Bound by Blood (The Garner Witch Series)

by P. A. Lupton

  I was grateful for that, though I was way too tired to voice it.

  Once I knew the dolls were secure and the spells were cast, I almost collapsed on the floor. I’d never felt so utterly spent in all of my life. We steadied each other until Morrison and Aidan helped us to our bed. Nathan and I fell into a deep sleep until about eight o’clock the next evening. When I woke, I still felt lethargic, my eyes gritty and sore with fatigue.

  “How long will I feel so weak?” I asked, groggily.

  He stroked the back of his hand gingerly against my cheek. “Do not worry, our strength will return by tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to whine. I’m just not used to feeling so vulnerable, it’s disconcerting.”

  “Maybe this will make you feel better. The way you feel now—the killer is feeling the same but much, much worse. We have drained only a fragment of our power, and we will rebound, but he has lost the power of eight strong witches—forever. Some of that power has been pulsing through his veins for almost thirty years. He will be feeling extremely vulnerable, and desperate.”

  “Funny, that does make me feel better.” I smiled at him, but it faded quickly as a dismal thought crossed my mind. “I’m just worried about what happens when you make a power hungry serial killer desperate.” I said bleakly.

  He breathed out a heavy sigh and shook his head. “Yes, the thought has crossed my mind as well. We will have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Nathan was right, no point in looking for trouble—trouble seemed to have a way of finding me. I decided not to worry and just be complacent with the comforting feel of his arms wrapped around me. If I had my way, the rest of the world would just disappear and I would lie forever in Nathan’s arms. Unfortunately, that’s not how life works, sooner or later reality was going to catch up to us.

  Chapter 18

  Things had been quiet for most of the week, and I felt the seeds of hope starting to bloom. Maybe the killer had given up. After all, if he couldn’t keep the power he was stealing there would be no point in coming after my family again. I was beginning to feel optimistic. Maybe we would never catch him, but if the rest of my family could be safe, I could live with that outcome. Unfortunately on Thursday that week, reality intruded on my idyllic fantasies of a peaceful existence.

  “Agent Morrison, Agent Reece, they need you at this address.” SAIC Hunter handed Morrison a slip of paper with a cryptic, “we have a situation.”

  “What sort of situation?” I questioned him, guardedly.

  “I don’t have any details, only that Denver PD requested your presence at a crime scene.” He explained. “Oh and when you get back, we’ve finally received the video and newspaper articles you requested from New Mexico. I put them in your office Agent Morrison.” He turned and left the office.

  My gut clenched with a terrible sense of foreboding. Why would they request us at a crime scene unless it was connected to our case? Shit. I’d been hoping our spell had thwarted the killer. I really thought we wouldn’t hear from him again.

  We arrived at the address on the slip of paper. It was a charming, cottage bungalow on a quiet, peaceful street. Neighbors gathered in morbid curiosity around the perimeter that had been cordoned off. I’m sure this particular suburban community never thought that the kind of violence they see on the evening news would ever reach their little paradise.

  Police officers littered the street, along with the medical examiner’s truck, photographers, and crime scene units. I no longer had any doubts about this being a murder. Homicides always seemed like a three ring circus to me, it was sad really, at a time when there should be some semblance of privacy out of respect for the victims.

  Morrison and I were escorted quickly to the officer in charge, “I’m Agent Reece and this is Agent Morrison, are you Officer Henry?” I asked politely. Walking onto a crime scene with a police presence had to be handled delicately, police were often territorial. I never understood the animosity, we weren’t there to step on toes we were there to add extra resources.

  “Yes, I’m glad you’re here we have something we were hoping you could explain.” He seemed grateful for our presence as he shook our hands. I would’ve been able to sense it if I wasn’t locked down. I had myself protected to avoid any unwanted emotions from barging in before I was ready.

