Hexes and Hellfire
Kyra Bell: Book One
Author: Brittany Rose
Copyright 2020. This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
~ Author’s notes ~
~ Book Description ~
Chapter One
The world burned. Or so it seemed as my heart beat powerfully in my chest, my breath short and my mind in panic. The smoke and dust were thick in the hot air, as were the screams of pain and panic as the city around me burned in fire. The fire consumed all, but it wasn’t natural. It chased after the life in the city, consuming not just bodies but life force and energy, I could sense it. The horror of it was undeniable, even as it was alluring and sickening in equal measure. The power I felt surge through my body was disturbingly addicting.
The end had come for the world, I could taste it on the tip of my tongue.
White wings, golden skin, and a perfect male form entered my view. Both fear and rage rose in my heart, mirroring the white-hot rage in his eyes as he charged at me brandishing a sword glowing with white light. Self-righteous asshole.
He swooped in and his arm swung mightily, the sword coming for my head.
I screamed and jerked, then blushed furiously as I woke up and halfway jumped to my feet hitting my head on the luggage rack. The low rumbling of the bus’s engine and the turn of the wheels on pavement could be felt on the bottom of my feet as everyone stared at me.
“Nightmare,” I muttered with a blush, and then I re-took my seat as I stared out the window. It’d been four years and the nightmares of that day hadn’t stopped yet.
The other travelers on the bus continued to stare at me with a little fear in their eyes. Not because I’d had a nightmare, but because of what I was. Or perhaps, because of what I wasn’t, human. I could only assume when I’d jerked awake and stood my hair had moved and revealed my pointed ears.
It’d been four years since the day a quarter of Manhattan had gone up in the flames of hell, but also four years since the supernatural world had been exposed to normal humans. There was just no covering up the day that the apocalypse almost happened. Too many had died, too much destruction had been done to possibly cover it up, even with witchcraft and the compulsion of vampires.
It’d been four years since my mother was struck down and killed right in front of me. I’d been on my own since my sixteenth year, ejected from polite society so to speak. There were few places in the world I could find safety and welcome as a mixed supernatural breed.
I sniffed dismissively and kept my chin up high as I ignored them, looking out the window, but in truth my heart still raced. I took several subtle deep breaths to calm it. There was also the matter of paying attention to the people around me, I was only pretending to ignore them to defuse the tension. Chances were that none would be violent, but neither were attacks against a lone supernatural uncommon in this new world.
There was more than fear, there was some curiosity as well. A few men stared and I could tell they were attracted. Some were disgusted by my presence, and I could hear a few muttering darkly in anger and most likely fear. I rested my hand on my bag, just in case.
The sky outside was lightening with false dawn’s light. It was springtime and right around five thirty in the morning. It wouldn’t take much longer before the sun peeked above the horizon. The long bus ride had about an hour to go before I arrived in Chicago, then I’d have to take a train northwest out of the city before I finally reached my destination. The next hour was bound to be boring and tense.
The world was a harsh place sometimes, I’m not complaining, it’s just how it is. The humans weren’t the only ones with class warfare issues. The witches and vampires generally had covens in the cities. The fae lived in mounds nearby cities in the wilderness, as did shifter packs who claimed large tracts of lands. The Nephilim also lived in groups usually in the cities, but all separate and apart. All the races lived with their own kind.
But only the middle and upper class of those groups. Which by the way, held all the official power in our supernatural world. It was them that had come to an accommodation with the humans, the rest of us were third class citizens that just tried to stay out of the way.
The rest of us did what we had to in order to survive, and sometimes to thrive. Those of us living on the edge of society banded together out of need, regardless of supernatural race. Some were less than savory in character. Others like me were multi-racial and not accepted in the polite upper societies. As a rule, multiple races meant weaker in power, if also slightly more diverse. My witchcraft could never match a full-blooded witch, but my earth magic was plenty strong enough to brew up a potion and work with the land.
As a rule. Nephilim, half angels, were extremely powerful, but I suppose extremely powerful to a witch, vampire, or fae was still weak to a full-blood angel.
It was a nervous thing I was doing that morning. I’d liken it to starting a new job and not knowing whether your boss is an asshole or not, or in my world serial killer was on the table as well.
My world could be violent at times. The supernatural world had laws of course, but those on the edges of society tended to just nod at them most of the time, and even then, only when the authorities were around.
I was fairly sure though, that I was making the right decision. I’d been in contact with the witch running one such group for a couple of months. She was looking for a potion maker, which was just one of my skills. I’m not sure what happened to her old one, but it was what it was. Making it on my own just hadn’t been working, I’d little choice. It’d also been a little lonely, but I knew trust on both sides would be long in coming.
Trust kills in my world, if extended too quickly.
