I'm trying to put these in semi-sequential order.  I'll organize after every few chapters.  New chapters will always be at the end.

Irons in the Fire- Blake meets a life saving Nixie after he messes up. rating: M for sex, violence

Flames: Isla meets two demons and make a contract to become a witch. rating: M for violence, trigger material

All That Jazz: Ruta dreams of a free life in America where she can sing her heart out. rating: T for violence

The High Priestess and the Devil: Tansy isn't quite sure if she's up for the nun life when a kind soldier enters her life. rating: T+ for sexual situations, violence

Wilted Irises: Iris has lived her life in a cage, and things get ugly when she gets out.  rating T+ for violence and sexual situations

coming soon: The Drowned Girl, A Date Between Demons, My Little Spider, When in Rome, Eros, Sugar Sweet Ice

Blake let out a scream as the burning irons were pressed to his skin.

“Foul creature, admit your guilt, and your torment will end.”  The men in black robes stared at him, their eyes filled with disgust and not a drop of pity to be found.  “Admit your guilt!”
The skinny damaged boy shook his head.  “I’m not a demon.  I attend mass every Sunday.  I don’t steal.  I pay my taxes.”

“But you are guilty of sleeping with the Duke’s wife, are you not?”

Blake was silent.  He knew he was guilty of that.  They all did.  Just about everyone had caught him running out of her room without his pants.  Then she had to go and be dead when they’d woken up that morning.  Demon, they’d shouted at him.  Murderer.  Incubus.  Monster.  It hadn’t been his fault, honestly!  Even if the doctors said she’d suffocated in the night.  He just wanted it all to stop.

“I didn’t do it,” he whimpered.  His tears had long run out, as the torture had gone on for days.  He’d cried so hard in the beginning.  Tears made the pain worse, especially when the saline liquid seeped into open wounds, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.  It was the only thing he had control over and by God, he was going to cry.  Now… Now there was nothing but one thing he could do.  Admit his guilt.  Make the pain all end.  There wasn’t anything else he could say.

The men poked at his ribs again, the scent of burning flesh mixing with the dank smell of stagnant water.  

“Okay,” he squeaked, bile rising in his throat.  He forced it down.  “I killed her.”  

They looked pleased, and motioned for him to go on.  Blake gulped, trying to catch his breath without throwing up his empty stomach.  “I needed her life force to sustain myself.  But I could only eat it by having sex with her.  S-so I did.  And it killed her.  I am guilty of this sin and of being an incubus.”

The men looked each other and nodded.  The one holding the poker took it away while another undid the locks to the chains that he hung from.  

“Take him to the cell.  His execution will be on the morrow.  Dawn.  Let this creature rot in its guilt for the night,” said a third.  The other two grabbed him by his aching arms and dragged him up the stairs, down hallways, all dimly lit by torches.  When they reached his cell, a quickly made cage surrounding a dirty straw-filled stall in the stables of the manor, he was unceremoniously thrown him.  Blake lay face down in the hay and horse manure as he heard the iron door shut, the click of a lock falling into place, and the sound of the stable door closing.  

It was very dark.  Dawn would come quickly, he knew, as would his trial for the people of the town.  He groaned, having no strength to move and very glad he couldn’t see his wounds.  Something was still crisping, something was probably infected, and something was most likely failing to clot still.  They’d really done a number on him.  The sharp edges of the hay poking into the wounds weren’t really helping matters either.

Then a sound came, one he hadn’t expected to hear until much much later in the day when the sun was out and Nyx run away to hide until the moon called for her again.  The stable door opened.  Blake heard the tiny, dainty pit pat footsteps of someone and then a small knock one of the iron bars.  

“Hei,” said a heavily accented woman’s voice.

Blake grunted out a laugh.  “I may be guilty of many things but speaking in tongues is not one of them,” he said.

“What are you doing in there?” the woman asked, this time in rusty English.

“Haven’t you heard?  I’m a product of the devil or something.  I dunno.  Whatever the priests are saying these days.”  

Blake heard a screech of metal, and managed to bring himself to look up and see a woman bending back the bars of the cage.  He grinned, grunted, and gasped in pain as he pulled himself up into sitting position.

“My oh my, and who are you, sweetheart?”

She stared at him with pupiless, empty blue eyes.  “You can call me Askja,” she said, climbing into the cage.  She was dressed in a simple white dress, covered in a simple burlap cloak.  “I met a friend on my way to Dublin, who told me he had a friend in need in Manchester.  I assume you are Blake Duncliff?”

