7. The Revenge of Johanna Newes

Chapter 7

The Revenge of Johanna Newes

T haddeus stepped through the front door. The thick leather soles of his boots echoed off the wooden planks of the porch. "Ah," he said. "There you are. I have been searching for you."

Hugo couldn't pull himself away from the window to acknowledge Thaddeus exiting the house. Hugo needed to see what they did to him. He wouldn't dare hide away in the bathroom and draw Thaddeus upstairs to violate the sanctity of his and Alice's bedroom. The porch window would have to serve as a makeshift mirror.

In his faint reflection, Hugo caught a glimpse of their ultimate plan—his potential fate. Two black circles encased his eyes. The first part of the transformation had begun.

"It does not look bad," Thaddeus said. "It gives you character."

Hugo touched his fingers to the black circle. It wasn't painted on; it had become a part of him. A part of who he would become. A vampire who became a banshee's ghoul.

A sensation coursed through Hugo's body. Cold. Biting. Agonizing. He shook and trembled. His eyes grew heavy, like he wanted to sleep. The sensation of a hand piercing his body tugged and dragged him down. It ate away at him, gnawing at his soul. Hugo froze, unable to move his arms and legs. He could only clench his fists and grit his teeth. The sensation pulsated through him. He wanted to scream, but he was rendered silent. Hugo begged for it to stop.

"Let it pass," Thaddeus said. "It will stop."

As if on cue, the sensation relented and Hugo regained control over his body. "What was that?" Hugo asked, turning around.

"The curse of the banshee's wail," Thaddeus replied. "It is pulsating through you. It is trying to turn you into one of them. It is up to you if you let it. The sensation will get worse."

"How do I stop it?"

"You can fight it, but only if you are strong enough."

Hugo turned to face him. Thaddeus' bulky size slouched to one side as he placed his left hip on the railing. His eyes were intent and focused on Hugo. A smirk appeared on his mouth, grinning nearly to his left ear.

Hugo asked, "Did you fight it off because you were . . . strong enough?"

Thaddeus gave out a wicked, manic laugh. "No. No. I was never like you . . . Thankfully."

"Why?" Hugo asked.

"Well . . ." Thaddeus' voice trailed off as he jostled his tricorn hat into a better position on his head. "Long story."

"We seem to have all the time in the world. You know about my history. What about you? What about her?" Hugo stood upright, his shoulders pulled back and arms crossed. "Talk."

Thaddeus stood upright. He clapped his meaty hands together. The sound was drowned out by the crash of lightning illuminating the sky. The dark clouds rolled overhead. The three knocks echoed throughout the land.

"Alright," Thaddeus said before wiping a hand over his mouth. "It was not always like this here. It was rather peaceful and serene, not too bad for being a place of banishment. It was all white. A blinding white light. I would call out, and no one would answer. Sure, panic set in at first. I mean, who would want to be locked away with no one to talk to for who knows how long? No one to interact with. You did not know if you were floating or flying or falling."

Thaddeus slashed his arms across his body, splaying out the fingers of his hands for emphasis. "There was . . . nothing."

"Nothing?" Hugo asked.

"Yep. Nothing. Time lost all meaning. It was an instant. A lifetime. An eternity all at once." Thaddeus' voice lowered. "Then she arrived."

He glanced toward the carriage and said, "A darkness appeared in the white light. I investigated and found her with a few of her companions. She had a book and recited from it. The white nothingness turned into this hellscape. She transformed into a banshee, calling forth the dead with the sound of her wail. Those tormented by despair in life are easy to manipulate."

Hugo gulped and shook his head. "That isn't me."

Thaddeus turned back to Hugo. "Are you sure?"

"No. I mean it was, but . . . but then I changed. I was no longer tormented when I died. I was a different man. I was a happy man. I was whole again." Hugo paused. His eyes caught a shambling ghoul wandering in the yard of a house across the way. "Then how did I still end up here?"

Thaddeus shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you are special. Maybe she chose you. Maybe you have something to offer her. Something you did. We do not get many vampires here. Maybe she took a keen interest in your pointy teeth."

Special .

