by J. M. Davies
Capturing the Last Welsh Witch
by
J.M. Davies
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © December 2015 by J.M.Davies
Visit J.M.Davies official web-site http://www.jenniferowendavies.com/ for the latest news, book details, and other information.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, December 2015
ISBN-13: 978-1519576590
ISBN-10: 1519576595
Author J.M.Davies
Cover Art provided by G.S.Prendergast.
Copyediting provided by Faith Williams from the Atwater Group.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Faith Williams my editor, and my cover artist Gabrielle Prendergast.
I want to mention my cohorts from my writers group the Writers Connection and in particular, Rachel Knox Alesse and Jennifer Smith, very talented writers who share my passion, and provide invaluable feedback, and proofing before I pushed the button for publication.
I want to thank all my friends and family who always encourage me to keep going and keep writing. Finally, I have to say writing wouldn’t be possible without my brilliant husband Paul Davies, who believes in me and refuses to let me give up. Writing a book is a process that involves a team of people committed to its success, and I am grateful for each one. Thank you!
CHAPTER ONE
Ella handed the taxi driver the folded bills, replaced her wallet back inside her elegant ivory and diamanté studded purse, and snapped it closed. She clutched it tightly in her sweaty hand as she stepped onto the empty sidewalk and shivered not only from the brisk coolness of the wintry night that greeted her but from an ever-present need to watch the ghostly shadows. As a five-hundred-year-old soul-shifter, being alert ensured her survival. She had learned a long time ago—after discovering she was the last of her kind from the clan of Ariana, Moon Goddess—to be prepared for anything.
With a deep breath, she stepped forward. Being a soul-shifter with magic filling her veins, there were perks for sure, but this was her fifth life, and if legend proved true, the end was in sight. She sensed it. With each life, new queens, kings, and presidents ruled, and she remembered them all. Each moment of death or torture was tattooed on her brain. Memories she’d sooner forget of how each lover or husband betrayed her were clearly imprinted on her heart.
It was therefore ironic to Ella that her continued existence depended upon finding her Mr. Perfect soul mate. Without him, the next time her life ended, she wouldn’t experience that moment of clarity as all her lives merged into absolute silence in her body, and then, as if taking a deep pause, she breathed once more, reborn and like a butterfly, the transformation startling!
No, this time it would be eternal darkness unless she found true love. But as every man in her life to date was in some way responsible for her previous deaths, rushing to find him hadn’t been a priority.
As she pulled her long, black velvet coat tighter to protect her scantily clad body from the cool night air, she glanced right and left and inhaled the air. Aidan, her sort-of boyfriend, had arranged an impromptu dinner date, which was not like him at all. Usually, he was too busy with work as a professor of archeology at the Andover museum, with his head buried in some ancient textbook or scroll for anything remotely romantic, which was fine because they didn’t have a typical relationship, to say the least. Ella pushed down the sleek silver handle on the tall glass door and walked straight up to the mahogany front desk. A pretty brunette greeted her with a warm smile and direct eye contact.
Ella tried to relax, offered a smile back and gave her name as the woman perused the guest list and nodded. As her gaze lifted away, Ella’s eyes wandered around the overflowing and busy restaurant. The heat and array of conversations swirled around and stifled her for a second but a waving of frantic hands drew attention to the center of the room.
Aidan’s frowning and bespectacled face studied her from his table directly in the middle of the popular Italian bistro as the smell of garlic and tomatoes surrounded her. For a moment, their eyes met. His steel-gray eyes narrowed, and before she took a step, he pushed his chair back, leapt up and strode toward her impatiently. His gaze, directed only on her, was stern and unemotional. Ella wished she had stayed home, instantly sensing tonight wasn’t going to end well. Aidan, tall and with a slim build, towered over her as he gave a brief brotherly hug and dropped a perfunctory kiss to each cheek before he placed his hand in the small of her back to lead her to their table.
“You’re late, so I’ve already ordered to save time.”
Ella sighed and peered at him in an attempt to gauge his mood. They rarely dined out alone; not knowing the reason for the sudden night out, she had taken extra care in choosing her outfit—a rather sexy, revealing dress. The short black lacy dress fitted her curves and now as the heat climbed into her cheeks, she wondered why on earth she had bothered. Her usually swept-up and tied-back into a severe chignon hair was left loose and tousled, but Aidan’s pale, gaunt face bespoke an impatience to get the meal over with. She frowned, wondering why he had even suggested a restaurant or for that matter, why she had agreed; they didn’t have that type of relationship. She opened her mouth to say she was leaving, but stopped, staring at the dark, handsome man with a strong square jaw in the far corner. A twinkle of recognition made her stare longer than normal, but the man in question was in shadow and her vision of him was not clear. He didn’t move in her direction, oblivious of her perusal, intent on the menu and in full conversation with someone on his cell. Shaking her head and dismissing him, she looked away.
“Ella, you’re not listening to me. I’ve ordered some antipasti and Cacciucco.”
