Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles

by F. R. Southerland

  The demon closed the distance between them. He halted a foot or so away from her and his smile looked more like a grimace. “Years. Been years. I can still feel the power in this place. It’s—” He cut himself off with a strangled laugh. He rocked back on his heels and the laugh echoed unnaturally around them. Were the shadows laughing too?

  As he stepped backward, the darkness curled around his feet and slithered up his legs and torso. Andy couldn’t be sure, but they seemed to almost embrace him. And he let them. His eyes slid closed and he tilted his head back, exposing his throat and the blood splatters across it. His chest lifted and fell rapidly with each breath. When he looked to Andy again, tears glistened in his eyes.

  “A long time. Such a long time.” His voice trembled. “Must be.”

  Andy knew that she had to come here and she knew that she’d find the demon, but what was she supposed to do when she did? The vision hadn’t shown her that. She hated the uncertainty of it all. All she had to go on was her gut, her intuition. Exhaling slowly, she put her trust in it and let it guide her. What else could she do? Run? Give up? No. She didn’t do that.

  She moved forward to him. The shadows closed in on him even more, compressing his body. He gave no notice, keeping his gaze steady on hers. She stopped once close enough to touch him—but she didn’t.

  She studied the depths of his eyes. She tried to see him—really see him—for the demon he was. The Hallowed Circle Coven had gone to great lengths to raise him from wherever he’d been. No one knew who he was, what he was, what he’d done—or what he intended to do.

  Andy may have been impulsive, but could be cautious and wary when it counted. At the moment, she was neither. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to him. The shadows danced around him the closer she got. When her hand touched his arm, she found his skin ice cold. The shadows shrank back, but the demon didn’t.

  Would she regret this one day?

  Her gut only told her one thing. She had no choice but to listen to it, to do what it told her. It had never been wrong before. Andy took in another breath.

  “Let me help you.”

  But who, she wondered, would help her?

  Andy

  Cold air whipped around her. It struck her in the face, stung. It was mid-May. Spring, warmth, renewal—that’s what it should’ve been, what she expected. Instead, she had frigid cold and goosebumps dotting her skin.

  The outside world drifted far behind them now, but her apartment offered little warmth. It had to be the shadows. Their cold permeated everything. They seemed as much a part of the demon as his hair or his eyes. They clung to his skin even as Andy teleported them.

  “Steady,” she warned him, though it was a moot point. He’d vanished from the church, hadn’t he? No adverse effects. He wouldn’t be hurling all over her floor or staggering about. No, the demon stood tall—well, of a height with her—and never flinched at the change of scenery.

  His dark eyes took it all in. They searched the living room, gaze lingering on the lamps, television, the furniture. Doom glared from his usual perch atop the bookshelf. Vivi hid, no doubt scared off by their sudden arrival.

  She still held his arm. Was his skin always so cold? His eyes, when he peered at her then, were a deep chocolate brown—perceived warmth, Andy thought. Not exactly real. She had seen the darkness overtake them and knew what lurked beneath. Even so, she couldn’t help but wonder and worry.

  “You’re cold. Do you want a blanket? Something warm? I could—”

  The shadows stuck to him, pulsing with life. Suddenly tangible, they lashed out at her. Andy released him and took a few quick steps back. They eased away when she stood apart from him, seemingly calmed now that she wasn’t a supposed threat.

  Something black on his wrist caught her attention, something different than the shadows. A tattoo, she thought at first, but no. Not a tattoo. Not a scar, nor a brand either, but still seared into the flesh. Several lines, they were, crisscrossing one another to form a crude, three-sided shape, closer to a square than a triangle. Odd.

  She took a breath and broke her gaze away. Warily, she observed the shadows as they tightened about the demon’s waist. The demon looked at her too, but his eyes showed more curiosity than caution.

  “Okay. Okay, I get it. They don’t want me to touch you. That’s fine.” She held up her hands in a defensive gesture. These shadows, sentient or not, warded him. Andy had tasted their violence before. She wasn’t keen on being smacked across her apartment this morning. “They’re protecting you, aren’t they? Not that you need protecting, I figure.”

