Page 152 of The Knucker King

Ashling darted over to rouse the snoring Bramble while Avice grabbed her medical satchel. She stuffed Trewoofe’s gift inside it as she waited for the plants to bend and let her through. She glanced over her shoulder. Her familiar was still rousing himself, so the midwife took the lead and marched up the – now clear – garden path. She spied Nell just outside of the ward. The girl was wringing her hands, and her lips were tugged down.

Avice stepped through Trewoofe’s protection magic. “Alright, now tell me —”

She let out a blood-curling scream as rough hands grabbed her from behind. More men appeared from the greenery. There were four in total, including her captor.

Men she recognised.

Men from the village.

Men who she had healed, and whose children she had brought into the world.

Simon the blacksmith, Tristan the tavern owner, and Jacob the farmer all closed in on her.

“Let me go!” she snarled, bucking and kicking against her assailant.

The man – she could not see who it was – grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She caught Nell’s tear-stricken face as one of the men shoved her away.

“Go back to the village!” Simon ordered. “You are expected there when we bring the witch.”

“I am sorry, Miss Avice!” she sobbed from somewhere in the green. “They said they would let John go if I helped them get to you.”

A savage snarl ripped through the trees. Bramble corporealized in the middle of the fray, hackles up and red eyes blazing. Her familiar lunged at Tristan. His fangs chomped down on his arm, and he let out a shriek. Ashling zoomed into the fight then, flaming the tavern owner’s face with a short, sharp peal. Her captor’s grip loosened, and Avice used the opportunity to yank free from his grip, spinning on her heel to face him.

Robert Shepherd.

She reached for her iron knife and panic clawed at her throat.

She did not have it.

Avice had not needed to wear it in the protective boundary of her garden.

“Little hag!” he spat.

He grabbed her bodice and yanked her towards him. He snapped the strap of her satchel and ripped off her key and pendant as he grappled her to his torso. A sharp yelp made Avice flinch. Robert spun her around. His forearm squeezed her throat. The other crushed her diaphragm, making it hard for her to breathe. She shuddered at the press of his body. The way he crushed her made her stomach twist, and bile caught in her throat.

“Watch as we kill your hell hound!” he crooned savagely.

Bramble was pinned under a heavy iron net. He whimpered and writhed in agony beneath it. Avice watched on in horror as trailing whisps of shadow evaporated from his body. Simon lunged towards the Grim, brandishing an iron dagger. Ashling dashed around again, brightening his flames.

“Ashling! Get Trewoofe! Tell him—”

Robert squeezed her tighter, and shadows darkened the edge of her vision. The Wisp charged towards the dagger-wielder and set his fingers alight with roaring flames. He screeched incoherently before Jacob poured water over him.

“I will get the King!” Ashling chimed before bolting into the woods.

Avice knew she was no fighter. She had always managed every situation with her sharp mind and considerable healing skills. But there was no way she was going to go easily or let them kill Bramble.

She just needed air.

With air, she could use her voice.

Avice dropped. She flung her body down as hard as she could, knocking Robert off balance. His grip loosened, and before he could grapple her again, she elbowed him in the groin. Robert let out a hideous scream and shoved her away so he could cup himself. Avice scrambled away. She pointed her finger at the farmer, who had been advancing on the thrashing Bramble with an iron dagger in his hand.

Avice pulled.

Not from a Good Neighbour, but from the magic that had been thrumming from the earth and into her since the night of the Equinox.

“CUT YOUR THROAT!”