Vindictive, conniving, self-righteous bitch! I wanted to kill her, throttle her with my own bare hands, but instead I sighed in bitter frustration and hung my head. I felt close to resigning myself to the same fate befalling the witches before me, and the notion made me want to scream until my lungs burst.
Cassandra stalked over to a familiar ditch dead centre of the rock-circle. She drew a knife from beneath her robes and handed it to Keira.
Tears flowed free and fast down my cheeks—hot trails against my cold skin—while Keira knelt. I lurched forward when a cry from the ditch shattered the atmosphere, but my restraints held me back as I struggled against them. Cassandra cackled at my anguish, a hideous, penetrative sound.
My blood began to boil again and my body quaked against my harsh, erratic breathing. My arms went numb and my limbs tingled with pins and needles. The tips of my fingers started to heat. Small sparks fizzed, landing on my skin, but not burning.
All the while that goddamn bitch kept laughing, cajoling me. I wanted her dead. Looking up I saw pure pleasure plastered across her features, an ugly, evil smirk across her face. We both turned our attention back to Keira when she raised the knife above the baby and began her chant.
I screamed a deafening sound—one I didn’t think humanly possible. It echoed around the forest startling just about everyone and everything—time stood still, birds scattered, screeching from the safety of their nests, animals scurried away. Cassandra’s head snapped in my direction, wide eyed and ruddy, when we heard my chains crumble.
Chapter 21
Deacon hurtled through the woods without stopping to see if his brothers followed. He needed to get to Elora the fastest way possible.
The scene around him blurred together, a sombre mix of darkness, trees, bushes and sky all melded into one. Panic and terror drove him faster and faster, all the while he tried to use his senses to hone in on any activity around him.
His skin iced over and he forced down the panic coursing through his blood. She would be OK; he would save her. He would get to her before anyone harmed a hair on her head. I have to.
He felt the presence of his kin close by, could hear Sam’s bike racing across the countryside. He heard another bike too, slower. Two people on it—someone commandeered Lucas’ bike in favour of the cars.
None of this mattered right now, though, because a deafening, almost inhuman scream pierced through the night.
Elora! The beast tore free. I’ll slaughter every fucking one of them?
His fangs dropped and his vision glazed over with a deep, red mist. He roared a monstrous sound before he crashed through the trees into a clearing. He didn’t stop to think before he leapt from the ground and headed straight for the biggest threat—a crouched figure with a knife in her hand.
He smashed into the blonde and the two of them flew across the clearing, straight into a large rock. The knife fell from her hand and managed to slice down the left hand side of her face. Thick rivulets of blood oozed from the cut and the sickly sweet smell overpowered Deacon. It seeped into his senses and clouded his rational mind.
With a feral roar, he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of the witch’s neck. She screamed, clawed at him while the warm, ruby fluid gushed down her neck and chest. She passed out, and the moment he realised she no longer posed a threat, Deacon turned away from her. He searched the area for Elora.
She crouched, thirty feet in front of him, on her hands and knees, her back arched while she gulped in lungfuls of air in front of a wide-eyed, scowling Cassandra. The witch didn’t seem to even notice him careen through the woods; taking out one of her own while she stood and watched Elora with intent.
Deacon didn’t want to afford her the luxury; he jumped up from his stooped position and threw himself at her.
∾∾∾
Sam realised he wouldn’t get any further through the dense woodland, and so discarded his bike. He looked behind for Amelia and Madison—both on Lucas’ bike—but saw no immediate sign. Chloe would be even further afield in her car.
A scream tore through the forest and Sam turned and ran toward it.
He didn’t make it more than twenty feet, when a strong force knocked him to the ground in a daze. Sam did not expect the blow Daniel dealt him, but he quickly recovered when the robust maniac came back at him for another shot.
Blocking Daniel’s next punch with one arm, Sam bought his other smashing into his attacker’s face. Blood erupted from Daniel’s mouth, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he countered with a punch to Sam’s stomach. The Detective bent double and Daniel dealt him an elbow to the back of the head.
