Witch's Sorrow: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye Series Book 1)

by Taylor Aston White

  Witch’s Sorrow

  An Alice Skye novel

  Taylor Aston White

  DISCLAIMER - Written in British English.

  Copyright © 2019 by Taylor Aston White

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Rayne Dowell & Michael Evans

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to start by thanking my good friends Mitchell Kelby and Hayley Morland, who helped and encouraged me at the very early stages of writing.

  Thank you to my husband who stood by my passion and allowed me to vanish randomly to go write.

  Lastly, a special thank you to my mother, Nadine, who without her this book wouldn’t have been possible. Her guidance and inspiration will stick with me forever.

  Alice Skye Series

  Witch’s Sorrow

  Druid’s Storm

  Rogue’s Mercy

  Elemental’s Curse

  Alice Skye Short Story

  Witch’s Bounty

  Contents

  Disclaimer

  Introduction

  Book One

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 7.5

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 14.5

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 18.5

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 28.5

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Druid’s Storm

  Afterword

  About the Author

  This book is written in British English, including spelling and grammar.

  Your FREE short story is waiting…

  Witch’s Bounty

  When the wrong man's framed, and the Metropolitan Police don't care. Paladin Agent Alice Skye takes it on herself to find the real culprit.

  Get your free copy of Witch’s Bounty here:

  www.taylorastonwhite.com

  Book One

  Prologue

  What was that?

  She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, the luminescent glow of the many stars and moons barely lighting up the dark room. Another loud bang resonated up through the floorboards, forcing a squeak in panic. She grabbed her teddy, covering herself in a pink fluffy blanket with her eyes squeezed shut.

  Wait… She opened her eyes, peeking past the pink fluff.

  It was probably Kyle being stupid, trying to scare her again.

  She reached over to click on the lamp, a pink glow emitting from the unicorn patterned lampshade.

  “Kyle?” she called, her brother's room only next door. Lifting a small fist, she knocked three times against the wall.

  “Kyle?” she called again, this time louder.

  She shrugged the covers away before swinging her legs off the side of the bed, careful to not let her feet get too close to the darkness beneath. Her door creaked open as she timidly peered into the hallway, noticing Kyle’s bedroom door slightly ajar, his ‘DO NOT CROSS’ yellow tape torn from the wood.

  “Kyle,” she whispered, “you’re going to be in so much trouble.” She quickly glanced into his room, noticing his empty bed, the sheets and duvet a messy bundle at the bottom.

  Something creaked behind her.

  She swivelled to look further down the hallway, squinting her eyes in the dim light.

  “Mum?” Her parent’s door was wide open, the bed just as empty as Kyle’s.

  Creak. Creak. Creak.

  She ran over to the banister, her heart a rabbit in her chest as she peered down into the darkness below. She wasn’t fond of the dark.

  “Mum?” she shouted now. “Dad?” No response. Nothing. Her hand shook as she gripped the banister, her feet making no noise as she took a few steps down.

  Something shattered, a crash, glass.

  “Mum?” she called once more, her voice wobbling as tears threatened. She clutched her bear close to her chest as she walked the last few steps of the staircase, her bare feet cold against the hardwood. Another crash. The lights flicked ahead before turning off, covering her in complete darkness.

  “Kyle if that’s you, it’s not funny.”

  Still no response, she couldn’t even hear the usual hum of the heating, the darkness a void of silence.

  She padded down the hallway, pushing the kitchen door gently as soft light flickered beneath the frame.

  Chapter 1

  Alice groaned as she turned slightly, the cheap bed creaking beneath her. A yawn escaped as she absently reached towards the nightstand, her hand touching the familiar coolness of her phone. Light streamed through the cheap curtains, forcing her to squint through tired eyes.

  “What the?” she groaned as she brought the mobile phone closer to her face, confused with why it wasn't lighting up. The dark screen caused her stress to spike, especially when shaking the phone violently did nothing. Not that shaking anything violently ever worked.

  The phone wasn’t on charge, the white wire mocking her beside the bed.

  “FUCK!” Alice bounced off the mattress, running half-naked into her living room to squint at the small analogue clock on her TV.

  7:56 am

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” She grabbed the closest clothes, pulling them on while she tried to brush through the nest she called hair. Hopping on one foot she pulled on her ankle boots, stretching to grab her jacket and satchel before she ran through the front door a few seconds later.