Blake nodded.  “Would that friend happen to be tall, blonde, and scary?”

Askja nodded and leaned down next to him.  She gently took one of his arms in her hands and inspected the wounds on it with long, elegant fingers.  Her long dark hair fell over her face and Blake could smell the scent of rotting fish and sea salt clinging to her.

“Nerid?” he asked.  She shook her head.

“Nixie.”  Askja shifted in the straw.  “I’m chasing someone and she’s headed down with the other longboaters to Dublin.”

“Interesting but…”  Blake winced as the girl’s hands brushed something infected.  “That really hurts.”

“I owe Matthias a favor,” Askja muttered, forcing him back down into the straw and then rolling him over on his back.  “And you’re not healing.”

Blake grunted.  “I’m really low on juice.  Really messed up this time.  Praise Satan they actually didn’t use crosses or I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Askja giggled and hiked up her skirt.  She tugged his pants pants off and mounted him.  “Praise Satan?”

“Have to stay up to date with the times.  Have to worm my way into humans’ beds somehow.”  Blake closed his eyes and let his neck go limp, already feeling a little better.

“A creation of Eros acknowledging another god.  It’s a little funny, I must admit.”  She rolled her hips, moving back and forth.

“Yeah he’d thought it’s be funny too to make us allergic to crosses too because some arse thought it’d be a good idea to make some comment about him and Christianity.  Damn that feels good.”  

“Bet it does, kultaseni,” Askja said.  “Those burns are going away.”  She leaned down and kissed him deeply. Blake kissed back.  He could move his arms without pain now, and grabbed the Nixie’s hips, starting to control her movements.  His wounds were disappearing as they moved together in tandem.  It was a little while later that Askja pulled away, her face red her breathing haggard.

“Sorry, love, it takes a little longer with Fairies,” Blake gasped, sitting up and quickly pinning the Nixie to the ground.  “Just a little more…”

They kissed again to cover up their sounds as they came together, but nothing could stop what happened to Blake at that moment.  Massive black and red wings burst from the skin on his back, his tailbone ripping out and elongating into a tail tipped with a deadly spike.  Black ooze dripped from his eyes, painting intricate designs on his body.  Askja groaned and rolled out from under him.

“Give me a second to recover,” she said, sweat dripping from her face and staining her dress.  

“Take you second,” the incubus growled, a wicked smile gracing his face as he got to his feet.  “I need to see a man about a hot iron.”

    The cool spring afternoons were their favourites.  They’d sneak away from the flocks of sheep and scurry down to the river, throwing off their shoes and clothes, laughing as they splashed each other with the cold water.  Seisyll knew of his daughter and her friend’s habit, and silently let them carry on; it was him who called them in for supper when he felt that they had been gone long enough.  The girls, knowing that Isla’s parents would never let her hear the end of it if they caught her slacking off, would heed his call and return back to the pastures, the only sign of their secret being slightly damp clothes that were easily blamed on their various chores.  Then Isla would leave the Banes and return home with the sheeps’ meat and wool that she’d earned for the day.  

    Oh how she adored Mairwen and Seisyll.  Isla would spend every minute with them that she could; she’d help out with the sheep, she’s urge her family to sit closer to them at Church, she’d stay for supper as many times as possible.  Seisyll had travelled north into Viking territory in his youth and had oh so many wonderful stories about the savage land.  Mairwen, despite her odd appearance, was a sweet girl that no one had the heart to dislike.  They were an eccentric pair that somehow remained in good standing with the local Church, and all Isla was was another girl in the middle of eight siblings, from another family that had little meaning other than labor for the manor that sat high atop the hills.  Her people were not even important enough to live within the village encased by the tall stone walls.  Isla was aware of how complacent she found herself and the others in the small town to be, yet… she could not help but feel a stirring within her that she should be worth more than what she was.

    Mairwen caught her moping one afternoon during their alone time.  Her friend was wringing out her long hair, a frown etched into her pale face as she eyed her friend.  “What’s wrong, Isla?” she asked, dropped her hair and scooching closer to where her friend lay sprawled in the grass.

    Isla scrunched her freckled nose.  “I’m feeling a little melancholy,” she said.

    “About what?”

    Isla shrugged.  “Just…  my parents are looking for a husband for me, and here you are surrounded by suitors and Seisyll chasing them all away.  I wish I was like you.”

