Cassie
The Coven’s Grove Chronicles
Book 3
by
Virginia L. Hunter
Copyright © 2016 Grove Publishing, LLC
All Rights Reserved
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Dedicated to my loving family.
Cassie
The Coven’s Grove Chronicles
Cassie may not have looked very tough at 5 foot 5, but looks can be deceiving. Ever since she was seventeen, she’d been strong, really strong...freakishly strong in fact. A lot of people might have seen her power as a boon. For Cassie, it was a curse.
A tragic home life sent Cassie spiraling out of control at a young age, and the less than desirable attitude that grew from her strife led to a tragic accident that put her on the run.
It’s five years later, and Cassie is still running. If her life would only slow down long enough for her to get some sense of stability, but just the opposite happens when she runs into Caleb Snyder, a blond-haired, blue-eyed hottie that does anything but slow life down.
As if life wasn’t hard enough, a fanatical cultist has Cassie in his crosshairs. The madman will stop at nothing to find her. So once again, Cassie is on the run, fearing for her life and with no hopes of finding a place to call home.
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Tendrils of smoke spiraled up into the darkness. The warehouse was too large for the small amount of light to banish the shadows entirely. A circle of candles provided the only light the acolytes had to see by, and provided the only protection from the pressing blackness that surrounded them. Their rhythmic chanting echoed softly off the corrugated steel walls in the distance, while an occasional muffled plea for help escaped the young woman that was to be their sacrifice. The arch devil they worshipped rarely spoke with his mortal followers directly, but he would bestow great gifts to those who offered him the most valuable of prizes—the human soul.
J’onn Kolosov looked down at the girl’s writhing body. She had been gifted with a voluptuous form that tempted him to arousal, but his focus was sharp, and his purpose true. He would not let his base urges distract him from the ritual. He tore his gaze from the girl’s naked body to examine the two other components he had painstakingly acquired over the past year.
The first was just a strand of hair, black as coal. The effort and resources J’onn had put into finding it had been considerable, but would ultimately be worth the inconvenience. The second was a piece of leg bone, and had been much easier to acquire. Cemeteries didn’t have as much security as a forensics storage facility after all. The components had come from two very different people, but were related in the fact that one had murdered the other. Both items revolved around an unsolved case involving a young girl, and her unfortunate high school teacher.
J’onn had studied many cases like this in his lifetime. Looking for that special something that would lead him and his brethren, to the objects they sought most in the world. He was certain that this particular incident held the evidence of a newly matured witch—the most prized acquisition of all.
A smile crept across J’onn’s face. He would not make the mistakes that the New York chapter had made not so long ago. A witch had escaped them, and through their sloppiness, a trail back to the founding members had been created. Loose ends had been forced to be tied.
In their foolishness, the New York chapter had summoned a Seeker to do their dirty work. Although the creature’s ability to sniff out the arcane was without equal, they were notoriously reckless, and drew far too much attention from their ghastly appearance and violence. J’onn would call something else from the pits of Hell. Something much more couth, and attractive to the human eye. If one had the correct components, a Seeker’s nose wasn’t necessary to track down a witch. The abomination he summoned would know its target, and where to find it, as if drawn like a bug to flame.
J’onn reached down and picked up the broken femur. It had snapped at an angle, giving one end a perfect edge for piercing. How appropriate, he thought. With his other hand he picked up the strand of long, dark hair. While his minions continued to chant, J’onn began to mumble in the archaic tongue that would open a door to the realm of hell. He deftly wrapped the hair around the bone, raising the pitch of his voice with every loop.
Once the dark acolyte’s cadence reached its climax, J’onn raised the bone over his head, and called out to his lord, Beelzebub. All fell quiet. Even the struggling young woman ceased her incessant pleading, though her eyes bulged in fear.
J’onn slammed the bone down on the young woman’s chest, just between her full breasts. She convulsed in pain, as the femur plunged into her flesh. He drove the ragged edge deeper, piercing her heart. She shuddered one last time, before going completely still.
J’onn continued to drive the splintered bone and hair into the dead woman, until they were completely encased within her body. He rose with bloodied hands. “Take our offering O’ Lord of the dark!” he yelled. “Bring forth your minion to taste her precious soul!”
The acolytes began chanting once more.
J’onn stared at the girl’s lifeless body, eager for his lord’s response.
Nothing happened.
Frustration surged through him as the girl’s body continued to lay there, unchanged. J’onn unsheathed his ceremonial dagger, and sliced open his own hand. He held it over the gaping hole in the young woman’s chest, squeezing blood from his wound. “Please Lord, bless us with your mighty gifts!”
The chanting of J’onn’s brethren became white noise, as the soft flesh of the girl’s belly finally rippled with movement. “Come to us!” he yelled. “Come and sate your hunger of the flesh!”
