Hooked On A Witch (Keepers of the Veil)

by Zoe Forward

  HOOKED ON A WITCH

  A KEEPERS OF THE VEIL NOVEL

  ZOE FORWARD

  Copyright © 2017 by Zoe Forward. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Cover design © 2017 by Quincy Marin

  Cover art from istock.com/weareadventurers

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, or transmitted in any for by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.

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

  Published in the United States of America.

  Terms

  Alternate dimension/dimension hop: Each of the seven Pleiades witches possesses the magical ability to travel to a unique alternate dimension where the year is the same but everything is slightly different. Origin of the dimensions: long ago, at the pleading of the Pleiades’ father, Atlas, Zeus created an alternate dimension for each of the original Pleiades goddesses to disappear into in order to avoid the unwanted advances of Orion. The ability was then passed on to the eldest female human descendant of each Pleiad.

  Death reaper: Human descendant of the underworld god, Hades. Required to shuttle evil human souls to hell at the command of Hades.

  Keepers of the Veil: The seven Pleiades witches are the keepers of the veil, or gate, which stands between our world and the afterlife world of their ancestors. The seven must convene at a Confirmation on the last night of Samhain every twenty years to assure the ancestors all is well. If any of the seven miss, the ancestors will cross into our world in anger. Then chaos will ensue.

  Pleiades: The seven Greek goddess daughters of Atlas and the sea nymph Pleione, known as Sterope, Calaeno, Electra, Maia, Merope, Taygete, and Alcyone.

  Pleiades witch: The eldest human female descendant of one of the seven Pleiades Greek goddesses. Each possesses a unique preternatural power and the ability to hop to an alternate dimension.

  Sentry druid: Celtic druid capable of a distinctive supernatural ability. Sworn to protect the Pleiades witches. The Greek gods often choose a mate for the Pleiades witches from the ranks of the Sentry druids.

  Chapter One

  Shannon squinted into the setting sun’s glare in the rearview mirror. No new cars. Stay alert.

  A minivan ran a stop sign to pull in front of her, forcing her to slam the brakes hard.

  “Jesus.” She gripped the wheel. Heart pounding, she resumed speed on the two-lane.

  A quick recheck of the rearview mirror showed nothing had changed. She expected her bodyguard, Eli, to round the corner in his truck at any moment.

  You should be relieved. She wasn’t. Deep down, she wished he hadn’t accepted the coffee she’d offered him earlier. Given his ability to quick-heal, his body would power through the sleeping potion’s effects in no time. She had to do this meeting alone, even though she’d never before bargained with a black market dealer to buy a magical relic.

  The Port Royal Bar might be a public place, and one she frequented whenever she visited South Carolina, but that didn’t make it a safe zone from those willing to use magic to attack.

  The bar’s packed parking lot forced her to settle for a spot at the end of a row far from the entrance. Even though not an official spot, no one cared. They wouldn’t enforce towing on a Friday night.

  Before she unlatched her seatbelt, she studied the lot for auras. Her palm caressed the handle of the Glock in the cup holder. The old Shannon, the one who existed prior to her mother’s murder eight weeks ago, would’ve waltzed up to the front door, oblivious of dangers that lurked in the dark. She rubbed her stomach where the reminder of what happened when she let her guard down festered as a peculiar, sometimes painful, scar.

  A predator would stand in the trees at the far end of the lot where shadows masked everything. Leaves rustled as a coastal breeze passed through, but nothing moved in the darkness. No black or red auras swirled in the air.

  Her cell phone dinged with a message from her best friend.

  Jen: Harnish confirmed for 8:15. I barely trust him. Don’t like that he required you go alone.

  She put the Glock in the glove box and tucked a knife into her jeans before replying: No choice. Countdown clock’s ticking.

  Jen: Be careful.

  Shannon: As long as you believe this guy has what he says, then this is a go.

  Jen: I’ve only bought potion ingredients off him, but he said he had it.

  Shannon: I’ll text after.

  Heat, typical of a humid July evening, assaulted her outside the car. Usually, she loved everything about the hot summer nights of South Carolina. Not tonight. The instant sheen of sticky sweat beneath her shirt irritated her. She fanned the shirt to promote air flow and angled her steps in a shortcut to the bar’s entrance.

  Something wild and bottomless, a feral tangle of rage and hate, bubbled upward. It pushed beyond the anxiety and fatigue that had plagued her for days. She would fight to the bitter end to live and to save her family. A surge of energy carried her inside the bar. Maybe it wasn’t energy at all, but desperation.

  No man of Asian descent sat at the bar. She chose a stool and empty one beside it. Her cell phone indicated three minutes before the designated time. Did protocol dictate she be late to this kind of meeting?

  A guy leaned in beside her. “Hey, gorgeous. Here alone? Wanna join us?”

  She recognized him as someone who’d been three years ahead of her in high school, but didn’t recall his name. The guy nodded his chin toward a table with two other guys and six empty beer bottles.

  “No, thanks. I’m waiting for someone.” She forced herself to smile.

