Hunted Witch Agency Box Set Books 4-5 (Hunted Witch Agency Set Book 2)

by Rachel Medhurst

  Giving me a ‘shut the fuck up, Devon’ look, Gerard cleared his throat. “What was Vernon into that caused them to report it? What did the letter say?”

  “I’m glad you asked, my friend,” Kurt said dramatically. He should’ve been an actor in another life. “Vernon was obviously working with Helena, even though she hated him. It looks like he was the first one to suggest that she pass some of the magic on. Even though she hated him, she was addicted to him, so she struggled to let go.”

  That was understandable. I was already addicted to Mr Gerard Hot-pants. No, that wasn’t a good one. Ugh. His nicknames were just not as cool anymore.

  Justina took over. They made a cute agent duo with all their catching the bad guy excitement. “We linked Vernon to the man in London, who is in contact with both Keith and Cameron.”

  “There’s more!” Kurt was almost hopping out of his seat. “The letter sent by the witch from the Edinburgh coven said that she would tell the world what her coven was doing to the drugs that were being sent up there. The lead helped me to-”

  “They’re doing something to the drugs? What?” I blurted, unable to keep my insides from shaking as I listened to the drama.

  “Don’t interrupt me, impatient woman,” Kurt scolded, his eyebrows low because I’d ruined his moment.

  Laughing, I held my hands up and retreated into my chair again. It seemed that when Kurt had the floor, it was best to let him have it.

  “We were able to find a delivery company that takes a rather large amount of boxes from London to Edinburgh every other week. On the opposite week, Keith comes down to London.”

  My mouth wanted to burst open, but it was too much of a risk. Being told off by Kurt could be lethal. Especially as his inner diva came out.

  “It makes sense that he brings the drugs back,” Gerard said, tapping his hands against his thighs.

  Thrusting to his feet again, Kurt slapped his friend on the back. “Exactly! It makes perfect sense. We just need to catch him doing it. The letter went on to say that there was someone new at the factory who had asked her to add a little something extra after whatever they did to the drugs. That sounds suspicious to me.”

  Clenching and unclenching my fists, I took a slug of tea. My anxiety was through the roof, feeding off Kurt’s excitement. He was itching to get to the Edinburgh coven, I could tell.

  “It’s Cameron we need to approach. We need to know if he knows about the ‘little extra’, which is probably the poison. However, he’s a tough man to get hold of, especially if you’re an agent.” Justina stretched her neck from side to side as she waved Kurt to his chair.

  “Okay,” I said, rubbing the tension free from my own neck without jolting Kingsley. “How do we get to him?”

  Kurt put his elbows on the table, eyeing Justina as she nodded at him. “We just have to go for him.”

  “Go…” Gerard started.

  “For him?” I finished.

  As our gaze met, we smiled. Our connection was growing quickly, but I never thought we would finish each other’s sentences. How cute!

  “It’s started already,” Kurt muttered. “Yes, go for him. If he won’t come quietly, we’ll have to take him by force.”

  Chapter Ten

  The house groaned as the front door slammed. Being on my own with Kingsley for the first time in a very long time made me happy. A grin spread across my face as he nudged my chin.

  “Shall I show you around?” I said to him, laughing when he squeaked.

  Getting up from the chair, I swung around the kitchen, feeling normal for once. The dirty plates on the draining board caught my eye. Flicking my hand, I cast a Fantasia spell. The taps suddenly turned on, the water splashing into the bowl. Cups and plates started to jump in, somehow washing themselves.

  Laughing to myself, I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs. The others had gone out to do some research. It was decided that it was safer for me to stay inside after what had happened. Just for a few days.

  “And this…” I paused as I placed my hand on our bedroom door handle.

  The thump of something on the floor above me made me look up. Was Mary okay? Shaking myself, I dismissed her and moved towards the living area. It didn’t feel right showing Kingsley the bedroom I shared with my man.

  The door above me sounded as it opened. “Devon?” Mary called.

