Last Rites (Paranormal Detectives Book 5)

by Lily Luchesi

  Her belongings were meager, having grown up in an impoverished place, so her packing was finished quicker than she suspected even Aulus had expected. “I have many questions, sir. Can you answer them on the way?”

  He nodded as he watched the coach and footmen load her sparse possessions into the carriage. “I must. As Great Britain’s Coven Master, it is my duty to assist new magicians into this life.”

  “Are there many of us out there?” Harriet wondered.

  “Indeed there are. Britain has the largest magical population, though America’s has grown so large they have more Covens than we do,” he replied. “I have watched them grow from afar these past few centuries, even as they defied what they now call the Witch Trials.”

  “Centuries! Sir, how on Earth have you lived for centuries?” Harriet asked, eyes wide behind her spectacles.

  He chuckled. “Coven leaders gain limited immortality. We live to lead our Coven until we decide to resign or are killed. I have led this coven since fifteen-seventy-eight.”

  Harriet looked at him in amazement. He could scarcely appear to be thirty.

  “Now, within this community will be many apprentice magicians, those who have no natural abilities, but can harness them when properly taught. You may, if you can improve in your rudimentary skills, be asked to assist with teaching.”

  Rudimentary? Harriet scowled and sat further away from Aulus. Why did I have to leave home to be with someone who insults me?

  Harriet found herself well liked in the magical community with both natural-borns and apprentices alike. Her popularity seemed to irk Aulus at first, but gradually even he ceased his annoyance at her and came to view her as a valued member of the community.

  She didn’t see her Coven Master often; mostly he kept to himself with the other Coven elders in the castle, a place where rumor had it she would be moving soon, a high honor for magicians in that particular Coven.

  He came by once every fortnight or so, checking up on everyone. Harriet was assisting apprentices one particular night with a potion that needed to be brewed on the new moon, the darkest night of the month, when she received a summons from Aulus to go to the castle that evening.

  “Be careful,” said the other natural-born wizard who was helping. “There were two corpses found at the edge of the forest last week. They were humans, but we cannot be too careful.”

  “I shall be perfectly fine. Nothing has yet to penetrate this lovely village, and nothing will this night, either.” Harriet smiled and walked the half-mile to the castle, where she was told to go to the Master’s private sitting rooms.

  She entered the lavishly furnished room to find the Master sitting in an armchair, a book in hand, fire blazing in the hearth, and a glass of deep red port in his other hand. He looked utterly stunning, and Harriet found herself once again drawn to his high, pale cheekbones and bottomless dark eyes, the latter which were now focused on her.

  “Miss Galbraith. Come.” He placed a marker in his book and set it on the table at his side. She watched him finish his drink and he waved a hand, making the goblet vanish. The firelight danced in his eyes and she felt nearly hypnotized as she did as he asked and sat in the chair next to his.

  “I do believe it is time to offer you a permanent place in our castle. While you will be the youngest magician to ever set foot in here permanently, we all feel it is right. These rooms are offered to only our best and brightest, and you certainly are that…much to my earlier chagrin.” He smiled at her.

  “You did not like me when first we met, sir, did you?” Harriet asked.

  “No. I thought you a foolish little girl. I acknowledge my mistake and beg forgiveness,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly to her.

  “There is nothing to forgive, sir. I admit I was foolish,” Harriet said.

  He nodded, staring into the fire. He was silent for a few moments before he took a breath. “There is some unfortunate news as well. We believe that a war is beginning to brew from members who left the Coven the last few years.”

  Harriet sat up straighter. “What? Sir, are you certain? Why would they want to go to war with us?”

  He smiled again, this time ruefully. “For the same reason I disliked you. We are teaching humans our ways. We all must be prepared if this does occur.”

  She nodded, moving from the chair to stand before him. “Sir, I promise, I will be ready to defend our Coven at your side.” The statement was overly bold and presumptuous for that time period, however that did not matter to either of them as Aulus reached out and pulled her into his lap, kissing her as though he might die if he didn’t.

  It was not for a decade that the war finally came to one long, final battle at the castle in Inverness. In the months preceding the war, Harriet had been given leave to gather whatever help the magical community could find.

  She had heard from traveling witches that there was an organization formed in Chicago whose sole purpose was to fight off members of the paranormal community who were trying to harm humans or other, law-abiding creatures.

  She wrote a hasty letter and sent it off with a prayer to the Goddess that this half-vampire, Angelica Cross, could assist them.

  A week before the battle, one of the servants in the castle came to see Harriet.

  “There’s a woman here to see you, ma’am…and she is quite frightening.”

  Harriet, not ashamed to say she was apprehensive, entered the parlor and beheld a beautiful young woman with an air of power in her very mein. A sword was attached at her waist. She looked normal, but something about her was frightening indeed. Her smile gave Harriet the creeps.

  “Miss Galbraith, I am Angelica Cross. I received your message. Indeed, as soon as I stepped onto the land I could feel the tension in the air. The battle will commence soon, I believe.” She held out a hand to shake. Her skin was ice cold.

  “Thank you for coming, Miss Cross.”

