by L.H. Cosway
Witching Hour
Blood Magic Book Three
By L.H. Cosway
Copyright © 2021 L.H. Cosway.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by L.H. Cosway. Cover image from Shutterstock.com.
www.lhcoswayauthor.com
PLAYLIST
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Contents
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Meet the Author
Books by L.H. Cosway
“If your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours.”
Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla.
1.
The fighting sprang out of nowhere.
One minute I was walking down the street minding my own business, and the next I was standing in the middle of a riot.
Turning the corner onto Campion Row, one of the main shopping districts in Tribane, my eyes were assaulted by a fist making contact with somebody’s face. Then, when I had the chance to scan the area, I realised it wasn’t just one fist and one face. Hundreds of people were fighting each other. Just going at it like they were taking part in a giant MMA tournament.
What fresh hell was this?
A thin brunette who looked like she wouldn’t normally harm a fly yanked on the hair of a blonde woman, spouting angry profanities into her face, spittle flying from her mouth.
Was there some sort of controversial protest happening today that’d gotten out of hand? It was the only logical explanation that came to mind as I took a step back, edging away from the chaos. But when I turned back to go the way I came, the riot had spread.
Had the entire city taken crazy pills?
This was too bloody weird.
Only a moment ago shoppers were wandering casually about the street, and now they were kicking the living crap out of each other.
A group of teenagers banded together, throwing bricks and smashing the windows of an electronics store. Several employees came rushing out to try and stop them, which only created more fighting. The teenagers kicked and punched at the polo shirt wearing employees.
At first, the polo shirts tried to stop the teenagers from doing any more damage, but it was like a flip switched in them and violence took over as they fought back. I stepped away, backing myself up against the concrete wall of the building behind me. Two men fell to the ground a foot or two away from me. The man on top pummelled the other man’s face, bloodying his nose.
“Hey, stop that!” I shouted.
The aggressor paused his pummelling, and my heart pounded when he turned and glared at me. There was a rampant, crazed look in his eyes. Not good, not good at all. He wore a wool coat, corduroy trousers, sensible brown shoes, and his balding dark hair had speckles of grey in it. He looked as straight-laced as they came, like an accountant or a financial advisor doing some shopping on his day off. Not some mental case who would randomly beat on a passing stranger. He let go of the man he’d been punching and advanced on me.
“You little tramp,” he seethed. “What did you just call me?”
The anger and hate in his words were odd, since I didn’t actually call him anything. I only told him to stop what he’d been doing. The fighting and looting were still going on around me, but all I could focus on was this man’s bloodshot eyes and the saliva that began to drip from his mouth, like a rabid dog.
I pressed my entire body even harder against the concrete wall as he came towards me.
“I didn’t call you anything,” I said in an even tone.
“I heard what you said, you fucking bitch! You’re going to pay for that,” he spat.
“Seriously? Are you deranged?”
Okay, that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but I tended to get rude when I was frightened. If this man were a supernatural being, like a vampire or a dhampir, I’d have no hesitation using my magic to fight him. But he was only a human, so I didn’t know if my sparks would simply incapacitate him or kill him. I couldn’t saddle the death of a stranger on my poor, abused conscience. I already had enough to be feeling guilty about.
“I’ll show you deranged,” the man retorted, his hand fisted as he brought it down on me, punching me right in the face. Fuck that hurt! Sorcerers and ancient vampires might be psychos, but humans could be violent dickheads when the mood took them.
“Stop! You’re hurting me!” I begged as he lifted his leg and landed several kicks to my shin and one in the ankle. Right, well I’d been trying to save my conscience the addition of murder, but this prick had it coming. Without much effort, I summoned my magic. Sparks tickled my palm, which I raised and smacked directly into his forehead.
Immediately, he cried out, a look of pure, undiluted rage marring his features. He called me a see you next Tuesday before backing away several yards.
“Well, that’s not very nice,” I muttered as I glanced at the electronics store just as the teenagers fled. They were laden down with looted items. One of the employees grabbed a fleeing looter by his collar and pulled him to the ground, punching him hard in the ribs.
Someone stepped in front of me, blocking my view. The man who attacked me was back, his bloodshot, crazed eyes informing me he was ready for round two. Was he nuts? I’d just burned his forehead with my hand, and he’d decided to come back for more?
Something seriously wasn’t right here.
He advanced on me, and I dodged out of the way, dropping the shopping bag I’d been carrying. I turned on my heel and dashed through the mêlée of combating shoppers. The man gave chase. I could hear him grunting behind me, so I ran faster, my lungs burning.
I ran for at least ten minutes and the bastard was still chasing me. This was getting ridiculous. I abruptly stopped and turned around to face him.
“Back the fuck off,” I warned, voice hard. My tone seemed to shock him out of his anger.
He blinked and shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of a daydream. He peered at me, at my face that was likely sporting a bruise thanks to his fist, and his expression clouded with confusion.
