Hybrid: an Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance:: Othala Witch Collection (Sector 3)

by Apryl Baker

  Copyright © Apryl Baker 2016

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Many years ago, the Original Sixteen witches were able to contain an outbreak of demon-like creatures from overtaking the earth. But doing so came at a cost. For the human race to survive, the world had to be divided into sixteen sectors, trapping the ravagers to the outer lands beyond, and trapping the humans in.

  The Original Sixteen served as regents over each of these sectors, and when they died, the strongest of witches took their place, using their own personal enchantment abilities to protect their sector. In the process, communication was lost. The only solace that remains is the knowledge that if another sector fails, their own may still survive.

  But what happens when your sector is the one to fail? What happens when the world inside your walls is just as bad as the one outside them? In this collection of sixteen dystopian paranormal romance tales, each and every one of the sixteen sectors is about to find out.

  www.fallensorcery.com

  Abomination. The word follows Katyia Dragonovich, bastard daughter of the Regent of Sector Three.

  After being turned over to the vampire clan by the only mother she has ever known, Katyia swears vengeance. Although terrified, she boldly faces her new future, even if it’s an uncertain one with a man who is as cold as the mountain’s ice caps.

  When the vampire clan discovers one of their new turns has been infected with ravager blood, they rally for her extermination. There cannot allow anything carrying the mark of the monstrous creatures that have overrun their world to live among them.

  But Roman Stratcovich, rightful king of the vampire clans, has other plans. This hybrid woman—part witch, part vampire, part ravager—may be the secret to regaining what he’s lost. More than that, however, she’s also the key to unlocking his cold heart.

  The question is, does he want her to?

  The Carpathian Mountains

  Summer, 2095

  The woods were dark and no moon shone through the canopy of branches that led deeper into the trees. Utter silence accompanied her as she made her way along the uneven path. Tree roots teased her steps and she stumbled more than a few times along the way. Rumor told the tale of the forest itself being alive. She shivered, imagining the tree roots trailing along behind her, only to suddenly wind around her legs and drag her away to some horrifying place from which no one ever returned.

  Uneasy, she continued, a lantern her only source of light. The shadows seemed even larger, more sinister because of the frailty of her small light. How she wished any of her armed guard could have traveled here with her, but none of them would have agreed. Nor would they have held back their findings to her husband, the Regent. This was a meeting no one could ever know about. Especially her husband.

  The hut came into view a little while later. Her body sagged with relief. She had been afraid she’d be lost or that one of the ravagers that would occasionally make it through the Regent’s protection would feast on her. That terrified her less than the meeting she was about to commence with, honestly.

  The door opened even before she raised her hand to knock. The stench hit her first. It smelled of rot and stagnation. She gagged and forced her eyes to look upon the hag grinning at her, the yellow and blackened teeth sharpened to razor-like blades. The old woman was short, her cornrows covered in bits of grass and leaves. Her yellow eyes gave the impression of a cat, but that couldn’t be. Shapeshifters had fled this sector long before the protection spells had been cast.

  “Lady Olivia.” Her voice came out as withered sounding as she looked. “Why you here?”

  “I have need of your services, Ivana.”

  Ivana stepped aside and allowed the Regent’s wife to enter. Olivia gazed at the surroundings and barely suppressed a shudder. Woodland animals, all in various decomposing states, lined the walls. Jars and containers of strange things littered the only table in the room. A cooking fire centered the space. Something bubbled in the pot suspended over it, the stench making Olivia’s eyes water.

  “Tell Ivana what you seek.”

  Olivia blinked. She turned back to the hag and tried to focus on her quest instead of the smells assaulting her. “I need to know if any of my children will inherit the title of Regent. My husband’s family have been Regents since the founding of the protection spell in 2016.”

  “Then why worry?” The hag became sly, her movements cagey. “Unless you have reason to think otherwise?”

  Her maid had warned her she must be truthful. Lying would only get her cast out with no answers.

  “None of my sons have shown any magical aptitude. My daughter is only three and too young to know for certain if she’s inherited any gifts.”

  Ivana came closer and sniffed her. She cringed, swallowing bile. Disdainful eyes locked with hers. “You are human. No magic.”

  How could she tell just by smelling her? Did magic have a certain odor? Or was it a gift the old woman had?

  “No, I am not magic born, but I do have power, just a different type of power.”

  “You ruthless.” Ivana nodded as if this were good. “You afraid of losing all that power. No child with magic, no title, no power.”

  As much as she wanted to deny it, it was the crux of her dilemma, for the most part. “And afraid of losing my children’s birthright.”

  Ivana laughed, the sound ugly and loud. “No birthright. A Regent is whoever pass the test of choosing.”

  “My daughter will pass that test.” Nicolette had magic. She knew it in her bones. The child differed from her brothers. She spent hours amusing herself with things none of them could see.

  “You bring things I need?”