  “I am happy to be of assistance. Now, where is your Coven leader?” Angelica asked. “I require discourse for a myriad of reasons.”

  “He is off on the Continent, Miss Cross, and I doubt he shall return before the battle. He is trying to gather allies from other Covens,” Harriet explained. “He left me in charge here.”

  “Very well. Then it is you with whom I shall speak.”

  Harriet offered her a seat and asked if she could bring her anything.

  “O negative?” Angelica asked, smirking. “I’m quite all right for the moment. Now, first things first: are the servants in the castle here of their own accord?”

  Harriet was surprised. “Pardon? While I cannot say I see the relevance of the question, yes, they are all paid handsomely and applied for their positions on their own.”

  Angelica’s eyes narrowed. “It is relevant because if anyone was keeping them here for any other reason, it gives me grounds to execute them. The world is changing, Miss Galbraith, and I am the one bringing about said change, one new law at a time.”

  “That’s why I sent for you. You have an authority we can use to assist us in gaining allies. I heard you were quite the hunter in London a few decades ago.”

  Angelica nodded. “I certainly was—and am. Now, what are your battle plans? How do you plan on protecting this castle, the town, and your people?”

  They had a long discourse that went nearly to sunrise. Harriet was surprised to find that Angelica could remain awake during the daylight, and in the week before the battle they spent much time together, becoming unlikely friends. Harriet was quiet and shy, uncertain about the position Aulus was trusting her with. Angelica was cunning and very vocal, vaguely threatening in her demeanor and certainly enamored with the power she wielded.

  The battle began with a barrage of magic forcing its way through the magical wards the Coven had put up over the town and castle at sunset. At the time, Harriet was having a private moment with Aulus, who had just returned the very moment before the attacks came raining down on them.

  Aulus leapt up, prepared. “L
ove, go and gather the townspeople, make sure the humans are protected. I will gather the others to fight.”

  Harriet nodded. “I will get Angelica as well. She’s brought us witch-killing pistols she made. They will help us.” She left, regret and dread caressing her mind. Something was telling her not to leave Aulus, but she had a role to play.

  She found Angelica already getting the humans and magical children to safety outside of town.

  “Galbraith, they’ve got shifters and some vampires on their side as well. You must be prepared for anything, do you hear me?” Angelica said. She handed Harriet two pistols and said, “The rest are in the castle, I had people store them yesterday in case this very thing happened. Arm everyone. This time, magic alone might not suffice. A bullet moves much faster than words, so use these.”

  “Will you be all right with the others here?” Harriet asked her.

  Angelica smiled, showing her already elongated fangs. “Never worry about me: I am securely in my element here. Go fight alongside your Master.”

  Harriet nodded and ran off. After she had gotten a few feet, she heard bone-chilling screams and turned back, afraid of what she might see. She needn’t have worried: Angelica certainly was in her element as she skewered what looked like a werewolf on her silver sword, smiling as she pulled its heart from its chest.

  More Dark magicians had descended upon the castle, their home base. She couldn’t believe the carnage created, all because they didn’t approve of apprentices! It was madness.

  Upon finally making it back to the castle, she fought her way through a myriad of monsters in order to reach Aulus. She saw him ascending the staircase to the western tower that reached the outside, pursued by the leader of the Dark, a man whose name was now lost to legend.

  Harriet followed, afraid she was just a bit too slow as she heard heated arguing above her head. There was a telltale shaking, and the staircase she was on exploded as if there had been a bomb placed. She screamed as she fell, a hasty spell preventing any debris from falling on her head and killing her.

  Using another spell, she quickly moved the rubble out of the way in order to reach the tower to assist Aulus. Her heart was pounding like a drum and sweat beaded her body. Panic was starting to take hold as she heard nothing through the thick rock she was trying to move and make into a new, makeshift staircase.

  “Ailadeiladu,” she cast, and the staircase began to rebuild itself. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her when she reached the top.

  Aulus was pressed against the far wall while the Dark leader leered at him.

  “Imputresco!” the wizard cast, and Harriet felt her entire body stiffen up. That was a Dark curse that was unable to be removed: it slowly made your body decay from the inside out. There would be nothing left of Aulus by the time the sun rose.

  Harriet screamed as the man she loved fell backwards and then hit the ground, groaning in pain. The Dark wizard turned to regard her, but her rage took over as she held her hand before her and clenched her fist, reciting an old Welsh spell: “Marwolaeth!”

  She watched with some satisfaction as the man who had caused so much ruin screamed in pain and then fell to the ground, dead. Running, she jumped over his body in her haste to get to Aulus, who was writhing on the ground. He was always so strong, it pained her to see him this way.

  She held his head in her hands, calling his name.

  “Hurts…” he gasped. “Harriet…you must go. You…you did it. You killed the bloody fiend.”

  “What can I do?” she asked him, ignoring his statement. “How can I help you?”

  “You know as well as I do…there is no cure…silly girl.” He managed a smile and her tears fell even harder as she buried her face in his neck.

  “No. I can’t let you go.”

  “Look at me,” he commanded and she did as he asked. “Let me go. And know I died happily if I died looking in your eyes.” He closed his eyes and leaned back. The curse had reached his internal organs. He was gone.