    Mairwen raised a fair eyebrow and frowned.  She reached for her blouse and began to tug it on.  “Why do you wish that?  Because… I’m sought after?  I never took you for the type, Iz…”

    “It’s not that though! It goes way deeper than that!”  Isla sat up and began redressing herself as well.  “Your dad has seen so many things, and whenever he goes places, you get to go too.  I’m stuck at home all the time, being yelled at because I’m costing my parents food and money especially with a dowry.  You know how to read and everyone just adores you.”

    Her friend sighed and got her feet, wrapping her arms around herself.  “They don’t like to let me into the church,” she said softly.  “It’s only because dad is so well respected that they do.  They think me to be a demon… something sent by Lucifer to tempt and destroy.  The only reason they’re nice to me is because they’re scared of me.  Dad has to take me with him because if he leaves me alone too long, someone might try and hurt me.  I don’t like looking like this.”

    Isla found herself speechless.  “I- I didn’t know…” she began, but Mairwen raised a hand, silencing her.

    “Can we talk about something else please?  You’re my only friend, and I’d rather not burden you with my troubles.  Let’s forget this ever happened.”

    Isla nodded and got to her feet as well.  Seisyll hadn’t called for them yet, but the mood was ruined.  She felt awful for making Mairwen admit those things.  She felt even worse by being envious of such things.  The two headed up away from the river and through an orchard of apples.  

    “So,” Isla began, not being at all comfortable with the silence between them.  “Did you see those two shady travelers lurking around the inn this morning?”

    Mairwen nodded.  “I saw them arrive last night.  Dad was delivering some wool and had me with him.”  She knelt down and picked up an apple, biting into it.  She chewed, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “Not sure what they want. Probably tax collectors from the manor.  Dad was awfully unnerved by them…”

    “I heard the other girls talking about them this morning.  Apparently they’re quite handsome.”  Isla pushed a low hanging branch from her path.

    “Maybe you can marry one of them,” Mairwen giggled, still munching on her apple.

    Isla barked out a laugh.  “My mother would never see me marry stranger.  No, it’ll probably be the baker’s boy.  My word, he is a disgusting creature, but his father is wealthy.”

    The two reached the edge of the orchard, and stepped out onto the road, only to be stopped by the whinnies of horses.  They’d stepped right in front of what looked to be a hunting party returning to the manor.  The girls yelped and jumped back off the path, brushing their skirts and hastily spewing out apologies.

    “Ladies, ladies, please calm yourselves,” one of the hunters said, riding his horse over the girls.  They stopped speaking instantly, recognizing him as the lord of the manor.  “What are you doing all the way out here?  You aren’t orchard workers… Practicing witchcraft, mayhaps?”    

    The colour drained from their faces.  “No!” Isla shouted.  Mairwen could not find her voice and just stood there… shaking.  “We were just slacking off from our chores.  Please, my lord.  We meant no harm.  We’ll get back to our duties right away.”  Her hand gripped the other’s arm tightly, but her feet would not move.

    The lord swung one leg and jumped down from his horse.  “You are doing harm.  By not working, you are costing me money.”  He grabbed Isla’s arm and chin.  Mairwen let out a whimper.  “You’re a pretty girl.  You could find a way to repay me the money I’ve lost.  You and your strange friend.  I’ve never seen a girl with white hair and red eyes.  You must be a demon.  Or else…… Banes’s prize from his trip north, I suppose.”

    “Leave her alone,” Isla snarled, as what little colour left in Mairwen’s face disappeared.  The lord simply tightened his grip on her and she winced in pain.

“It’s Banes’s own fault for letting his creature out of his sight.  Looks like we have some entertainment for tonight, lads!”  The men in the hunting company cheered and Isla’s heart sank.  This wasn’t happening.  This wasn’t happening.  “You lot can have the monster.  This lass is mine.”

Mairwen let out a shrill shriek and ripped her arm free from Isla, bolting across the road and into the forest on the other side.  The hunting party cheered and raced after her.  Isla used the distraction to break free from the lord’s hold and run off into the orchard.  Very little raced through her mind as she ran, her feet driven only by fear.  She could hear him running behind her, his longer legs having him gaining ground with every step.

This is it.  I’m going to be raped and branded a whore.  I’ll be stoned and accused of being a witch and I’ll never get married and never have children… Oh god what if I bear a bastard?  Oh no no no nononononononononono….

