you’ll hopefully feel better. I’m not good at healing magic, so I can’t promise anything.”
Nela flinched when his cold fingertips touched her skin. Her fingers around the pepper spray tightened again but relaxed when her vision started to become clear and her eyes stopped watering, even though they still felt slightly raw. She blinked once and the guy dropped his hands. She took a step back, glad to have some distance between them. “Thanks,” she forced herself to say. He didn’t smile but gave her a nod.
She examined his face closely, searching for a sign of familiarity, but she’d never seen him before. How could that even be? Wasn’t he registered with the Brotherhood? “Shouldn’t you be more worried about doing magic in public? People could see you,” she said eventually.
He raised one black eyebrow. “What about that boy you healed in front of the church with the guards of the Brotherhood only feet away? That’s what I’d call reckless.”
Nela tensed. “You were watching?” She took another step back but could feel the magical barrier tingling against her back. Her tattoo flared up angrily until she leaned forward a bit. Though she seemed incapable of walking through the invisible wall, the snowflakes that had started falling passed right through it.
“I’m always on the lookout for witches and wizards who aren’t opposed to working spells. Magic is in our blood. I could never live without it. I don’t want to. There hasn’t been a day in the last few years when I didn’t use magic.”
Nela’s eyes grew wide. How did he do it? The iron from his tattoo should have poisoned him by now. He had to be lying. “If that were true, you’d already be dead. Your tattoo would have killed you. Everyone knows that. You’re a liar.” She was sick of this. Why was she even still talking to him? Her parents were probably already searching the entire city for her. “Let me out,” she demanded.