The stag slumps his shoulders in defeat. He starts to turn away, but I stop him by running my hand over his coat. Everything is wrong here. The stag’s sadness is overwhelming. There’s no malevolence or hatred emanating from him. All I can sense is love and a need to save…but to save what, I can’t figure out.
“Ok, I’ll follow you. Let me just get some weapons from my car.”
He shakes his head and then nudges at the hand that’d held the energy ball.
“Are you saying I’ll only need my magic?” I question.
He snorts a ‘yes’.
“Ok.”
The stag turns, and I follow him through the forest. It’s wet underfoot, and I need to be careful of my step. The magnificent beast clears a path for me as best he can. His large antlers swiping aside the branches. The deeper I get into the forest, the more magic I begin to sense. Something wicked is at work here. It’s cold and calculating and causing pain to those around it. Overwhelming melancholy emanates from the stag and hits me in the chest. It’s so strong my legs weaken, and I need to take a moment to compose myself.
“What the hell has happened to you?”
My magic isn’t as strong as my mother’s, but she and my grandmother taught me how to protect myself if needed, and Dominic has guided me also.
I take a few deep breaths, suppressing the mixture of emotions cascading through my body. Sensory perception was an essential part of my education at the hands of my mother. She wanted me to always be in tune with the type of magic I encountered. It’s the reason why I can now sense that the suffering in this place is almost unbearable. Whoever has used magic on the stag has not done so with any good intention.
Strengthened, I continue to follow until we reach the edge of the forest. In front of us stands the entrance to a Gothic style house. It’s overbearing, built in dark stone with small windows and gargoyles watching as security. I can feel there’s never been any happiness here…only sorrow and death.
“Who lives there?” I question, wishing the stag could speak to me. I try to remember a spell for telepathy, but it doesn’t come.
While we stand hidden in the shadows of the trees, the front door opens, and an elderly man steps out. He limps along slowly with the aid of a walking stick. He must be eighty, possibly even older. He’s thin and frail, but there’s a power about him I’ve never felt before.
“He’s magical.” I confirm to the stag, and he nods. “Is he the one who did this to you?” Again another ‘yes’. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”
The stag motions with his head for me to watch.
The elderly man looks back at the house. He holds his hand up and a layer of crystal forms over the entire building, creating a protective barrier—security against anyone trying to get in. The gentleman then gets into the passenger side of a car parked in front of the house, and he’s driven away.
“Why would he secure his house in this way? A burglar alarm out here would be sufficient.” Something doesn’t settle right with me. The magic I sensed on the man wasn’t good. It felt like it had been powerful once but was now weak as though it was dwindling away.
With the owner of the house gone, I step out of the trees. The stag follows behind me, sniffing at the air.
“Trouble.”
He replies, ‘no’.
“Is the man the only person who lives here?”
The stag doesn’t have time to answer my question before a loud scream comes from inside the house. It’s feminine and urgent—it’s a plea for help. My magic comes flooding back to me as I lower the security field with a wave of my hand and speed into the house.
Chapter Three
Nyah Stratton
Twelve months—three hundred and sixty-five days—eight thousand and sixty hours—thirty-one million, five hundred-thirty six thousand seconds—that’s how long I’ve been in this cage, and tonight my imprisonment will finally be over. It’s time for my marriage to Malachi. He’ll take my virginity to strengthen his powers, and then continue to use me until I’ve nothing left to give him and the next girl comes along.
I’ve often wondered over the past year who my replacement will be. My family’s lineage will be gone. My parents are dead, my brother’s a stag with a death sentence over his head, and I’ll follow them all in due course. There must be another family line somewhere from which Malachi will reap his next bride. If I could curse my ancestors who started this, I would. However, after tonight, I doubt I’ll be able to do anything.
Over the last year, Malachi has been informing me…no, teasing me about what will happen once we’re married. The moment he comes inside me, he will start to draw my energy, and I’ll age instantly. When he took his last wife’s virginity, she immediately lost thirty years of her life. Evidently, it depends on how much he enjoys it, and after the hassle I’ve given him, he’s going to make sure he savors every moment. He’s told me of the great delight he’ll experience, fucking me with my brother watching on—if he enjoys it enough, he could kill me then and there, drawing all my life force in one go. I guess it could be a blessing, but I don’t want to die. I’ve thought of little else over the last year. There’s so much I want to do with my life and so many places I want to see. My life will have all been for nothing if it ends here tonight for the sake of something that happened centuries ago. I will never understand how this can have been allowed to continue for so long.
Malachi’s had to go out for an hour or two to collect the priest who’s replacing the one my brother killed. It sounds like there’s some reluctance on the part of the new priest to perform the marriage ceremony. I hope it stays that way until after the clock chimes in four hours because then I’ll have another year to figure out how to escape. Mind you, all my attempts so far have proved futile, so maybe it would be better if I just gave in to my fate.
As soon as I’m sure Malachi has left, I start screaming. It’s unlikely to draw any attention, though. I don’t know where we are exactly, but I’ve often shouted when Malachi has gone out, and nobody has ever come, so it must be in the middle of nowhere.
“Help,” I shout out loudly and repeat it over and over again while listening out for the sound of a car returning.
When the door to the room bursts open, I jump backward in my cage, scared Malachi’s discovered my pleas for help. But it’s not him, it’s a man I don’t recognize. His slimline hips are dressed in dark jeans with a black t-shirt. His arms are thick with muscle and tattooed with intricate designs. His short, brown hair is messy, and a few days growth of stubble adorns his strong jaw line. He’s handsome.
“Who are you?” I question.
The man doesn’t look evil, but I fear anyone who enters this house. The door opens wider, and my brother trots in. I’ve not seen him in a year, but I’d recognize his stag form anywhere.
“Connor,” I cry, happy to see him alive.
My biggest fear was Malachi hunting him down. My brother comes up to the glass of my cage and rests his head as best as he can against it.
“Are you two a couple?” the stranger asks.