  Psychic abilities aside, I knew it was going to be gruesome. A few officers leaned against the house for support, their faces ashen. One was even curled over the bushes vomiting, that was never a good sign. The trepidation that had tormented me since Agent Hunter appeared in our office suddenly segued into full out dread. I could no longer entirely block the barrage of emotions exuding from the people at the scene. Feeling the overwhelming revulsion in the air, my stomach began to churn from what I was picking up from them. And I hadn’t even stepped inside, yet. Entering the house was surreal. I felt strangely like a character in a horror flick, about to walk into something guaranteed to give me nightmares. Nervous beyond anything I’d experienced before, I knew it was going to be bad, doubly so because it was my first homicide since the return of my powers. My senses were so much more acute than before, and I wasn’t sure I could shield myself from the victim.

  My anxiety ratcheted up a few degrees when I felt the familiar hum of evil. It was our killer, all right. Though, the evil signature felt weaker—almost diluted somehow, but the general vibe was the same. He’d been in this house.

  I leaned over and whispered to Morrison, “It’s our guy.”

  Alarmed, his eyes widened and he looked at me. “How do you know?”

  “I can feel him.” I answered. “He leaves behind a very distinct energy. I know he was here.”

  Stepping inside the house, the first thing that struck me was the hideous stench. So overpowering, my hands instinctively flew up to cover my face as I fought down the bile rising in my throat. I tried to ignore the coppery, rusty smell of blood that assaulted my senses but it was difficult. I knew right-off that this scene wasn’t going to be like the others. For one thing, there was blood everywhere.

  Standing in the living room, no corpse in sight, the room was covered in blood. Sun glistened in through the windows, glinting and sparkling off the crimson fluid, the cheery sunny day outside in such contrast to the horror inside. How was it possible that the sun could still shine down when such atrocities surrounded us? I thought waywardly as we continued through to the bedroom.

  Vigilantly, I walked into the bedroom, careful to avoid contaminating any evidence. When I finally laid eyes on the barbaric massacre before me, it took a few minutes for my brain to catch up to the images. The first thing my mind eventually recognized was the lifeless face of a young woman, eyes eerie with the glaze of death. Her pale blue irises were open, but still chillingly beautiful. I stared at her, wondering if this poor girl was another cousin, another piece of family I’d never have the chance to know.

  I let my gaze travel over her mangled body. Her chest was ripped open, ribs literally crushed into pieces and lying inside the empty cavity. Cuts, bruises, and burns marred every inch of her creamy pale skin. Desperately I clung to my shields to block what she experienced, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus, especially considering my own emotions were going crazy.

  A slaughter, fuelled by rage and vastly unlike the other murders, this carnage was so different than the methodical and precise ritual he’d maintained with his prior victims. The other scenes were neat and he’d always maintained control. Never before had I sensed any rage. This was quite the opposite. Even though I was blocking him with every ounce of my ability, the anger was still able to seep through. He was incensed…furious.

  Morrison turned, slightly, his back to the body. I heard him suck in a steadying breath before he suddenly gasped and shouted, “oh my god!”

  Turning in his direction, I caught sight of what had startled him. The second I did my stomach revolted and I began to heave. There on the wall, written in blood, was a mes
sage addressed directly to me. SPECIAL AGENT REECE YOU HAVE SOMETHING OF MINE.

  My knees turned to Jell-O as I tried desperately to hold it together and catch my breath. I couldn’t let myself break down. Stay calm. Be professional. “Keep it together Reece,” I whispered like a mantra.

  It’s my fault.

  Those three words rose unbidden in my thoughts and replayed themselves on a loop in my head. Immense guilt devastated me, and ultimately, that was the catalyst that caused me to lose my focus. No longer could I hold my shield. Suddenly, all of my carefully erected guards dropped and I was instantly blasted with a barrage of hideous sensations. Fear, terror, panic, and pain... so much pain. I doubled over and tried desperately to stifle the scream that threatened to burst from my lungs.

  I failed.

  Layered over the fear and agony of his victim, I felt the unadulterated rage and desperation that drove him. He’d kept her here for days, torturing her. The suffering she’d endured, I experienced now. Every single thing he did to her, I felt. Every cut, burn, stab, broken bone and bruise. The sadistic son of a bitch brought her to the point of death, and then healed her and started all over again. He did it repeatedly, over and over.