  Tempted to ignore her, I sighed to myself. The old woman was lovely, but I was slowly getting tired of the Gerard jokes.

  Moving to the bottom of the stairs, I opened the door that led up. “What can I do for you?”

  A light flicked on at the top of the stairwell. Mary’s face beamed down at me. “Come up. I think we need to talk.”

  My palms perspired as I ascended the stairs. Something about the tone of Mary’s voice made my insides shiver. Whatever she wanted to say was serious.

  As my feet trundled up the steps, Kingsley moved to the end of my shoulder. When we reached the top, Mary stood back and let us through, holding her hand out to stroke my pet rat.

  “He’s gorgeous.”

  Apparently, Kingsley also liked Mary. He batted his little head against her fingers in greeting. That was a good sign. If my best friend didn’t like a person, I knew that there was something wrong.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked Mary as we moved into her living space.

  For some inexplicable reason, I was nervous. Anxiety made me lightheaded as I followed the instruction of the seer when she pointed to the wall with paintings on.

  Slinking across the room, I gazed at the lines that made pictures. The colours were pastel, understated. Mary came to stand beside me as I studied the figures on the wall.

  “This is you,” she said, pointing at the back of a figure.

  It was a new picture. The one I’d seen of my featureless face was gone. In this one, my jeans and jacket were spot on. The long black hair that cascaded down my back was almost identical to how it looked now. Untidy. Unkempt.

  In front of the painted version of me, there was a bigger man. From the tone of his skin and the bulk of his stomach, I deduced that it was Maxwell.

  “When did you add him?” Pressing my finger forward, I traced the outline of Maxwell’s bulk.

  Mary took a deep breath before she reached out and grabbed my hand in a vicelike grip.

  “What are you doing?” I said, trying to fight the urge to automatically defend myself.

  “You’re constantly battling.”

  Letting go of me, she shuffled away. I stared after her, unsure whether to take her seriously. Yes, I had been battling my whole life. That wasn’t anything new. I was half witch, half warlock. The two parts often had arguments in my mind. Surely, she knew I was a bit strange? Not that anyone else would agree. Who was I kidding? Everyone would agree.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I quipped, looking back at the picture.

  My gaze followed the wall to the other end. Something there made my breath leave my lungs in a rush. Going over, I placed my hands on the painting. No. Was this a joke?

  “Who’s that?”

  Lowering herself on the sofa, Mary waved for me to join her. Taking one last look at the coffin on the wall, I retreated.

  My shaking hands grasped Kingsley as I tried to steady myself. Sitting next to the seer, I put Kingsley on my chest. He snuggled down, going to sleep instantly. He was just happy to be with his mum.

  Pointing at the table, Mary indicated that I should pick up the pack of tarot cards. I hadn’t even thought about using tools to help me with my magic. I didn’t need them anymore. Having direct access to both warlock and witch magic made it easier for me to perform spells.

  “You’re not going to answer me, are you?” I already knew that she wouldn’t.

  A tiny quirk of her lip was the only thing that made me aware that she had heard me. She was staring at the cards, willing me to pick them up.

  Trying my hardest not to huff, I did as she asked. Shuffling the cards, I almos
t rolled my eyes at the inadequacy of my senses when touching them. Power wasn’t in the tools used. Power was within you. And although I hadn’t long had this amount of power, I was quickly growing accustomed to it. The idea of letting it go made me feel sick to the stomach. Maybe that was the problem.

  “I can hear your thoughts running around in there,” Mary said. “You’re often on edge, constantly anxious.”

  Frowning, I shook my head in disagreement. I had been more relaxed in Edinburgh than I was in London. Hadn’t I?

  “I see things, Devon. I’m also extremely intuitive, meaning that I can pick up on stuff that I can’t see. You’re overloaded with power, unable to channel it properly.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I looked down at the cards in my hands. Maybe she was right. I felt invincible, yet, if I didn’t release magic at least every single day, I started to feel on edge. My awesomeness was being counteracted by the anxiety that came with it. An anxiety that I wasn’t aware was starting to get out of control.

