Something Wicked that Way Came

Canoc's battered old body jerked and still tremored as the curse was lifted from him. He felt every one of his one hundred and fifty two years. He sucked in a breath deeply through his nose. Time was ceasing. It could have been hours or minutes that passed. The tremors subsided. He could at least be thankful he hadn't soiled himself as the spell normally caused its victims during prolonged use.

The next spell hit him took him off guard. Not a sound had escaped him during the tremors; not so this time. "Bloody f&*k!" Blood seeped through and stained his shirt over his stomach. He broke form and grimaced at the stinging pain.

He breathed deeply. Centered himself. He was still aware of the others in the room. His rheumy blue eyes met those of the witch who'd cursed him earlier. His occlumency shields raised and he stared at her blankly.
 
Thorine stepped forward as if gliding towards the old man, he had sworn so was obviously beginning to crack. She felt as if they had been indulgent long enough but knew she would have to wait for Julians go ahead before they could do anything to him. She wanted to wipe the smile off his face badly and knew just how to do it. So he had buried his precious Emma had he, well she could always implant the beautiful vision of his silly little wife being tortured. Writhing in agony, screaming for him to rescue her. Begging him to come and save her, the icing on the cake would be to turn the vision of Emma so she accused him at the very last second of letting her down, of her death being on his hands.

First she would have to take an image of the woman from the old mans head to make it authentic. He wouldn't know she had even been in there. A slow smile spread across her face as she reached him and knelt down beside him. A gloved hand reached out and began to stroke his head very gently, as if he were a misbehaving pet. ,
"Now now" she chided him, as she tried to delve into his mind. She met a block almost immediately and tapped his head like a foolish child.
"Don't do that". Her own skills were exceedingly strong and he was weak. She just needed one image, just one. Could he break for even a moment so she could extract it?
 
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Canoc felt a soft hand stroke his head. He opened his cloudy eyes and made a fatal error. He locked eyes with the woman kneeling beside him. The female Death Eaters were the worst, the most deranged. Men were straightforward in their cruelty but a woman she could be the most brutal creature on the side of evil.

His body gave a deep shudder of pain. He was weak and nearly mindless with it.
 
The gleam in her eyes said it all, she had it. The moment of weakness was all she needed as he looked into her own eyes. The image of his precious wife was hers to mould as she would. Continuing to stroke his face, she glanced at Julian and Asparuh for a moment before crooning over the old man once more. Slowly she closed her own eyes and she began a vivid storyboard of Emma being tortured. With each image, the detail became more pronounced. Blood, pain, tears. Her cries, her voice, her eyes. It would all seem so very real, so agonising to relive in his mind over and over again and then very carefully she began to twist these images, so that within them subliminal images of Emma screaming in agony, screaming that he was to blame. Begging him to help her then blaming him for her death. The images were fraught with so much horror.

Thorine stood up once more and patted the head of the old man, leaving him now with the images she flicked up her hood and with a sardonic grin on her beautiful features joined the circle once more.
 
Julian could only conjure a small nod of approval as Thorine returned to the group that had gathered there. As no one else had volunteered to have a go at the old man, the cloaked man stepped forward. His voice soft and lilting beneath his hood, he stated, "You can stop this, you know." He let this simple fact ring in the old man's ears. Taggart was like an ostrich egg-it had taken some effort, but his tough outer exterior had finally begun to crack.
 
Canoc growled hoarsely in his throat. Emma, his sweet Emma, bloodied and butchered. Screaming for him. He fought against his bonds. Blood pooled from the multiple gashes further weakening him. He tried to struggle further but his body gave up, became limp, nearly lifeless. He panted and listened as his wife screamed in pain, blaming him.

Whispered words reached his conscious. Stop this? He could stop this? Help his poor Emma? How?

Through cracked and bloody lips he croaked, "How?"
 
A genuine smile slipped onto Julian's features as the old man before them finally cracked. He was quite disappointed that the tools he had set out did not get to meet Taggart. Reminding himself that his greatest companions would have dates with other people at other times, he did not worry about it too much.

"Tell us what we want to know," he replied, his voice leaking with victory.


Julian was the last to remain in the abandoned building. A few had been instructed to drop the old man off in the forest where he had been found. Today was a good day- cracking Taggart had been nearly as effortless as it would have a chicken egg.

Placing his tools into his briefcase, he stepped out of the abandoned building and into the blazing Morocco sun.

THE END.
 
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