Reckless

Chapter 3 Part 4

Character POV: Roxanne

Everyone's luck runs out. And mine ran out when I was about to stalk into the barn where a pastor or whatever they are called was meeting with other religious dignitaries to discuss some bullshit. It was the perfect venue, to be honest. They were all clustered in one place, it was going to be so easy. And then I began to feel sick because I missed my dose of my laudanum, and the sound of me vomiting outside drew their attention.

"Get the witch," the old man calls out, his black robes blending into the dark of night. I try to conjure my magic against the panic, but the younger of the three men grabs ahold of me and slams his foot down on my burned leg, and I hear the snap as I scream, sobs escaping me. The throbbing pain blots out all other thoughts as my vision begins to blacken. Still, I refuse to go down like this. I won't be weak and helpless again. I struggle against the men, hearing them grunt as they struggle to keep ahold of me despite the injury. The old man hobbles over to me, smirking at the state of me. He bows down and I spit in his face. He just chuckles, wiping it away with the back of his hand as he says, "I thought it would not be long before you came for us. Only someone spawned by the devil or in his thrall would seek to do such harm to those belonging to the kingdom of God. And now, witch, you will burn. To purify your soul, your body must die." He smiles sadly at me, as if he isn't relishing this.

"You know nothing of God, of right or wrong. And if I'm going to hell, I look forward to seeing you all there right beside me," I snarl, knowing from past experience that if I were to plead and protest being a witch, it still wouldn't do me any good. They are deaf to the pleas of the innocent, and for once I am guilty of the things he accuses me of. So, what is the point of going out cowering?

He backhands me across the face, the sharp edge of his ring slicing the skin over my eye, and I bite my lip hard to keep from crying out as blood trickles down my face, blotting out my vision in that eye temporarily. And I focus on that pain, on the anger flowing through me, not caring if I out my entire people so long as I take these three men down with me. My magic sputters to life inside of me despite the pain, as Ariadne once assured me was possible. The old man stumbles back, eyes wild as he calls out, "What is going on? What evil magic does this succubus conjure?" he shouts out, but I smile through the pain as flames flare to life all around the edges of the barn, trapping the men in here with me.

"I guess we're all on the pyre together," I muse, and then, when the two younger men behind me are distracted, I slam my head back into the nearest one's head, hearing the crunch of what I assume was his nose. He screams, letting go of me, and that's when I am able to draw one of the knives that Ariadne left me when she parted all those years ago, twisting around and slitting the throat of the other man.

The old man's eyes widen with panic as he seems to realize that he has made a great mistake. I grit my teeth against the pain, putting all of my weight on my good leg barely doing anything against the pain of my broken leg. But I don't need to have my balance to throw the knife. It plants itself squarely in the chest of the old man. It's not long before he falls to the ground dead.

The heat of the fire around me that is climbing the walls of the barn brings me back to the task at hand: I need to get out of here before I burn to death. I limp past the old man, tearing the knife out of him and placing it back in the folds of my dress, hidden away for later. I wave my hand, creating a small path out of the barn, and just as I am about to walk out of it, I get tackled from behind, a small cry of pain escaping me as I fall to the ground.

He towers over me, blood running down his face from his broken nose as he pins me to the ground. "You will die here and now you whore of the devil!" he declares, his face contorted with pure hatred. I spit in his face like I did the old man, enraging him further, but I know I can't get loose from him. All I need to do is drag this out, make him forget about the fire, and take him out with me.

But death eludes me because fog descends, filling the barn. He looks around with confusion, but two figures step out of the fog, a tall black man with a frown on his face and none other than Ariadne herself, her eyes like sharp knives as she beholds the scene before her. She lunges for the man, grabbing one of his arms as the man grabs the other. She slams up against his arm just right, snapping it and causing him to scream out as she shoves him back into the arms of the man who wastes no time biting down on his neck and draining the life from him.

Ariadne reaches my side, looping my arm over her shoulders and helping me to my feet. She says lowly, "I think you're crazier than I am. But I can't say that I am not impressed by your work. Still, we're going to have a little heart-to-heart where you make me understand why seeking out the men who want to kill you while you're inebriated was an excellent idea."