  “What do I do?”

  “You pull three cards.”

  My fingers shook visibly as I flicked out three cards. Laying them face up, I cringed as I tried to remember their meanings.

  Sitting forward, Mary studied them, tiny sounds coming from her mouth. I couldn’t tell whether they were positive or negative. “Well,” she started, jabbing a hand at each card. “…this confirms it. You, my dear child, are addicted to the magic that runs through your veins. No person should be able to hold that amount. I’ve been having visions of what could happen if we don’t get that link out of you. It isn’t pretty.”

  The trembling of my hands worsened. I’d been so engrossed in the new case, I hadn’t taken notice of how often I was using the magic. No wonder humans were addicted to the drug. It made me feel invincible. Just like it must have done for them.

  “Can you help me?” The plea was barely above a whisper.

  Asking for help had never been my strong point. In fact, I often ran away from my problems before I faced them. Had Gerard noticed what was going on with me? He’d told me to be careful, but did he really know how bad it was?

  The answer resounded in my head at the exact moment I had that thought. I was hiding it well, like most addicts did.

  “Your dagger,” Mary said, gesturing to the pocket in my jacket. “You use it sometimes, don’t you?”

  Snapping out of it, I went back into agent mode. “Of course. It’s a weapon that I need to use when I’m in the field.”

  Taking the blade out, I held it as Kingsley moved up to my shoulder again. The heat of his little body was soothing as he snuggled into my neck.

  “No.” Taking the dagger from me, Mary touched the tip to the floor. “You channel your warlock magic through it.”

  Watching her closely, I fought the urge to snatch my weapon back. It was a part of me now. I could never be without it. It was basically my extended hand. Although, that was a bit weird. I didn’t have blades for hands, I wasn’t that much of a freak. Well…

  “I do.”

  There was no need to elaborate. As it turned out, Mary was obviously a good seer. She probably knew everything about me.

  Placing the dagger on the table in front of us, Mary turned to me and took my hand in hers. “I’m not a medium,” she whispered. “But, your ancestors have been coming to me in my dreams.”

  My mouth gaped open. Ancestors? Hadn’t I pissed them off when I was a kid? Helena used me to create a spell that twisted pure magic. I thought I’d been blacklisted ever since then. Whatever that meant in the spirit world.

  “What do they want?” I finally asked after a moment of silence.

  Studying the wrinkles on Mary’s face, I waited for her answer. She was wearing a blue dress today, her grey hair twisted up into a bun. The usual smiley face was serious.

  Her lips pursed before she spoke, a grimace coming over her face. “I need to tune into them now. They want to talk to you.”

  If I was shaking before, my whole body was now vibrating. The ancestors wanted to talk to me? Which ones? Although, I’d never heard of warlocks being able to connect to the warlocks of the past. It would be the Essex witches. What if they were going to tell me off?

  Swallowing, I nodded my consent, not able to find the words to reply. If Justina trusted Mary, I trusted her too.

  “Okay,” Mary said, sitting back against the chair as she let go of my hands. “I never do this, but they won’t leave me alone until I give you their message.”

  As her eyes closed, she shuddered slightly. My gaze went to the dagger on the table automatically. The substance that I was addicted to wasn’t visible. Maybe my connection to the dagger was the physical manifestation of needing something to make me feel better.

  “Devon,” Mary muttered. “Please invite your ancestors to come forward. Place your hand on the dagger, and whisper the spell you learned as a child.”

  The spell? What one? Helena had taught me quite a few. Chewing my lip, I racked my brain. My heartbeat sped up as images of Helena came into my mind. She had confused me as a child, telling me that it was okay to connect to the ancestors. I didn’t know it was wrong, but my mother had tried to correct me as I grew older.

  “Memories are coming back.” Clenching my hands in my lap, I tried to relax my muscles.

  My eyelids fluttered shut as I reached for the dagger, my fingers automatically wrapping around the blade’s handle. An image popped into my head, causing me to jump.

