Page 42 of Heart of a Witch
He appeared with his face bruised, but he never said a word about what had happened. It was only when she was on trial that he presented his so-called evidence, saying she was influencing us to act out in violence. He couldn’t detect magic on her, but it hadn’t stopped him from finding her guilty of creating “potions” by replicating witchcraft. She was exiled, one of the few who weren’t killed under his capture.
We never saw her again.
I worried if I pushed him too far, he’d do it again. I was helpless to become like him, without inciting his and the church’s wrath. I couldn’t risk the people around me. Grabbing a half-drank bottle of whiskey I’d forgotten about from a side table near my dresser, I took a swig, then another and another until I didn’t feel like I was drowning.
Hazily, I opened my eyes as a knocking sound protruded through the room like a pounding in my skull. “What?” I shouted.
“Excuse my interruption, Mr. Shaw, but I have a Miss Weathermore here.”
“Tell her to leave,” I spluttered, finding the bottle empty next to me. “I’m busy.” Waves of nausea crept through me as I tried to make sense of what was happening. I couldn’t let her in. If she was seen, she could be determined as the “witch” who was influencing me. I didn’t put anything past him.
“Mr. Shaw, shall I fetch the doctor?”
“No,” I growled. “Get out and tell her to go home and to not come back.”
She gulped, then left quickly, closing the door behind her. I blinked slowly, my eyes half closing as sleep lulled me. I barely climbed onto my bed when blackness enveloped me.
***
That evening, Charles had sent me the location of where to find the little thief. I needed an outlet for my anger anyway.
“Don’t fuck with me, Kapps.” I tightened my grip on his ash-brown hair, pushing his face against the wall in the dimly lit alleyway. “Where is it?”
“P-please.” He struggled against the brick, so I pushed back. “I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”
“Stop fucking lying.” Landing a fist to his side brought me far more satisfaction than I’d thought.
He whimpered, like the little rat he was.
“You stole the dramair out of my brother’s pockets. You could have killed him.” I brought my lips to his ear, my teeth bared, and spat, “Did you think you’d get away with it?”
“Okay, okay, please,” he said between heavy breaths. “I have some left.”
“Some?”
“I spent half on the horses.”
I growled, pushing on the back of his head until blood trickled down his temple. “Get me what you owe me by week’s end, or I’ll leave a more permanent reminder.” I flicked my knife from my pocket, ensuring he caught a glimpse of the silver before I stashed it away again. “If you or your friend ever go near Corbin again, I’ll make sure you don’t have any fingers left to steal with.”
With a final shove, I let him go. He collapsed to the floor, and my bodyguards stepped out from the shadows of the narrow alley behind the gambling den known as The Viana. I pulled out my silk handkerchief and wiped my hands. “Add an extra ten gold dramair too.”
He paled. “Ten? I can’t—”
“Ten,” I said, cutting him off.
With an amused smirk, Charles walked out from behind my men, pressing his thumb against his chin when he looked at Kapps. “Good evening?” he asked me.
I ran my hand through my blond waves, pushing back strands that had curled on my forehead. “Thanks for the tip, and for getting him here alone.”
“It was easy. I came as quick as I could, but I see you’ve already taken care of him. Did you get your dramair back?”
“Not yet, but he’ll get it to me. He knows what will happen if he doesn’t.”
“What about the Jackson boy?”
“He’ll know not to fuck with me again once he sees this little shit.” The corner of my lip curled upward. “Let’s head out. Boys, clean him up and get him out of here,” I said to my bodyguards.
We walked to the end of the alleyway. The stench of urine mixed with liquor hit my nostrils. “Did the shipment arrive okay?”