She swallowed. The thought of fish stew left her wiping her hand over her mouth and she forced a wave of nausea down. Something was definitely off, and she prayed it was only the fish.
Aidan loosened his collar and pulled his tie down, as if uncomfortable. His conversation rambled and his voice sped up like a runaway train. Ella noticed his temple beaded with a dewy sheen. He was nervous. He was never nervous.
A need to escape rose over her so quickly that she pushed away from the table, scraping her chair on the floor, and stood up but froze as the diners around her stared at her. Aidan leaned forward and clamped his hand down on hers, bringing her attention back to him.
“Ella. Forgive me. I’m sorry…I confess, I’m a little nervous. May I say how lovely you look tonight? I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress before. Please forgive my impatience. I brought you here because I have something I must talk to you about. But forgive me—where are my manners? Please, have a glass of wine. It will help us both relax.” He sat back, released her hand and removed his glasses to wipe them with his microfiber cloth.
Ella looked at his face, which softened as their eyes met. She sat back down, not wanting to make a scene and wondering what he wanted to discuss with her that could make him so on edge. A glass of wine might settle whatever jitters he had and she nodded before she glanced back over her shoulder at the man she had stared at earlier but who now was absent.
“Are you all right, Ella?”
Ella turned back to face him and sighed. “A glass of wine would be lovely, and then you can tell me what’s going on.”
****
Hours later, Ella blinked as rays of golden sunlight streamed down upon her face and warmed her cheeks. Birds chirped merrily around her. What on earth? The last thought in her mind was that Aidan was being impatient in the restaurant but beyond that, there was nothing. Normally when Ella woke it was in a soft bed, with the aroma of coffee wafting up from the kitchen and Aidan was there, but she shivered as the cold blast of air hit her shoulders.
Ella peered at a blurry view of a distorted world and what looked like skyscrapers were tall, leafy trees. Lying on her side on the cold and damp earth with grass stuck to her lips wasn’t helping her feel any better. She lifted her head, and shook it to clear her mind and vision. Pushing her hand into the moist, spongy earth to force her body up, needing to move, but a wave of bile rose up and the dizziness stopped her. In the distance, water gurgled, and instantly she knew she needed its healing energy to clear her confusion.
Allowing the dizziness to settle and the nausea to pass, she tried to recall last night but without result. Usually, those last moments of her life remained etched in her brain, but as she pressed her fingers to her temple, there was nothing. Right now, the black scraps of materials that had once been her dress wasn’t covering her well and she was in the middle of a forest, with no recollection as to how she ended up there. Frosty kisses from the early-morning breeze touched her bare shoulders as she clamped her arms around her shaking body, and pain coursed through her.
When she removed her hands from her waist, she stared at them trembling and turned them back and forth. Dried blood covered them. Biting her lip, she let her gaze roam over the rest of her body to study the trail of dark bruises and screaming red welts that littered her pale skin. A hazy image of a furious Aidan flashed through her mind and screams surrounded her.
“What did you do, Aidan?” she whispered to the wind, as if it would answer.
Needing to move, Ella pushed herself off the grass quickly, but her legs wobbled and threatened to give out. Grabbing the nearest tree next to her to lean on, she retched and emptied the contents of her stomach. Ella clawed the bark of the tree with her fingernails for support, and a wave of energy sizzled through her veins like caffeine. Her vision cleared and she had enough strength to stand. After she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Ella moved toward the stream, which was mere feet away. Clean, invigorating water was exactly what she needed to revive her, and to know whether she had changed.
On weak and wobbly legs, she staggered toward the water. None of this made sense. Ella was usually prepared, but last night was a complete blank. Each step increased the pain throughout her body; even breathing hurt. It was as if she had fought in a great battle and lost. White dots danced merrily before her eyes.
Just get to the water and drink.
Ella pushed forward to the edge of the stream, but her legs finally gave way, and she dropped to her knees. Leaning over, she stared at the ripples of water and her reflection.
“Ow.” She moved her jaw and lifted her hand to examine her face.
She traced an outline of a large, black bruise on her cheek with her fingers and winced. Dried blood congealed by her nose, and her mousey hair was a wild mass. One eye was swollen and as she peered downward; a collection of dark polka dots decorated her neck. She lifted her gaze and sighed as she stared into familiar dark eyes. She was still Ella Masters.
Despite looking battered, and as though she’d been raised by wolves, she was alive—at least for now. Sitting back on her haunches, she glanced down, and followed a succession of bruises on her arm that resembled fingerprints. Ella ran her hand over them as an ugly memory roared to life.
An angry face loomed into view. Turbulent gray irises, like a stormy ocean, gazed at her. There was no warmth in his expression; he pulled his mouth into a narrow line and gripped her wrists so tightly they hurt. Ella twisted and pulled at them, but he wasn’t letting her go. A cry escaped her lips. “Aidan.”
