The Witch Born to Smoulder (Inferno Book 4) Read online

  The Witch Born to Smoulder

  Book four in the Inferno Series

  Tanya Milne

  Copyright © 2020 by Tanya Milne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  “Be careful who you trust. Sugar and salt look the same.”

  Anonymous

  For my beautiful mum, Dawn, who showed me the difference between sugar and salt.

  Chapter One

  Miss Wilson no longer looked like the youthful, beautiful, carefree teacher I’d admired at school. Facing me was a second-hand replica whose intended future had been stolen from her. She’d been arrested for breaking laws that had no place in history, let alone 2025. Her restitution to society was being forced into marrying a man she barely knew. The first of many brides who would be made to marry under Orpheus’s totalitarian laws.

  Miss Wilson’s eyes filled again with tears. Her watery blue gaze darted to the double doors that had been locked the moment we’d entered. Outside, guards stood ready for the nervous bride to bolt.

  I shook my head, scarcely able to believe I was Miss Wilson’s bridesmaid. I’d laughed when Orpheus informed me of my duties a few days ago, but the look on his face had quickly silenced me. He hadn’t waited for my response. He’d told me it was my job to get the bride down the aisle to her husband – to perform her duty…and get me in practice for my own wedding.

  I reached out and took her quivering hands, then pushed some warmth into her. I spoke quietly, as though calming a spooked horse. ‘It’s going to be…okay, Miss Wilson.’

  A single tear trickled down her porcelain skin.

  ‘Angela – please call me Angela.’

  The door to the vestibule cracked open.

  ‘Ready?’ asked one of Orpheus’s special police guards.

  Through the open door I glimpsed the congregation, packed to the rafters and chatting away like birds in an aviary.

  ‘We need a few more minutes,’ I said in my don’t-argue-with-me voice.

  The security guard glanced to the altar, where Orpheus stood in his black tie, staring straight at me.

  I swallowed before clearing my throat. ‘Please. We won’t be long.’

  He took a pitying glance at the bride before closing the door, both of us risking the wrath of his boss.

  Angela broke down in noisy tears. ‘I can’t…can’t do this. I need to…get out of here…now.’

  I took Angela in my arms and held her while she cried, the job ahead of me feeling more impossible by the second. Finally she calmed. I pulled back and made sure I looked her in the eyes, and then I spoke, barely believing my own words.

  ‘Angela, I wish there was a way out of this, but you and I both know that there isn’t. Not for you. And not for me. If you try…I hate to think of what might happen.’

  Angela’s eyes widened like those of a startled deer, and her face filled with what I could only imagine to be memories of what had happened to her when she was arrested.

  I rubbed Angela’s bare, wafer-thin arms, which felt as though they’d been sitting in the freezer. ‘Mr Oates…James – he seems like a good man. He will take care of you – and you can look after him, as friends.’

  Angela nodded.

  I lowered my voice. ‘Nothing about this is right. No one should be forced to marry. But the sooner you get through this, the sooner you can go home and put this behind you.’

  She stared at me as though I was someone she could trust. I turned my gaze away from her as my conscience prickled the inside of my skin. In all honesty, I could help her. I could use my powers – my witchcraft, which I’d promised my family that I would hide – to get Angela out of the church and into hiding with Jet.

  ‘You’re right,’ she whispered.

  As our gazes met, the lies and the truth, the insanity and the expectations, the love and hate – they all mixed together and an understanding and tenderness I didn’t expect to feel towards this woman washed over me.

  The truth was, we were in this together. Angela might be the first bride forced into matrimony, but she wasn’t going to be the last. With my eighteenth birthday only six weeks away and Ezra ordained as my future husband, my days as a single young woman were numbered.

  ‘You can get through this. I know you can,’ I said.

  She began shaking, but she wiped away the last of her tears.

  I passed her a fresh tissue from a nearby counter. ‘I will be there with you – every step of the way. And not just today. I’ll come and visit you.’

  ‘You will?’ she croaked.

  I nodded and put on a smile that I hoped she would find reassuring.

  ‘Can you come see me tomorrow?’

  I blinked quickly, thinking of what would be expected of a bride on the night and days after getting married. Ready or not, every married couple would be under pressure to start making babies. In the weeks and months ahead, the crinkled, beady eyes of the pious old women would not stray far from Angela’s tiny waist, and their tongues would be sharp as they imagined and surmised the meaning behind any slight curve.

  ‘It’s okay – James said we can wait…until we know each other and I’m ready.’

  My mouth felt as though it had been filled with thousands of tiny paper balls.

  ‘Please, come and see me,’ she said, clutching my hand.

  I placed my palm on the side of Angela’s face. Her eyes were red, her make-up had run and her vision of youth and beauty was blurred.

  ‘I will, but let’s get you fixed up. We don’t want to give those old bats any more to gossip about.’

  Angela smiled, some of her true self returning.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here, Eva. I couldn’t have done this without you.’

  I settled my free hand over hers. ‘You’re strong, Angela – I can see that. Never forget that, okay?’

