Capturing the Last Welsh Witch

by J. M. Davies

  “Ella! Dear God, Ella! Wake up—it’s only a nightmare. Wake up.”

  The voice itched in the distance, calling for her but it was far away and the water was pulling and dragging her down; water filled her mouth and lungs till they burned. Screaming was useless—they were killing her. A rough hand shook her forcefully and a heat touched her shoulder, not a burning heat like a poker or branding iron, but a soothing touch and she twitched at the smell of patchouli and mint. Her body responded to the scent and she bolted up.

  Marcus was next to the bed, leaning over closely, touching her forehead and lifting a glass tumbler to her lips.

  “Nightmares?”

  Ella blinked. She hadn’t had the recurring horrific memories for a while but now and again, one or all of her ghosts would visit, as if warning her of what was to come. Death. She accepted the liquid and gulped down the cold water, choking and spluttering it all over her.

  “Slowly, Ella. Take it easy.”

  She wiped her mouth and swallowed again, blotting out the image on the horizon of herself tied to a wooden ducking stool, being submerged in front of the enthusiastic crowds. The word witch had followed her around like a curse and now she was being hunted by the FBI as the Witch. She laughed hysterically and rubbed her head. Each life she had lived, the men had so easily offered her up when their own mortality was in question. Young Robbie, so full of promises he never intended to keep but to let them take her away, knowing she would be killed. How could they betray her so? Glancing at Marcus, she studied the room and waited for something to alert her to his betrayal. Where were the big guns?

  “Are you all right now?”

  She took a deep breath. She was muggy and dizzy but a shower would help with that, she hoped.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you. They don’t happen often.”

  Marcus stood partly dressed in a crumpled gray T-shirt and tight black boxers that hugged his bottom and hairy thighs. Ella swallowed and wondered why she wasn’t in her room. She swiftly peered back at him and took in his wayward hair and dark shadows that mirrored his eyes. He looked exhausted. Had he been looking after her through the night? But why? Feeling her chest, she wanted to ask the question that plagued her mind—had they shared a bed?—but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words, staring at him instead.

  “Ella, no. Whatever you’re thinking—and I can guess what it is—the answer is no. Now, go and have a shower because we’re leaving.”

  Ella swallowed, not wanting to hear anything more and needing to wake herself up. She pushed herself off the bed and the world tilted as she swooned. That was odd. Her hand rose to her head as she sucked in the air to steady her balance and walked into the en suite without looking back or saying anything to Marcus. Twenty minutes later, Ella was wide awake and dressed in a short woolen skirt, another chiffon almost transparent shirt, and thigh-length boots.

  Marcus gathered his belongings from the side table.

  “Look, I’m sorry about the kiss.” Ella moved away from the door and folded her arms. She leaned back against the wall, wanting to clear the air, and it was the last thing she could remember about yesterday.

  Marcus stared at the clock, which read six thirty. He shook his head and glared toward Ella.

  “The kiss—you’re worried about the kiss? Do you remember any of last night?” He grabbed his phone and scrolled through for messages.

  Ella pushed away from the wall and her cheeks flushed a bright pink. “Not really.” Faint lines creased her forehead and she frowned as she stared over at the watercolor of the ocean on the wall.

  “Well, we can’t talk about it now—we have to move—but there was more than kissing, I can tell you that much, and we will talk about it later. For now, we’re leaving.”

  “What about Josephine?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Where did she go this early?” Ella took a step closer and studied him closely.

  Marcus put his hand up to stop her moving; he couldn’t afford for her to end up like she did last night, if what his mother had said was true. He shook his head.

  “Don’t come any closer. And she hasn’t just gone out—she’s gone. Jake came and took her in the night. It isn’t safe here anymore. Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready.”

