The Forbidden

by Cheyenne McCray

  The Forbidden

  Dark Sorcery Book 1

  Cheyenne McCray

  Contents

  October 23

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  October 24

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  October 25

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  October 26

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  October 27

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  October 28

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  October 29

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  October 30

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  October 31

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  November 8

  Chapter 39

  November 14

  Chapter 40

  November 19

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Cheyenne McCray

  The Seduced

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by Cheyenne McCray

  About Cheyenne

  To my mom and dad, Karen and Robert Tanner, who taught me that I could do anything I wanted to do, be anything I wanted to be. From the time I was in kindergarten, when I decided I would become an author when I grew up, they never doubted one day I would realize that dream.

  I love you, Mop and Pop!

  * * *

  (P.S. Yes, I’ve called her Mop since I was a little girl. :) What’s more fun than saying Mop and Pop?)

  October 23

  1

  San Francisco

  * * *

  Silver Ashcroft leaned back in the desk chair in her small apartment, and stared at the computer screen. She studied pictures of her younger sister and a hard knot developed in the center of her chest.

  Copper had been one of the few witches in the D’Anu Coven to embrace social media, something their father had discouraged in his over-the-top way. Nevertheless, Copper’s fingerprints seemed to be all over the world.

  But she was no longer here. She’d vanished. Her presence wiped away from San Francisco and their home.

  Silver’s eyes burned and she barely kept back tears as she let her gaze drift over photographs Copper had posted to her social media account over the past several years.

  One picture was of Copper in her blue and gold UC Berkeley softball uniform when she pitched during her undergrad years. Another photo was from Copper’s graduation. She wanted to teach high school kids and coach softball.

  Copper and Silver had taken a few selfies together on a cold beach with the fog-shrouded Golden Gate Bridge in the background.

  Both sisters were smiling. Laughing. Copper’s joy of life sparkled clearly in her cinnamon eyes. Freckles sprinkled her nose and her copper-colored hair shone in the late afternoon despite the overcast day.

  Zephyr, Copper’s honeybee familiar, had perched on her earlobe, like a buzzing earring.

  Copper had captioned it, “Best sister ever,” with the hashtag #whatagreatlife.

  They’d taken the photos two days before Copper had performed a moon ritual alone. And Silver hadn’t seen her since.

  Silver’s throat ached as she swallowed. I should never have let her go by herself.

  The night before she disappeared, Copper had one of her dream visions. She’d told Silver the vision had shown that Copper must “draw down the moon.”

  Copper had been evasive and had insisted on performing the ritual herself. Silver had argued against it, but had lost the battle.

  When Copper hadn’t returned home by dawn, Silver had gone in search of her sister at their sacred stretch of beach. All she had found were Copper’s tools of the craft—

  And a lidless eye perfectly outlined in the sand.

  No trace of Copper anywhere. Barely a hint of her energy left in the universe.

  The eye…it signified dark sorcery at work. But Copper didn’t practice anything close to sorcery.

  Gray, yes. Dark, no.

  A chill rolled through Silver, causing her to shiver as she pictured the eye. Her familiar, Polaris curled more tightly around her feet. The python hissed and Silver looked down to meet his gaze.

  She shook her head. “You know and I know things will never be fine until we locate Copper.” Silver’s throat worked as she swallowed. “She’s out there somewhere.”

  Somehow the next thought comforted her slightly. “And Zephyr must surely be with her.” The honeybee familiar had disappeared when Copper had. For a tiny being, Zephyr had strong magic and a strong protective streak.

  About a year ago, after her sister had vanished, Silver had sought out and started working with the San Francisco PSF—Paranormal Special Forces.

  San Francisco’s police force had finally come to terms with the fact that some crimes needed a special touch, a unique sort of investigation. Crimes related to paranormal practices were on the rise, so the police department had set up the PSF unit, secret to all but those involved.

  Silver didn’t think her sister was dead, but she was so afraid something bad had claimed her, like what had been happening to witches all over the City by the Bay. Silver had tried and tried to scry to find out where her sister had disappeared to, or if something worse had happened.

  Not even the slightest clue had come to her.

  Now Silver was driven to help save other witches before they disappeared or were murdered. It frustrated her to no end that she’d only been able to lead the officers to cold crime scenes.

  She moved her gaze from Polaris to her scrying cauldron that perched on a nearby table. Time to see what it could tell her today.

  Silver slipped through night and shadows, heart pounding and rage simmering. Although she belonged to a D’Anu Coven that practiced white witchcraft, there was no doubt in her mind what this situation required.