The tense atmosphere in the bus seemed to calm slightly, and I leaned back in my seat and finally relaxed.
Kavanaugh Ranch was a horse ranch run by Abigail Kavanaugh, water witch.
The large bag over my shoulder was lighter than it looked, and I was in a pair of black jeans, boots, and a light blue sweater as I approached the place. I knew a few things already. Sometime over the last four years as magic had come out to the humans, she’d started to offer potions and salves in her curio shop. That was pretty common throughout the United States actually, witches and other races coming out had led to both good things and bad things between the races and humans.
Some potions and magics were of course highly controlled by the supernaturals in the cities. Health potions for instance, were highly regulated. Not only by the powerful witch covens but by the FDA, and trying to sell them would be a mistake. Doing so would draw in a hunter team from the cities. The high money potions were jealously guarded by the covens and race councils in the city out of greed no doubt. The competition was also fierce in a lot of places. There were other competitors in t
he area, and wars between them weren’t usually price wars, though access to money generated in the supernatural world was definitely a driving factor there.
Which of course, inevitably led to a black market. Abby had assured me she didn’t participate in that, which is one of the reasons I picked this place over my other options. Dealing with violent local competition was one thing, but dealing with what would draw in the coven and council hunter teams from nearby Chicago was another. There was a lot of money in it, but inevitably it was just a matter of time before coming to the council’s attention. I wasn’t interested in suicide.
My heartbeat picked up slightly as I walked off the road and started down the long dirt driveway. The air was cool and crisp, and I wrinkled my nose as I picked up the usual scents involved with a large stable of horses. I could make out the small mansion far in the back, a light blueish gray color, as well as a big red barn, outdoor corals, and a large stable.
A large man came out of the stable before I’d gotten twenty feet down the driveway, and he was walking my way to meet me. I could tell right away he was a shifter, probably wolf. He was my age at about twenty-four, but he was six foot five, a full eleven inches taller than I was. The man was built, ruggedly handsome around the face, and I’d admit to a chemical attraction as he came closer.
He gave me a smug yet untrusting grin, no doubt scenting my chemical attraction. It wasn’t one way either. I was somewhere between sumptuously curvy and athletic, with blue-black hair and dark gray eyes that I’d been complimented on more than once. My skin was a golden dark tan. Still, that attraction had no sway with him in that moment, nor him with me, he was here to make sure I wasn’t a danger to his pack of sorts.
Of sorts, because he worked for a witch and there was a vampire here as well. Trust was hard to come by, and in truth I always looked out for myself. Trust was foolish, but at the same time banding together in this world was necessary. No one could stand against the world’s dangers alone. But, even that minimal trust took time to earn, before we could truly trust that we’d watch each other’s backs if trouble came.
Not just for him, for me as well. The last four years had worn away at my naivety and belief in the goodness of people. Sure, he might watch my back, if I was worth it, had something to offer them, and I took the same stance.
In short, we had to figure if either of us was a back-stabbing asshole, or a killer, anything better than that was good enough. It also meant I wouldn’t be just jumping into the sack, no matter how damned hot he was.
My own looks, darker hair, eyes, and smooth complexion, besides attracting more male attention than I liked, all marked me as a half-breed fae with my ears. Full-blooded fae were light of skin and hair.
He asked bluntly, “Who are you, and what are you?”
He already knew that, I’d given some details to Abby, just as she’d given me some details. The shifter’s name was Vic Johnson. The vampire in the group, John Meeks, had probably just went to sleep given it was an hour or so after dawn.
So, the question was a test. His nose would tell him if I was being honest or not in my initial correspondence on the dark web.
“Kyra. I have earth witch and fae blood in equal measure.”
That was both true, and a disguised truth, so he wouldn’t scent a lie. It implied I was half and half, the truth was it was quarter witch and quarter fae. My mother had been the fae witch. There was a half left of me that I’d concealed, and since I never used those powers it wouldn’t be a problem. Unless of course, he was smarter than I thought, and asked a follow up question because of my strange phrasing. I couldn’t share that part, no one would welcome me if I shared that truth, not even those supernatural serial killers I’d mentioned.
Just in case he had a glimmer of intelligence, I threw in more information, as a distraction.
“I only have the basic powers of both, but I’m an accomplished brewer.”
As an earth witch I could control earth, move it, but only a little bit given my limited power there. A full witch with an earth affinity could shake the ground, or even toss a boulder with their mind. I’d be lucky if I could lift a fist sized rock with my power. Same with brewing, but brewing was an art and took time. Even a little bit of channeling power was more than enough to make almost any but the most advanced witch potions or brews. A little power was also more than enough to encourage growth in an apocathery’s garden.