“I—I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t understand ...” Then he trailed off, shaking his head and running his hands over his face.
“Sorry for what? For beating on a woman you don’t even know, or for the man back there who you almost killed?” My indignation consumed me as I took a step forward to confront him.
“I don’t know why I did that, why I hit you … I just felt so … angry.”
Something definitely wasn’t right about all this. Something was rotten in the state of Tribane, and I’d be hard pushed to believe it didn’t have something to do with the Sorcerer Theodore being back on the scene.
“You’re lucky I haven’t decided to call the police. Go home and say a prayer for the man you beat up. Oh, and perhaps call an ambulance for him while you’re at it.”
As I spoke, I could already hear sirens approaching in the distance.
The man continued staring at me, bug-eyed. I shook my head, turned, and limped away. He’d kicked me in the skin and ankle, and I was hurt, but I could get Rita to whip up one of
her healing remedies.
Lately, I’d been hanging out at Nicki’s a lot, but she and her girlfriend just left for a six-week trip to Europe, so now my only option for avoiding everyone was to sit in cafés people watching or mindlessly browse through bookstores. There were way too many people around Finn’s place these days, one of whom happened to despise me. I wagered it would be a long time before Ethan forgave me for what I did. If ever.
Every time I thought about him my heart clenched painfully.
He was hard to avoid, too, since he started renting a house across the street from Finn’s place. Ethan, Delilah, Dru, and Lucas were living there while we maintained our strange alliance. Cosy, right? Well, it would be if they all didn’t think I was the biggest bitch to ever grace the planet. Delilah was the only one who tolerated me.
Ethan hadn’t spoken a single word to me since he showed up at Finn’s house. Hell, he’d barely even spared me a glance, and it cut like a knife. I just wanted to go back to the way things were, but that wasn’t to be. Delilah said that when it came to betrayal, Ethan didn’t let things go, and boy, was she telling the truth.
It was dark out when I finally got home. I slotted my key into Finn’s front door, hearing chattering coming from the kitchen. When I stepped into the hallway, shrugging out of my coat and hanging it on the banister at the end of the stairs, I picked out two voices.
Rita and Ethan.
It was all I could do not to roll my eyes.
Ethan had been doing his utmost to get close to Rita lately. The bastard knew she was powerful. I think he also knew how much I liked her and that’s why he was laying on the charm. He was trying to lure her away. Just one part of what was sure to be a thorough and complicated revenge sequence. I didn’t even have it in me to be worried. I was too lost in grief over my dad. It killed me inside to not know whether I’d ever be able to save him from wherever he was. Even with all my magic, I still felt completely useless.
Disgruntled, I flung open the kitchen door and limped my way over to the sink to wash my hands. Their chatting immediately ceased, and Rita let out a quiet gasp.
“What happened to you, Tegan?” She rose from her seat, a look of worry on her face as she took in my injuries.
“I got caught up in a riot down on Campion Row. Some crazy bastard attacked me.”
“Jesus, why would he attack you?” She fussed over my face while Ethan stood stoically on the other side of the room, expressionless. If it bothered him to see me beaten up, he didn’t show it.
“I don’t know,” I told Rita. “But something fishy is going on. One minute everything was normal, people going about their business, and the next, they were transformed into a bunch of violent lunatics.”
I allowed myself a glance at Ethan. There was a quick flash of anger before his face returned to the usual blankness he bestowed upon me daily. I almost gasped when his cold eyes cut right through me. Whoa.
I looked back to Rita because I couldn’t handle the intensity of Ethan’s hatred. “Do you think it might have something to do with Theodore? I seriously wouldn’t put it past him to try turning the human population violent simply for his own entertainment.”
Rita leaned back against the counter, a thoughtful expression on her pixie-like face. Today she wore dark red lipstick, paired with this weird white eye shadow and mascara. It was a striking look; something you’d see on a catwalk model. Definitely not your typical everyday make-up. Her outfit consisted of ripped black jeans and a lacy purple shirt. Oh yeah, and bare feet. Rita loved to go around barefoot. Perhaps she felt it brought her closer to some kind of earth magic.
“Theodore could be behind it, but there’s also a chance it seeped through from the hell dimension when Marcel opened the portal. There’s some dodgy stuff over there, stuff that might make people go a little bit crazy when released into the atmosphere.”
“Can you be more specific?” I asked.
“Malevolent entities, spirits, demons, that kind of thing.”
“Yay, I love it when evil comes for a visit. Remind me to ask Finn where he keeps the good china,” I replied sarcastically.
“Good luck with that. I don’t think Finn’s the kind of man to own fancy china.”
I stepped away, glancing from Rita to Ethan. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to whatever you were up to before I interrupted. I’m going to see if there’s a first-aid kit upstairs.”
