Invoking the Witch (The Faction Series Book 1)

by Lindsey Jayne

  Madison looked a little uncertain. “Which one of you two is light—?”

  She blanched and looked from Sam, taking in his bulky, muscled six foot three frame to Chloe, with her slim, much smaller figure.

  Chloe scoffed, “Ha, please. As if that beast weighs less than I do.”

  “Yeah. Like your little, weak ass is gonna manage to shift that. You might break a nail. Then what would we do?” Sam placed his hands on his cheeks in mock panic.

  “Up yours, dickhead.” Chloe half-smiled at him and punched him in the arm.

  Madison couldn’t help but smile at their witty banter.

  “It depends who’d be best. I’d be lighter and better to climb, but Sam would be stronger, better to move the grate,” Chloe offered. She sized up the distance between them and the ceiling. “I’d offer to have Sam sit on my shoulders, but I’d be half the size of what I am now after he’d finished.”

  “You’ll have to go on my shoulders, that way you’ll have more leverage to move the thing than if you attempted to climb those deathtraps,” Sam stated matter-of-factly, nodding at the ladder’s treads.

  “And what if I can’t move the grate?” Chloe countered.

  “Well, we won’t know how difficult or easy it is until we try it.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. But no copping a feel.”

  Sam grinned at her. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  “Pfft. Yeah, right.”

  “Okay, guys, let’s do this. We don’t have much time.” Madison interrupted the pair. “I’m going to manipulate the air in here to stop sound coming through. It means we won’t be able to hear each other either, so any problems, Chloe kick Sam on the shoulder, stop what you’re doing and I’ll bring the sound back. OK?”

  Chloe turned to Madison, then to Sam with a wicked smile on her face. Sam groaned, but squatted low so Chloe could climb onto his shoulders. Once perched he slowly stood up.

  “Damn, Chlo. There’s more to you than meets the eye, ain’t there?”

  “Pure muscle, baby. Now hurry up and lift me.”

  “I’m trying, but I feel like my legs are gonna buckle.”

  “Tut. As if, Sam. Man up, for God’s sake.”

  With a few more moans and groans in protest, Sam lifted Chloe, giving her ample space between head and grate, enough to get a good hold. She signalled Madison for the go-ahead.

  They watched the witch close her eyes and raise her arms in Chloe’s direction. She began to chant in a whisper before her voice stopped—though her lips still moved. Chloe felt the air shift.

  Sound disappeared, leaving Madison mute. Opening her eyes, she nodded at Chloe, but Sam tapped her leg regardless.

  Chloe pushed on the grate. It shuddered with her efforts, and small flakes of rust and rot fluttered to the ground. Yet no sound escaped—at least Sam can’t hear me struggle, she thought.

  She pushed with everything in her, sweating from the exertion when the grate started to shift, slowly out of place. Sam began to sway underneath her, but she couldn’t give up, the grate would fall back into place otherwise.

  She persevered through clenched teeth and aching arms. Her stomach tightened against the effort, but the grate kept moving—just a little further and she’d have it free.

  *

  Sam felt his knees giving way. Not that Chloe weighed a lot—she didn’t, despite his earlier comments—but the energy pulled from him under the effort of trying to hold another person’s weight for so long. With no indication of Chloe’s progress, the whole process seemed even more straining.

  Sweat poured from his forehead, dripped down his back—his shirt stuck to him. His legs shook and his neck and back throbbed. His shoulders ached from the brunt of the exercise.

  His left leg gave way beneath him and he stumbled forward. Chloe kicked away from him before he took her down, too—in the split second before, the grate must’ve moved aside, because Chloe hung from the lip of the hole.

  Sam watched Chloe struggle at the opening before he twisted his head in Madison’s direction. She stared at Sam, still chanting, while he sat on his backside and rubbed his knees.

  Returning his gaze to his colleague, he watched Chloe hook an arm over the side of the hole and haul herself up. Before long, she planted her feet on firm ground and peered back into the tunnel. Lifting her head to check her surroundings, she looked back down and gave them both a thumbs up.