  “Yes.” It came out hoarse, distracted. He looked beyond Andy. He didn’t really see her.

  “The apartment isn’t much, I know,” she said. Talking, rambling—easy enough to do even with the best of company, but right now, it seemed like the only thing to do. Keep talking. Engage him. Help him. After all, he’d agreed to it. He was here now. She had to do something. “I got it a couple of years ago. Started with a roommate, but that fell apart, so it’s pretty much mine now.”

  He turned, eyes still taking in every surface. He lingered again on the lights.

  “It’s electricity. You know what that is, right?”

  “Yes,” he said again, this time with more certainty and awareness. “I know.”

  It wasn’t much of a start, but it was something. Andy hesitated for a second before she inched toward him. She held her hand out as one does with an animal, slow and careful. “Can I touch you again? Will they let me?”

  The shadows darkened around him when the demon turned and met her eyes. “Yes.”

  She took his wrist—the right one, the one without the mark—and pulled him gently with her to the bathroom. White porcelain gleamed, the sharp lights bouncing off their surfaces. The demon narrowed his eyes and the shadows left him. They rushed to the corners where they affixed themselves and stayed. Andy remained aware of them and sensed their presence though they no more moved than any other shadow did.

  The demon searched this room too, going over the fixtures. He reached out and touched the sink and his finger left behind a trail of red. The mirror caught his reflection and he stared at himself in the glass.

  “I look frightful,” he managed to say, no surprise at all in his voice.

  “Yep. And that’s why we’re here. We’re gonna clean you up.” With a gentle tug on his wrist, Andy pulled him away from the mirror. He didn’t resist. When she indicated, he took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Just… sit tight. We’ll have you right in a few minutes.”

  He sat still while she turned. Andy could see his reflection in the glass as she filled the sink with warm water and grabbed a washcloth. His dark eyes met hers in the glass and Andy felt it—a shudder that went from the ends of her hair down to her toes. Her breath caught.

  Power. Gods, did he have it.

  Her stomach flopped. Abruptly, she tore her gaze away. She looked down, busying herself with wringing out the cloth. Water dripped from the faucet. Mason’s warnings came back in a rush, but Andy pushed them aside.

  The scent of coppery blood hit more keenly when she sat on the edge of the tub beside him. Someone’s blood saturated his clothes and his face and his hands but he didn’t seem to even notice it. “Here,” she said softly. “Turn to me.”

  And he did, gaze unflinching.

  Andy took in a breath and began to wipe at the blood splatters on his face. She kept her eyes on her work all the while aware of how close they were, that his eyes never once strayed from her.

  “What do they call you?” Andy didn’t ask for a name. If she asked for a name, he might refuse. Some Others were not so keen to give a witch their name. A name could mean banishment or a hexing. And demons were often fearful of a witch’s influence. “What should I call you?”

  He didn’t answer and that didn’t surprise her, but she kept on talking. “My name is Andy,” she said. It was a nickname, not her given name and any spells or adverse use of it would har
dly work because of it. She gave it to him without fear. “The town you are in is New Ashton.” Andy looked at the blood-saturated cloth with disgust and stood.

  His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She gasped at the cold touch, at the bite of his fingers in her skin. Strong—much stronger than she’d expected. For a second, fear swept through her, but it vanished when excitement followed close on its heels.

  “I’ve got a name,” he said, voice thick. The accent was something English, Andy realized. Cockney maybe, but something else too. She couldn’t be sure. She never had an ear for accents and he’d said so little so far, in his hoarse, raspy, little-used voice. “I’ve got a name,” he told her again, “only… don’t quite remember it. S’been so long since I’ve had to use it.”

  “How long?” Now she asked that question, watching him closely, a lump in her throat.

  He didn’t answer that but gave his head a mild shake. He let go of her quickly and Andy staggered back. His fingers left a circle of blood around her wrist. She swallowed hard and went to the sink.

