Black Spells & Twisted Souls (Grey Witch Book 1)

by Cece Rose

  “Because the last one went so well?” I ask, flicking my gaze from my phone to where he’s sitting on the coffee table.

  “This will be different,” he insists.

  “What’s this suggestion, then?” I sigh.

  “I want to be free, and you want to find the real killer to prove your innocence, how about we kill two birds with one stone?”

  “And how would we do that?” I question, setting my phone down, suddenly feeling much more invested into the conversation.

  “So, I would help you find the killer and prove their guilt. In return, I believe that my keeping you from being locked in The Tomb for the next decade would be a suitable replacement from removing your pesky boss from your life. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asks, tilting his furry head at me as he waits for me to take in what he’s said.

  “You think you could help me find the evidence and prove who the real killer is?” I ask him, thinking over what he’s said seriously.

  “No, I think I can find out who the killer is, and then using that knowledge, we could find the evidence,” he explains.

  “What? How would we figure out who the killer is without evidence?” I ask, not following him.

  “We’d ask your boss,” he answer simply. If a cat could shrug, I’m pretty he would have just done that.

  “You’re aware he’s dead, right?” I ask sarcastically.

  “Yes, I am perfectly aware he’s dead as a doornail, little witch. However, the dead can still talk, if you know the right spell to use,” he answers, narrowing his yellowed eyes at me.

  “Necromancy?” I breathe. “That’s black magic. I can’t do that.”

  “And summoning demons is what all good white witches do, huh?” he snaps, taking me by surprise. “Work with me here.”

  “Look, I made a huge mistake by summoning you, and I’m not about to make another one by raising the dead. I’m staying far away from anything remotely dark. I’m a white witch,” I insist.

  “No, you’re a grey one,” he replies, before beginning to pace back and forth across the table.

  “Don’t you dare scratch my table with those claws,” I mutter when he starts dragging his paws.

  “You’ll be lucky if I don’t scratch your neck out with my actual claws when I return to my natural form,” he grumbles, coming to a halt.

  “Ah, we’re back to you threatening to kill me. Great, I was just starting to miss that.” I roll my eyes, and sit back.

  “One little, tiny even, black spell to solve all of your problems, witch. All you need to do is a temporary re-animation spell. It doesn’t really bring him back, it just reanimates the imprint of his life. He’s not really real, but he can remember what happened to him in life.” He makes it sound so easy, so tempting.

  “Look where one black spell got me. I summoned you, and now I have a sarcastic evil furball living in my house. I don’t even like cats,” I grumble.

  “And now, the only way to get rid of me is to cast just one more. It’s not like the spell even hurts anyone. The only sacrifice required is a few drops of your own blood,” he adds, as if that’ll tempt me.

  “There’s a reason they don’t just reanimate every murder victim. It’s not reliable information, is it?” I ask him, wanting to find a flaw in his plan.

  “When someone dies, the imprint can hold onto the trauma of their death. A lot of the time, when they reanimate the person they can get nothing but tortured screams as answers to their questions. Foolishly, your people decided it was a rights violation to reanimate someone for questioning. It’s near-impossible to get permission granted for doing it.”

  “Why is it so foolish to want to avoid putting someone through pain?” I ask.

  “Because it’s not a person now, is it? It’s an imprint, they don’t really feel anything. Not a person, so not a crime to interrogate them, even if they do scream in agony the whole time,” he answers, licking his paw. He sets his paw down again. “It’s not like they ever reanimate humans, either. It would be extra impossible to get one for that. They believe it goes against the idea of revealing supernatural existence to humans,” he huffs.

  “Keeping the existence of our kinds from the humans is the only thing all of the races agree on,” I say, not seeing why he seems frustrated over the secrecy.

  “It’s sweet you believe that humans are as unaware as they appear. But humans can summon demons, too. And they have, increasingly so over the last few years.”

  “You can’t be serious.” My eyes shoot to his. I swallow, seeing no sign of lying coming from him. It’s common knowledge that humans used to summon demons, and that they used to hold some belief in magic. Over the years, however, as human technologies advanced, we discouraged their beliefs in such things, and hid any evidence from their sight. The humans outnumber us in both numbers and weapons these days, showing the caution had been proved right.