The blow didn’t knock Sam out, but it felled him. He dropped to one knee—one hand resting on the ground. Daniel raised his leg to kick him in the face, but Sam grabbed for it and lifted it high. Daniel fell, winded. Sam lunged for him without a moment’s hesitation.
He drove his foot into Daniel’s ribs, causing him to double up, roaring in pain. Sam pulled the slighter man up by his collar and smashed his fist into his face, twice before dropping him again.
A shout from Amelia drew his attention. Daniel punched Sam in his knee. The DI cried out with the brute force and crumpled to the floor. Daniel pulled a knife from his belt and knelt over the officer.
“I’m gonna enjoy tearing your guts out, pig,” he snarled in Sam’s face.
Daniel plunged the blade into Sam’s left shoulder. The DI roared in pain and tried to bring his other arm up to punch Daniel in the face. Too slow—Daniel pulled another knife and thrust it into the right shoulder.
A second howl tore through Sam, and a third knife aimed for his heart.
“A bestia!”
A commanding voice erupted somewhere to Sam’s left and a strong gust of wind tousled his hair and clothes before blasting Daniel away from him. The property developer thudded to the ground and skidded heavily into a tree, head first. Amelia’s face came into view, hovering over Sam’s skewered body.
“I have to get these out. They’ve got you pinned.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Sam grunted through gritted teeth. “Do what you have to.”
He squeezed his eyes shut before Amelia pulled the daggers from his body. He let out an agonised cry, each knife sliding with infinite torture out of the wound. Through his haziness, he watched Madison bend over him and apply pressure to the injuries.
“Don’t move,” she soothed. “They’re not life-threatening, but you’re gonna feel the sting for a while.” She offered a half-apologetic, half-weary smile at her attempt at humour.
“Stay with him.” Amelia patted Madison’s back, but before Sam could protest, she shot up and ran further into the forest.
∾∾∾
Deacon took Cassandra to the ground with a nauseating thud and plunged his fangs into the supple skin of her shoulder. She cried out, flailing her arms, clawing at his shirt. Elora screamed beside him and shouted his name.
Jerking his head to the side, he saw her. Her beautiful, pale face moist. Her rose-blushed lips quivered while her chestnut eyes sparkled with crystalline tears.
A bright, white bolt struck him in the chest and sent him hurtling backward. He crashed to the ground, winded.
“Heathen scum!”
Deacon twisted his head to see Laila pull a vial of murky liquid from between her ample cleavage. She threw the concoction at Deacon’s feet where it smashed on impact. Ink black tendrils raced up and encircled him, trapping him while he struggled against them.
Grasping at her oozing wound, Cassandra walked over. “Now you get to watch as I kill your little bitch.” She spat the words at him before turning around to face a stricken Elora.
Cassandra stalked over to her and kicked her in the face. Elora grunted and tumbled to the side, arms outstretched to brace her fall. Deacon rumbled a guttural, monstrous sound.
Cassandra advanced again.
Elora threw her hand out, a bolt of charged electricity shooting from her fingertips, narrowly missing Cassandra�
��s head. A few loose strands of the witch’s ebony hair fizzled and smouldered, but it did not stop her.
“Someone’s coming into their powers.” Cassandra knelt beside Elora and addressed her confused glare. “You don’t even know who you are, do you?”
“Your worst fucking nightmare,” she screamed, head-butting the witch and hauling herself up to deliver a right hook to her face.
A roaring growl erupted behind her, stealing her attention. Blake and Lucas crashed through the clearing and Cassandra seized her moment. She lunged at Elora’s throat, and took them both hurtling into a tree; her grip tightening.
∾∾∾
Lucas headed for Serena. The wig-wearing witch closed her eyes and spat out foreign words.
“Mortis infligit in inmortuis!”
An orange ball shot from her fingertips and expanded on its course for Lucas. The agile vampire dived out of the way, feeling the heat sear the exposed flesh of his arms. The amber sphere hit a tree and exploded into bright, red flames, licking up the bark, sparks jumping from one branch to another. A loud roar rumbled through his chest and escaped his mouth. His fangs dropped.