  A rush of noises hurtled back—water dripped, wind rustled, and, with harsh breathing, Sam grunted, still massaging his knees.

  “All clear?” Madison looked up at Chloe.

  “Looks like it. I can’t see or hear anybody.”

  Madison nodded, then turned to Sam. “You ready to get up there?”

  “How we gonna manage that?” Sam failed to think that far ahead.

  Chloe made it safely, but how would they make it up there? He could shoulder lift Madison, but then what about him? Madison tutted at him, shook her head and smiled.

  Sam stood on shaky legs when Madison beckoned him. She shut her eyes again and raised her palms toward him. Sam’s face screwed up in confusion, before his feet left the ground.

  “Holy shit!” he proclaimed.

  Sam drifted at a steady pace toward the hole and Chloe moved aside for him. Once near enough, he gripped the edges and lifted himself up, coming to kneel beside his colleague. Barely a breath escaped him before Madison’s head emerged through the grate. Within moments, she, too, crouched beside them both.

  They were definitely in the dungeon, complete with flaming torches in removable wall sconces and black, metal cages dotted around the large room. The walls were aged brick, yellowed and crumbling in places, vegetation growing in others.

  Chloe got up first and pointed out four thick, wooden doors lining the long corridor in front of them, all wide open. Grabbing a torch from the wall beside her, she took careful steps toward the door closest and peered into the room beyond.

  She gasped and dropped the torch—the flames spluttered, but didn’t die out. She braced herself against the wall, retching before she turned on her heel and expelled the contents of her stomach in the corridor. Sam and Madison made to move, but she put her hand out to stop them while she took deep breaths.

  She shook her head in frantic movements, voice trembling. “No… you don’t… d-don’t go in there.”

  Sam hesitated, but Madison told him she needed to know what lay beyond the door. She edged past Chloe, who still steadied herself against the rough-bricked wall, spitting out the remains of bile still clinging to her throat.

  Madison let out a small scream and fell to her knees. Her hands flew to cover her mouth as tears flowed freely down her ashen face. Sam stepped toward her, her body convulsing with silent sobs.

  Neither girl tried to stop him when he sidled past Madison’s kneeling form. He forced his attention to whatever disturbed the girls so much, eyes widening, stomach contracting. His body stiffened as he stared at the horror before him.

  No windows illuminated the large, bare cell, but Sam clearly saw the three female bodies stacked against the far wall. Every one of them naked, glazed eyes open and staring straight at him—a look of complete terror forever frozen in their dead, vacant stares.

  Each woman’s throat gaped open, a ragged, bloodied rent. The room stank of the stale blood congealed on the floor in random splashes. But the thing troubling Sam the most were the swollen, pregnant bellies of each victim.

  “We have to keep moving.” Sam uttered, his dull voice shaking while he struggled to pull his zombie-like gaze away from the carnage before him.

  Chloe stood up straight, took a deep breath and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “You’re right. We have a job to do, and we’ll make sure they pay for this.”

  Madison attempted to dry her face before Sam managed to haul her to her feet. He tried to comfort her, telling her these witches would pay; that they’d suffer. She stopped crying and straightened. The three o
f them turned toward the door just about visible at the end of the tunnel.

  *

  They entered a dimly lit hallway leading off into a large dining room. Dark banks of clouds outside the tall windows cut off any natural light from filtering through. The uncanny silence left behind an uneasy feeling.

  Madison tugged at Sam’s arm and indicated she would search upstairs. Sam nodded, and both officers watched her body submerge into the inky gloom.

  Splitting up seemed a bad idea, but they needed to cover a large area and Madison could take of herself, being able to yell if she ran into trouble or frazzle someone with a bolt of electricity or something.

  Once again using the light from their phones, the two officers skirted their way through the dining room. Having seen the blueprints, they knew roughly the way to go; however, the blueprints didn’t show the location of furniture. More than once Sam kicked or tripped over something, each time whispering a curse, and each time Chloe delivered a punch to his arm for his clumsiness.