The earth came rushing up to meet her as her foot caught in a stray root.  Isla slammed onto the ground, too stunned to move.  Then he was upon her, grabbing her braids and shoving a hand down her dress.  Isla screamed and kicked, yet was surprised when the pressure on her lifted and man on top of her disappeared.  She opened her eyes and saw the lord being restrained by two men dressed in traveling attire.  

“Unhand me! I am your lord and a knight under the King of England himself,” the lord screeched.  

“Blake, see to him.  I’ll go check on the girl,” one of the strangers said, releasing his hold on the lord.  The other nodded and with surprising strength, dragged him off deeper into the orchard.  Not that Isla really noticed, as the one who had spoken kneeled down at her side, unclasping his cloak and wrapping it around her.  “Are you alright?” he asked.

Isla nodded shakily, gripping the cloak tight her to body.  Her clothes were ripped and she did not want to have anyone see her shame.  “You’re one of the men staying at the inn,” she said softly.

He was a handsome man, long dark blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, an angular jaw and nose, and dark eyes that looked red in a certain light.  His voice was as smooth as silk and sweet as honey to Isla’s ears.  Something sparked within her, pulled her towards this man.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Matthias,” he said.  “Again, are you alright, Isla Thatcher?”

Isla knew she should have been worried that this stranger knew her name, yet it felt… she daresay pleasant to be acknowledged in such a way.  “I am now.  How… do you know my name?”  She spoke with an eerie calm, despite what all had occurred just moments before.

    “Ey, Matt!  Don’t you be getting started without me.  I’m the one doing all the work, making that arse forget everything.  Have you told her yet?” The other stranger, Blake, tramped loudly through the trees, his presence loud and obnoxious.  Yet Isla felt at calm with him, just as she did with Matthias.

    “What’s he talking about,” she asked.

    Blake turned to his companion and raised an eyebrow.  “You didn’t tell her why we saved her yet?”

    “I was getting there,” Matthias sighed.  His eyes bore deep into Isla’s, as if he were staring into her very soul.  “Isla Thatcher, you were born here in this village of Shrewsbury, England on November first, 1340.  You were the fourth child of your parents, Anna and Wyot Thatcher, and their third girl.  You are sixteen years old, and jealous of your best friend, Mairwen Banes.  Most importantly, you have a fire deep inside you, unlike anyone else.”  He leaned in and his lips brushed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  “The fire of a magic that we of other worlds crave.”

    Isla frowned, but did not push Matthias away.  Her curiosity burned within her with a strength she’d never felt before.  “Are you insinuating that I am a witch?” she asked.  

    “That’s exactly what he’s insinuating, love,” Blake drawled, his voice heavy with a northern English accent.  “You have the magic to become a witch, probably from a family line or something.  But you can’t use it.  Not yet.  You need a magical creature, or as we like to call ourselves ‘fairy’ to harness the energy and make it usable for yourself.”

    Isla shook.  “I don’t understand.  Fairies?  Witches?  You’re speaking blasphemy.”  Yet, she did not believe entirely what was coming from her mouth.  Oh how Sunday Mass bored her, the readings, the rules, the rituals.  All so boring.  Alls he did was sit and watch and listen.  Now… Fairies and witches… those were dangerous and taboo…  She was intrigued and BURNING inside with a need to know.  A need to connect.

    “It’s all instinctual, I assure you.  Somewhere down your family line would have been some very powerful druids,” Matthias said, slowly undoing her braids and running a hand through her hair.  “The fire is in your blood and it is your bloodright to embrace it.  And we would be honored to help you in that endeavor.”

    “What do I have to do?”  Isla found herself wrapping her arms around Matthias and staring into his eyes.

    Blake coughed.  “You’re doing it again,” he said, grabbing Isla by the arm and pulling her up out of the other man’s lap.  “And you just saved her from being violated too.  What was it you were saying the entire way here?  ‘She’s human Blake.  So no touching unless she wants you to after we bring out her powers or else she’ll die.’  Ey, remember?”

    Matthias turned red and looked anywhere but at Isla.  “I apologize,” he said.  “Blake and I are unusual creatures.  We require copulation as food.  But it would hurt you as you still stand before us as a human.”

    Isla blushed.  “O-oh.  Thanks, I guess? For not doing anything and even stopping those men from before?”