The memory vanished, and Ella shook her head. They had been fighting. That alone was not unusual, but why was she terrified? Her glance roamed all over her body for clues. Her lungs stung as she breathed, and a large purple bruise on her torso confirmed the reason. Maybe a broken rib; she couldn’t be sure. What was certain was that these weren’t just sparring injuries. Had Aidan tried to kill her?
She closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and began to visualize each injury. Ella could see several cracked ribs, a small open wound at the back of her head, and bruises on her back, legs, and arms. As she observed the injuries, her warm blood soared toward them. Her hands moved impatiently around her body to apply pressure. As her fingers connected with the broken bone or wound, an immense internal energy flowed toward it. Her body glowed as her healing spirit worked on her injuries. Ella’s breathing increased and became more rapid, until at last her body sagged.
Most of the pain eased, and her wounds started to heal. Some injuries would take longer than others, but at least she could move. Her body trembled with the exertion, but she closed her eyes, and willed herself to remember last night. Pain. All she could sense was pain. She wondered why she couldn’t recall the night clearly.
As a soul-shifter with nearly five hundred years’ worth of memories—memories she’d sooner forget of how each lover or husband betrayed her—she remembered their smiles, their gentle words of love. However, last night was lost to her.
There was nothing.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. The pain eased and in its place, a blazing anger rose. Someone betrayed her. The wind swept the leaves off the ground and they rose high into the air to dance around her. She clutched her bare right wrist, and rubbed the skin where the amulet had once been. The skin was whiter than the rest, as she always wore it. The innocuous-looking amulet was her only link to her people and her means of escape. Now it was gone, and she was alone. The gauzy wisp of material that had been her dress was ripped to shreds and covered in dirt. Her fingers touched the torn edges of the material and she stared into the distance, blinking as an old memory shook her.
“Come here, before I come and get you.” Aidan’s voice was deep and hoarse. His piercing eyes glared into hers, and she looked back as she contemplated her options. She glanced toward the door; if she moved, he would grab her. She could try to seduce him. However, that would be hopeless with Aidan. No, the only way was to trick him.
Aidan inched closer. So close, she could smell his musky aftershave. Ella let him get closer still. Let him think he had won. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, but still she waited, barely breathing. Aidan inched closer, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Are you ready to admit defeat?” He raised one eyebrow, and his mouth spread into a lazy smile.
“Never, Professor.” She flicked her leg outward and kicked as hard as possible, just like he had taught her.
“What the…” He fell to the ground, doubled over and clutched his stomach.
Sucking on her lower lip, she hesitated before she turned away. That split second of doubt was her undoing. Arms came from nowhere and grabbed her legs. Whoosh. The view of the room shifted, and the floor went from under her feet. She ended up flat on her back, with Aidan’s body impaling her to the floor.
“Never trust the enemy,” he said.
She spluttered and coughed as the memory swirled away. Professor Aidan O’Connor was an enigma: a historian, friend, pretend-lover, and expert at martial arts. He’d taught her how to use her body as a weapon.
“But last night wasn’t practice, was it? Aidan, what have you done?”
Staring at the crystal-clear water, she dipped her head to submerge it and the shocking coolness washed over her. Moments later, she jerked her head back, raising it out of the water, and shook it to let her long, wet tresses cascade down her back. Ella jumped up and was pleased the
world didn’t swirl around.
I have to find the amulet. Which means I have to go back.
The wind moaned through the trees, and the breeze pushed her onward. One foot lifted in front of the other, and before she knew it, she sprinted effortlessly through the forest. Oblivious of the stray branches and bushes that whipped against her skin, she continued to push through. Even the screeching birds were ignored. She simply kept running. Running was freedom, a lesson she had learned many times. The wind was hers to beckon, and it helped her by clearing the way and cushioning her weight as it carried her forward. Until a small log cabin came into view.
****
“Christ, what the fucking hell is going on down there?” Jackson shouted.
Marcus sighed. The shit had hit the proverbial fan in the last twelve hours, and now his boss, Philip Jackson, was breathing fire at him down the phone, blaming him for this mess. The man sounded permanently angry, but today he’d hit an all-time high. From his first meeting with his boss Jackson, nicknamed the Controller, Marcus knew he was trouble. He reeked of intolerance. His gray eyes and face looked like the ash from the tip of his cigarette that was permanently wedged in his mouth. He looked much older than his fifty-seven years, and rot had settled in. At least that was what he sensed. Marcus had heard the rumors about the burnt-out senior who’d simply gone crazy after his wife’s death and had felt some sympathy toward the man, but now he suspected he was reaching for the bottle far too often, and was a ticking time bomb.
Marcus knew when he was moved into Jackson’s team that his career was going nowhere fast. And who could blame the powers at the bureau? He was labeled a risk taker, not a team player. He suspected he was onboard a sinking bloody ship. Well, he would be damned if he was going to go down. Jackson promised that if he brought in Ella Masters, then he would get the team leader position, with his own crew in New York. He’d worked hard, and had put up with a truckload of tedious assignments and all because he wanted this promotion. It was all he wanted.