It started out as one of those dark nights, wind howling like a lonely ghost, branches whipping against the thatched roof of the little cottage she called home. If she had bothered to read the signs or ask the trees, they all would have told her the same thing.
Lock your doors, and do not open them. Something wicked is out this night.
But Elena had gone to sleep early, just after the last rays of the summer sun had slipped over the horizon and plunged her little valley into darkness. There was much to do in the morning, herbs to dry and a new calf to check on out in the barn, and so she didn't ward her door or even so much as push the bolt home before tumbling into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The wind was still howling when a pounding at her door woke her up. A quick glance to the window showed it was still night, and rumbling clouds in the distance threatened rain. She should have known strangers were coming, and she might have if she had warded her home properly. A simple spell would have turned them around miles away. She considered not answering, but she knew that whoever was out there could surely tell she was home, and the weight of the fist at her door seemed to indicate that if she didn't open it, she might have to replace the door and frame both.
With a grumble, Elena pulled a worn dress over her night shift and stuffed her feet into shapeless house shoes. Since she never had visitors and lived half a day's walk from the nearest town, there was no need to own anything finer. A leather strap secured her dark red locks in a braid snaking down her back, and she splashed cold water across her face in the hopes it would chase the last of the sleep away.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she muttered, lighting a few candles and grabbing a sharp knife from her table. There was little a mortal man could do to a two hundred year old witch, but she wasn't about to open the door unarmed.
She opened the door and peered out into the darkness.
The darkness peered back, before shoving a massive booted foot through her threshold and thrusting her aside as if she were paper. Behind him, another man supported what appeared to be a large sack that smelled like blood and ruin.
"Excuse me, you can't just barge in and -" She started, but the first man cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Later," he barked, sweeping everything off the top of her kitchen table, knocking little pots of herbs and oils to the floor. With another curt motion, he gestured his companion inside. Elena stood there, shocked, as the large sack turned out to be another man, who was indeed little more than blood and pulp. Deep gashes covered most of his upper body and arms, and she thought she could see part of an intestine bulging through one of the nastier slices to his abdomen.
"I hear you have some skill as a healer," the giant man said, never once looking at her. "Save him."
Elena shook her head vehemently. "I don't know what anyone in the village told you, but this is beyond my skill. I can mix up a brew for fever or set a broken bone, but not this. He's already got both feet firmly in the afterlife." She couldn't use her powers, not here in front of these men. Witches had earned themselves a death sentence generations ago. Practicing magic was akin to suicide.
The second man, who had been carrying their comrade, grunted his affirmation. "Marcus, he's too far gone, he's lost too much blood-"
"I don't care," the giant, apparently named Marcus, said in that same deep tone. His voice was like midnight silk, wrapping around Elena's mind and causing a blush to rise in her cheeks. "Do anything you can, anything at all. I will not leave him."
Shaking herself free of the sound of his voice, Elena sprung into action. Despite not being able to use her magic, female witches were made to heal, to nurture, to create. She couldn't help herself. Grabbing a bucket from under the table, she thrust it into the second man's hands.
"There's a well to the southwest of the house, thirty paces give or take. Fill it up, and start it boiling on the hearth." Whipping around, she flung some tinder and flint at the giant hulking behind her. "Start a fire, and then get these clothes off him."
She didn't wait to see if they followed her orders, but the sound of flint striking was enough. Without looking, Elena started pulling bottles down from the shelves that ran the length of one wall. The smell of woodsmoke filled her little home as the sound of wet cloth was peeled back. She lit a few more candles to better see her new patient. She was sure he was too far gone for her herbs to work, but she would certainly try.
Hours later, Elena was exhausted. After cleaning most of the blood off of the man on her table, she had painstakingly stitched each of his wounds closed. Whenever she thought the two men around her weren't looking, she pushed just a tiny bit of her magic into the man, just enough to bolster the blood he hadn't lost, and to repair internal wounds she couldn't see. It was dangerous, downright idiotic really, but she couldn't help herself.
