Witch Song (Witch Song #1)

Chapter 4

"Well! Here's our little Witch!" he exclaimed.

Brusenna looked up into Wardof's vibrant blue eyes. All the kindness was gone, replaced by hatred and cruelty. That he had pretended to care made the betrayal so much worse.

"Let me go!"

He chortled. "I don't think so, little Witch. You're worth a lot of money to me."

She pounded her fists against his chest. He laughed at her.

"Bruke!" she screamed.

With a snarl, Bruke bit into Wardof's arm. He cried out in pain.

Brusenna was free. She flew down the hall. She felt coarse fur next to her as Bruke rejoined her.

"Don't let her get outside!" Wardof cried from behind her.

She shoved the kitchen door open; it cracked against the side of the house. Her legs pumped as she hurtled through the corn. It whipped her bare arms and left a stinging welt on her cheek. Without meaning to, she found herself heading to the circular clearing. She chanced a glance behind her. His shirt torn and bloody, Wardof and a lumpy man pounded up the row behind her. Steel glinted in Wardof's hand.

She had to make it to the forest to hide in the shadows of the trees. She tried to run faster, but she could hear their footsteps coming closer. She wasn't going to make it. The realization hit her moments before a pain tore into her scalp. She was on the ground, fists of her golden hair in Wardof's grip. He jerked her hard with his good arm as he pointed his blade at Bruke. "Call off the dog!"

She opened her mouth, but Bruke lunged before the words could pass her lips. The impact of the wolfhound's enormous body knocked Wardof off her.

"Stop her mouth, Garg! Stop her mouth!" he screamed as he tried to hold Bruke's snarling muzzle at bay.

Those words, more than anything, unstopped her voice. Another song from her mother's journal poured free.

Corn, stop the men who hold me tight,

Bind them though they fight.

Bruke nimbly jumped off as, in a blur of motion, the corn wove around all but the men's heads.

Brusenna sang hard and long for the corn to be strong and sure. Soon the men were trapped like bugs wrapped in a spider's silk.

Growling menacingly, Bruke leaped on Wardof's chest, daring him to move.

"Filthy Witch!" he cursed her. Bruke snarled and snapped at Wardof's cheek. Blood shone in the moonlight.

Her scalp on fire, Brusenna collapsed on the ground and sat there dumbly. If not for Bruke, they would have taken her in her sleep. He'd saved her. She shivered. Rubbing her arms, she suddenly realized she wore nothing but her sleeveless shift. And it was freezing. Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You said it would be easy money," Garg whined loudly.

"Keep your tongue!" Wardof snapped.

"I don't understand." she said.

Wardof fixed his hateful gaze on her. "I'm a Witch Hunter, girl!"

A shaky, uncontrollable laugh erupted from her mouth. At first, it sounded more like a cough, but then she took a deep breath and let it free.

"What? What's she laughin' for, Wardof?"

Brusenna held her sides. "Not a very good one!"

That bought her a string of the most creative and vehement expletives she'd ever heard. When he'd caught his breath, Wardof said, "If not for that blasted dog, I'd have caught you in your sleep, or at very least inside that house! Lot harder to sing with a gag over your mouth! Next time, I'll—"