Hunters of the Dead: Witches War by Nicholas Paschall

Author:Nicholas Paschall [Paschall, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-16T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The fireworks I purchased from that Song merchant all those years ago, had seemed like a silly thing to buy at the time, Jotelf thought to herself as she floated a good distance away from the cart, forced away by the damned holy man’s chanting, but I can see why they came with such heavy warnings.

Thinking of the Chinese made Jotelf smile; her memories now one of her only treasures left that were truly hers. True, most of them were filled with the screams of the innocent or of her foul misdeeds and actions, but there were memories of living a life that would not, could not have been if she hadn’t surrendered to Him that fateful day beneath the catacombs of Paris.

It'd been perhaps a hundred years since she’d entered His service, her body restored and made stronger from her time spent in Hell, along with the infusion of power He’d gifted her. Paris hadn’t changed much during the time that had slipped by, which was a far cry from her timeless features and immaculate frame.

He’d left her alone in an alleyway, swathed in the rags of the homeless with nothing but a silver talisman bearing his, and now her, mark as well as her new name.

The few times Jotelf had been asked where she was from, her standard answer was always just falling back to the vast regions of Africa. Never had anyone second-guessed her origins nor her strange name, her dark skin and lack of an accent sealing her lie. For the first fifty years of her new life, Jotelf reveled in her newfound power. She reaped hundreds, if not thousands, of souls for her Master, looting the bodies of the fallen all the while until at last she could pass herself as nobility.

Using a dabble of sorcery and a great deal of gold she’d ensnared the heart of a Duke’s young son, a brash man of fiery tempers and even hotter passions by the name Theobald III. With his political influence, she could spread her own influence across much of Europe, searching for rare texts that He would order her to obtain, or hiring small groups of Turks to fetch prime morsels to sacrifice. She found captives from Hebrew or Romani encampments were best, to avoid suspicion.

That was a fools dream I suppose, Jotelf mused as she watched the gathered warriors leave the cart, the preacher continuing his protective orations, it was nice until the Church came snooping about, looking for the supposedly perverse Occultists tainting the royal courts.

Rather than try and match wits with the Church, Jotelf had chosen to accept her earnings from her brief sojourn as a Duchess and vanish into the annals of History. It was easy enough, as some of the rarer books she’d acquired had expanded her already potent skills with the magic’s of the mind, allowing her to ensnare both her husband and a dozen other noblemen, and incite them to revolt against King Sigismund. None save a

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