The word echoed through Hugo's mind. He tried to think what would make him so special as to be pulled in here. He couldn't answer. His arcane knowledge, while growing, wasn't as extensive as Alice's. Hugo's thoughts turned to Alice. Maybe Alice was the key .

"What if she's using me to get to my fiancée? She's a witch. Maybe she's trying to lure her here?"

"Your fiancée is a witch?" Thaddeus said with a giddy glee. "Small world. I was a witch hunter."

Hugo's heart sunk, or at least the sensation coursed through him. His voice grew deeper and quieter. "What do you mean witch hunter ?"

"It is sort of how I got here. I grew up in a magical family. My father was a wizard. My sisters were witches."

"So, you were a wizard who hunted other magick users?" Hugo said, narrowing his eyes to focus only on Thaddeus.

"I was no wizard," Thaddeus barked at Hugo, moving forward to tower over him.

Hugo didn't flinch, hardly intimidated by Thaddeus' larger size. Their eyes locked into a battle of who would blink first. Hugo clenched his fists, ready to strike should the two come to blows.

Thaddeus' voice grew louder and sharper, placing an emphasis on the end of his sentences as he said, "I was not granted such gifts. No. Those gifts were bestowed on the unworthy. The unkind. Those who did not deserve it. I was good enough. I was deserving. I should have had powers, but no. I was denied it!"

He backed away from Hugo, storming off to the railing. He slammed his hands down and leaned forward. His shoulders and arms stretched out broad to prevent himself from tumbling over. Thaddeus' voice softened. "I could not have arcane powers because while the father could pass it on to their daughters, only mothers could pass it on to all children. My mother had no such power. My father fell in love with a non-magick user and sealed my fate."

Hugo unclenched his fists and moved closer. He placed a hand on the grayish, wood railing and turned to view Thaddeus' face. His eyes were nearly shut, lips pursed, and eyebrows scrunched forward. The visible, telltale signs of hurt, anger, and bitterness—all sensations Hugo had experienced and knew far too well. His knuckles grew whiter as Thaddeus gripped the railing tighter.

He carried on in a hushed tone, "My three sisters teased me. They tormented me. Told me I was lesser than them because they carried the gift and I did not. I was deserving as much as them, yet they rubbed it in my face. I ran away from home. I encountered a group of witch hunters. I joined them. Learned their ways. They taught me. They gave me purpose. As though I was deserving."

Thaddeus let go of the railing and stood tall, shoulders pulled back and chest puffed out. A prideful, boisterous tone came to his voice as he said, "One by one, I hunted them down, starting with my sisters. I had an anti-magick wand. It zapped the powers from a witch and tormented them with pain in their final moments."

The memory of Alice tied to a tree in Wildgrove Park flooded back to Hugo's mind. The black twisting wand which drove her to the near brink of death. His breathing quickened, each breath shorter than the last.

"I used an amulet to burn them from the inside. I burned so many of them. I was good at it. I gave no mercy," Thaddeus said as he held his hand aloft. He curled his fingers as if he were still holding it.

Hugo balled his hands into fists once again. His mind replayed the images of the jewel-encrusted amulet hanging from Alice's lifeless body. Striking at the center with the black anti-magick wand. A roiling rage rose within Hugo, matched by the roiling clouds above. A surge of adrenaline pulsated through his body, or at least the sensation of adrenaline. His fists shook. Anger and fear coursed through him as if he held Alice's lifeless body, unsure of how to help her, once again.

Lightning crashed and thundered throughout the land. Three knocks rang out.

Thaddeus said, "I tracked one witch down to the new world. Sometimes, innocent people got caught up in my crusade, but it did not matter. Doing my job, getting the target, was all I cared about. Finding those unworthy of holding such power and eliminating them."

"You're mad," Hugo interjected.

Thaddeus shot him a glance, while still holding out his hand. His eyebrows furled and pointed inward. A slight curl to the left side of his lip revealed his brown, stained teeth.

"No, I am not mad. I was exacting justice on an unjust world." He dropped his hands. "I knew one such woman. She was innocent, but she helped me to find the real witch hiding in the woods. In my drive to destroy the witch, I became sloppy. It led to my death. I still remember it like it happened moments ago . . ."