  Ella clamped her arms around herself. Did she smell or something? He couldn’t make it plainer that she repulsed him if he tried. She bowed her head low. Why was the way he reacted affecting her so? His words were a slap in the face, because without even knowing why, she was about to follow him into the shower to get some answers. Biting her lip, she cursed, and her body trembled. This wasn’t her. Ella was never the one to make the first move, ever. But her body and senses were overthrowing her mind. A terrible need was climbing inside her blood, and when she saw Marcus, the need to touch him increased. God help her. He was the last thing she needed.

  Every man eventually let her down, and there was no way she was going to succumb to another man, only to be betrayed, no matter what. She knew now was her chance to flee, but something had changed between them in the past twenty-four hours. True, she seemed to repulse him, but he wasn’t outright rejecting her either. He’d responded to her kiss. He was weighing up all the odds, plus trying to convince himself that she wasn’t a total nutcase. There was a vulnerable side to Marcus and she’d seen it. He’d exposed that to her by bringing her to visit his mother, as if perhaps he wanted to show her that he, too, was different.

  There was a connection between them. An undeniable thread. With that in mind, she decided she would stand a better chance with Marcus. When he came out of the shower, dressed in Italian tailored black slacks and a navy shirt, she sat patiently waiting for him. And what was happening with her hair? It was growing an inch day by day, and the dye fading fast. It was turning back to her own natural shade. She pulled a strand and sucked the end, frowning at Marcus as he stood before her, buttoning his shirt and fixing a matching navy tie. His dark hair was wet and sleeked back. His face was free of stubble after a shave and he glared toward Ella as he picked up his jacket, looking once again like a male model. She stared at him.

  “Is your hair getting longer?” He pulled his arms through the fitted jacket sleeves and pulled his shirt forward, straightening himself. After he grabbed his wallet from the bedside table, he marched toward Ella and lifted up strands of her hair, studying them as he rubbed them between his fingers.

  “Yes. I don’t know why. It’s never happened before, but the hair color is fading and I’m going back to…”

  “Blonde.”

  They stared at each other for a second, and then he shook his head and walked out the door, taking the steps two at a time as she followed him. He picked up his brown leather luggage case and gathered up Ella’s bag, which she reached for but he carried. His eyes stared at her in a challenge she couldn’t be bothered to start.

  “We’re heading for the airport. I have two tickets to London Heathrow. From there we’ll go by train to Wales. Where in Wales do you need to go?”

  Marcus talked as he walked out the door of the cottage, and as Ella exited, he turned around and locked the door, pocketing the key. He took long strides and Ella trotted at a pace to keep up with him. The old truck was still parked where he’d left it, and after a quick glance around, he opened the door and Ella jumped in. He then walked around, opened his door and got in. Moments later, he started the engine and headed toward the interstate.

  “Cardiff.”

  “Ella, my boss thinks I’m bringing you in at ten o’clock this morning. When that doesn’t happen, anything is possible. He may already suspect something isn’t right; he may have eyes on us now. Either way, we need to be prepared for any likelihood. I also have a request, and you may think it’s strange but it’s for your own good. I’ll explain when we’re on the plane.”

  Ella turned her head a fraction. “What request?”

  Marcus didn’t take his eyes off the road but gripped the wheel tighter. “No touch
ing. I’ll explain but until then keep your distance from me, understand?”

  Ella was speechless. She wasn’t sure what scared her more: knowing the FBI would soon realize that Marcus hadn’t brought her in as planned or whether she would be stopped at security when her face was plastered all over the news or hearing Marcus’s words. Her stomach dropped like a stone and she clamped her arms across her belly as if thumped.

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ella willed her nerves to settle. Getting into a panic would set the alarms off immediately. Marcus had booked her a ticket as Juliet Jones, a British girl, and one of the identities from her fake passports. Her hair was longer than in the picture and a dirty blonde, but she stared confidently as Marcus had explained he had booked them on board a private jet belonging to a friend and apart from waiting a short while alone, he would be back to escort her directly to the plane. This way, they were excused from the main throngs of security, although it didn’t lessen her anxiety. A buzzer sounded behind her and her hackles rose, fearing that she had been discovered. Two heavy-set airport security men passed her by, grunting and staring at her, but they carried on walking. She touched her purse where her forged documentation and wallet lay hidden and moved around. Her glance darted around the large waiting area to check for Marcus but she couldn’t spot him.

