Eyeing them suspiciously, I moved around the back and hunted around in the dark until I found the storm drain marked on the map that would give me access to the catacombs. I slipped through it, holding my breath along with my pack so I didn’t make any noise as I entered the stygian interior. I scaled down, ignoring the obnoxious odor of mold and musty stagnant water as I reached another ladder.
I climbed through a pile of rubble, one that had been mapped out, which meant the map was right. I clicked on a flashlight and looked at the map again. What the fuck had she been thinking coming here after it had been attacked? Her notes said she’d been coming for months, and yet the Guild had been damaged a lot longer than that.
I moved deeper into the sewers and finally into the outer edges of the catacombs as the notes instructed, then paused, taking in my first sight of the inside of the Guild. This section was still broken, rocks and concrete blocks that had once been walls littered the floors. Dried blood coated them like macabre paint, as if this was where the Guild members had fallen, then later been moved away for burial. My heart clenched for those who had died here. I pushed those thoughts away as I stepped past the rubble and deeper into the Guild.
I snuck down the dark hallway, following the arrows until I had to change page. My heart beat wildly as I discovered another hallway that led further into the labyrinth under the Guild.
Once I reached the floor I was looking for—thankfully without landing on my head—I turned off the flashlight and whispered the spell to see in the dark. It was a great spell, but unfortunately quite unpredictable. The leyline here was strong, strong enough that I wouldn’t cause a ripple by tapping it. I moved soundlessly through what I presumed had once been a library, holding the map at my side as I followed the picture inside my mind.
I passed what looked like a medieval altar room and stopped at the entryway of it. It was old and reeked of death, as if this had once been a place of sacrifice to the Gods of old. A shiver snaked down my spine as I stared at the door, covered in wards. Heavy wards, like the kind you didn’t mess with because it could bring the entire place down on your head.
Lena was officially fired.
I carefully picked my way through more rubble, wondering why they hadn’t fixed the lower levels as they must have done with the upper levels.
My first sight of the catacombs almost made me turn around and run; this section was worse. Every door had runes on them, and the deeper I got into the rabbit warren of tunnels, the more I wanted to leave this place. I could see traces of dried blood, as if some of the witches from the Guild had hidden deep inside the catacombs the day this place fell.
I paused outside a door, holding the map up to look at it. It was marked with blood, familiar blood, and yet instinctively I knew it wasn’t of my line. I felt it calling to me, so I placed my hand on the door, which opened it. What the fuck?
From outside the room, I peered in at the rows of books and rolled-up scrolls of parchment that filled the shelves. In the back were old wooden tables, along with decrepit old chairs.
The moment I stepped into the room, a ghostly figure appeared, staring at me. It was a beautiful woman, created in the image of what we were taught was the Goddess, Hecate, and yet somehow I knew she wasn’t the Goddess. I held my breath as I stepped closer, eyeing the door behind the figure.
“And so you’ve come,” it said. “Blood of my blood, and line of my line, I am released from this time.”
“Say what?” I asked, and watched as the door behind her opened as she disappeared. “Because drugs are bad, kids.” I groaned as I rubbed my temples and moved into the hidden room, pulling the door closed behind me as I whispered a spell to ignite the candles inside the room.
I gasped as I took in the ancient items inside the room. Jars of herbs and other items were interspersed with books on the shelves. I reached out, touching one of the vials that had liquid in it, and watched as fluorescent blue writing appeared across the label. I snatched my hand away from it, afraid I’d set something off, but as I pulled my hand away from it, the other labels all began to glow with the same iridescent blue writing. I moved to the next thing, which was a small box, where I found a cameo necklace that looked as if it had been crafted in the early 1700s. Pressing the tiny mechanism on the side, the locket sprang open and a dark-haired woman stared back at me, her lush lips full as she pouted at whoever had painted her image. I put it back and continued perusing the items. Turning in a circle, I noted the wards inside the room were of the same color as the writing that glowed from the objects, as if it was projected there.
My eyes followed the lines that zigzagged through the room until they landed on a stack of grimoires. I shivered and stepped closer, pulled by the glowing handwriting that was scrawled across the grimoire on the top of the pile.
I looked around the room once more and took the last step that brought me to the books. My hand darted out, grabbing the first from the pile. I dropped my bag as I knelt in front of the pile and opened the leather-bound cover to the first page. Everything inside of me said to close it and back away, but I couldn’t. I was drawn to them as if an invisible line connected me to them.
A violent tremor pulsed through me as my fingers touched the first page. My eyes grew heavy as the air inside the room grew thick with magic. As I watched letters rose from the page, slid across my flesh, and disappeared into my skin. My arms glowed with the fluorescent letters as one after another left the book and vanished into my body. I couldn’t stop myself, not until every grimoire was empty and sat in a pile beside me. I brought my hands up, wiping away the tears that refused to stop as every word and story entered my mind. Ancient spells swirled around my mind—and worse. The stories that belonged to the owners of the grimoires whispered through my mind as well.