  It had to be today, Alice groaned to herself as she hurriedly made her way down several floors to the street below. The one day I can’t bloody be late.

  The door separating the foyer to the road was already open as she half-jogged out, her attention on the small parking space to the side of the building. Her ‘vintage,’ as she liked to call it, Volkswagen Beetle sat like it always did in its dedicated parking space. The pale blue colouring more silver than it should be, the rust and scrapes flaking away at the paint. The hubcaps were gone, stolen yet again and some smartarse had scraped a bad luck spell into the back bumper. The joke was on them though, they had done one of the symbols wrong.

  She dropped her bag onto the bonnet before she frantically searched for the car keys.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” she muttered, searching every pocket. The keys were not in her bag like they were supposed to be. They were probably still sitting beside the kettle where she had left them last. Her eyes rolled over to the clumsy curves of the bad luck spell.

  It seemed they didn’t get it wrong after all.

  I don’t have time for this, she thought as she grabbed the satchel and hitched it high on her shoulder.

  The bus stop was roughly a ten-minute wal
k up the road. Her light jog made it in four with only a few minutes’ wait. The doors screeched open as the bus driver barely looked up, his long greasy hair hiding most of his face.

  “Central Caverns please,” she asked politely, her voice surprisingly strong considering she hadn’t had time for her morning caffeine.

  With barely a grunt the driver accepted her money before starting the bus. She sat towards the front, scooting over to the window seat so she could watch the buildings blur together as the bus manoeuvred through the residential area towards the central part of the city. The steady vibration centred her as she stared blankly, her brain on override as she tried to figure out why she had to go to a meeting.

  One day was not enough warning.

  Her role as a Paladin was something she was proud of, something she was good at if she said so herself. She was trained to track and detain Breed, also known as anyone not one hundred percent human, by any means necessary.

  Well, within reason of course.

  Witches, vampires, shifters, faeries and the occasional selkie was what she was skilled in. Unfortunately, the pay wasn’t as you would expect a high-risk job would have, especially considering Paladin Agents had a marginally higher mortality rate compared to other jobs. Which wasn’t surprising when the subject she was in charge of bringing to justice was twice her size, had large fangs and the tendency to rip one’s throat out.

  Most people who hired her through Supernatural Intelligence, the organisation created as a Breed partnership with the local metropolitan police, were genuinely tight-arsed. So she wasn’t allowed to use flashy spells or show off because the contracts wouldn’t pay for it. Don’t even get her started on the internal contracts, ones assigned by the Met themselves when they found themselves in over their heads. They paid even less.

  What the hell have I done? She pressed her hand against the window, allowing the cool glass to comfort her clammy palms. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

  At least, not recently.

  “Central Caverns,” a husky voice called from the front, someone that smoked fifty a day.

  “Stop it, Alice.” She shook her head, clearing her thoughts as she climbed out the bus, barely stepping off before the doors closed and accelerated away. Alice groaned to herself when she noticed the Starbucks wasn’t very busy next to S.I. tower, her mouth salivating as she forced her feet to walk past the green canopy and towards the rotating doors.

  Conscious of the time she grabbed her security pass from her jacket pocket, barely giving herself time to wave to the security guards before she headed towards an empty lift, her nerves a flutter. She waited patiently for the floor numbers to rise, the obnoxious music not helping with her anxiety. She hated being late.

  With a deep, calming breath, she squinted at the reflective surface of the chrome doors, trying to decide if she looked presentable or not. Her hair wasn’t awful, the blonde strands up in a half bun that looked almost purposely styled, in a sexy messy way. Last night’s makeup was still there, the eyeliner smudged enough that it looked like smoky eye shadow around her emerald eyes. Her lips were cracked, but not obviously so. She looked like she’d had an all-nighter, not ready for a meeting with her boss.

  It could be worse.

  The lift beeped, the doors opened to reveal the general bustle of the forty-second floor. Alice ignored the stares from her colleagues as she manoeuvred through the cubicles, heading towards the back of the building where the meeting would take place.

  “Ah, there you are,” a high-pitched voice laughed from the corner. “I thought you weren’t going to turn up.”

  Alice turned to Barbara the receptionist, intending to reply with a snarky comment. Instead, she decided to bite her tongue and be polite. It would do her no good to piss off her boss’s favourite receptionist, even if it would be satisfying. Barbara, also known as Barbie due to her likeness to the plastic doll, had worked for Dread for as long as Alice could remember, and considering Dread had brought her into work as a small child that was quite a long time.