Thaddeus kicked open the door of the witch's hut. Josiah Newes and the witch he sought stood over the body of Johanna Newes, the latest victim to the amulet of witch's fire. He held out the twisting, black anti-magick wand. With a flick of his wrist, a black bolt shot out from the end and struck its query.

The witch twisted in agony, letting out a shriek. She fell to the ground, hunched over, and wallowed in pain. Her tangled, gray hair covered her face.

"Willow!" Josiah cried out. He bent down to tend to her wounds, but he found none.

Thaddeus flicked his wrist again, and another black bolt emerged from the tip of the wand. It struck Willow once again.

An ear-piercing shriek filled the tiny hut. "Why?" she asked.

"Willow Thornbrush, you are hereby guilty of practicing witchcraft and sentenced to death by order of his majesty King William the Third to be executed by a Knight of the Setting Sun," Thaddeus shouted. The thick soles of his leather boots echoed off the hardwood floor as he approached her prone body. He walked with the grace and ease of a stalking predator, savoring every step and moment until the end.

"Get away from her," Josiah yelled. He stood, struggling to pick his older body up off the floor. He armed himself with a handmade broom. He rushed Thaddeus, ready to strike at him, but Thaddeus was well prepared.

He caught the broom handle with his open hand and yanked Josiah toward him. He tossed aside the broom handle and, with one seamless motion, gripped and constricted the attacker's throat. Josiah choked as Thaddeus tightened his grip.

"I gave you grace once to mourn the dead. I might not be so generous next time," Thaddeus snarled. His fingers squeezed once more, nearly crushing his windpipe.

Thaddeus threw Josiah back into the table. His back struck the edge, and he fell to the ground with a thud, coughing and clutching his throat.

Thaddeus turned his attention back to his prize. Her old body writhed on the ground. She moaned and attempted to plead for her life.

"Please," she murmured. "Please stop."

He flicked his wrist once more. She let out a guttural shriek as she curled into a ball. Thaddeus kicked her side, rolling her frail body onto her back. He towered over her, the anti-magick wand pointing down at the witch and ready to strike its final blow.

"Maybe the amulet is too good for you. I could spend all day blasting away and listening to the sounds of your wailing." He laughed maniacally. "Or maybe . . ."

A sharp pain tore through his skull as he was struck on the back of the head. The world stopped. Everything went quiet. His eyes lost focus into a multicolored blur. He blinked a few times, regaining consciousness. He turned his head to see what struck him.

His jaw dropped. It was the woman he had burned earlier in the evening. He had witnessed her burning. She went limp. She was dead. Yet, she stood behind him, holding a black cauldron by her side. Fury screeched from her mouth and revenge in her eyes. She reared the cauldron back and prepared to strike once more.

Thaddeus tried to move, but he was rendered immobile. The first blow still pulsated through his body. His limbs were unresponsive. He wobbled on his feet. His breathing labored. Thaddeus was frozen, awaiting his ultimate fate.

Johanna Newes, gripping the handle with both hands, swung the cast iron cauldron over her shoulder and struck Thaddeus' head once more with a mighty blow. He fell to the ground with a great thud. His eyes locked onto the old witch laying on the ground. She raised her hand, muttering a secret language he had learned to resent.

Willow finished and snapped her fingers. "I banish you to the realm of lost souls," Willow's raspy voice proclaimed.

The world went dark as another blow landed on the back of his head when Johanna Newes exacted her final revenge . . .

"In my hatred and anger, I lost track of how many people were in the room. I did not think to check the body on the table. The body who I had burned moments before," Thaddeus said to Hugo as he removed his tricorn hat. "She caved in my skull."

Thaddeus turned his head to show the back of his skull, an indentation of where Johanna Newes had thrice struck him.

"You son of a bitch," Hugo yelled. "She was a friend of mine, and it was you who did that to her?"

"So . . . you knew her?" Thaddeus asked as he secured his hat back on his head. "Small world."