It hurt; emotionally my mind screamed with their pain even though it wasn’t my own. Each one had predicted their own death, as well as whose hands it would come by. Names and dates were missing, yet somehow I knew more than just the details of their lives; I knew their pain. I stared at the last book, noting it hadn’t been a grimoire, but rather a yellow-paged journal. Upon the page that lay open were my tears as I’d cried as each word had played like an audiobook as it entered my mind. I stood up, putting the books back into a neat pile and stepping away from them.
I turned and looked at the other small box on the shelf, blinking back tears as I made my way to it. After removing the lid, I held another crude locket in my hand. This locket was older; it had something written on it and yet I couldn’t make out what it said. I put the top back on the box as I slipped it into my pocket and then I touched the next item. Memories that weren’t mine rushed through me. I removed the lid from the next, touched it, and the next, and so on, until I had touched every article in the room, and pulled the memories from them.
I righted the room, putting everything back where I’d found it, and then silently slipped from it.
I now held the grimoires of at least six witches inside my soul. Minutes, that was how long it took me to gain the entire lifetime of magic from each grimoire. Not only that, but I held treasured memories from them; love and fear tingled inside of me, and it felt foreign. None of it made any fucking sense, yet it somehow felt right.
My feet moved as if they were controlled by someone else. I turned into the next room, stopping in front of a coffin that was covered in beautiful craftsmanship. The wood was etched with a story of curses, and the strangest sense of déjà vu shivered down my spine. I ran my fingers over it, searching for the memories it held, but there was nothing there. The more I touched it, the more the hair on my nape stood up. Whoever had etched the carvings had done so with love, taking their time.
I turned away from it, forcing myself to go. A wall of skulls met my vision and I jumped back, hitting the coffin with my hip. Watchers? I moved my eyes from them to the coffin, swallowing an uneasy feeling.
Creepy.
I shivered and as I did, I heard voices. I stiffened, eyeing the coffin and wondering if I had the balls to hide inside it. Not even going to try it. I flattened myself against a wall, whispered a spell, and blinked, standing still as people rounded the corner. I braced to fight, knowing I wouldn’t win, but they walked right by me.
I almost exhaled, but instead I stood as still as a statue, listening to them.
“Something tapped it, Ristan. I felt it, you didn’t?” the blonde asked, and I stared at her. “It’s still here, whatever it is. It feels…not right. Not whole. Powerful—I’m telling you, something is here.”
“I would have felt it too, Flower, and I feel nothing. I feel you, and I feel me. Maybe it was Adam, his magic tends to linger when he sifts. He hasn’t perfected it yet, but we all know he’s been through the wringer.”
I moved quietly, watching each place I stepped until I was back in the room with the altar. I had just entered it when the blonde appeared in front of me, with a sword drawn from thin air. I ducked right and crouched on the floor as she swung the sword in a wide arc, peering around the room as the other guy with long black hair gave her a golf-clap. I squinted at them, trying to get a better look at whatever weird shit was going on with his eyes.
“Congratulations, you killed air,” he laughed.
“Stuff it, Demon, something is here.”
I crawled on my hands and knees, rounding the altar until I rested my head against it. I heard her shoes, sexy as hell high heels that tapped as she rounded it and swung her sword inches from my head. I held my breath, holding my spot as she moved around it, staring at the spot.
“If I’m right, it’s a witch. A powerful one at that, which means she might be hiding here, needing our help,” she mused as she pushed the sword into the holster on her side.
“I doubt she’d ask with you swinging that thing around like She-Ra on steroids. I mean, pretty sure she’d assume you were team Skeletor about now. Come on; if you don’t feel malice, she isn’t evil. She’s probably terrified and hiding down here, so let’s give her some room. She’ll see we’re team He-Man soon enough.”
“You and your movie shit. We need to get you more Blu-Rays soon.”
“Blu-Rays are so last year. I have Demon on Demand, which is a step up from Fae-per-view.”
I held my breath until they’d left the room, and for what felt like an eternity after they’d gone, I remained in place. I slowly got to my feet, searched the area, and prayed that the invisibility spell I’d somehow cast was still working. I rushed out the way I’d come, not stopping until I entered Roger’s shop as I shed the spell. He smirked, coming around his counter wearing a pair of shorts instead of the jeans he’d been wearing before. I eyed the clock and saw that I hadn’t been gone more than an hour and a few minutes. It had seemed like several had passed.
“I need to get back inside Carla’s shop, now,” I blurted as he nodded.
“This way, little lady. All the pretty girls are always in such a hurry around here,” he grumbled. Once I was in the alleyway, he opened the door and I heard Bane’s voice. I held my finger up to my lips and looked around, finding the bathroom, and hurried in, quietly closing the door behind me.
I listened as Bane’s heavy feet pounded on the floor as I flushed the toilet and opened the bathroom door while fixing my shirt. I eyed him, narrowing a glare on him as I stepped out of the bathroom. I growled, and he smirked.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped.
“Following your sweet ass for Lucian, you? Tell me, who the fuck spends this much time in a bookstore; my Gods woman, three fucking hours!”