Serena’s face paled when Lucas landed in front of her. Grabbing her shaking shoulders, he spun her around. She thrust her hands toward his head, clawing desperately, but before she could utter another spell, the vampire plunged his fangs into and across her bare neck. Blood ebbed in ruby rivers from the shredded wounds.
Lucas tore out her throat before he threw her to the ground, gulping down the sweet reward of his kill, licking his lips.
He rounded on his next target, but Laila flung herself on his back and stabbed him in the shoulders and neck with a sharp instrument. Lucas roared and grappled with the small woman, trying to reach out and throw her from him. Pain exploded from him with every penetration and blood drenched his grey T-shirt. His vision blurred.
*
Blake bolted for the raven-haired Priestess, but someone careened into him, grabbed him by the neck and took him to the ground.
“Now it’s time to finish what I started.” The hate-filled eyes of Ember stared back at him.
Only this Ember’s strength bellied her age and abilities. At two hundred and eighty years old, Blake should’ve easily overpowered a one hundred and three year old Ember without any effort at all. But he struggled to free himself from her tight grip.
“Stake him,” a voice shouted from behind.
Ember thrust her hand out and caught the long, wooden missile thrown at her with her free hand. She didn’t take her glaring eyes off Blake’s.
A lunatic smile grew on her face when she bought the stake plummeting down.
∾∾∾
Amelia burst into the fray amid broken branches and flying leaves. Seeing a maniacal vampire holding a stake above her man, she mustered all her speed and strength before she flung herself into Ember and rugby-tackled her to the ground.
Amelia gained the upper hand and straddled Ember’s torso and arms.
“Get off me, you bitch,” the young vamp squealed, writhing in the dirt.
Amelia’s chuckle died in her throat when Ember bought her legs up, wrapped them around the DCI’s head and launched her into the air. Amelia landed with a thud in front of Ember, who wasted no time in advancing on her.
Winded, and trying to scramble away, Amelia grunted when the unnaturally strong creature delivered a powerful kick to her ribs, which sent her reeling on to her back. She cried out at the fresh agony lancing through her.
With pain-clouded vision, Amelia watched Blake charge toward them, but Ember threw her hand out and screamed something incoherent. Blake’s body lurched before being thrown back into the distance with a shot of red energy bursting from Ember’s palm. Amelia stared, wide-eyed, at the scene before her—no fucking way. Did a vampire just use magic?
Chapter 22
I closed my eyes and fought off death, barely registering my surroundings.
Cassandra’s strong grip defied her frail image, and my lungs screamed at me to breath. While an assortment of emotions streamed through me, I couldn’t latch on to any one of them, in order to zap this crazy bitch off me.
“I have been waiting for this day for a long time, “Cassandra sneered, her teeth bared. “Once you’re dead, my granddaughter’s sacrifice will finally give me everything I want.”
She ran a heavy hand over my stomach and I blanched. Her granddaughter? My struggles diminished and I heaved.
“That’s right, my precious.” Her lip twitched and her nostrils flared. “I have no idea what my son first saw in you, but I’m glad he came around to my line of thinking.”
I couldn’t breathe. And not because Cassandra’s grasp tightened around my throat, but because it all started to make perfect sense. Daniel is Cassandra’s son. I couldn’t believe my ears. All this time… his behaviour, the violence. My pregnancy. It had all been part of some sick, twisted plot, cooked up between demented mother and son.
But why?
Sight and sound intermingled into one distorted haze, but I would not be beaten. My baby depended on me and I wouldn’t let her down. She needed me, now more than ever and I would not let this… fucking bitch get her hands on my child.
She could go straight back to the murky depths of the hell she’d emerged from.
A wave of energy stirred deep within, itching to break free. The intensity grew, bubbling like a scorching volcano on the verge of erupting. My eyes snapped open and my body bucked and vibrated. A searing white light burst from me, bathing my whole being. The force knocked Cassandra back and she smashed straight into Ember.
I crashed to my knees and sucked in deep, beautiful, coveted breaths of air. Amelia scrambled up and ran over to me, crouching before she asked how I felt.