  The water became a pale pink as she rinsed out the cloth and washed the blood from her wrist. She didn’t look at him in the mirror and she said nothing at all. But her heart raced. So did her mind.

  He spoke and his words were quiet, low. “I know the place, love. Been here b’fore. Everythin’s changed. Not the same. S’all bright n’ new.” Laughter forced its way between his lips. When Andy looked at the mirror, she could see crooked teeth in his grimace. “S’pose it’s home now.”

  He trailed off and the grimace dropped. So did his gaze. He stared at his hand, at the blood drying on his palm. He squeezed it into a fist, flexed his fingers. She watched, waited, but when he didn’t move again, she resumed rinsing the cloth. Answers would come in time, Andy knew. Little by little, she’d help him, this demon summoned with her blood. Her responsibility. Her charge.

  “Well, that’s the nature of things—they change. But it’s not so bad,” she said. “The town has its charm.” She smiled at herself while she wrung out the cloth. If he didn’t get it, then she’d just wasted a decent joke. “You get used to it.” She looked up.

  He was gone.

  “Or not.”

  The shadows had fled too. He disappeared so silently and so completely, Andy hadn’t even noticed. Still, she checked the bathroom, the living room too, but he wasn’t there.

  Andy stepped back into the bathroom. All that was left of the demon were the smeared fingerprints in someone else’s blood on the side of the bathtub. He’d changed his mind about her help, clearly, but why? Where had he gone?

  Her shoulders slumped when she sighed. It wasn’t her blood revulsion that made her stomach twist; it was intuition. The gut feeling. She’d see him again, no doubt there.

  It wasn’t over yet.

  Casey

  One Month Later

  Mid-June

  It wasn’t glamorous. It was a one-bedroom apartment with a carpeted living area, a tiny kitchen, and a cramped bathroom. Appliances were already supplied, but she’d have to buy kitchen things, like pans and plates. She’d have to learn to cook too, or else rely on take-out and whatever she could heat up in the ancient microwave. But that was fine.

  She couldn’t stay a minute longer at the Kindheart Coven. The witches had been good to her, but living off someone else’s charity didn’t make Casey comfortable there at all. She wasn’t a witch. She didn’t fit.

  Vinnie’s offer to room with her at her apartment had been tempting, but she said no. And the same with Neoma’s hospitality. Andy had never offered her guestroom, but that was just as well. The answer would have been the same—a big fat no. Casey had to do this on her own. She decided to stay, now she had to stick to the decision.

  It had only taken three weeks of work and a small loan from Mara for her to pay the deposit and first month’s rent. Of course, it helped that the dirt-low rent came because of the building’s location smack dab in the Otherside.

  It wasn’t such a bad part of town. Casey wasn’t exactly sure why Andy had been so uptight about it. She’d stayed in shadier places in shadier cities. At least it was nowhere near Mercy Avenue. As long as she avoided that street, she’d be fine. She may have only been in New Ashton for a month but she knew all the warnings about that area weren’t unfounded. Vampire and demon central—yeah, not the place for her. She had no desire to visit the demon bar or the other businesses. She’d be safe so long as she stayed away.

  And wards. There were wards. Vinnie made them, placed them. She trusted Vinnie’s magic and what it could do. She felt better with the wards in place. Just crystals, really. Vinnie put them in potted plants around the place. The green brought color to the otherwise bland room.

  And Casey would too. Plastic crinkled as she walked over it. The fresh paint smell in the small room almost made her head spin. One downside to her new place? Poor ventilation. With the living room window open, the late spring air trickled in. Even with the front door propped open it barely dissipated the fumes.

  She poured more paint into the tray, then dropped the bucket onto the plastic again. She wiped her forehead and stared at the pale yellow color. It wasn’t a color she particularly liked, but at a bargain, she wasn’t so picky. Vinnie had helped pick it out and any color would improve the ugly gray walls surrounding her.

  She grooved along with the classic rock playing from the radio as she picked up the paint roller. She still had half of the living room to go and she wanted it done before tonight.