    Blake grinned and glowed a shadowy black.  Matthias did as well and their bodies shifted, morphed, and formed into a pair of black cats.  “Take us home with you,” Blake meowed.  “You need a full moon for the ritual and that’s in a few days and we don’t want you leaving our sights for one second.”

    “O-okay,” Isla said, scooping Matthias up into her arms as Blake hopped and crawled up her dress to perch on her shoulder.  Isla wrapped Matthias’s cloak around herself tighter.

    She carried the cats back to the village, and no one batted an eye.  Her mother, of course, asked about the ripped clothes and loose braids, but Isla was able to weave a tale about falling in thorn bushes and that was that.  Cats were common around the village, so no one noticed Matthias and Darcy as they followed her around during her daily chores or when they slept at her feet.  The grand conspiracy of such a secret lasted less than day.

    After completing work the following afternoon, Isla wandered back over to her and Mairwen’s hill.  The white girl was sitting there, staring off into the distance with a worried look on her face.

    “You didn’t try to help me,” Isla said, sitting down next to her friend.  Matthias and Darcy yowled and hissed at the other girl, springing off of Isla and into a nearby bush, growling at a safe distance.  They were always doing weird things, Isla had discovered, so she paid them no heed.  “He was going to rape me and you didn’t help me.”

    “Well what do you think they were going to do to me?” Mairwen spat back.  She looked even paler than she had before, Isla noticed, her lips dark and black circles ringing her eyelids.  Mairwen slumped.  “Dad heard me and was able to help me before those hunters raped me, thank heavens.”  Her body shook as she began to cry, and she bit her lip, as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t.  “We went looking for you but we couldn’t find you and… And then you say nothing to me the whole rest of the day and all of today.  Dad and I didn’t want to draw attention so we didn’t ask but… I’m sorry if-”

    “As it turns out, I was fine in the end too.”  Isla didn’t mean for her tone to be as cold as it was, but as it happened, jealousy once again ravaged her being.  Mairwen always had someone to save her, despite being special and very noticeable.  All Isla had were two strange demons.  NOW, she realized, I have two demons that want to do my bidding and make me great.  I will be noticeable.  I will be recognized.  I will become special just like Mairwen.  Isla started laughing.  “You’re funny, you know, Mair?”

    Mairwen looked at her, confused.

    “You’re always just so perfect and unique, aren’t you?”  Isla clenched her fists, and the cats’ yowling grew.  “You always have your dad.  Your perfect father who waits on you hand and foot.  You don’t know what it’s like to have siblings and fight for attention and be treated like another hunk of flesh to feed.  Seisyll always has enough for both of you and then some.  What would happen if he’d have found me yesterday?  The Lord wouldn’t have listened and I would have been raped. But nooooo they listen to him when it comes to you.  Everyone always dotes on you and I. Am. So. Jealous.”

    A breeze drifted languidly between the two girls.  Mairwen’s gaze fell to the ground and she got to her feet.  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Thatcher,” she said coolly, brushing past her now former best friend.  “I’ll see you in the fields tomorrow.  For the sake of the village I hope this doesn’t affect our work.”  And she left, running down the hill to Seisyll’s hut hut tucked in a small valley right outside the village.

Gone.

Now nothing to Isla.  The two cats came out from the bush and brushed against her legs as the rage and envy continued to bubble and boil in her.  It did not subside like it had earlier.  And she embraced it.

“Darcy, can you do me a favour?” she said, staring off at the sun as it started its descent.  

The cat looked up at her with blazing red eyes.  “Meow~?” he purred.  Isla gave him her instructions and he scampered away down the hill.  Matthias shifted back into a humanoid form, looming behind Isla.

The girl continued to stare off into the sunset.  “You’re certainly escalating the process quickly,” Matthias murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

    “The full moon is tomorrow night, isn’t it?” she said.  “Then everything should be just fine.”  

    Matthias hm’d and nestled his face in the crook of her neck.  “You can’t stop what is coming,” he whispered, kissing her neck.  

    Isla shivered and grinned.  “And that’s just the way I want it to be.”  

    As night came and she settled in for supper and the evening routine with her family, her jealous infero simmered down to a strong flame.  As she put away the meal’s dishes, a knock came from the door.  It was Seisyll Banes.

    Great, Isla thought as he greeted her parents.  Mairwen told on me.  

    “Isla,” Seisyll said, a timid smile on his face.  “May I speak outside with you for a moment?”