Ethan was stony-faced, but then he suddenly strode toward me, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me from the room. “What are you doing? Let go of me,” I protested as he ushered me up the stairs to the bathroom.
Without a word, he slammed the door and turned over the lock. My heart pounded as I finally managed to jerk my wrist from his hold.
“Unlock the door, Ethan,” I demanded, standing as far away from him as I could in the small room.
“No,” he grunted, his jaw working. The tension emanating from him gave me goosebumps.
“Have you finally decided to acknowledge my existence then?” I asked, folding my arms. My attitude was all bluster. It was my only defence. Being in close proximity to him had my insides going haywire.
“Stop talking, or I won’t help you.”
“I don’t need your help. I’m fine.”
His eyes travelled over my bruised face, and if I wasn’t mistaken, they strayed to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting my gaze again. “You don’t look fine.” He gripped my shoulders, pushing me over to the edge of the bath. “Sit down.”
With a distinct gulp, I did as he said. The brief pressure of his hands on my shoulders was annoyingly pleasurable. I resented how much my silly, sentimental heart latched onto any tiny grain of attention from him. I exhaled nervously, hoping he couldn’t smell how I was feeling, the guilt mixing with need.
His gaze flashed to mine, so heated it practically scorched. His lips parted slightly, and his sharp, white fangs extended downward. He straddled the bathtub, placing one foot inside it and the other on the tiled bathroom floor so that he sat facing me. He lifted his wrist to his mouth, eyes still trained on mine, then bit down, breaking the flesh.
“What are you doing?” I gasped. “You just bit yourself.”
Blood began to seep from the puncture before he thrust his wrist at me. “Drink. It will heal you.”
“No, thanks,” I said, tensing again. Just like the last time he’d offered me his blood, I felt pulled in, entranced by the allure of it.
“Just drink, Tegan. I can tell you’re in pain.”
On instinct, I licked my lips. “Does this mean we’re friends again?”
His expression was infuriatingly blank. “You and I will never be friends,” he replied coldly, and the statement cut me to the quick.
“Well, that’s very definitive. I thought that maybe with time you could bring yourself to forgive—”
“Friends do not want each other as we do,” he said, cutting me off and causing butterflies to fill my stomach. “And no, you are not forgiven, but that doesn’t mean I want you to be in physical pain. Now drink.”
I stared at him, gobsmacked. I’d barely heard the bit about me not being forgiven because I was too fixated on the part about him wanting me. He still wanted me. The thought made me feel hot all over. It also gave me hope that one day things could be different between us.
I glanced at his wrist again, and it was like someone cast a spell on me. I leaned closer, and before I knew it, my mouth had latched onto him and the sweet nectar that was his blood slithered down my throat. A small hiss escaped him at the contact, and arousal swept through me.
At first, I drank tentatively, but when the honey-sweet taste hit my tongue, I started to take much deeper gulps. I was vaguely aware of him groaning and shifting closer, but I was too consumed by his blood to be fully aware of what was happening.
A second later, he picked me up and flipped me across the room, caging me against the wall. Ethan pressed his body flush with mine as I continued to drink from him. I op
ened my eyes, and our gazes locked. Sexual energy thickened the air. He ran the tip of his nose up the side of my neck softly, as though tracing the line of a vein.
My injuries receded, my pain easing, while Ethan’s hand slid under my T-shirt, his palm smoothing out over my bare stomach. I didn’t need pain relief any longer, but I did need a different kind of relief. I felt like I might burst if he didn’t fuck me right there and then, but I saw the moment when his logic returned and he clamped his hand onto my jaw, easing my mouth away from his wrist. I withdrew with a whimper, blood dripping down my chin. Ethan’s fangs were still extended, and I could tell it took every ounce of his willpower to back away from me.
He left me standing breathless by the wall as he returned to the edge of the tub, never dropping my gaze. It took a moment before I gained any level of coherent thought.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Did I drink too much?”
Ethan practically growled his response. “No.”
A shiver skittered down my spine. “Okay, well, thank you. The pain is gone. I’m completely healed.”
“You’re welcome.” Now I couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill me or shag me.
I dragged my eyes from his as I approached the sink and turned on the tap to wash the blood from my chin. I was practically trembling, half because of his blood coursing through my system and half because of his intensity as he watched my every movement.
It was like being locked in a bathroom with an uncaged tiger and having no idea whether or not he was hungry. Okay, I tell a lie. Judging from the look in his eyes, Ethan was ravenous.
“How do you feel?” he asked as I splashed warm water over my face. “You drank more than you did the last time I healed you.”
I turned off the tap and grabbed a towel to dry my face. “I feel …” I trailed off, because I couldn’t tell him the truth. The truth was that I felt like tearing all his clothes off and mounting him on the bathroom floor. I knew his blood formed a connection between us, one that would last a month or two. That was why I felt so aroused. It wasn’t real.