  Ella checked her watch, but knew he’d been gone more than twenty minutes. Maybe there was a problem. Marcus had told her to keep a distance from him, and to be patient while he contacted his friend. Taking a deep breath, she had no choice but to remain calm and hope he was being honest and that this wasn’t some kind of setup or trap. With one more glance over her shoulder to see whether Marcus was around, she let out a sigh. She stood there idly, as if waiting for something to happen, and she needed a distraction. The airport was busy with visitors to Boston and travelers leaving to either return home or fly away on vacation, pulling their luggage behind them.

  She wished she was one of them and that her life was ordinary and carefree. She stared at each man, woman, and child scurrying around and imagined their destination and their story. Searching the vicinity for a place to sit, she gazed up at the overhead television screen. Ella froze as she caught sight of the news report giving the day’s headlines. Her heart stumbled, and moisture trickled down between her shoulder blades. Nervously, she gazed around as she waited for the news to flash her picture; the fine hairs along her neck told her it was coming. Watching the crowd, she flicked her gaze back at the screen. The channel changed from the news report to a repeat of Friends. A smile lit across her face, and sighing, she moved away. As she strolled toward the end of the airport and headed for the restrooms, an icy shiver touched her shoulder and she inhaled a deep breath. A gruesome specter dressed in a long black hood and cloak danced several feet off the ground in front of her. It was a soul-catcher.

  “I told you last time—your time is running out, and I will be waiting.” A deep monotone voice bellowed from inside the hood, as a long-nailed finger pulled Ella’s chin up.

  “You’ll never own my soul, never.”

  A hiss emitted from the soul-catcher’s mouth, and he spirited away. A scream rent out in the opposite direction of where she stood and Ella swung around. Several people gathered around an inert body lying on the ground. It was pointless; the soul-collector was there and he was busy at work. His skeletal hands reached inside the unconscious man’s chest and ripped his soul forward. It was like a translucent outline of the man himself, and the specter opened his mouth to suck and draw the soul inwards, snapping his long, needle-like teeth shut tight.

  Ella watched the gruesome scene. Without thinking, she lifted her hands, spread her fingers out flat and aimed at the ghoul, summoning her fury into a ball of heat that shot out and fired directly into his belly.

  The ghoul lifted his head and gazed directly at her with missing eyeballs. An unearthly screech filled the air as the specter twisted and shriveled. His arms flailed outward. The hood that shaded his face flew backward, and a long mass of white hair flew behind his shoulders. Of course, his ghostly appearance was just that and no human eye was able to see the ghoul or his intentions.

  None of this frightened Ella, and she continued to pummel more energy into the evil spirit, until his bloodcurdling howl fizzled and died. His mouth squeaked open and released the newly captured soul, which floated back toward the man. Ella watched the unconscious figure as he lay still on the ground. The man’s heart had stopped beating, and after a quick jolt of electricity from Ella’s fingertips, she re-started his heart into a sinus rhythm. A slim woman in a security uniform was performing CPR, and within seconds, the man’s eyes opened. The crowd moved as the paramedics arrived on scene and after administering some oxygen, they carried him away.

  She looked around; the specter had vanished, but she felt the burn of someone’s stare. Turning around she caught Marcus’s gaze upon her from across the airport lounge. His dark eyes bored into hers like steel pins. He was furious. Damn him. Pushing her way through the throngs of people, she passed demons and vampires, who glared at her as they recognized another otherworldly soul. None of them were her enemy, but they weren’t her friends either, and bringing unwanted attention to their kind was frowned upon big time. Holding her chin up high, she swiftly made her way, and didn’t clap eyes on Marcus again until the crowd dispersed and he caught hold of her elbow roughly.