Several areas of the girl’s stomach distended, as if broken bones pushed outward to free themselves from her body. The skin stretched until it ripped open to reveal talons drenched in blood. The stench of sulfur and burning flesh filled the air, as the young woman began to bubble and melt. Elongated arms and legs that looked somewhat human, but more insect like, flexed with cords of stringy muscle, as the demon clawed its way out of her twisted body. Though its slime covered limbs and torso were quite grotesque, the monster’s visage proved to be the most disturbing. More human than the rest of its body, the demon’s face was distorted with overly large cheekbones, protruding brows, and wickedly jagged teeth. Pale skin, pulled too taut over bone, did its best to cover the long head and facial features, but was torn in many places, revealing a hard carapace underneath. And finally, the eyes. Lifeless black orbs that drew in the light, devouring it. The creature scanned the room hungrily.
“Welcome, Agent of the Dark,” J’onn said, as the demon’s gaze settled on him.
The creature hissed in triumph. Its head raised to the heavens in defiance. Without warning, the monster launched itself at the chanting acolytes, tearing them limb from
limb.
J’onn waited patiently, as the demon gorged itself on his followers. Once more he found himself smiling. Not one of his acolytes had run in fear, such was their faith. It was a sign that his path was indeed true.
Once the demon had its fill, it rose, and slowly walked toward J’onn. With every step, its body and form began to change. The closer it came, the more human it appeared. When the creature finally stopped not more than a few feet away, J’onn gazed at a perfect replica of himself, naked, and covered in blood.
“Come,” J’onn commanded, barely able to contain his excitement. “I would set you to purpose.”
The place was a dive. There were always more than a few in whatever state Cassie ended up in, and Colorado was no exception. Concrete floors, and those four legged stools with the round cushions on them, were always a telltale sign. The cushions here at O’Malley’s just happened to be Kelly green, and didn’t match anything in the bar, except maybe the cloth on the pool tables. An Irish bar in Colorado, go figure, she thought.
Cassie took a sip of her beer and looked up at the strand of icicle lights hanging across the top of the bar. Jesus, even those aren’t right. A bitter memory of her “previous life,” as she referred to it now, flashed in her mind. Her mother had always hung those kind of lights in the living room. She’d been meticulous about it too, not a strand out of place. Whoever put them up on the bar, apparently didn’t care if they were straight or not. Cassie shook her head. Doesn’t matter anyway.
The television up on the wall, blaring some basketball game, competed with the music thumping in the background. There was a decent crowd milling around, waiting for the dart tournament to start. Most of them looked as if they’d just gotten off work, and were ready to make the most of their evening. Cheap domestic beer and smack talk were the entrees for the night, and everyone was having their fill.
Cassie hadn’t come for the tournament, she just wanted to wind down after a long day working at the lumber mill. The job was demanding, but paid the bills. She took another sip of her beer. This time however, she glanced at the guy that had followed her in. He was across the room trying to blend in, but Cassie knew better. She’d seen him in the parking lot, and had gotten an uneasy feeling right off the bat.
His gaze cut to the floor when she looked at him.
Cassie chuckled to herself. I don’t know why they even try to fit in anymore. After five years of being on the run it was pretty easy for her to single them out. They all walked the same way, sat by the exit, and gave her that creepy lingering gaze. Not a sensual stare mind you, it was more like how a hunter eyed his prey. This guy happened to be in his mid-30’s with the start of a pot belly. His blue jeans and flannel shirt actually matched the ball cap he’d pulled down in an attempt to hide the fact that he was there.
Cassie frowned. It looked like a new town, new job, and new hotel, was in her immediate future. Dammit, I had it good here too. Her piss-poor mood soured a bit more. She puzzled over how they had found her. She didn’t use credit cards anymore, and didn’t pay taxes either. The only thing that might have given anybody a clue was the accident that happened about a month back. A logging truck took a turn too sharp, and went over the side of a cliff. Cassie had been fortunate enough to be there to save the driver. The incident hadn’t made national news, but the local channels had been on fire with the story. She’d done her best to stay away from the cameras, but the reporters had been as tenacious as they were annoying. That has to be it...shit.
Whoever was in charge of the tournament called out to the crowd that the event was beginning. Cheers went up around the bar, and the different teams gathered to talk out their strategies. Though Cassie wasn’t sure how much strategy was involved in throwing a feathered spike at a wall.
She glanced over her shoulder after finishing her beer to check on her tag-along.
He was gone.
He’s going to try and take me in the parking lot, Cassie thought. At least their strategy was solid and predictable.
“I’ll take a whisky neat and another Corona for the lady,” a deep voice said over Cassie’s other shoulder, as the bartender walked by.
Cassie slowly closed her eyes. Oh, hell. She turned to have a look at who was fishing for a piece, and found herself a bit taken aback. The muscular blond leaning on the bar next to her wasn’t what she’d expected. The men around here tended to be rough in the looks department. This guy, however, had a smile that made you want to smile right back, like a giddy little school girl. Which of course is exactly what she did before she could stop herself. Great. Smooth as ever.