  Tap-tap-tap. The knock startled her and she turned quickly. Vibrant red hair. Her heart jumped. Vinnie.

  “Hey,” Andy said. “Anyone home?”

  The wrong Foster, but Casey mustered up a smile anyway. “Hey,” she said, flicking a piece of pink hair out of her eyes. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, not much. Was in the neighborhood. Vinnie told me about the new place.” She hovered in the doorway, searching the living room. “Going for a tropical vacation vibe or something?”

  “Huh? Oh. The yellow. Not really.” There came a breathless laugh as Casey put the paint roller aside. “Cheapest one so… working at the convenience store doesn’t pay as much as you might think. And Vinnie said—” Well, it didn’t matter what Vinnie said. She shrugged, surveying the areas already painted. “Not sure if I like it or not but… shit, I should probably commit to it, right? Better than nothing.” She gave a little chuckle, wiped her hands on her jeans. She left a smear of yellow paint down her thigh.

  “Could always paint over it later.” Andy stepped further into the room, scrutinizing the walls. She fiddled with the strap of her tote bag. “I would’ve gone for a pale purple. Maybe blue.”

  “Ha, yeah.” Blue would be nice. She liked blue. “I ain’t got nothing to offer you. Nothing to drink or anything. I barely have a place, much less food to go in it.”

  “That’s okay. This isn’t a social visit anyway.” She flicked a long strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled in Casey’s direction. “I have something for you.”

  It wasn’t her birthday for a month yet. Another housewarming gift? “Hope it ain’t a plant. Vinnie’s got me set for a while.”

  Andy’s smile widened. “No. No plant.” She reached into her bag and brought out something rectangular, wrapped up in black cloth.

  “A book?” Casey frowned as Andy unfolded the cloth from the cover. “Guess Vinnie didn’t tell you I ain’t so big on books? Unless it’s like, something useful—”

  It wasn’t just any book. It was his book. Her father’s journal.

  She took it, turned it over. “Oh. I thought—”

  “Thought it’d been lost? No. My mom had it. For the spell we never managed to do. She meant to give it to you sooner, but there was so much happening. Giving it to you right after—” Andy sighed. “She didn’t think you were ready for it then.”

  Casey kept her eyes on the journal. Her fingertips gently ran over the pages sticking out, over the spine. She didn’t think she
was ready for it now. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, but I’ll take a thank you.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” It felt heavy in her hands. Had it always been so heavy?

  Andy’s smile changed to something apologetic. “When my dad died, I had his journal. Well, a spellbook—Book of Shadows, some people call it—but I kept that thing with me all the time. It helped me feel close to him. Like a part of him was still alive.”

  “I don’t know if I want to feel close to him now. I—” But she stopped, not sure how else to explain it. Grief fucked her up in all kinds of ways. There were some days when he was all she thought about, and it hurt. And then there were days when she kept herself too distracted to let her father’s memory intrude. She’d hoped today would’ve been a distracted day.

  Apparently not.

  Andy waved a hand. “I get it. And it’s okay not to. I thought, well, it could help. Maybe not now, but eventually.”

  “Yeah.” She held the journal to her chest. “One day.” But it wouldn’t be today. “So this was it? The reason you came?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. I have somewhere else I need to be.”

  Casey furrowed her brow a little. “Did you have a vision?” That’s usually how it came down, wasn’t it? Something inexplicable happened and the Foster women knew about it, ready to act.

  “More or less.”

  “Makes sense. You know, I thought for a second there you were gonna grill me about my birthday plans next month. See where I’m gonna be for the surprise birthday party.” The corner of her mouth came up in a half-smile.

  Andy’s mouth dropped open, then she laughed. “Oh, you’re not supposed to know about that.”

  “I know, but Vinnie ain’t subtle. Asking me when my birthday is, asking favorite colors and things I like. She’s planning something. July’s almost here and my birthday’s right smack in the middle of it. Easy math.”

  “She’s gonna blame me for blowing the secret, ya know.”