The Vampire & Her Witch

”I. WILL. NOT. HAVE IT!”

Head Priest Germot’s declaration rang off the stone walls of the great hall like the pronouncement of an angry god, and faint golden light gathered around him as he summoned up all of his courage and faith to make a final stand against the evil demons who had invaded his home and threatened to corrupt his church.

The Head Priest had soaked in the prayers of the faithful for many hours tonight, and his body brimmed with vigor in a way that it only did on high holy days when he could gather the voices of a vast congregation in prayer. Now, he drew upon that reserve of faith, wrapping it around himself like a radiant robe or a holy suit of armor to ward off the influence of demons.

He had hoped and prayed during the entire ’trial’ of Baron Hanrahan that the Inquisitor was only biding his time, looking for an opportunity to strike at the demons from within their ranks, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all. So now, he would need to rally the faithful once again if there was to be any hope of striking down the demons who were preparing to lord over them.

”STAND DOWN, GERMOT!” Diarmuid roared, striding forward to the edge of the dais, desperate to salvage the delicate peace that Dame Sybyll had worked so hard to create before it could shatter. ”You have no right to chastise me, and even less right to speak here and now! If you have doubts in your heart, then...”

”DECIEVER!” Germot shouted, unwilling to let the tarnished Inquisitor poison the hearts of the faithful with his clever words and excuses. ”Disciple Loman,” Germot said, turning to the shackled lord as he made his most desperate move. ”You offered me a chance to be an arrow in your quiver before. Let me take your offer now. With all the faithful gathered here as an offering, -HERK!-”

-CRACK!-

Before Germot could coordinate any kind of attack with Loman Lothian, Heila’s whip struck out like a bolt of lightning, wrapping around the red-faced priest’s throat and choking off anything he might have said. Then, as the willow whip grew tighter, the faint golden aura around the head priest began to flicker and fade while his face slowly turned from red to dark purple as the priest’s hands flailed uselessly at the whip around his neck.

”Inquisitor Diarmuid is a good man,” Heila said as she stood from her seat on the dais and walked forward to stand next to the crimson-robed Inquisitor. As she walked, the whip in her hand grew shorter, maintaining its perfect tension around Germot’s throat even as she drew closer to the man.

”It is the holy calling of the Inquisition to delve into darkness and seek truth where it has been hidden,” Heila said, borrowing Ignatious’s words and giving them to the crowd now. ”Diarmuid has listened to testimony, challenged lies, seen deceit, and witnessed truth. It is the duty of the Inquisition to punish the wicked,” she added as she swept her gaze over the stunned, speechless crowd. ”Tonight, you all heard how wicked Ian Hanrahan is, and Diarmuid agrees that he is guilty of crimes.”

”He is a good man,” she repeated, yanking forward on her whip and sending Germot tumbling to the ground as she retrieved her whip and allowed the purple-faced Head Priest to breathe at last. ”And he’s under my protection,” Heila said as she glowered at the priest on the floor, as he lay gasping for air like a fish out of water.

”Lady Heila,” Diarmuid said, blinking in surprise at the fierceness with which the diminutive witch had defended not only him but his faith as well. ”Thank you,” he said, bowing deeply to the witch who had intervened on his behalf.

There was a part of him that wanted to follow up with a statement that he could have settled Germot himself, but when he thought about the indiscriminate slaughter that Disciple Loman’s luminous arrows unleashed in the west gate plaza just hours ago and the horrible price that had been paid to do it, he found himself less certain that he could have prevented another tragedy.

If Germot had offered up the lives of the faithful to empower Loman’s Sacred Bow of Stars once again, then who knew how many would die in the great hall tonight, or how much blood would be spilled before the powerful disciple could be stopped again. Heila’s non-lethal attack had prevented that, and further, she’d prevented Diarmuid from needing to fully commit to the demons by fighting on their side.

”Thank you,” he repeated softly, giving the diminutive witch a smile that contained all of the gratitude he felt in his heart. ”But now we have another mess to tend to,” he said with a heavy sigh as he turned back to face the fallen priest, where he lay on the floor next to Loman’s proud and defiant figure.