  Harriet fell backwards and began to wail in a pain she had never imagined she could feel.

  ***

  Danny was snapped back to the present then, and the real Harriet was crying almost as hard as the memory Harriet had been. Danny put a comforting arm around her shoulder, always hating to see anyone sad. It took a few minutes, but she eventually calmed down.

  “I think he knew I was coming, and he used himself as bait,” she explained. “Fuck. I could have sat there mourning till I died. The only thing that got me out of there was that curse. I couldn’t possibly sit there and see his body decay.”

  Danny grimaced. “There was nothing to bury?”

  She shook her head. “Not unless you count a lot of…ick. Like opening a coffin after someone has been dead for an entire summer without being embalmed.” She shivered. “It gave me a life lesson: if you love someone, treasure every moment before this life steals them away.”

  Chapter Four

  The smell of grease and gasoline. Danny knew he was in a garage somewhere, in a red-tinged haze, as cold air assaulted his skin.

  “Are you all right? …What are you doing?” Screams. Not even screams of terror, but screams of pain. Anyone who screamed like that was probably being gored with a hot poker. But the red haze would not lift, and Danny couldn’t see who was screaming. It was a woman and he swore the voice sounded familiar.

  He heard gurgling, and then the wet snapping sound of a bone breaking.

  He woke up at that moment, covered in sweat as the midday sun streamed into his window. Running a hand through his curls, he got out of bed on shaky legs, that snapping noise resounding in his head. That had definitely been a bone being broken by hand. He’d heard a lot of bones breaking in his long career.

  Walking to the sink, he splashed his face with cold water and took a few breaths.

  What was that? Danny wondered as he toweled his face off. It wasn’t a normal dream, but he didn’t think it was a vision of the future, either. What he did know was that those tortured screams would remain in the echo chamber of his mind for a long time.

  He checked his cell phone, no messages. He was half tempted to call Harriet and ask her if there were any mangled bodies found, but decided against it. She had enough on her plate, heading the search for the mysterious vampire taunting Angelica.

  Downstairs, he started brewing coffee as he checked the mail. His house was so old he still had a mail slot. Since Angelica had turned, this was a typical routine for him, unless the PID called him in to help with a case. It was these quiet hours where he had time to relax and think. Not that Angelica bothered him, but sometimes it was hard to think when she was around, just because she was her.

  Going through the mail, there were two packages for Angelica: some merch from a metal band and a heavy box of secondhand books. Idly, he thought that they might need to build more bookshelves in their living room, which was beginning to resemble a library.

  He sifted through a couple of bills, tossed out a circular, and opened a letter from one of his second cousins who had just taken a vacation back in Italy. The last piece of mail was addressed to Angelica, and he was about to set it aside when he felt something odd inside.

  He checked the return address, but there wasn’t one. The postmark was from a suburb about half an hour away. Suddenly wishing he hadn’t touched the letter with his bare hands, he dropped it and put on a pair of cleaning gloves from under the sink to open the slightly bulging purple envelope.

  There was a cheery-looking springtime themed card inside. He pulled it out and something wrapped tightly in plastic wrap fell out onto the table. At first he thought it was one of those large pink erasers they give to elementary school kids. But there was no mistaking the blood congealed at one end.

  “This better not be what I think it is,” Danny muttered aloud, hands shaking as he held the card open with two fingertips.

  There were chicks and ducks printed on the outside, and inside was a smiling yellow sun. The
sun was slightly bloody, and written in calligraphy was, “Miss Cross, the little old lady who gave me your address was quite delicious, however her screaming became tiresome after two days. I am sure you understand.” It was written in what appeared to be a quill dipped in blood.

  Glad he hadn’t eaten yet, Danny gingerly placed the card so it covered the severed tongue and called Harriet. Glancing back at the card, he decided to put in an order for a new kitchen table, too.

  ***

  “I’ve been sent some death threats, poison, garlic, objects soaked in holy water. Believe it or not, this is my first severed body part,” Angelica said. She’d been pretty surprised when she came downstairs to find not just Danny and Harriet, but a small team from their ghoul-run CSI unit examining something on the kitchen table.

  “You sound almost proud of that,” Danny said, his face pale.

  She shrugged.

  “Any idea who this might belong to?” Harriet asked, gesturing to the tongue.

  “Well, very few people know I live here without access to the PID database,” Angelica said, thinking. “The note said ‘old lady’? It has to be Maya. She was an empath whom I saved back in the fifties. Her husband was a psychic vampire who was purposefully draining her and making her weak. It was the worst form of emotional abuse I’d seen at the time. Can I see the tongue?”

  She donned some gloves and took the tongue from one of the ghouls. “This has a bite mark. The vamp tore it out with their teeth.”

  Danny smirked. “Well, that gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘slipping some tongue’, doesn’t it?”

  “Danny!” Angelica cried, unable to keep from laughing. “And they call me twisted!”

  “Where does this Maya live?” Harriet asked, looking between them with an exasperated expression on her face.

  “The same suburb this was mailed from,” Angelica replied. She tossed the gloves in a portable biohazard container and said, “Let’s go see if he or she happened to leave her alive.”