  Gray magic.

  Behind her, PSF Captain Jake Macgregor walked as soundlessly as she did despite the fact he was tall, big, and muscular, and had to weigh a good two-twenty.

  “Are you sure, Silver?” the handsome dark-haired man asked through the transmitter attached to her ear.

  She paused only long enough to toss him a look over her shoulder. “Have I ever been wrong?”

  Jake answered with a wink and she shook her head as she reached the fire escape. The abandoned boardinghouse was one of the older structures on the southern side of San Francisco. It showed its age and lack of upkeep with its cracked and peeling paint, rusted drainpipes, and weed-choked yard.

  Everything Silver did was with a desire to find Copper safe and sound, and to save other witches as she did so.

  Without waiting for Jake, Silver grabbed a rail. The paint-chipped metal felt rough beneath her palms and she caught the smell of rust. She swung up and onto the fire escape and landed soundlessly on the mesh floor.

  Below her Jake swore under his breath, but she heard it over the communication device. He hated to have her involved in the actual bust, but when she led them to illegal paranormal activities like ritual sacrifice and the use of magic to destroy property or steal expensive items,
she insisted on taking part. She often made the take-down easier, but knew the officer still didn’t like her in the middle of danger.

  Smells of dirt and weeds met her nose as she grasped the metal bars that would take her to the next story. She’d have to be careful the creaking fire escape didn’t catch the attention of the individuals in the third-story apartment.

  The Balorites. They had to be there.

  When she was on the second-story platform, she whispered into the transmitter, “Make sure your team is ready.” It wasn’t a necessary statement, but she wanted to make sure Jake knew she was prepared to charge forward with her plan.

  In the next moment, she drew her hand down in the air before her face, drawing a glamour and disappearing from human sight.

  Jake murmured to his team into the communicator on his jacket as Silver continued her climb. Chill air penetrated her black gloves, jeans, and jacket, and her nose was so cold it was nearly numb.

  Behind her, the captain swung up and onto the fire escape to begin his quiet climb. He would stay one floor below her, knowing she needed space to perform her magic.

  PSF team members eased from the shadows and waited on the ground, their guns trained on the third-story windows. More officers blocked all escape routes and some had slipped into the first-floor of the boardinghouse to await Jake’s orders.

  When Silver finally crept onto the third-floor fire escape, she crouched near the dingy window closest to her. She peered through a pair of frayed white curtains parted just enough for her to see into the room. With her glamour, she had no fear of being seen, but she always took care just in case she ran into something that could see an invisible witch.

  Her gaze took in the sparsely furnished room. She caught the odor of cigarettes, and that musty smell old buildings gave off, along with a more bitter odor—calamus root and dragon’s blood. Countless black candles flickered for attention, giving the room enough light to see by.

  As sharp and hot as a desert wind, heat flooded her at the sight of the inverted pentagram burned into the frayed carpet, a lidless eye at its center. It was identical to the others they’d found near dead witches.

  And identical to the one she’d found on the beach after Copper had disappeared.

  For a moment, Silver didn’t see anyone through the window, but then a form in a black robe appeared, entering the candlelit room from another part of the house. The hood dropped away from the woman’s face.

  With her long blonde hair and classic beauty, most would never suspect the darkness that lay beneath the surface.

  Silver wouldn’t have taken her for a Balorite warlocks, but she knew she needed to shed her stereotypes of warlocks. These Balorites were a whole new breed. Unfortunately, practicing evil didn’t make them look evil. In fact, rather the opposite, as if those initiates with physical flaws were culled.

  From what Silver had scried using her pewter cauldron, she had learned that Balorites used blood magic—the spilling of blood to draw on energies and beings far outside the warlock’s own ability—for personal gain and power. Also, for the purpose of hurting other living things.

  Rumor had it they intended to rule the underground magic world and ultimately take political power for themselves.

  Like members of the D’Anu, by day many of the Balorites already served in high positions in the government, and in major corporations.

  Positions of power.

  By night, the Balorite Clan—or their minions—wreaked havoc that the D’Anu worked to overcome with white magic.

  Except for me. And my sister.

  Silver and Copper practiced gray magic, unbeknownst to their Coven.

  She attempted to shake off the feeling of evil from being in the mere vicinity of obvious preparations for a Balorite ritual. Still, it crept down her spine, making her squirm in revulsion.

  “Are you all right?” Jake’s voice crackled in her ear from the transmitter.