With the exception of his jeans and t-shirt, Blondie could have been a Norseman right out of the history books, sporting broad shoulders, and muscled thighs. On any other night, she would have humored the thought of having a little fun. But tonight would have to be chalked up to bad timing.
“Not available, sorry,” Cassie said.
“Wow, just like that huh?” Blondie replied.
“Yep.” She took a swig of the beer he’d bought her. Why waste a free drink?
“You looked like you could use the drink is all.”
Cassie narrowed her eyes.
Blondie raised his hands in surrender. “It’s never a bad idea to buy a pretty lady a drink. You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Cassie smirked, and then tipped the bottle toward him. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He took his whiskey, and nodded to the bartender before looking back to lock eyes with her. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Cassie swallowed a bit too loudly, mesmerized by his blue gray eyes, that looked like storm clouds brewing.
He turned, and sauntered off toward a seat near one of the dart teams.
Mother in heaven. Cassie sighed, as she watched him go. She did like a good backside, and his didn’t disappoint. The six-foot-three V-shaped frame didn’t hurt either. Sorry handsome, not tonight.
Cassie slammed back the rest of her beer, and got to her feet. Damn my past, and damn the law too. She grabbed her coat, and checked for her stalker one last time.
No sign.
She knew O’Malley’s didn’t have a side door, and that going out the back could be worse than using the front. Not to mention her car was out there. You’re stalling. Just go and be done with it. She took a deep breath, and headed toward the exit.
Crisp, February air blasted her in the face, as she swung the door open. The sudden gust took her breath away. Snow covered the ground a foot thick, but the sidewalks and parking lot had all been shoveled and salted. There were no signs of the guy that had followed her in, but her two-door 1978 Monte Carlo was easy enough to spot. It was a junker, no doubt, but it’d been cheap and reliable. That’s all she needed nowadays.
The slush crunched under her boots as she power-walked to the car. She was starting to think that she might get away without incident until she caught sight of the flat tire. Son-of-a-bitch!
“Cassie Gallagher,” a man said from behind her. “Put your hands out where I can see them.”
“Go to hell,” Cassie snapped, as she spun around. “You’re not a cop. You’re an asshole!” She could feel the heat of her power building. She was starting to lose her temper, which was bad. He shouldn’t have cut my tires.
The bounty hunter was maybe a dozen feet away. He had a pair of handcuffs in one hand, and what looked like a blackjack in the other. “I’m taking you back to Canada to face murder charges.”
“Like hell you are!” Cassie clenched her fists. “I think you got the wrong person, pal.”
Asshole chuckled. “I know it’s you. Make it easy on yourself, and come with me.” He jingled the handcuffs in the air.
This guy really was a blockhead. “Look man, I’m not having the best of nights, and that could be bad for you. So why don’t we go our separate ways, and pretend none of this ever happened?”
“Really?” he asked with mock concern. “I was afraid you might get mad and hurt me.” Then his
expression went dead serious. “I didn’t take you for the stupid type, but alright, we’ll do this the hard way.”
“Your funeral.”
He charged her full on.
Cassie sidestepped his careless swings easily, and struck him once in the ribs with her fist. She felt his bones break, before the telling snaps reached her ears.
The bounty hunter screamed, and collapsed, cradling his side. “You bitch!”
Cassie reared back to punch him in the face, but stopped. Calm yourself. You’ll kill him. She settled for a kick to the shoulder, that flattened him on his back, and sent him sliding across the parking lot. “Eat shit, asshole.”
His overconfidence had been laughable, though it played to her advantage. They never learn, she thought smugly. It was easy enough to understand their stupidity. Cassie’s five-foot-five frame didn’t really speak of a powerhouse. So much the better.
She brushed her hands on her jeans, and turned to go back in the bar to call for a tow, when a fist slammed into her cheek. Spots of bright light swam in her vision, as she stumbled away from the attack. Another blow connected with her lower back, sending her to the ground writhing in pain.
“Think you’re tough, little girl?” asked someone that wasn’t the dude she had just laid low. “Tell me what you think of this?”
A kick to the stomach folded Cassie like a flimsy sheet of paper, and almost made her lose her dinner. She gagged trying to regain her breath. Through the haze of pain, a thought came to her, Asshole hadn’t come alone. The taste of iron filled her mouth, as Asshole’s two friends rained blows down on her. She curled into a ball, and covered her head.
The punishment stopped suddenly. There was a scuffling noise, and then Blondie’s voice echoed in the parking lot. “Two on one? That’s just not cool, man.”
“She’s a wanted felon, dumbass,” Mr. Right Hook spat.
Cassie (The Coven's Grove Chronicles #3) Page 1