  Kingsley moved down my body and tucked himself onto my lap. He was trying to support me as images filled my mind. Women in long dresses were being tied to stakes, their eyes wide with fear. A man recited a passage from the bible condemning them to death for witchcraft. These women were my ancestors, I could feel it.

  “You don’t need a spell. The ley line is strong enough to bring them forth.” Mary sat back, making herself comfortable. “I can see what you’re seeing. I can also hear them.”

  The women’s mouths were stretched open, the screams that were wrenched from them silent to my ears. It was dark, so dark. Except for the flames as they started to build. Shaking my head, I tried to rid the scene that was unfolding. I understood. Witches had always been persecuted. Even when humans had no proof, they would find a way to execute any woman who was suspicious of using witchcraft. They had no idea.

  “This is your ancestors’ way of connecting to you.” Mary fidgeted in her seat. “They have two things they want to tell you. Are you ready to hear them?”

  As the screaming witches disappeared, I nodded. “Yes. I’m ready to hear what they have to say.”

  The images in my mind distorted, changing to the dagger. My dagger.

  “The Essex dagger was never meant to be used to hold warlock magic. It was created to protect their line. When it’s used properly, it’s one of the most powerful weapons in the world.”

  That made sense. Why else would other witches call it the ancient Essex dagger? The warlocks were not from the Essex line which meant that the ability to drain my magic into it came from my Essex side.

  Another image formed in my mind. I was a child, bent over the grimoire writing the spell that my grandmother had forced me to create. Seeing the view from this angle made me gasp. Helena was sporting a ridiculously eerie grin. The evil had already got to her.

  “It’s time to let her go,” Mary said, interrupting the playback of the time I’d unknowingly committed my worst witch crime. “They forgive you. It was never your fault.”

  Tears prickled the back of my eyes, making my throat close. They were right, I’d had no idea what I’d been doing. Helena had made it out to be okay.

  I hadn’t even realised that I’d needed to be forgiven by them. However, the weight that lifted off my heart made me feel better. I wasn’t an evil witch. I was coerced into doing something that was totally against the rules of nature.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, not quite sure who I was talking to.

  The image in my mind
changed to the dagger glowing with an ethereal white light. A woman in a medieval outfit picked it up and waved it above her head. Closing her eyes, she cast a spell, touching the tip of the blade to the ground.

  The earth was sketched out into a pentagram, candles sitting on each point of the star. What was she casting?

  “The way you’re using your dagger is very similar to how they used it, except for the pure magic. You need to cleanse the weapon before you try and use it again.”

  I’d grown so used to filling it with my warlock magic, it would take some practice to do it the other way round. Maybe that would have helped in the first place. Balancing out my two sides had been hard when I wasn’t connected to either the ley line or the warlock main link.

  “Okay.” I wasn’t going to deny that they were right. They knew the dagger more than I did, which meant I would try and use it properly.

  “There is one more thing,” Mary said.

  The tightness of her voice made my eyes fling open. She wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead as she opened her eyes. “I’ve been seeing this in my dreams, and it’s disturbing me.”

  Swallowing, I gestured for her to tell me. My feet were rooted to the ground, my blood rushing in my ears. It wasn’t like Mary to be nervous. It had to be something serious.

  “They said,” she started, clearing her throat as she shook herself. “…that you have to marry an Essex witch if you want to stay connected to the ley line.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Marry an Essex witch? She was crazy, wasn’t she? Yes? Apparently not. My skin itched all over as I kept the secret to myself. I’d not been able to tell Gerard as we’d weaponed up and headed out.

  “We have search warrants from the Scottish government, but I don’t want to use them.” Justina clipped the bullet magazine into her handgun.

  I kept my gaze away from Gerard, watching my boss intently. We were in the lower car park of Cameron Fieldman’s business office block. Our van had sneaked in, probably detected by Cameron’s high spelled wards. We didn’t care. We wanted him to know we were coming.