As a fae I only had the two basics as well. Glamour and enchantment. Glamour is basically illusions, which included sight, sounds, and scents. Which is why Vic hadn’t scented my third race, I had a necklace with an enchanted glamour on it that I always wore. The glamour hid that scent and other indicators, because it would work even in my sleep, or if I was knocked unconscious.
My satchel was highly enchanted at the same time, it’d taken me almost a year to get it all right. It was bigger on the inside, kind of like a portable fae mound, and time ran at different speeds within it. I didn’t have to worry overmuch about potion ingredients going bad that way, or potions expiring. It had other things to it as well, including a place to retreat to, and a field that had accelerated time, to grow potion ingredients from seeds in minutes, instead of months. A fae mound was a different dimension, controlled by the fae that had built it, including universal laws. While mine was rather small, the size of a football field or so, it was all mine.
Well, in truth the mound was stable and in one place. The satchel was more a portable door and anchor to that place.
He grunted, “Any good in a fight?”
I said, “I’m here to make and sell potions, Vic. That said I can hold my own, with potions. I can also fight hand to hand if pressed.”
I had several tranquilizer guns, all of them loaded with five darts each of various potions to disable various supernatural kind. Nothing that killed, I could always slit their throat later, if I needed to. Generally, that wasn’t necessary. I didn’t like to kill, especially with magic. It felt like a betrayal to my witch magic itself, better to put someone asleep, or paralyze them, then slit their throat with a normal everyday blade, if it was necessary.
I hadn’t killed a single being in four years though, and I hoped it didn’t happen again anytime soon.
As to hand to hand. Fae were fast, and I had that attribute as well, which was genetic, not magical. I wasn’t that strong, but with non-resistance style combat, and knowing where the soft spots on a being are, I did alright. Of course, if a shifter landed a solid punch on me, it’d probably knock me out or break bones, so fighting hand to hand wasn’t usually my first move. I only did that if things went to shit.
At least, I wasn’t strong if I didn’t call upon my hidden nature, and it wasn’t worth it in the long run, better to get my ass kicked if my life wasn’t on the line than to reveal that truth.
He nodded, “Adequate, leave the fighting to me if you can, and John at night. Abby is in the house, and she’ll have some more questions before she shows you where you’ll sleep and work. If you’re interested in practicing your hand to hand, John and I spar an hour before dawn. We’re usually too busy at night right when the sun goes down, so it’s the best time.”
I expected more questions from Abby, and I didn’t even smile, even as I felt the relief that I’d passed his bullshit meter test. Obviously, it was his job to weed out the liars before anyone even got to Abby, and the ones completely unsuitable. Sadistic supernaturals kind of stood out to shifters, they smelled wrong.
I was no fainting flower, but I was far from sadistic. I just made my own way, and I tried to survive in a hard world.
Call it the preliminary interview, now I needed to convince Abby of the truth, I was a very good brewer. I’d learned from my mom at a young age. Potions weren’t easy, and a lot of them were specific to the individual, so there was some artistry involved. Some were generic to all, but none that had a profoundly beneficial effect. All the powerful ones took art and related specifically to an individual.
I nodded at the implied acceptance, “I’ll be there.”
Vic just grunted again, and then he turned around and headed for the stables. I only stared at his tight ass for a second or two, before turning my head and starting for the small mansion. He was a gorgeous specimen of manhood, but it was easy enough to push down those shallow desires. I needed to get the lay of the land first, and learn more about him, before I’d even consider it. I wasn’t one for a quick roll in the hay, and most wolf shifters were dogs, in both the figurative and literal meaning of the word.
Chapter Two
The small mansion was a very light brown color with vinyl siding, and green shutters around the windows. It was two stories tall and at a guess by the windows had six bedrooms upstairs. It was both extremely wide and deep. I’d also bet on a large basement that was well fortified and fireproof given a vampire lived here, they tended to be a little paranoid about sunlight and fire.
I closed my eyes for a moment, and I emptied my mind before I stepped on the porch. The earth carried the vibes of the people living there, and of the past. I wasn’t an expert reader, which was an advanced earth witch skill, but I could hear the whispers. The earth there spoke of some blood and death in the past, but it also spoke of nurture and hope, light and goodness, the sign of a right-hand path practitioner.
Consider that my initial interview of them, and they’d passed. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the porch, then softly knocked on the door. The air wards on the house were light, but I knew they’d have a bite to them if I’d tried to force my way in or had any bad intentions toward the owner. It also told me she’d been honest, Abby was an air witch. They tended to be a bit flighty, and they had the gift of gab.
Air witches were also terrible at potion making, the opposing element wasn’t good with the earth or anything that grew in it. Fire and water witches could learn it, but earth witches were the best that way. Even a weak one like me. Which also explained why she needed a brewer at all, because I sensed she was quite strong.
Hexes and Hellfire: Kyra Bell: Book One Page 1