  Olivia pulled the leather bag out of her coat pocket. Inside were bits of cloth with her children’s blood, her blood, and her husband’s blood. It had taken considerable effort to gain these things without suspicion.

  Ivana pulled a bowl from under one of the carcasses and used what Olivia thought was her overcoat to wipe it clean. She collected several vials and then sat by the fire and began to measure the contents of the vials, throwing them into the bowl. Next went in the bits of cloth Olivia had collected. Ivana motioned her over and she reluctantly went. Before she understood what was happening, the hag had sliced Olivia’s palm open and let the blood drip down onto the concoction between them. Smoke billowed up and Olivia smelled the awful odor of burnt flesh. She gagged and staggered back, but the old hag stared hypnotically into the mixture, her lips moving wordlessly.

  “A child of the Regent will inherit the power.” The words tumbled out, the sound of her voice hollow. “She will be more than a witch; she will be everything.”

  Pride swelled inside of Olivia. She knew
it, she knew her daughter would inherit her father’s gifts.

  “Be warned,” Ivana interrupted her rejoicing. “The path is not clear. I see two daughters, but the spirits do not say which girl.”

  Rage burned through Olivia. That girl. The one her husband had brought into their home, the one who reminded her every day of his infidelity. The girl she wanted to beat until she stopped moving, stopped breathing. That child would not inherit the title of Regent, no matter what Olivia had to do to stop it.

  “Ruthless,” Ivana chuckled, her laugh echoing through the tiny cottage.

  “When it comes to my family, yes, I am.”

  “You bring Ivana her goodies?” Excitement bubbled in the worn face.

  Olivia cringed, but she reached into her coat and pulled forth four tiny kittens. She feared for their fate, but it was worth it to know about the viper in her home, the future treachery.

  Ivana snatched the kittens from her and stuffed them into one of her many pockets. “Go now. You have what you need.”

  That she did. This trip was worth all the hardship of getting here. She bid her goodbyes and started the trek home, her mind whirling with ways to separate her daughter from the bastard girl she called sister.

  Nicolette would be the next Regent.

  Semmendhold

  Winter, 2110

  The wind scattered her hair and the hard stones bit the soles of her feet as she ran. Snow danced in the air and the cold made her shiver despite her heavy winter coat. Katyia should never have allowed her friend to entice her away from the manor today, especially with the big party going on tonight. Her father would be displeased if she were late, and God help her explain to Olivia why she wasn’t on time. Her stepmother would enjoy punishing her.

  She glanced sideways and saw some of the guard heading her way. She ducked behind the trees, her fingers grazing the magical ward that made up the wall separating their region from the infested outlands. Not a single spark traveled up her arm and she paused. Laying her hand flat against the barrier, she waited to feel the magic course through her. Nothing. Something was not right. There should be a heat signature, a magical fingerprint of sorts that told her the ward was still active. A faint pulse fluttered against her palm. Katyia knew what this meant. The magic in the barrier was dying.

  Did her father know? He must, though. His magic was tied to the ward. Surely he felt it weakening. He had been cloistered in the council room for the past month with his advisors. Recently, strangers had been seen going in and out of the manor. If he knew of the problem, it would reason he’d be actively working to find a solution.

  The manor loomed just ahead, but she paused, torn. She needed to get inside before anyone discovered she was gone, but the barrier called to her to test it. If her father didn’t know, then she should at least gather more information so she could bring her concerns to him. It was her duty as a daughter of Sector Three to protect its people. Even if the only ones who knew she could wield magic were her father and her oldest brother, Gavin.

  Mind made up, Katyia started walking again. Keeping her hand flat against the wall, she felt for the magic. It was like a baby bird’s wings beating beneath her hand, faint, but struggling to survive. Katyia moved away from the manor, and just as she feared, the pulse became so hard to detect that if a ravager wanted in, there would be no stopping one of the creatures. Perhaps that was why there were added guards on the walls closer to the manor house and the main village?

  She passed the bakery and then the market on the outskirts of the village. Calling it a town would be more apt, but Katyia always thought of her home as a village. The entire village was encased in a fifteen-foot-high wall, lending to the village-like feel of the place. The people and the structures were very quaint too. She’d grown up playing in the town square, running through the markets, and causing her brothers all sorts of headaches while they tried to keep her out of trouble. She loved her home and its people.

  She stopped at the gate leading to the outside. The guards were changing shifts and it would be easy to sneak through, and she needed to understand the breadth of the problem. Once she saw the guard walk down, she slipped out and hurried along the now invisible barrier to the tree line. The beating pulse of the magic grew weaker and weaker. Glancing back once, she pressed her hand firmly against the ward and began to walk, measuring the heartbeats of the magic.

  Once she was out of view of the village gate, even the faint pulses stopped. For all intents and purposes, there was no barrier in this area. Alarm spread through her at this realization. Her eyes swept the countryside, the snowy mountains as unforgiving as ever. She shouldn’t have come this far out of the village. It wasn’t safe, especially if the barrier wasn’t working anymore.