    She nodded and put down the dishes she was holding.  Matthias uncurled himself from the bundle of blankets in the corner and started to follow after them.  Seisyll stopped in the doorway and glared at the demon-turned-cat.  “Alone.”

    Isla met Matthias’s eyes and shrugged, and he went and curled back up on his makeshift nap spot.  They went behind the house where Seisyll looked around warily.  When he was satisfied that no one was listening in, he looked at Isla, a worried look on his face.

    “Isla-” he began, but was caught off by the other.

    “Look, Mister Banes.  Mairwen and I got in a fight, a really big one, and I don’t know if we

can mend it.  If you’re trying to play mediator, stop.  We’re big girls now.  And if you’re going to talk about yesterday, also stop.  I don’t want to talk about that either.  And now that we’ve gotten those two topics out of the way, what is it exactly you want?”  She crossed her arms and glowered.  

    “No, it’s none of that.”  Seisyll looked around again and gulped.  “It’s about those demons you have hanging around you.”

    “Don’t lie to me, Isla.  I know and I won’t tell.”  He reached down his shirt and pulled out a pendant.  “I understand.”

    The pendant was inscribed in what looked like Northernmen’s rune, the effigy of a spider covering the mass of it.

    “I’m part of a secret druid sect,” he whispered.  “So I am very in touch with that those two want with you.”

    “And you never told me?” Isla hissed back, although her voice she kept low.

    “I cannot trust anyone but Mairwen,” he said, tucking the pendant back in his shirt.  “I was hoping the magic in you would just cease after puberty, but if those two demons are you… You are in grave danger.  You can’t trust what they say.”

    “I can’t trust what they say?  Well what about trusting you?  Why should I trust you?”  The fire was beginning to bubble once more.  Anger was becoming all too familiar to her now.  Rage was showing itself to be a comforting friend, wrapping around her in a warm embrace, whispering to her to use it for her own.

    “Please Isla.  I’ve know you your whole life.  You’re my daughter’s best frie-”

    “Not anymore.  I already told you that.”  Isla looked away.  “I want this magic in me, and I don’t care what you do, I will make a deal with Blake and Matthias and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

    Seisyll sighed, a look of pity spreading across his face.  “I didn’t want it to come to this.”  He shoved something in her hand and then screamed.  “WITCH!”

    The last thing Isla saw as a heavy object collided with her head was Seisyll’s pendant in her hand.

    +-+-+

    Isla’s cackles died down as her head was dunked into the bucket of water.

    “Who else is in your coven?” an Inquisitor asked, glancing at the torturer.  He gave a nod and the torturer pulled on Isla’s hair, dragging her out of the water.

    Isla coughed up water, gasping for air, but grinning again not a few seconds later.  “Just a little longer,” she said.  “I want them thinking they’re safe for just a little longer.  For ever so sweet my revenge on their betrayal may b-”

    The Inquisitor slapped her.  “Stop this babble and give us names,” he shouted.  “You go to the pyre only as soon as you give up the names.  Until then you will be kept alive and continued to be tortured.”

    She was dunked again suddenly and brought back up.  Her fire burned, and the Inquisitor swore he say flames dancing in her eyes.  He shivered, wanting to get this over and done with as fast as possible.  Where there was a witch, the Black Death was sure to soon follow.

    “Seisyll and Mairwen Banes,” Isla choked out, hacking water.  “You’ll find evidence of Druidism and Satanism in their home.”

    The Inquisitor gestured to one of the guards, who ran out of the dungeon room as the Lord of the Manor came in.

    “I always suspected Banes.  He probably had a spell on all of us, keeping that familiar of his secret by convincing us all she was his daughter.  I’ll have them both arrested and taken to the pyre to join this one.”  He motioned to the still coughing Isla on the floor.  “What do you intend to do with her now?”

    “I believe it is just her and the two Banes,” the Inquisitor said.  “Get her up and take her to the pyre.  I don’t want to waste anytime.  The Black Death could come at anytime with these witches still infecting this manor.”

    The guard returned.  “Sir, we’ve apprehended Banes, and there was heavy evidence of Satan and heathenism in his home.  We were unable to find his daughter.”

    The Lord shrugged.  “She shouldn’t be too hard to find.  She sticks out like a raven among sparrows.  Burn these two within the hour.”