  “I have no reason to lie about this.” He jumps down off the coffee table. “I’ll be taking a nap. Wake me up when you change your mind about reanimating the corpse. You should be able to find a suitable spell yourself. Go for the one with the five candles and the blood drop. It’s easier and more effective than slaughtering a chicken,” he adds, as he stalks out from the room with his tail swishing behind him.

  Left alone to contemplate his words, I shoot off a text to Darren and Rhydian. I hate to admit it, but the demon’s option might be my only shot. However, getting to the body might prove more difficult than he’d anticipated, and so I’m going to need a little help.

  Thankfully I happened to know a fae that damn well owes me one for screwing me over with Darren. His phasing ability could get me in and out of there without ever being caught. I smile as my phone buzzes, seeing texts come in from them both confirming that they’re on their way over.

  Twenty-Five

  Broken Like Me

  “What do you mean you can’t just phase me in?” I ask Rhydian disbelievingly.

  “They have wards up against any portals or phasing. You can only get in and out of the reception area that way. I’m willing to help you get in, even if I do I think it’s incredibly stupid and reckless, but phasing in isn’t how we can do it,” he explains as I try not to freak out over having my original plan completely ruined within seconds of him getting here.

  Darren keeps pacing back and forth across the room, and Solas is still snoozing upstairs. I’d locked him in the room whilst he slept. With Rhydian helping us get in, there’s no way I could bring Solas with me. Too risky that he’d figure out what and who he really is.

  “What is the plan then?” I ask.

  “We walk in the front door and sneak past security, and into the morgue,” he answers.

  “Well, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” I snap, before turning to face Darren. “Have you got a better idea?”

  “Nope.”

  “Great. That’s just damn peachy,” I mutter. “So, it looks like we’re going with option A, also known as the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. How are you expecting us to be able to just sneak by their security?” I ask, turning my focus back to Rhydian.

  “I have an idea.” He grins.

  “Care to share?” I ask impatiently.

  “Well, I do love sharing,” he answers, the usual flirtation slipping into his voice. Darren stills, and I roll my eyes, brushing off his inability to answer a question without throwing in a double meaning.

  “What’s the idea?” I ask again.

  “You’ll be invisible, obviously,” he answers, shrugging. He takes a seat, looking around at the room curiously. “You didn’t choose the decor, did you?” He sounds a little terrified at the prospect. As much as I’m not a fan of the old-lady style my grandma had left here, I can’t help but feel a little insulted for her.

  “No. I inherited the house from my grandma, and I haven’t had a chance to redecorate it yet,” I answer. “You’re going to make the three of us invisible?”

  “No, I’m going to make you i
nvisible. Darren and I are merely a distraction,” he explains, standing back up and walking closer to his friend.

  “How are we going to be a distraction?” Darren asks, finally speaking.

  “Just wait.” Rhydian grins. He waves his hand over Darren’s face, and when he pulls away, Darren’s eyes are completely glassy and he’s standing deadly still.

  “What the hell did you just do to him?” I demand, pushing past him to see if Darren is okay. I wave my hand in front of his eyes, but get no response. “If you hurt him—”

  “Calm down, I wouldn’t hurt him,” he says, cutting me off. “We just needed to talk for a moment, without extra ears listening in. I can wake him up at any moment, and he won’t recall a thing,” he explains.

  “You shouldn’t do that to people.” I look between him and Darren. “It’s wrong.”

  “Lots of things are wrong, freezing a friend for five minutes to spare their feelings isn’t one of them.” He pats Darren on the shoulder, before stepping away.

  “Spare his feelings?” I echo questioningly.

  “I wanted to explain why I told Darren about our earlier meeting,” he begins.

  “Save it. It was you who wanted to keep it a secret, because of how you thought he’d react to where and how we really met. Then you just throw me under the bus? I don’t care about your excuses,” I grumble, stalking off to sit down for a minute.

  “I had to. He was under the impression that we’re sleeping together. He said something felt weird about the two of us, and so I explained that we’d met once before, and that it had been a little bit of a strange meeting. He accepted the explanation and dropped it. I don’t see what the big deal is here.” He takes the seat across from me. “I was just trying to spare his feelings.”

  “Let me think. Maybe it’s the fact that you are definitely trying to sleep with me, or maybe it’s the fact that Darren came over here anyway, demanding to know if we were sleeping together! You clearly didn’t do a good job of convincing him otherwise, unless that was your plan all along? Let him think we are sleeping together, maybe you thought I’d just do it if he thought I already had,” I snap. “And if you really care about his feelings, maybe you should stop trying to seduce me,” I add.