Throughout the entire evening, Loman hadn’t said a word, nor had he moved a single step from the place where he stood. His robes hung in tatters, and his body was covered with bruises and dried blood, but he kept his hands clasped before him as though nothing in the world could intrude on the solitude he sought when he bowed his head and turned toward his faith.

Now, with Germot lying at his feet and gasping for air, Loman moved at last, slowly lowering himself to kneel beside the priest who was slowly regaining his normal complexion.

”May I heal him, Dame Sybyll?” Loman asked calmly, looking up at the crimson-haired vampire with a defiant spark in his eyes that said he was anything but defeated. He’d simply been biding his time while Sybyll addressed her grievances with Ian Hanrahan.

From what Loman had seen of the man thus far, he was in complete agreement that the man should be punished for the crimes he’d committed. If he’d been asked, then as a member of the Lothian Court, he might even have spoken up to condemn the fallen baron, particularly when Loman heard how many women Ian Hanrahan seemed to have laid his hands on. But there had been no need to make a move to see justice done against one of the most corrupt and callous lords Loman had ever encountered, and so he held his tongue and waited for the right time to make his move.

”I know how painful Lady Heila’s whip can be,” he added with a hint of a self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he raised his chained hands to gesture at his own wounds. ”I can at least ease Germot’s pain,” he offered.

Loman’s offer was a trap, and he was curious to see if the plainly spoken demon sitting on the gilded throne would be clever enough to notice it. She’d cloaked herself in the aura of a woman wronged, and at the same time, transformed her suffering into a source of compassion for the people.

Now, if she wanted to maintain her aura of magnanimity, she would have to give Loman permission to summon his powers again, or else suffer a crack in the carefully constructed persona she chose to present to the common people of Hanrahan.

”Stay yer hand, little lord,” Sybyll said before turning to face the pair of young women who stood attentively at the base of the dais. ”Cossot, Roseen,” Sybyll said sweetly. ”Lady Heila carries several potions tha’ can help an injured man recover, an ease his pain besides. Fetch goblets fer her medicines an’ give a cup ta’ Lord Loman an’ tha’ Head Priest.”

”If they can’a accept tha’ kindness an’ grace of a witch,” she said. ”Then on their heads it be.”

”Yes, your ladyship!” Cossot said, nearly shoving Roseen in the direction of the single table at the back of the hall where wine and refreshments waited, should any member of the court require them, while Cossot herself approached the diminutive witch who shone almost as brightly in the young woman’s eyes as Dame Sybyll herself did.

”Inquisitor Diarmuid,” Dame Sybyll said formally while the young women rushed to follow her instructions. ”I thank ye, fer yer fairness and yer honesty t’night. Lesser men,” she said with a dark look toward Head Priest Germot, ”could not have done what ye did.”

”Now, I’ve kept tha’ good people of Hanrahan in me hall long enough,” Sybyll said as she gestured for Diarmuid to return to his seat. ”It’s time they hear me judgment, and learn what their future holds,” she said with a smile that fell away when her gaze turned to the Lothian lord in his dark robes.

”Once tha’ people have returned ta their homes an’ their beds,” Sybyll added in ominous tones. ”We can address tha’ actions of Lord Loman an’ tha’ Church t’night,” she declared. ”But it falls ta’ witches an’ sorcerers ta’ sit in judgment over their own kind,” she said, bowing her head to Heila, Lord Jalal and Young Lord Hauke. ”So in their matter, I will plead me case, but I will no judge.”

”So Lord Loman,” Sybyll said with a faint smile as Cossot approached him with a pewter goblet filled with a blend of Heila’s herbal scented concoctions. ”I’d be on yer best behavior when ye consider tha’ kindness of Lady Heila in sparin’ yer life an’ treatin’ yer wounds... Me leavin’ ye in her hands after what ye did ta’ me friend Jalal is tha’ last mercy ye’ll get from me.”