“Book shopping, alone. Which means, doesn’t matter if it’s five or ten hours, because I’m alone,” I replied as I moved to the pile Carla had left on the chair, then moved to the register and set them down, smiling at Carla.
“Find everything you needed?” she asked me, as if I hadn’t spent the last hour or so not in the bookstore with her, curled up with books.
“And more, let’s just hope my newfound love has big shelves,” I joked.
“If a man expects to please a woman, he needs to please her mind first,” she giggled, and Bane snorted behind me.
“If a man wants to please a woman, he parts her pussy and fucks it with his mouth until she’s begging him to stop. After that, he fucks her for hours until she’s, again, begging him to stop. Then, then he claims her mind, because once you have her body and her mind, that soul is yours.”
I stared at him as the cashier sighed.
“His isn’t twelve inches; more like five,” I snickered, and she laughed at the disgruntled look on his face.
“The fuck you say,” Bane growled as he eyed his jeans.
“I do love my inches,” she winked.
Chapter 12
I lounged on my bed, unsure if I really wanted to go out with Dexter and Kat, especially after the shit that had gone down with Lucian. I felt more confident now, knowing I had countless spells within my grasp, especially since no one else knew it. I’d spent most of the day mentally turning the pages and perusing the spells I’d never dreamt existed.
Even though I tried to ignore it, the dream of Katia replayed in my head at least three times today, as if something wanted me to remember it. The mere idea of Katia trusting the Guild with the grimoires and journals I now had bothered me. Why had she run to them? The Guild was the last place she should have entrusted with her secrets, and yet they’d hidden them in a secret room. Why? Why would they go above and beyond for a witch who wasn’t part of the Guild? It made no sense, and every new piece of information I learned made everything more confusing.
Nothing made sense anymore, nothing!
I’d had sex with Lucifer in a dream, which hadn’t been a dream after all. It had led to Lucian and his men claiming me, and I wasn’t an idiot. I knew it had been more than just an act of protection—it went deeper. Spyder’s bite still ached, and anytime I touched it, my body responded in ways it shouldn’t. Lucian had bitten the inside of my thigh, and it continually ached as a reminder of what had happened.
I’d scoured the coven’s archives yesterday for anything resembling what they’d done to me, and yet there was nothing even close.
I moved away from the bed, glowering at my reflection in the mirror. I pushed the lace strap of my nightgown to the side. It revealed an angry red bite that had yet to fade. It pulsed and burned as I ran my fingertips over it. I glared at the bite then lifted the gown to expose my inner thigh, where Lucian’s was, was bright red, as if he’d just bitten me a few minutes ago. I dropped the hem of the gown, grabbed some clothes, and shuffled out of my room and down the hall to the bathroom, intending to scrub my skin raw to remove the feel of them nipping my flesh. None of the other bite marks were visible, only Spyder’s and Lucian’s, and both throbbed with a direct line to my lady bits.
I hated it, but worse, it felt like they’d placed some supernatural LoJack on me. Then again, if I had to pick between the devil and them, I’d pick them.
Once I had showered, I changed into a billowing skirt with a lacy top. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and dabbed a little rouge onto my lips before a knock at the door pulled me from all of my confusing thoughts. I hesitantly moved to it after checking to make sure my shoulder was covered, hiding the evidence of the delicate situation I’d endured.
“You need to pack, now,” my mother stated briskly as she pushed her way into the bathroom and shooed me out of there, into my room.
“Um, excuse me? I’m going out with Kat and Dexter tonight,” I explained as she moved to my bed, where she sat with a frown marring her beautiful features. For her age, she looked younger than she actually was. She sure as shit didn’t look old enough to have me as her daughter.
“No, you’re not. The coven has requested your help, a
nd I have taken the liberty of agreeing that you would. There’s a witch in Portland Oregon who is in trouble. I need you to do this, and saying no isn’t an option, Kendra. Our numbers are low. Your grandmother believes she will be a useful addition to our coven.”
Her gaze drifted from me to the broken picture frame that still lay on the floor. The glass shards reflected the sun that entered the room from the window, and her eyes darted from the missing picture frame to the one remaining framed photo of Lena and me. Her blue eyes watered before she wiped at them and turned to look at me with resolve in their beautiful depths.
“I miss her too,” she whispered as she stood, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, along with a little bag of herbs. “These will aide you, and I packed a few strands of Siren hair in the pouch should you need it. You merely place it on your tongue and, for a short amount of time you will inherit the Siren’s ability to charm with words. Hopefully you will not need it, but you won’t be alone in this endeavor. Lucian has sent someone to guard you in his absence. As he has agreed to breed with you, he has the right to ensure your protection.”
“I never agreed to be his.”
“You slept with him without protection. Had you used something, the coven may have considered your thoughts on it, but you didn’t. Until we know if you carry his child, there is little we can argue considering the bloodlines involved. This match, well, it would be welcomed if a child was produced from your union. With the low numbers, we need the next generation more than ever. I can see no reason for arguing this match right now, not unless you know something about him that we don’t?” she asked, pointedly.
“No,” I said, remembering what Spyder had threatened. “I just don’t like him very much, nor do I trust him.”
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