  They reached the large set of double doors leading into the living room. Sam stopped to listen, placing his ear to the wood. With a glance at Chloe, he shrugged his shoulders before they both removed their police issue batons—although, what they hoped to achieve with them against a flock of powerful, murderous witches left them clueless. Either way, they opened the doors with silent caution.

  Chapter 20

  Despite a hurried plan, the Faction’s involvement couldn’t go further than a thorough sweep of the perimeter and surrounding areas near the mansion, and ensuring none of the witches made a bid to escape unseen.

  Unless any of the warriors could manipulate the homeowner’s mind, they would need an invitation to enter the premises.

  Their only hope remained with Madison and the two officers—that they could flush the witches out of the building and into the gardens where the vampires now waited.

  Lucas called over Deacon and Blake to him and alerted them to the only light on in the house, coming from the living room. All other rooms visible from their position were bathed in darkness.

  He started to discuss their next move when Blake noticed a light come on in the study. He growled and raced over to the building, Deacon and Lucas followed close behind.

  All three ducked underneath the windows to shield themselves from a possible attack, while they could do nothing but stand outside. Blake figured it could be Sam, Chloe or Madison at this point, but none of them were taking any chances.

  The door to the study closed behind whoever entered, and Blake risked a quick glance, lifting his head over the large, stone window ledge. His breath caught and his stomach somersaulted into his mouth at the sight of her, caked in darkened blood and limping.

  “Amelia!” He banged on the window.

  *

  The sudden noise startled Amelia. She threw herself behind one of the sofas in the room and braced herself for an attack. Backing against it, her breathing increased, her heart raced while she thought over what to do next. She couldn’t head for the door, by the time she managed to heave the massive thing open she could be incinerated. The only other exit led outside, toward the threat.

  Before panic could fully set in, she heard her name again, this time registering the voice.

  Without further thought, she shot up from behind the sofa and hobbled to the window. Blake’s palms pressed against the cold glass and she leaned her head on it, laughing with nerves and relief at the sight of him.

  He smiled back at her with joy, hope and longing in his eyes. She turned, and ran to the veranda, pushing the doors open. Throwing caution to the wind, she launched herself into Blake’s arms and he littered her face and neck with desperate kisses.

  Sliding her down his firm body, he held her back and stared into her eyes.

  “Are you hurt? Where are you bleeding from?” His voice came out rushed, panicked. He turned her head this way and that, examined her body for any sign of damage.

  “I’m fine, just the usual scrapes and bruises.” She offered him a lopsided smile.

  “What happened?”

  “Darcy’s involved. She came for me, I had to… I… .”

  She threw herself against him again, trying to hold back tears while Blake wrapped his strong arms around her slim frame. He promised her he would make sure she never came to harm again.

  Deacon’s voice broke their moment of tranquillity. “Where’s Elora?”

  Amelia looked up at him and shook her head. “They’ve taken her somewhere else, but I think I know where.” She tried to move, but Blake held her protectively against his chest.

  Deacon raced to stand in front of her. “Where?”

  One word, but filled with so much panic and fear.

  “Cassandra’s last name is Hewitt, and—”

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” Deacon interrupted with exasperation.

  Lucas approached with a perplexed expression. “I know that name.”

  “Inside, I found documents detailing her family history. Her real name isn’t even Cassandra, but her last name is definitely Hewitt. I found clippings, portraits, and birth and death records. She’s related to Katherine Hewitt.”

  “Who’s Katherine Hewitt?” Blake placed a hand on her shoulder, amid Deacon’s increased impatience and unease with every passing moment.

  “She was one of the Pendle Hill Witches, burned at the stake in sixteen-twelve. I’ll bet anything Cassandra has taken Ellie to Pendle Hill to perform the final sacrifice.” Amelia turned her head to the miles of forest covering the Lancashire countryside.

