The Impaled Bride (Vampire Bride 3)

“He burned her body,” Ágota answers. Her voice is raw with rage. “You cannot bring back a witch that has burned.”

“Oh.” I stare at my last berry, my appetite vanishing as I recall my mother’s screams of pain and terror. The smell of burned flesh will haunt me forever.

“That is why he did it, you know. Burned her when she was trying to escape. He wanted her to fear truly dying and not being able to return. He thought he could terrorize her into releasing him. He was wrong.” Ágota’s hands clench into tight fists, her waves of fury washing over me like steam from a cauldron.

I flinch and turn from her, burying my face against the mossy surface of the big boulder I am reclining against. Ágota touches my shoulder gently. I answer with a sob with despair.

“I am sorry, Erjy. I’d bring her back and rebuild our cottage if I could.”

Twisting about, I cry out, “What can you do?”

Ágota sighs and flips the book around on her lap so I can view it with ease. A map is carefully drawn onto two pages. “Mama left instructions on how to travel to my father’s home in Hungary. See these lines? Those are called ley lines. Magic is very powerful there and I can use those to pull us forward at great speed as I did last night. But I need to rest before I do it again.”

Sniffling, I stare at the map. It hurts to see my mother’s careful script describing each part of the journey.

“Mama made sure I had all the information needed in case she could not come with us. She even has a list of magical items I can trade with the fairies for free pass

age through their territory.”

“So Mama knew she would die?”

Ágota shrugs. “I suspect she knew she might. The devil has hunted her for a very long time.”

“Why?” The shrillness of my exclamation makes my sister wince. “Why did he hunt Mama and why did not you tell me?”

“It was Mama’s choice not to tell you,” Ágota answers. “She wanted you to enjoy your life and not live in fear.”

“But she told you!”

“Because I am a witch! Now I am an Archwitch. She had to prepare me for what might happen. You do not have magic, Erjy. You might never have magic. Chances are you are human like your father. She did not want to burden you. So she trained me so I could protect you. I am your older sister. That is my job. My duty.”

I stare at the seventeen-year-old girl beside me who suddenly seems so much older. She appears altered somehow. Minutes of careful scrutiny reveal why. Her clothes are completely black. Even the once colorful embroidery on her skirt is dark as pitch. Her hair, chopped to her shoulders yesterday, is almost to her waist. Stranger yet, her hands are longer, more slender, and her purple stained nails are sharp. Lifting her gaze, she stares at me with ancient knowledge lingering in her eyes.

“You are different,” I whisper.

“I am.”

“Is it scary?”

“A little.” She runs her hands over the pages of the book. Glittery, silver magic threads through the veins below the surface of her skin. “I feel magic like I never have before. I sense the remnants of the portal to our dead world.” She points over my head. “It is that way. Near Moldavia. I have memories that are not mine: off the Witch World, of Mama’s spells, her most treasured memories.” Ágota sniffles, her eyes brimming again with tears. “I know, without a doubt, that she loved us more than her own life, and that is why she died for us.”

My bottom lip trembles and the world wavers as fresh tears come to blind me. “Why did the devil kill her?”

“Because he now knows I exist. He can afford to lose one Archwitch since there is another to take her place.”

“I do not understand why he wanted Mama! Does he not have magic? Evil black magic like he used to kill Mama?”

“He has magic, but he wants more power.”

“But you have Mama’s power. Not him.”

“Mama says that the devil wants to disrupt the order of things–that the natural way of magic is abhorrent to him. He wants to twist it, deform it, and use it to infect the world with pain. It is by disrupting how things should be that he gains more power over the world. Mama is from another world and the magic in her–in me–is more potent than the magic that exists in this one. Our presence in this world feeds the natural magic here. That’s why he wanted to corrupt her magic. It would help corrupt all magic. ”

“Mama would never help him.”

“And she did not. Even when he promised her all the riches in the world.” Ágota falls silent and eats another berry.

I rub my sticky hands on the cold wet stone next to me. The rainwater washes over my fingers. My stomach hurts from hunger and despair. After a few minutes, I ask, “Is that why Mama was hiding from him?”