  She let out a long sigh. ‘I’m not so sure about that. But for some reason, I feel stronger around you.’

  Angela moved away to retrieve her make-up bag and broke our connection. The moment she turned away, the heat I’d managed to hold onto seeped away. I was left shaking and cold in the ridiculous, flimsy dress I’d been made to wear. I held onto my groan as I glanced down at the long pale-pink silk dress with fine straps that hugged my every curve in a way that seemed indecent in Orpheus’s God-fearing town. But I’d learned there was no logic or reason – only Orpheus’s rules, which must be obeyed. I was clearly on show to his son as the prize Ezra had won from Max and Noah, and a reminder to those men of what they would never have. I felt as though a million invisible bugs crawled onto my skin. At some point, I’d stopped being a person and had become an object to be controlled.

  I remembered back to the dreadful, fateful day a week ago when Noah and Max sought my hand in marriage, only to be trumped by Ezra and Orpheus – my soon-to-be husband and father-in-law. Every day I tried to wrap my head around what had happened, what had been decided for me, and even though I’d been promised to Ezra, a man I loved, and not to one of the brutes who’d tried to force me to be theirs, I was no closer to accepting I was to be married off – as Angela was about to be.

  ‘Eva, could you help me?’ asked Angela, bringing me back into the room.

  Outside, the music started and the congregation fell silent, waiting for the much-anticipated first bride to make her appearance.

  Quickly, I tried my best to fix her make-up and then smoothed down her white dress. When she was
ready, I crouched and prepared her long train so that it would flow perfectly behind her.

  ‘Do I…look okay?’ she asked after applying her lipstick.

  I walked to stand in front of her and smiled. ‘You’re beautiful.’ A sting of pink erupted in her cheeks. ‘Ready?’

  She took a deep breath before speaking. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  I smiled as I carefully placed the lace veil over Angela’s face, shrouding her in mystery. She took a few final moments to prepare for a fate she’d never in a million years thought would await her. I retrieved two rose-filled bouquets from a nearby table and then cracked open the door. Facing me was the deathly pale face of the security guard.

  ‘We’re ready,’ I said.

  He let out a sigh.

  ‘Thank the Lord,’ he whispered before turning back around and reaching for his radio. His swift instructions started up Pachelbel’s Canon in C – the wedding march, which floated through the church and down to the vestibule.

  I passed Angela her flowers and whispered, ‘You can do this, Angela. Put one foot in front of the other, okay?’

  She nodded. I walked to stand in front of her, and then the double doors were pushed wide open. Every parishioner shuffled to stand before turning, their gazes raking over us. I froze. It took Ezra moving into my sight and smiling from the front row of the church before I could move forward.

  I became aware of every sensation as I slowly walked down the aisle. The silk of my dress pressed against my body. The soft sweetness of the roses that I held in my hands and that were threaded through my hair wafted over me. Penetrating eyes dissected my womanly figure, leaving my skin hot and dewy.

  Keeping my gaze glued on Ezra, I put one step in front of another until I reached the front of the church. I hurried up several steps to reach the altar before walking past the nervous-looking groom. Orpheus nodded at me as I took my place beside the priest.

  Scattered between the flowers that filled the church were the people of Melas, their faces hungry with anticipation – for this wedding, but also for the one where I would be standing at the altar as Ezra’s bride.

  The pianist increased the tempo of the song, turning everyone towards the main attraction: the bride. She stepped into the church as though entering a force field. She gazed through her white veil, not at her future husband, but at me.

  I put on my best encouraging smile, but I felt my powers stir, urging me to step forward and save Angela. My gaze flickered to my family and I remembered my promise, my obligation to them – to blend in, to keep my witchcraft hidden, to stay safe.

  Inside me raged a battle – the need to be myself against my promise to hide. I took a deep breath and held onto the promise to help protect my family, an uneasy feeling settling in the base of my stomach. Whispered into my ears came the question, What about the next time? Will I be able to suppress my powers then?

  Angela reached her groom and the music died a sudden death. Every set of eyes lasered in on the couple. Angela turned to face her fiancé, her skin as stark white as the dress she wore. I didn’t know James, but he smiled kindly at Angela and quietly took her hand. It was a small act, but it told me that although this was no marriage of love, James was a good man, someone she could trust, someone who would protect her from Orpheus.

  My gaze flickered to Orpheus – our dictator mayor and my soon-to-be father-in-law. He was smiling and appeared to be delighting in his own cleverness about the forced match. I glanced away, but not before he caught my eye and winked at me, reminding me that one day soon, my future would be tied to Ezra’s – and his – in every possible way.

  The priest stepped up to the pulpit and began his sermon, which made my scalp prickle. He spoke not of love and respect, but of duty and obedience. He quoted gospel passages that had no place in history, let alone the modern world. Yet here they were – dusted off and shoved back under our noses.

  The priest boomed, ‘As Genesis states, “Adam’s role is to be Eve’s master.” This sentiment was again ordained by the Colossians – “wives, submit to your own husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Saviour.”’