As soon as she could, she needed to leave. If any of these men knew what had happened, the power she had, they could become very rich by turning her in. The king paid heavily for the bodies of witches, but he paid even more for ones taken alive. The best thing to do would be to slip away and disappear as soon as possible. She hated setting up a new life, a new identity in a new place where no one knew her, but it had to be done. She cursed herself a fool for saving this stranger, but her nature couldn't be denied. A gift, perhaps, but also a dangerous curse.
When the last stitch had been tied off and balm smoothed over it, she sat back and sighed. Her arms ached, her back was on fire, and her eyes felt as though sand had been rubbed in them. But the man was alive, and that was something.
Behind her, the giant let out a deep sigh. He had stayed with her the whole night, even after his companion had collapsed with exhaustion in the corner. "He will live, yes?"
"Yes," she replied, finally turning to face him. The sun had started rising over an hour ago, and a soft glow filled the collage, illuminating the stranger who had invaded her home. A thrill of recognition shot through her, even though she had never seen this man before in her life. Her very long, very tenuous life.
Thick black hair curled to his shoulders, highlighting ice blue eyes in a tanned face. He was handsome, she recognized, but in a brutal way. His nose looked as though it had been broken, more than once, and a wicked scar cut though his eyebrow. This was a man, all in all, that she wanted to stay away from. Every part of him promised violence, from his massive palms and thickly muscled body to the predatory way he watched her.
But she couldn't help but feeling as though they had met before. She had lived a long life, and had seen so many faces come and go. Perhaps she had met his father, or his father's father. It didn't matter, but it was disturbing that she couldn't remember where she had seen him.
His nostrils flared as he looked her over. It was a lazy, indulgent look, and made Elena want to slap him. But then he took a step back as he eyes searched her face. It was almost as if he, too, had recognized her.
Oh, shit.
If he knew her, if he had seen her years ago and recognized what it meant that she hadn't aged a day, she was in deep, unending shit. Elena eyed the door, which lay just behind him. If she could get out of the house, and into the barn, there was a swift mare that might just be able to get her far enough away. Might.
"Well if that's done, I'm going to go check on the animals," she whispered, hating how pathetic and afraid she sounded. With a lurch, she rose to her feet and tried to slip around the massive man in her way. A hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm.
Oh shit, indeed.
"Let me go," Elena whimpered, tugging away from the man holding her. Why, why hadn't she left when she had the chance? A sly voice in the back of her mind whispered there had never been a chance, since the moment this man had knocked on her door, she had been totally and completely screwed.
Without a word, the man threw a glance behind him at his two companions, both now sleeping peacefully. He dragged her from the house, out into the morning sunlight, and into the barn. With a terrible sound of finality, the door slid shut behind him.
"Listen, I don't know what you think you're doing, but-" Elena turned to face her now captor as the animals in the barn started to wake up and shifted around, sensing her distress.
"Take your clothes off," the giant rumbled at her, his voice barely above a whisper. He stared down at her, so much shorter than he was that she barely came up to his chest.
Elena could have laughed. Could have let out a whoop or a giggle or a snort. He didn't know she was a witch. Even children knew that mortal men who slept with female witches died shortly after. No one knew why, but no man had ever survived coupling with a witch. Male witches could, of course, but they had died out long ago. They were so rare, and so lethal, that most witches drowned their baby boys. The ones who didn't were hunted by their own kind for bringing such a destructive force into the world. Elena hadn't even heard a whisper of a male witch in all the years she had been alive.
This man, this great big oaf, was about to find out just how very stupid he was.
Without a word, the man before her shed his tunic, and then the shirt beneath, quickly followed by his belt. His thick chest was covered in scars of various sizes, including a few particularly nasty ones bisecting his muscled abdomen. For him to have survived so much, only to die here in this barn because he couldn't keep his prick in his pants, was nearly comical.
Elena still hadn't moved, but stood frozen as he continued undressing himself. If she let him have his way, he would soon not be standing in the way of her escape. On the other hand, she was healer to her core. The thought of killing anyone, even this rapist, was repugnant.
Before she had a chance to consider all her options, he was reaching for her.
"No, you don't want to do this, you really don't-" she started, but the beast simply stared down at her, his eyes black with desire.
"Oh, I really think I do, little witch."