  Even though she knew he couldn’t see her because of the cloak of magic she wore, she nodded and responded with a “Shhh,” as she moved to another window.

  Silver squinted, trying to peer through another set of curtains, but they were shut tight. No light glowed through the fabric, telling her the room was likely empty.

  With her gloved hands, she attempted to lift the window only to find it locked. Biting her lower lip in concentration, Silver flicked one finger in the air, sending her magic to do her bidding. In the next second, the rusty scrape of metal against wood rang in her ears as the latch unfastened.

  She held her breath, hoping the warlock in the nearby room hadn’t heard.

  After pausing two heartbeats, Silver gripped the bottom of the window and her muscles tightened as she slowly pushed it up. Wood scratched against wood like fingernails across a chalkboard, as she eased the window high enough that even a grown man could crawl through.

  Again, she waited to make sure no one heard.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness when she parted the stained green curtains, but then her heart thumped in her throat.

  She’d witnessed this exact scene with her scrying cauldron earlier that evening. The missing child had curled into a ball in an exhausted sleep, her cheeks grubby and tearstained. The warlocks had bound her hands in front of her, the cloth strips biting into her small wrists.

  Silver’s blood boiled even hotter. The Balorites had kidnapped this girl to be used in unspeakable rites, harmed in ways that made Silver’s stomach churn.

  Blood magic. The darkest of all sorcery.

  Remaining in a crouch, Silver quietly moved back to the first window and saw that the woman had been joined by two men, both wearing black robes identical to what the woman wore.

  One man turned slightly, and she could make out his aristocratic profile. The second man had pierced ears, shaggy brown hair, and a day’s growth of stubble. He spoke in a low tone to the other Balorite warlocks. Silver caught the words “Darkwolf,” “initiates,” “ritual,” and “soon.”

  Silver tamped down fury that threatened to overcome her, that threatened to make these warlocks pay in a way that would make them wish they’d never been born to this world. But that would be sorcery, and she walked the fine line of gray and white. Never black.

  If she’d been Janis Arrowsmith or any older member of the D’Anu Coven, they would simply have let the PSF officers take over once they directed the cops to the house where the child was held. Rhiannon, Mackenzie, and Sydney often helped Jake, too, but as far as she knew, they used only white witchcraft.

  Not Silver. She would ensure these warlocks wouldn’t escape the justice due them.

  The barest of thumps on the fire escape startled Silver so badly she nearly cried out. She cut her gaze toward the sound. At the same time she flipped out two short, thin, and extremely sharp stiletto daggers that she had sheathed inside her boots.

  A man stood mere inches from her, and from her crouched position she had to look up—way, way up—to fully see him. He folded his massive arms across his powerful chest, his stance wide, shoulder-length dark hair whipping in the breeze. He wore all black, a snug sleeveless shirt and tight leather pants with a sword sheathed to one side of his lean hips, a dagger at his other. A fierce expression crossed his rough features, and his jaw tightened as if with anger.

  He was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen.

  A man who made her heart pound and fire burn in her blood.

  A man who shouldn’t have been able to get past Jake.

  Silver clenched her jaw and gripped her knives tighter, but the man held his fingers to his lips in a “shush” motion. “Quiet,” came a voice with a strong Irish brogue in her mind. “I will help you get the child to safety before you attempt to finish your assignment.”

  The voice jolted Silver speechless. He’d seen through her glamour and he had spoken in her mind.

  Before she could react, he slipped in through the now open window, his longer body and sheer strength giving hi
m an advantage she didn’t have. In mere seconds, he reappeared with the sleeping child in his large embrace.

  He held her tenderly, as if she were a precious treasure and might break if he wasn’t careful. He made it back onto the fire escape with the girl in his arms.

  The man stroked a strand of the girl’s matted brown curls from her face. “A leanbh,” he murmured aloud, his amber eyes focused on the girl, a look of compassion on his strong features. “You are safe now.”

  He looked to Silver and his features hardened, and again he spoke in her mind. “The warlocks. Stop them.”

  Silver’s gaze shot to the other room, where the three dark magicians placed flickering black candles around the inverted pentagram.

  She glanced back to the man and the child—

  They were gone.

  A chill gripped Silver’s chest and she cursed herself. Where had the man taken the girl? How had he gotten past her?

  A few heartbeats later Jake spoke through her transmitter. “One of my men has the child. I don’t know how, but she’s safe.”

  Relief coursed through Silver and her muscles relaxed. Somehow the man had gotten the child to the officers.

  How?

  Silver shook the question off.