  As the minutes wore on, my skin bristled with rage. Poor Angela appeared as though she might pass out. Until finally, the storm of oppression and condemnation was over. Gentle music filled the church, yet no one moved a muscle.

  But the sermon was simply the entrée for the main event. The moment the music was over, the priest came in for a second attack. With a flash of grey steel in his eyes, he asked the young couple to repeat their wedding vows.

  Slowly, hesitantly, James repeated his wedding vows, as prompted by the priest. James paused at the words you must obey me, your husband, your owner.

  Orpheus cleared his throat, causing James to glance up at him. A dark red stain spread over James’s face. I wondered then of the threats and inducements that had made James agree to marry a woman he didn’t know.

  James continued his vows. ‘…you must obey me, your husband, your…owner.’

  I took a sharp breath, along with most women in the room.

  The priest stopped, turned to me, narrowed his eyes. Then he aimed his evil eye back at the congregation. ‘These are words you may not be familiar with – yet – but I assure you, you soon will be.’

  James pushed a gold ring onto Angela’s petite finger, the ring sitting loosely upon it. The priest turned back to Angela, his voice as sharp as the tip of a knife. ‘Repeat these words after me.’

  Angela glanced at me and I nodded. And so she agreed to love, honour and obey a man she barely knew – to become his property – for him to do with as he wished – when he wished – for as long as she was to live. Separation was no longer an option. Divorce was strictly prohibited.

  But the priest wasn’t finished. He went in for the kill. ‘And may I remind you, Angela, as a woman, if you ever commit adultery, if you ever sleep with another man, perhaps an old lover, you will be a condemned woman – and you will be stoned.’ Angela swayed on her feet. ‘We will also allow the same law as stated in the Liber Augustalis – “If a husband catches his wife in the very act of adultery, he may kill both the adulterer and his wife, but without any further delay.” Clearly, these same laws do not apply to any male. He may take as many women as he wishes.’

  What the hell!

  This time the congregation erupted. It took the priest beating his gavel repeatedly against his pulpit to quieten the church.

  James stepped forward and caught Angela, held her up.

  ‘You may kiss your…property,’ said the priest, performing the sign of the cross.

  Property!

  Heat rushed through my body, and flames sat hidden beneath my skin. I glanced at Ezra, who was as pale as Angela. Clearly this was news to him. Right now he didn’t expect me to become his property, but in time…would he?

  James raised Angela’s veil, revealing eyes that were full of unspilt tears that needed no encouragement to trickle down her face. James found his handkerchief and wiped her tears gently away. Then he kissed her quickly on the lips.

  The congregation shuffled in their seats.

  ‘Do that kiss again – properly this time,’ said the priest, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

  ‘Excuse me!’ whispered Angela.

  The priest narrowed his eyes before he replied. ‘Timothy says, “Let a woman learn in silence with all submissiveness I permit no woman to teach or have authority over a man; rather, she is to remain silent.” So, I won’t ask again. Angela – submit to your husband.’

  James stared at the priest, aghast.

  ‘Take control of your wife, James. It is God’s law!’

  James blinked furiously, his face turning a deep shade of red.

  Words danced on the tip of my tongue. Fire sat ready. Not long from now, I would be standing where Angela stood. Ezra would be given the legal authority to take control
of me.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Angela quietly, touching the side of James’s face, turning his attention towards her.

  The air thickened. A single fly could be heard buzzing in the rafters.

  James placed one hand firmly around Angela’s waist, pulled her close. He whispered something in her ear that no one else could hear. And then he bent down and kissed his wife in a way that left the front row of the congregation blushing.

  Finally, he pulled away and Orpheus started clapping.

  ‘Good. Very good.’

  The congregation stood and applauded, but no one matched the passion showed by Orpheus. I froze, my eyes lasered on Angela, who looked as though she’d been stripped naked in public.

  But the priest was not done. ‘It would be remiss of me not to remind you both that you will now be expected to produce a family, a large family.’ He turned to Angela, his words stern. ‘May I remind you of the words from Genesis, “I will greatly multiply your pain in childbirth; in pain you will bring forth children. Yet your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.”’

  No one spoke. No one moved. Orpheus clapped his hands three times and the music started. The bride and groom stumbled back down the aisle. Confetti was thrown into the air, but no one smiled or cheered. There was no joy or love inside this church.

  Ezra moved towards me, held out his arm. I reached for him, willed my legs to take me forward. Together, we followed the priest, Orpheus and Gretel from the church and into the weak sunshine.

  I felt as though I hovered just outside my own skin. I’d mentally prepared myself to help Angela get through her ordeal, but I hadn’t readied myself for maintaining composure through the vows. And nothing could have prepared me for the further debasing of women’s basic human rights.

  As the congregation streamed through the open doors of the chapel and out onto the colourfully decorated grounds that had been prepared for the wedding reception, I glanced down the empty road. I wanted to throw my heels at Orpheus and run for my life, out of this godforsaken town, towards the hidden dinghy…towards Jet.