Hugo struck Thaddeus on the jaw with a right hook. Thaddeus reeled back, not expecting the attack. He explored his jaw. The blow dislocated it, and he became slack-jawed. Thaddeus grabbed both sides and popped his jaw back into place. He shook his head a few times.

"Alright," Thaddeus said as he checked out his jaw's movement. "You pack a mean punch. You want to fight it out? Let's fight." With a quick jab, Thaddeus lunged at him.

Hugo blocked the blow with his arms, hiding his face behind his fists. He stood poised in a fighting stance. He countered with a quick left-fisted blow to Thaddeus' body. He grabbed onto his green coat and tugged.

Control the sweater. Control the fight.

Thaddeus stumbled to the side, his heavier body weight throwing him off balance. Hugo followed up with two quick, over the top, right hooks to the side of Thaddeus' face.

"I played hockey, motherfucker," Hugo yelled. "You haven't even seen what I can do to you."

"What is hockey?" Thaddeus asked as he swung his arm at Hugo.

The overpowering size was too much for Hugo to control without the benefit of a slippery, icy surface. Thaddeus' blow struck him in the side. Pain reverberated up Hugo's torso. He gasped for air as a lung collapsed. He might have been dead, but the blow stung and coursed through his body. Hugo let go of Thaddeus and stumbled backward.

Thaddeus lunged at Hugo. Wrapping his arms around him, Thaddeus constricted Hugo into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet.

Thaddeus slammed Hugo into the wall of the house. Hugo grunted as the remaining air exited his lungs. He struggled to breathe—an odd sensation for being dead. Thaddeus slammed him two more times. Hugo battled the urge to fall unconscious as Thaddeus strangled his body and pummeled him into the wall.

Three knocks rang out faster and faster, increasing their pace. Lightning crackled, illuminating the haunted landscape. A cacophony of sound wore away at Hugo as he slipped from his undead coil.

With all the remaining strength he could muster, Hugo reared his head back and head-butted his attacker. Thaddeus' grip eased ever so slightly as the sensation of air rushed to fill his lungs. Hugo struck him twice more before Thaddeus let him go, dropping Hugo to the ground. Hugo fell to his knees and caught his breath.

Thaddeus stumbled back a few steps. Hugo regained his footing. He lunged at Thaddeus, driving his shoulder into his midsection. They crashed through the railing of the porch, sending both tumbling to the ground below.

Hugo landed on top of Thaddeus, but the impact from the steep drop off the porch still smashed his ribs. He was momentarily stunned as he rolled off Thaddeus. Hugo rose to his feet, grunting as he lifted himself. "I don't know what's going to happen to me, but I swear, you'll meet your end here," Hugo barked. "For Johanna's sake."

Thaddeus rolled over, raising a hand up to Hugo. "Stop. Stop. Get in the house. Get in the house now," he yelled as he motioned up the steps.

"Why?" Hugo stood, ready to continue the fight.

"Look." Thaddeus pointed toward the carriage and the rider.

The dark cloaked rider dismounted his horse and withdrew his sword. The flaming sword flashed in the air as the rider unsheathed the blade from his side.

Thaddeus never took his eyes off the rider as he stood. He reached out and grabbed Hugo, shoving him toward the porch steps. "Get inside now!" Thaddeus jogged up the stairs. He wasted no time crossing the porch to enter the house.

Hugo's breath shortened as the cloaked figure approached. Without a second thought, Hugo scrambled up the steps, using his hands and feet to climb the steps of the porch. He rose upon reaching the top and bolted across the porch before stopping in the doorway. His lungs burned as he turned to face the new threat.

The rider stopped in the yard. He sheathed his sword. His faceless stare glowered at Hugo. The rider didn't move, his hand still on the hilt. His cloak flickered in the breeze, the only movement from the headless rider.

Hugo's stomach dropped, and his heart sank. It skipped a beat or two. The unnerving glare of the rider sent a chill up his spine. The rider never spoke. He stood there. Unmoving. Glaring. Waiting.

Hugo licked his lips. His heart beat against his chest. As much as it pained him, Hugo needed Thaddeus if he were to survive in this place.

Three more knocks rang out into the sky.

Hugo's fingers tapped the doorframe before he slipped inside and shut the door.