  Deacon made a move to tear off, but stilled when a scream sounded and the patio doors to the living room at the opposite end of the house burst open. Chloe, Sam and Madison emerged, racing straight over when they saw Amelia.

  Deacon ran past them at lightning speed and disappeared into the thick, surrounding woodlands.

  “Shit!” Blake exclaimed. He grabbed hold of Amelia’s arms and devoured her mouth with his in a hot, sensuous, knee-trembling kiss, before breaking away to follow Deacon’s dust trail.

  Amelia blinked a couple of times before Madison, Chloe and Sam approached her.

  “Darcy… ?” Chloe shifted her gaze between the house and the blood still coating Amelia’s shirt, dark against the already crimson material.

  Amelia dropped her gaze to the ground and nodded, knowing they would have passed her dead and battered body.

  Chloe threw her arms around Amelia’s waist and hugged her close. “You did what you had to,” she whispered.

  Sam attempted a smile, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  Chloe released Amelia.

  The DCI turned to Lucas as he spoke, “You know where to go, we’ll see you there.” Then he, too, disappeared amid a blur of rain and gravel.

  Everyone looked to Amelia. “I’ll explain on the way,” she offered, then ran to the waiting vehicles.

  ∾∾∾

  The ear-piercing screech of a nearby owl woke me, but my eyes remained closed, the sound rattled through my fragile head. I tried to force my eyes open, but they refused to take note of anything I commanded them to do. Instead, I tried to squint in an effort to make out my surroundings.

  Buffeting winds and beating rain confirmed the outdoors. But it struck me odd; I couldn’t feel any of the storm. I expected to feel the wind battering my body, or the rain thrashing against my skin. But nothing.

  I pried my eyes open further and spied the flickering of candlelight and blurred shapes ambling about. Someone knelt on the floor not far from me, carving something into the ground.

  Vision clearing, I made out Cassandra’s thin figure in the middle of a circle of rocks—the same rock formation of my dreams. My heart sank, my bowels nearly following.

  Opening my eyes fully, I noted my hands were shackled, the jeans and tee I changed into earlier swapped for a knee-length, white dress. The material clung to my skin, soaked through from the cold, damp earth I lay on. My bare
legs felt every bite of the light breeze somehow permeating the protective circle.

  Lying still, five voices hummed through my head, whispering. A baby screamed and my mind hurtled back to my nightmare. I sat bolt upright, chained hands shooting instinctively to my belly. Feeling the familiar swell of my baby tucked safe inside, I breathed a sigh of relief. However, the five psychotic witches were now very aware of my current state of consciousness.

  “Good evening, Elora. Glad you could join us. You are in for a treat tonight.” Cassandra hissed words laced with venom. Her eyes widened and an excited expression flashed across her face in a sadistic manner.

  Trying to shake free of my restraints, I raised myself to my knees. “What do you want?”

  Laughing again, she bent down close to my face. “Oh, you foolish girl. I thought it would be blatantly obvious by now. I want what you have been holding for me.”

  Her eyes lit up when she cupped my swollen belly.

  I spat in her face. “Get your filthy, fucking hands off my child, you crazy bitch.”

  She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, then slapped me around the face with it.

  “My, my. Here I was thinking you were some weak, little girl afraid of her own shadow.”

  I ignored the stinging sensation in my jaw, and turned to face her. Not fancying another slap, I kept my mouth closed and my eyes glaring into the inky depths of hers. She laughed at my silence, the raucous sound jarred my damn nerves. If I could get loose, I’d happily wipe the smug sneer from her face.

  I tried to tap into my magic, but I didn’t know how to. I understood my emotions often triggered it and I didn’t think there could be anything more pure than the fear I felt right now. At the prospect of having my gut sliced open and my baby taken from me and sacrificed, while I lay dying on the ground.

  A familiar sensation bubbled inside me, a burn in the pit of my stomach. My fingertips tingled, but every time I tried to force something free it just… fizzled out.

  “Darling, you won’t get through those cuffs using magic. They’re infused with a binding spell.” She smiled at me, a knowing curve of her lips.