  Katyia slipped her dagger out. Not that it would do much good against a ravager, one of the creatures that had overrun the planet and turned it into a giant wasteland. Only the sectors guarded behind the barriers promised safety from the monstrous beasts. If the magic failed, no one would be safe anymore.

  She glanced at the sky; its dwindling light sent shivers of fear spiraling through her. She’d been out here longer than planned. No way would she get back inside without Olivia knowing. At least with the party tonight, her stepmother wouldn’t risk leaving a mark on her, she thought bitterly. Nothing she did pleased the only mother she’d ever known. Maybe one day she’d earn Olivia’s love, but not today. Today, she’d be in for a tongue lashing.

  Picking up her skirts, she ran. Dusk was falling and she needed to get back inside the city walls. A sound slowed her footsteps a few minutes later. It echoed through the small valley like a lion’s roar. Katyia stumbled, her ears straining to discern the direction. It was a sound she knew well, a sound that would forever haunt her.

  Clutching her dagger, she let her gaze sweep over the surroundings. Where was it?

  There, just to her right, Katyia caught movement and turned her body in that direction, crouched like her brothers had taught her to do when preparing to fight. Yellow eyes, much like the lions she’d seen in books, glittered in the darkness of the forest. Panic tried to freeze her in place, but she pushed back old fears and took several deep breaths to calm herself, preparing to roll. She gathered a handful of dirt and let the spell roll through her mind. All she had to do was throw the handful of earth at just the right moment, releasing the spell, and she’d give herself a running head start on the creature. She hoped.

  The albino skinned creature slithered across the ground, blending in with the snowy landscape. All ravagers seemed to mutate and adapt to their surroundings. Each sector had their own unique breed. The ones in Sector Three could jump better than any deer and run faster than a cheetah of old. Katyia knew without disorienting it to the point it couldn’t see, she had no chance.

  The creature held a certain grace—beautiful, really—if you could get past the glossy sheen of its body, a shine that resembled mucous. Claws made for climbing the treacherous mountains dug into the earth as the long, muscular arms pulled it ever closer to Katyia. She tensed, preparing to run like hell.

  It hissed, razor sharp teeth barred, the fangs dripping paralyzing venom. The ravagers in her sector liked to disable their victims and torment them as they lay dying. She’d even heard the creatures kept their prey alive for days sometimes just for the hell of it. They were smart, cunning, and cruel. No one made the mistake of thinking they weren’t intelligent, at least not anymore. In the beginning, when they’d invaded, the world had thought they were mindless creatures seeking havoc for the sheer joy of it. After having decimated over two-thirds of the world’s population, the survivors admitted they’d underestimated the creatures.

  A mistake Katyia wouldn’t make. She knew them better than most. Keeping her eyes on it, she inched further back. Distance was the key. As long as she made no sudden movements, she hoped it wouldn’t spring into action. Right now, it was banking on her fear. She was banking on her survival instincts coupled with her magic.

&n
bsp; It cocked its head, sizing her up, determining her threat level. The eyes deepened to a soft amber, the glow harsh against the brightness of the snow. The hand holding the dirt began to shake. The leg muscles were bunching, tensing, preparing to jump. Katyia stood her ground, and it growled. She wouldn’t be a victim, not again. She was a fighter.

  If she’d blinked, she would have missed it. It launched itself at her, flying through the air faster than anything that could be explained. She crouched and waited until it was a hair’s breadth from her, and then she tossed the loose dirt in its face, the spell erupting with it. The ground beneath them shook and twisted, the earth lashing out, catching the ravager off guard. A wall of dirt sprang up between them as the creature fought to see through the blinding barrier.

  Katyia wasted no time. She sprang up and ran, paying no mind to the harsh rocks beneath her slipper clad feet. She just had to make it to the village gate, where the barrier was still active. The spell bought her precious little time, but hopefully it would be enough. She flew up the path she’d followed, ignoring the haunting screams behind her, refusing to look back at the creature who stalked her. She clutched her dagger tighter, the familiar feel of the blade comforted her, if nothing else.

  Just run, she told herself. Make it home and you’ll be safe.

  The cries of the ravager intensified. Her lungs burned, but she pushed on. It was behind her. Terror gripped Katyia, but the sensation only forced her feet to go faster. The smell was unmistakable, like burnt flesh coupled with lavender. A smell she could never forget.

  Claws tangled in her hair and she whimpered, unable to stop the sound. Old memories flooded her mind, but she pressed on, running faster. Panic crept up her spine when the wickedly sharp claws sliced through her dress, gouging her side. She only felt a slight sting, but she knew it had to be worse than that. Adrenaline kept the pain at bay. Gripping her dagger, she twirled, striking out and catching the creature square in the face. When she completed her twirl, she kept running. Maybe those ballet classes she’d been forced to endure had paid off after all.