  In the end, she would’ve been begging him to kill her. He used his blood to keep her awake and conscious while he cut open her chest, crushed ribs and tore out her heart. The pain was more than anyone should ever have to endure.

  I heard my screams, but was powerless to stop it. I don’t know how it was even possible, since I was hyperventilating, barely able to draw enough air into my lungs. I saw nothing but blackness, the pain was literally blinding. With my newly acquired powers and the brutality of the torture, my senses finally overloaded and I threw up. Still, though I was losing control over my body, I fought to gain control of my mind, to get my defenses back in place. But it was too late. I heard voices, but they sounded more and more distant.

  “Brianna! Brianna! Can you hear me?” Morrison’s panicked shouts sounded so far away. I couldn’t make out his words with clarity. “Reece! Get up.”

  “I think she’s going into shock” Someone else said.

  Inexorably, I fought against the darkness that enveloped me, but was inundated by it. Eventually, it was too tiring to keep fighting. It was much easier to give up and let the darkness swallow me. I finally gave in and miraculously, the pain stopped. Finally, I was at peace.

  ***

  Slowly, awareness returned to the constant, droning beep of machinery. Over and over it sounded in an incessant, unbroken rhythm. Where was I? I felt weak, tired, and confused. I couldn’t remember going to sleep. What was the last thing I remembered? Fighting the thick cobwebs in my head, I finally evoked the memory of going with Morrison to a crime scene for the Denver PD.

  Oh shit,—the blood, the pain. Still, I hadn’t opened my eyes, but as the memories returned I heard the rhythmic bleeping sound speed up, becoming faster and more inconsistent.

  “I think she’s waking up.” Morrison. I wondered who he was talking to.

  “Brianna...Brianna, can you hear me?” The sound of Nathan’s voice instantly calmed me, and the erratic rhythm of the machine in the background slowed again. Opening my eyes, I saw Nathan, an agonized look of concern marring his gorgeous features.

  “I can hear you.” I assured him in a gravelly voice. “Stop worrying, I’m fine.”

  Breathing out a sigh of relief, he bowed to kiss my forehead. His lips stayed there for what seemed like a long time before he said, “thank God, I was so concerned.”

  “What happened?” Confused, I tried to sit up a bit but lay back with a groan. Nathan reached for a control on the bed and automatically raised the head so I was in a sitting position.

  “The paramedics said you went into shock.” Morrison explained.

  “Oh God...I’m so embarrassed!” I whimpered.

  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Nathan soothed a hand along my arm.

  I raised a brow, irked. “Do we need to have this discussion again?”

  He chuckled, but it lacked humor. “I am not trying to tell you how you should feel. I merely wanted to point out that you cannot control your body’s physical responses to a stressful situation. It was out of your control.”

  “I know, but I’m an FBI agent, I should’ve been able to control it.” I argued. “It was just too much, I couldn’t bear it.” I realized as I spoke tears streamed freely down my cheeks. “Oh, Nathan... She suffered, and it’s my fault. If...I hadn’t done... the binding spell... that girl would still be alive.” I barely managed the words over my hiccupping sobs.

  “Shhh...Shhh” he lifted my upper body and cradled me, soothingly, in his arms. “Brianna, you cannot bear the responsibility for the actions of a psychopath.” He said, attempting to mollify me.

  “Can’t I? He was angry at losing the power he stole, and he lost control because of that anger.” My voice hitched. “He tortured her, made her suffer, terrified her for days—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Consumed with guilt, I sat there sobbing.

  Nathan didn’t try to calm me, he simply held me, comforting me, allowing me to cry it out while he caressed me until I calmed. Poor Morrison, he stood at my bedside unsure of how to react. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity I managed to settle down and stop crying. “I’m sorry, guys. I don’t know what came over me.” I apologized to both of them.