    The Inquisitor bowed.  “Yes, my lord.”  He waved his hand and the guards hauled Isla to her feet and dragged her out of the room, out of the castle, and into the courtyard.  A crowd had gathered as the full moon began to rise in the sky, all standing around a long wooden pole surrounded by tinder.  A second was quickly being erected.  Seisyll was tied to the first, a blank look of defeat on his face.  Isla was fastened to the second as soon as it was completed.

    “Well, well…. where’s Wennie?” the girl said, spitting out a strand of her loose blonde hair that had found its way into her mouth.

    “Safe,” Seisyll murmured, his voice so quiet that Isla had to strain to hear him.  “You won’t hurt her.  Those demons won’t hurt her.  I was able to banish the one following you back to his realm.  We will both die here tonight, and it will be okay.”  He hung his head, took a deep breath, then looked up at the sky.  “Oh great Goddess, have I done well raising your daughter?  Did I make the right choice, all those years ago?  Is she ready for the world?  Is the world ready for her and her kind?”

    Isla looked at him suspiciously.  What was he talking about? Who was he…?  Her thoughts quickly shifted as the Lord of the Manor and the Inquisitor stood before them.  Seisyll kept muttering his prayers to his “goddess”.  Isla huffed as the two officials began reading off the crime they were accused of and some gibberish about God and all that.  Her eyes wandered the crowd, and caught sight of a familiar spiky brown head.  Seisyll thought the other demon had left, it looked like, sending away only Matthias.  Isla started laughing as another man stepped forward with a torch, setting the pyres alight.  She stared up at the moon.  A bat swooped down and clung to her face.  Seisyll noticed and gasped with horror.

    “NO!” he screamed before choking on the smoke that was beginning to accumulate.

    “Do you want to make a contract with me?” Blake squeaked.

    “I do,” Isla said, embracing the heat of the flames as they licked and burned her skin.  She showed no sign of being in pain.

    “Do you swear to share you magic with mine, creating a bond only separated by death?”

    “I do.”

    The spectators started muttering amongst themselves at the odd spectacle.  More than few backed away.

    “Do you swear to live out your eternity until your magic and mine are no longer melded?”

    “I do.”

    The Inquisitor had noticed the strange happenings and ordered his guards to do something.  But it was too late.  Blake shifted to his demon form, an ink-dripping, humanoid entity sprouting bat wings and a wicked-looking barbed tail.  The fire that now consumed the entire pyre seemed to have no effect on him.

    Seisyll screamed.

    Blake kissed Isla, and she began to glow.  Her burns began to drip off, similar to the ink dripping of the ink on Blake’s body.  Blake pulled away and smiled at her.  “I now pronounce you the Red Witch.”

    He then vanished.

    And Isla exploded.

    An all consuming ball of fire covered the courtyard, the castle, the village, and miles into the countryside.  The flames passed over everything but the humans.  Every person within the fire burned to ash instantly, as intense the heat was.  There wasn’t any time to run.  There wasn’t any time to scream.  When the fire subsided, almost as quickly as it had appeared, only a girl with singed blonde hair, freckles dotting her pale skin, clothes ripped and burnt, tied to a post remained.  The ropes binding her were frayed enough for them to rip as she tugged her way free.

    Blake reappeared and whistled.  “I’ve never seen this much magic in a human before”, to be brutally honest,” he said, handing Isla a beautiful scarlet robe.  “Go get clean at the river and put this on.  Matti will be able to come back in a few days.  Sad he got held up like that.  We really wanted your contract to be with him.”

    Isla began walking, barefoot, out of the silent empty courtyard.  “It was a life or death situation,” she said.  “And Seisyll was powerful.”

    Blake laughed, fluttering around behind her.  “He even made his contract with a goddess and you’re still more powerful than him,” he snorted.  “You can only die by magic more powerful than ours combined.  So basically any witch more powerful than you, or a fairy, and believe me, love, you can overpower most fairies.”

    They reached the river.  Isla shrugged off the remains of her clothes, put the scarlet robe aside on a boulder, and stepped into the river.  It began to boil and bubble, steam hissing off of its surface.  

    Isla looked at it, and sank into the water, enjoying the hot bath.  Yes, she thoughts, she could get used to this life.

    Miles away, a pile of ash moved.  It moved and twisted and turned and began to regenerate.  Soon it was a skeleton.  Then muscles and organs were added and a fine layer of skin.  Hair sprouted from her head and soon she was breathing again.

    “Daddy,” Mairwen muttered.

    She fell into the grass and wept.