  “If he doesn’t show, we’ll be over there.” He left with three beers.

  She scanned for auras, picking up nothing evil. However, she did pick up another person with magical abilities.

  Her heart rate sped up. Maybe Eli had caught up with her.

  No. The preternatural power came from a tall man in a dark long-sleeved shirt with his back to her, leaning against the wall in conversation with another guy. She openly ogled the hard lines of his worship-worthy body from his biceps, which flexed beneath the shirt as he took a swig of his beer, to the tattoos on his neck and hands.

  He was hot. And not passingly hot, but more like I can-make-you-come-with-a-look hot.

  What’s wrong with you?

  She tore her eyes away to look for the reason she was here. No Harnish yet.

  Her gaze drifted back to the stranger. Was he druid, warlock, or something else? No menacing aura colors came off him. One more second of gawking wasn’t going to hurt.

  His head swiveled in her direction. Caught.

  Good Lord. She knew him.

  Jason Merck. She’d thought about him a time or two—okay maybe more than a few dozen times—since she’d come down from New York City to her family’s coastal estate two days ago in preparation for this meeting. Ten years since she and Jason had…

  You don’t need this distraction. He must’ve concurred since he disappeared into the pool hall in the back without acknowledging her. His dismissal hurt, even though it shouldn’t matter.

  “Shannon?” asked a heavily accented male voice.

  She jumped. With a turn she faced the Asian standing less than a foot away. On reflex she accepted
his outstretched hand for a shake.

  She’d expected someone older, someone with graying hair, not a guy barely out of adolescence with short-cut dark hair and small glasses.

  He slid onto the open barstool next to her.

  “How does this work?” she asked.

  “Buy me a drink. I like rum.” He smiled a wide expanse of white teeth but his eyes remained sharp. The smile wasn’t for her. It was for those nearby. In the South everyone watched, keen to witness others’ business. An Asian in the bar would be the talk of the hair salon tomorrow.

  As they waited for their drinks, she drummed her fingers. Small talk with him seemed absurd. Besides, he ignored her to scroll through screens on his cell phone. His body tensed and lips thinned as he read a message. Anger and fear aura hues swirled around him, but then went to gray, which was a color she couldn’t interpret. It represented the intersection of many emotions. Only when she knew a person well could she put context and personality together to understand a gray aura’s meaning.

  What if this didn’t work and the item was a fake? She dreaded the disappointment of another dead end in a series of failures. Her family depended on her. They may consist of druids and witches who could protect themselves against humans or magical beings of equal ability, but not against her would-be executioner.

  Her reflection in the mirror behind the bar startled her. The wide-eyed woman wasn’t her. It couldn’t possibly be Shannon Randolph, the adventure camerawoman who filmed documentaries and journalistic pieces in unstable countries. The Shannon she was familiar with had happy blue eyes and an easy smile. That woman liked making people laugh and encouraging others to try new things.

  Everything had changed when her mother was murdered and she’d been framed for theft.

  Harnish stopped typing when the bartender slid their drinks in front of them. He took a single sip of the rum. “I emailed you the account. Transfer the bitcoin. Once I have the money, I’ll give it to you.”

  A few clicks on her phone and the bitcoin she’d spent an hour last night learning how to purchase had been sent.

  His phone dinged.

  “Got it. The scrying glass is yours.” He removed a small cloth-wrapped item from his cargo pants and put it in her hand. His face scrunched up as he gave her a cursory once-over. “You don’t look the type to use this sort of thing. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Any hints?” The item in the soft cloth emitted a foul energy that alarmed her. Instinct urged she give it back to Harnish and find another way. This is the end of the line.

  “Not my area of expertise. I sell. You use.”

  She shoved the small, wrapped item into her jeans and stood. Dizzy, she grabbed the wooden bar counter. Fatigue played a factor in her stress of the past few weeks, but she hadn’t experienced vertigo before. Maybe this was reaction to the item?

  “You sure you’re feeling alright?” He flashed a weird smile before it disappeared.

  Crap. She’d been played.

  Chapter Two

  Shannon moaned and tried to rub her forehead, which throbbed like the morning after a late night tequila binge. Her hands were locked behind her.

  Handcuffs? What the hell?

  She seesawed her wrists. They’d bruise from the abuse, but she needed her hands free. The handcuffs didn’t loosen. Courage abandoned her. Her throat worked, closing tight. She felt herself flying apart, felt her control shredding.

  Deep breaths. Don’t freak. Look around.

  This wasn’t the bar. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with assorted items. Three tables littered with antiques sat to her right. The smell of musty air mixed with cleanser reminded her of an old public building.

  “If your wrists are bound, you can’t dimension hop to escape, but you can still use magic to protect yourself.” Her mother’s instruction from long ago blasted through her brain. The concept of jumping from this reality to another, where the people and time was similar and yet not, was mind-blowing and not something she’d attempted.

  The only exit from the windowless room was a closed door fifteen feet away, perhaps locked.

  Get up. Test the door. Leave before whoever brought you here comes back.

