Reckless

Chapter 2

Note: this has been edited. New content will be posted on Tuesday as planned. The new chapters posted today are edits of what was Chapter 2. 

CHARACTER POV: ROXANNE

1597 A.D.

The smoke rises up, nearly choking me. I cough, my eyes watering to the point where I can barely see as the flames begin to rise higher, their bright orange blinding me when I do manage to catch a glimpse that isn't blurry. I struggle against my bonds, feeling the rough hemp rope digging into my skin. "Please, you do not have to do this!" I scream, as if raising the volume of my voice will make him more interested in listening to me now, as if it might break through his rage.

His black robes blend in with the darkness of the night around him, but the flames reflect in his blue eyes and make him look like the devil himself. Ironic since he's a pastor, someone supposedly charged with dispelling evil. From here, it's easy to miss the deepening lines around his eyes and mouth, the white hairs flecking his otherwise brown hair. It's easy to think of him as some unconquerable foe instead of just a mortal who time will kill before any of my kind have the chance to. Right now he has some semblance of power, but it won't be long before he fades into the nothingness of the flow of the world. And that's what has driven him made-- that my kind will be on this plane of existence long after he has been forgotten about, and the only mark he can make on the world is a scar as he brutally avenges that "wrong."

"You concubine of the devil," he spits, doing the sign of the cross, revealing his past Catholic upbringing. "You're a temptress, luring me in with your beauty and perverting my thoughts, trying to get me to stray from the Path. But I will not be tempted. You have sold your soul to attain this perverse immortality, and I share cleanse your soul with fire." He draws closer with the torch, a dark smirk on his face as he reaches it closer to me, relishing the small sound that escapes me as I begin to tremble. "Not so powerful any longer, are you witch? Does the pain, the fear impede your ability to use your devilish powers?" He laughs maniacally, losing more and more of his sanity with each passing moment. He lunges forward, and a scream escapes me as the torch makes contact with my leg and searing pain shoots through me as the fires begin to climb higher. "Back to hell with you," he spits, thrusting the torch into the wood at the bottom of the pyre, lighting the whole thing off, desperate for this to be done now.

As the smoke begins to choke me out, I don't see a point in being polite to this bastard for a moment more. I snarl, "I did not put any thoughts in your head. If you had any vile imaginings, you generated them yourself in your own mind from your own perverse soul. I do not have to apologize for my existence, I should not have to die just because it offends your view of how the world should work- with beast-men like you on the top and women bowing and scraping beneath you. Women had agency once, long before you were born, and we will again. And you will rue this day, even if I have to come back as a wraith from hell to torment you."

"Rest easy, Aoibhe. May God have mercy on your soul," he says, but smirking all the while as he toys with the cross around his neck, not meaning a single word. He will stand here the whole while until the deed is done, relishing every scream as vindication for him. I scream at him, the sound primal, but it does nothing to ease the fear that is mounting in me as the pain rises along with the flames beginning to lick at my leg again.

A breeze picks up in the clearing as a fog begins to seep in from seemingly nowhere. The moon disappears from view overhead, the stars winking out one by one as I desperately struggle against my bonds. The pastor does not seem to notice the changes happening around him, his eyes glued to where I am standing on top of the pyre. It's then, breaking through the shadows, that I see another form striding forward. There's a sway to her walk, and for a moment I think it might be my mentor, Analize. But it is not. She would always prioritize the whole of the witches surviving over saving just one of us.

As she steps closer, I make out the long wavy brown hair, the violet eyes and gently pointed features. When she smiles, I notice the elongated teeth and I almost resign myself to die right then and there. The last thing I needed was for a vampire, the sworn enemy of the witches, to show up. She'll watch me burn or she'll find a way to make this death worse than it already is. I scream then, the flames nearly engulfing my right leg, and she moves too fast for words, coming up behind the pastor. Only then does he notice her presence as he starts and she holds him close and says in a sultry voice, "May your God deal with you for the crimes you've committed in his name, because there'll be no mercy for you in this life." He screams in terror, but she bites into his neck, draining the life from him. His knees buckle underneath him, but she holds him closer as they fall together to the ground.

My vision begins to blur as shock begins to overtake me, and I begin to pass out from lack of oxygen. I just barely make out her rising from his corpse, wiping her mouth off before dragging her gaze over to me. She still momentarily, and then there's a flurry of motion. The flames gutter out and I feel someone pulling me down from off of the pyre right before I black out due to the pain. The last thing I hear before my vision goes is, "You're safe now. I promise I will not let anything happen to you."