  “I distinctly remember saying to stay out of sight. I said be patient and not draw attention to yourself.”

  Without another word, they passed through the check-in for the private jet, showing their passports and tickets, and they were escorted by a well-dressed man in an immaculate navy uniform with a gold badge in the shape of wings with the name Steel engraved on it. Ella smiled at the young man, who smiled back and took their cases but didn’t say a word. Marcus stared at her, grabbed her hand and they followed the man to a private elevator that took them below to one of the airport hangars. A loud droning noise greeted them, along with the overwhelming smell of jet fuel.

  “Have a good flight, Commander.” The pleasant young man stood to attention to salute Marcus and he saluted him back.

  “At ease, Lieutenant.” Once the man had walked far enough away, Marcus turned to a wide-eyed Ella. “We’re flying on my friend’s plane and he’s ex-Navy. He owes me a favor and I’m collecting it.”

  “Commander? Now I understand why you’re so bossy.”

  Marcus assisted her up the narrow steps that led onto the plane and an attractive brunette flight attendant showed them to their seats. They were the only passengers. The small private jet held several plush cream leather seats, a long stretched-out sofa along the one side of the plane, and a moderately sized desk with a computer screen on the other. She studied the plane’s interior as she placed her small duffel bag in the overhead compartment, noticing the attention the young woman with smoky eyes gave to Marcus. He barely acknowledged her existence, giving a curt smile before he stored his own bag.

  The flight attendant’s scrutiny didn’t leave him and it irritated the hell out of Ella. Wherever they went, he drew the attention of women like bees to the honey pot. She slumped down in her window seat and yawned as she stared out as several men in the hangar loaded boxes and boxes of supplies. Ella was exhausted and waved her hand across her face to keep herself awake. She risked one more view of Marcus, who chatted easily with the pretty and chatty woman as he removed his jacket and stowed it in the overhead. His size dwarfed the air hostess, whose cheeks flushed easily in his presence.

  The conversation reached her ears. They were talking about the flight time and the weather in London. Ella watched the woman smile and imagined her asking him for a date, her attraction to him evident by the heightened color in her cheeks and the close proximity. Ella groaned loudly and lifted her eyes to the ceiling to blank out the scene. Minutes later, Marcus sat down as the cabin crew took their seats and he clicked his seat belt. She closed
her eyes, shutting off the world around her and willing the jealousy to fade away. It was crazy.

  “I was merely being polite, Ella, and checking on the time of arrival. Anyway, I have a bone to pick with you. What was going on in the departure lounge? Did you have anything to do with the man who collapsed?” Marcus spoke in a hushed voice.

  Ella didn’t open her eyes. The scent of his musky aftershave made her body tremble all over, causing an exquisite but painful need. All of a sudden, her mind imagined his hands caressing her body in all sorts of secret places and delivering such pleasure, she squealed in delight. His voice was a distant hum that she ignored as she enjoyed the sensations that coursed through her body.

  “Ella.” His demanding voice scratched against her neck, and her whole body shivered. Desire for his touch roared and she was going to explode. Why was she like this? At a distance, she’d managed but here up close and personal, it was torture and she knew torture. Her insides burned like lava and she clamped her legs together as a growing throbbing increased her need.

  “Ah.” Ella couldn’t help letting a moan escape her lips and realizing this made her push forward and open her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She was on a plane and her body was pulsing with arousal. She wanted to strip her clothes off and climb on the delectable hunk of toned maleness that sat next to her. Her hand automatically reached up to stroke her throat, as if dying of thirst. She threw back a glance at Marcus, whose face held in a tight pose. As she stared at him, her tongue did a slow lick of her lips and she edged closer to him, sniffing his neck.

  He grabbed her hand, and jerked her closer to his mouth.

  “You need to listen closely to me, Ella, and you need to swallow this. It’ll make you feel better.”