  “I woke up late,” was all she said as she went to stand beside the window, staring down at the many floors below. The view was beautiful. London, a city with thousands of years of history blended seamlessly with the steel and glass of the modern world. Alice sighed as she settled herself into a seat, the clock on the wall showing she had made it in time, with just a few minutes to spare.

  The leather cushion squeaked as she relaxed and watched a blue flame dance between her fingertips, the ball of fire common when she was feeling extreme emotion. Or for no reason at all. It was a peculiar little thing.

  “If you don’t put that fire thingy out you are going to set off the sprinklers,” Barb sniggered, her baby blue eyes narrowed.

  Alice pursed her lips, concentrating on the pretty blue flame, green sparkles bursting at intervals. With a barely audible pop the ball disappeared, leaving her looking at her hands, her nails short and broken, the black nail polish starting to chip.

  What have I fucked up now?

  The blue flame burst to life once more, energised by her spike in nerves. She tried to bat it away, but it happily glided along the air. Only she had the luck to be cursed with teenage acne, mood swings and spontaneous balls of flame. She pondered the mechanics of the small twinkly flame, trying to remember a time when the little thing didn’t pop into existence.

  “You shouldn’t slouch, it’s bad for your posture,” Barb snidely commented, her long, perfectly manicured nails tapping loudly against the keyboard on her desk.

  Alice automatically sat up as her eyes darted to the bottled blonde witch who didn’t have many friends in the office. The woman dressed in the most provocative clothes she could find, her perky implanted breasts on full show. Barb was easily pushing late forties, yet she spent all her money on magic infused jewellery that helped cover her wrinkles.

  “Barbie, why am I here?”

  Barb’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, but didn’t comment. “You know Commissioner Grayson loves a good meeting.” She pouted her lips, a slight curve at the edge. She knew why she was here, but wouldn’t say.

  “This is a joke right?” Barb ignored her, her attention back to the computer, but the sinister smile still in place.

  Alice still hadn’t figured out why she was there. She had only three assignments over the past month, and they all had gone well. The black witch who was caught selling curses and black amulets online was an easy tag. She was stupid enough to have her return address on the parcels.

  The second was the wolf shifter that made a scene at the bar, one that was wrecked in the process. What pissed her off was the fact they had banned her from the bar, as if it was somehow her fault they had a destructive wolf that trashed two chairs and an ugly looking painting. Her last assignment involved a Vamp, one where his psychological condition wasn’t considered when he applied to be turned. He was only three-years-old in undead terms when he was found bathing in blood, not his own, with his trousers around his ankles. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “Tick tock, it’s almost time,” Barbie giggled. It would have sounded cute on a small child; on her it was just creepy. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, making sure to pout her bright pink lips even more. It was people like Barbie who gave witches a bad name. She smelt like a sickly mixture of roses and doughnuts, not ozone like other witches, ones who actually practised the art of magic.

  Something vibrated next to the computer, followed with a shrill whine that had Barbie reaching over to the old grey-corded phone. The phone was so old compared to the modern computer it was almost prehistoric, which made no sense in a company benefitting from the latest technology and equipment. ‘If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it’ was a favoured saying amongst Breed over a hundred.

  “Yes sir,” Barbie breathed sexily into the receiver, her voice taking on the perfect phone sex rumble, unlike her normal high-pitched soprano.

  “Why yes sir, I will send her in immediately.” With a click, she put
down the phone before she swivelled to face Alice, a smirk plastered across her face. “Commissioner Grayson will see you now.”

  With a pensive nod, Alice entered through the large oak door, pushing against the heavy metal handle. The room beyond was dark, almost pitch black as she stumbled inside.

  “Alice,” a deep voice greeted, Dread’s whole body hidden in shadow. “Please, take a seat.” A hand stretched into the sliver of light created by the open door, his fingers, long and pale, were decorated with a diamond and ruby encrusted ring that encircled his middle finger. She closed the door behind her, the room in complete darkness.

  Dread’s window, the one that would have just an amazing view of London to the one in reception, was blocked out with a blackout blind, the man preferring to sit in the dark.

  Alice stepped forward, feeling for the chair she luckily noticed before she closed the door. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, she just wasn’t happy with it. She didn’t trust the complete absence of sight, especially as the man sitting quietly before her could see perfectly while she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face.