  Her neck tingled as if someone watched her.

  More Mom words drifted through her mind. “If captured, don’t show the enemy your fear, honey, and don’t come unglued.”

  She schooled her expression to reflect blankness. Her best option to defend herself was magic. She wasn’t sure how to use the mysterious ability to manipulate elements, which she’d inherited mere weeks ago. Yesterday’s experimental attempt to control wind whipped up a tornado that almost killed her. She wished she’d paid a bit more attention when her mother discussed how to control the powers. Too bad the magic couldn’t break the handcuffs.

  A man stood with his back against the wall in the dark corner nearest the exit. He was taller and broader than Harnish.

  She pushed her witchy senses to read his aura, but it didn’t work.

  No, no, no. Come on. Work!

  Pain throbbed behind her eyes as she swung her legs over the edge of the slatted wooden bench. She struggled upright.

  “Good nap, Miss Shannon?” her watcher drawled in a rich Southern accent. His leg dropped off the wall to the floor.

  Energy buzzed through her head and resonated deep in her chest. Uh-oh. Even if she couldn’t see the colors of his aura and gauge his intent, the energy coming off him signified some sort of magical power. He might be another warlock or sorcerer after that which she didn’t have.

  “Who’re you?” Her heart thump-thumped piercingly between her ears.

  “Does your head hurt?” His deep, rugged voice resonated with concern. His arrogant stance seemed familiar.

  “Do we know each other?” She blinked past her head pain to see details. The set of his lips communicated a clear my-way-or-else attitude, but she couldn’t make out his face above his mouth. She needed to see his eyes.

  “Everyone knows you’ve come down from New York. The big-city girl visiting the family estate.” His tone wasn’t taunting or threatening. Only factual.

  “Why’d you bring me here?” She jiggled the cuffs, waiting for him to remove them.

  He didn’t.

  This might come down to her need to use magic. Crap.

  An HVAC system kicked on. Cold air blew from an overhead vent. She asked the air to pin her captor to the wall. She would exchange his freedom for hers.

  Nothing happened. She tried again. Not even so much as a gust stirred the air. Since she got the power, she’d been able to whip up at least a modest breeze.

  Whatever drug knocked her out had also stolen her abilities. Do not panic. She needed some kind of weapon, anything, no matter how primitive, with which she could protect herself. A piece of broken glass sat on one of the tables. It didn’t get much more primitive than that. Next, she had to get him to take off the handcuffs.

  “I thought you recognized me in the bar, darlin’?” With a push away from the wall he moved closer. Light filled in all the previously hidden details. She sucked in a startled breath. His face, so familiar, had been created with great care to sharp detail, but injury had wreaked havoc. Linear scars marred his right cheek, the one she hadn’t seen in the bar.

  “Jason?” Her breath stuck in her chest. “Jason Merck?”

  “It’s Merck.” He didn’t smile. Didn’t look even remotely pleased. His clothes were simple, a long-sleeved dark T-shirt, bunched up on his strong forearms and jeans. Odd dress for the summer when iced tea and air conditioning were essentials to surviving the sweltering heat. The shirt pressed tight to the ripped muscles she’d ogled in the bar. Colorful tattoos stretched down to the tops of his hands in skeletonlike stylized lines, broken by foreign lettering.

  His eyes were so blue they reminded her of Mediterranean Sea pictures.

  She’d never forgotten those eyes or those lips. Stop thinking about his fricking eyes and mouth. He kidnapped yo
u. “Why am I in handcuffs?”

  A few more dramatic wrist tugs didn’t inspire him to unlock them.

  “You were hallucinating. I worried you’d hurt yourself.”

  If that were true, then he would’ve bound her ankles too. He must know what she was and didn’t want her escaping via dimension hop.

  No, he couldn’t know. She wanted to believe him about the hallucinations. Good Lord. Staring at his eyes, she had a hard time reconciling her memory of the rebellious, yet considerate, teenager she’d crushed on for years and the man before her who’d evolved into something dangerous and dark.

  He continued to stare at her as if she were an out-of-control flame he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to extinguish but found fascinating.

  “Take the handcuffs off. Please.”

  “How do I know you’re in your right mind now?”

  She granted him her best squinty-eyed glare.

  “There’s the Shannon I remember.” He twisted the Oakleys hanging on a black neck cord from his front to rest against his back. He’d done the sunglasses rotation hundreds of times while they’d waited for the bus together in high school. He may not be that guy anymore.

  “The Jason I remember wouldn’t have put me in handcuffs.”

  He smiled. “It’s Merck. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I can drive you home. We’re going in the same direction, neighbor.”

  His smile lit up her body like she was still sixteen all over again and at the mercy of a crush on the out-of-her-league, hottest guy in school. No amount of air could steady her heart or nerves, but she sucked in a lungful.

  You’re twenty-eight, not sixteen and getting kissed by him. He might be your enemy. “Why am I here if you planned to take me home?”

  “I didn’t know if you wanted whoever was home to see you this way or if anybody would be home at all. Couldn’t leave you by yourself like this.”