I swallowed past the burn in my throat, “I’m good, help the others.” I waved her off, assuring her I’d be fine.
She stole a quick glimpse in Deacon’s direction and, realising she couldn’t do anything, headed for Lucas as he battled with a lunatic witch stabbing at his shoulders.
Glancing back, I caught Deacon’s stare, desperation in his imploring eyes. I closed mine—needing to do something— and I tried to block out everything around me, focused on drawing my powers. Tears fell fast and heavy down my cheeks before my body shot up to my knees, hands outstretched either side of me, back arched.
Shock persisted when a burning—neither painful nor uncomfortable—enveloped my eyes, bright light emanated from my whole being. I couldn’t see myself, but I knew the white light bathed me in its brilliance. I sensed it.
My body didn’t belong to me in this moment; something took control, flinging my arms forward. Light surged from my splayed fingertips and rushed straight for Deacon with immeasurable speeds. It circled the black fog in a cacophony of demonic, defeated screeching. I slammed my hands over my ears, but couldn’t tear my gaze from the struggling, squirming mist before the light completely devoured it.
Deacon rushed before me. On one knee, he took my face in his hands, looked into my eyes, concern across his features. “Have they hurt you?”
It took a second or two for sound to filter back to me. I clutched my belly, but I shook my head, trembling while he wrapped me in a tight embrace.
∾∾∾
Amelia grabbed hold of Laila’s short, dark hair and yanked her away from Lucas. Both girls fell to the ground in a tangle of flailing arms and legs, ignoring an almighty whoosh erupting from nearby.
Extricating themselves from one another, Amelia righted herself quicker. She slammed a left fist into the witch’s stomach, then swung a powerful right hook into her jaw. Laila dropped. Amelia landed on her and punched her face over and over.
A bright light, with all the force of a burning fireball, distracted the DCI for a brief moment. Laila used the opportunity to launch her fist up and connected with Amelia’s jaw with a sickening crack, knocking her to the ground. Laila flew at her and smacked her again while she lay, dazed, on her back.
The white light vanished, but it still burned Amelia’s retinas. She struggled to gain recognition of Laila above her as she held a knife against her throat.
The blade sliced a nick in the DCI’s flesh before the witch sailed off her. Clambering to her elbows, Amelia watched Chloe body slam a prone Laila. All too late, Amelia saw the glint of the dagger’s blade before Laila thrust it up. Chloe slammed into it with force enough to snap it off at the hilt.
“NO!” Amelia scrambled to her feet.
Chloe lay—unmoving—over Laila, blood trickled from her mouth and her eyes rolled back. Laila forced her off and the Sergeant thudded to the ground.
Amelia rushed over, fuelled by anger and hatred, and lifted her foot, slamming it into Laila’s face before she could get up. The witch crashed back down, head cracking off the firm ground before Amelia drew back and stomped on her face, again and again until strong arms pulled her away.
She stared down at Laila’s battered remains. Her nose a smashed-up, bloody pulp, teeth scattered across the dirt, eyes swollen shut and a deep rent in the side of head exposed bone and brain matter.
Shaking loose of Blake’s hold, Amelia stepped over the witch’s motionless form and dropped to her knees beside her friend. Chloe coughed and spluttered, blood pooled down her chin. Amelia grabbed her and cradled her in her lap, stroking her hair.
Chloe coughed again. “You got the bitch, right?”
Amelia choked on a short laugh—a hollow, sad sound. “Yeah, Chlo. I got the bitch.” She stopped stroking her hair and looked deep into Chloe’s glazed eyes. “You saved my life.”
Chloe smiled. “And I’d do it again, too.”
The Sergeant’s eyes rolled back, her body went limp and her head fell to the side.
Amelia clutched Chloe to her chest and cried out.
∾∾∾
Lucas sought out Ember the moment Amelia pulled the flailing witch off of him. He spied her, crouched behind a large rock. She caught his eye and snarled—fangs down—daring him to take his best shot with a ‘come hither’ motion of her hand.
Invoking the Witch (The Faction Series Book 1) Page 19