  “I understand Reece. How do you think I feel? The whole binding idea was mine, so if anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.” Morrison glanced at his hands as he tried to heap the blame onto his shoulders. His remorse was palpable. I sensed it in him, and if anything, he was feeling worse than I was.

  “Morrison, I think Nathan’s right. We can’t blame ourselves for the actions of someone else. This monster has wreaked havoc in so many lives, left a wake of misery and destruction in his quest for power. I’m done beating myself up over this. What I want to do is kill that sick bastard!” I said, vehemently.

  “The victim, was she a Garner witch? Do you know yet?”

  “A DNA sample was sent to the lab and I put a rush on it. I don’t know yet, it’s too early.”

  “Nathan, can you think of anything we can do—I mean magically—to find him?”

  His resigned look gave me the answer to my question before he spoke the words, “I am sorry Brianna. The only thing I have come up with is a divination spell. For that to be successful, however, we need something that belongs to him, but unfortunately he has left nothing behind.”

  “So what do we do, just sit around and wait until he kills someone else?” I snapped impatiently.

  Before he could respond I shook my head and sighed with instant remorse. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. I’m just feeling so helpless, and worried. How many people will he kill until he gets what he wants?”

  Chapter 19

  Despite arguing vehemently for my release, the hospital kept me through the night, concerned because my blood pressure was still high. Nathan firmly refused to leave my side. And I, being the hard-hitting FBI agent I was, would never admit I was relieved to have him there. Even though deep down, I was. Although agent Hunter insisted I take Friday off to recuperate, I was anxious to look at the news footage and articles we’d been waiting for. Co conspiring with Morrison, he promised to bring them by the apartment at noon.

  When Friday rolled around, Nathan tried to stay home to keep an eye on me, but I insisted that he go to work. No point in my interfering more than I already had with his work schedule. While I waited for Morrison’s arrival, my cell phone rang. Answering the call, I expected to hear Nathan’s voice checking up on me—again. When I heard the voice on the other end of the line though, my heart sped. The instant I heard the harsh raspy sound of the male voice coming through the line, I knew it was the killer. Chillingly eerie, his tone sent a frisson of terror zinging down my spine.

  “Did you get my message, witch?” He asked, hoarsely.

  Was he was
trying to disguise his voice?

  “I got your message. You’re a sick son of a bitch.”

  He laughed. A sick, malevolent sound that made my skin crawl.

  “I won’t deny that,” he agreed. “You have two days. If you don’t reverse the spell, someone else dies. Hmmm. Maybe someone close to you? Perhaps your partner, what was his name? Oh, yes Agent Todd Morrison.”

  “Don’t you dare touch him!”

  “Does the thought of me killing him bother you?” He taunted me. “If I do kill him, it’ll be slow and painful. I’ll take my time, enjoy every scream, every whimper, and once he starts to beg I’ll relish it all the more.” He sucked in a shuddering breath, seemingly deriving pleasure at the thought of what he’d just described.

  “Shut your fucking mouth you bastard.” I couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. He was threatening someone I cared about and I had no idea who he was, or how to find him.

  “Mmmm... I think I hit a nerve. Maybe I’ll leave him alone since you asked so nicely, maybe I’ll take your boyfriend instead. I think I’ll have more fun with him anyway.”

  Oh god, not Nathan. My heart constricted and my pulse raced. Yet rather than let him goad me, I turned the tables. “You know, you keep threatening me and I can tell that you’re trying to be the intimidating tough guy, but to me you just sound desperate.” With condescension, I laughed. “Have you been feeling a little weak lately?”

  It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but I wanted to piss him off. Hopefully, he’d come after me, instead of the people I cared about. “I think you keep threatening my friends because you’re afraid of me. How can that be? You’re a big, strong vampire, and I’m just a weak little mortal girl.” I mocked.

  “The only way you’re getting a power boost is straight from my veins… if you can get it asshole.” Jabbing the off button on my phone, my hands shook. Rattled, I sat down, breathed deeply, and attempted to control my rioting nerves.