  “Kayla, I’m not trying to do anything. It comes naturally, I already told you as much. You can spare his feelings and do what you want, he never needs to know,” he suggests.

  “I’m not going to lie to him. I don’t want you, so get the hell over your dumb ego, and leave me alone, okay? After this, I don’t want to have to see you again. Do you understand me?”

  “You kissed me, and I know that you wanted more. Why do you refuse everything that you want? You refuse to be with Darren, and you refuse to be with anyone else you desire too. Lonely doesn’t suit you, Kayla,” he replies calmly, ignoring how pissed off I am with him.

  “I’m not lonely,” I bite out, as I grip the edge of the sofa cushion tightly with my fingers. He’s pushing every single button I have, and the bastard looks like he’s enjoying it, as he sits there all composed and calm, not feelings within him at all. He’s all sex, magic, and flirtatious jokes, but he’s hollow. I preferred my men with some depth. “And maybe I will be with Darren,” I add, although, I’m not entirely sure why I’m telling him that. It’s something I’ve barely wrapped my own head around since he came over yesterday. I wanted him, and he wanted me. I just had to be sure that I could commit forever first.

  “I hope that you will be,” Rhydian says, surprising me.

  “Why would you want that?” I ask.

  “He’s my friend. I want to sleep with you, and I’m very sure that I will, but I’d be happy for you two to live happily ever after. Or whatever it is you people do,” he explains.

  “You’re messed up,” I mutter, standing back up. I walk back over to where I was standing before and look at Rhydian expectantly.

  He rolls his green eyes and stands up too, walking back over to Darren. He pauses right in front of him, turning around to look at me dead in the eyes. “Maybe I am. But maybe you are too,” he whispers, before turning back and waving his hand over Darren’s face.

  Twenty-Six

  Dialing the Dead

  After spending some time going over the plan, Rhydian phases the three of us into the reception area, with me already nice and invisible from sight. Only his hand in mine allows him to be able to see me through the enchantment.

  “Okay, the spell should hold for about forty-five minutes, so you’ll need to be quick,” he whispers, nudging me forward as I let go of his hand. I feel a little sick and unsteady on my feet for a moment as I make my way across the room, but the feeling quickly passes. Shifting my bag on my shoulder, I stand flat against the wall by the door to the secured area, and wait for the distraction.

  Rhydian leans forward and whispers something to Darren. I can’t help but wish I could lip read, as Darren shakes his head at him, clearly refusing to go along with whatever Rhydian had just suggested. He sighs dramatically and then says something else. Whatever it is, it can’t be good as Darren swings a punch at his friend, which he narrowly manages to dodge. He lunges back, crashing into him and sending them both tumbling into some chairs.

  A security alarm starts to go off, and the door next to me swings open as two men walk out, heading towards where Darren and Rhydian are fighting. I quietly slip through the door, and head down the corridor, looking for the stairs.

  Rhydian had said he was sure that the morgue is located downstairs, and that it’s accessible through a lift and a set of normally shut off stairs. Stairs that I have exactly two minutes to find before the fire doors all unlock. I’m not sure what Rhydian’s plan is exactly, but I’m sure it includes setting off some sparks to trigger the buildings emergency protocol. Emergency doors would all unlock in the event of a fire, including the ones that lead down to the morgue. I wasn’t sure how he knew all this, but it was damn well coming in handy for me now.

  After running up and down several corridors, I spot a fire door. A small window in the door shows the stairs behind it. As if he’d managed to time it perfectly, the fire alarm starts going off, and I hear the click of the doors unlocking. I grin, pushing the door open and slipping through. My smile is quickly wiped away though, when sprinklers start going off from the ceiling, quickly drenching me. With my blonde hair sticking to my head, and my feet slipping on the stairs, I slowly make my way down. Just my freaking luck that the sprinklers would go off where there isn’t even any fires raging. I step aside and stand frozen and as silent as possible as two people walk up the stairs right by me. Once I’m sure they’ve gone, I continue down to the morgue.

  I push open the blue-coloured door, and step into room. Thankfully, the sprinklers aren’t going off down here. The room itself makes me think of a hospital, with bland walls and flooring, long beam lights, and medical equipment everywhere. If it wasn’t for the cold lockers on the far wall, you wouldn’t know what it was for sure. I swallow, trying to keep my nerve. I hadn’t thought through the fact I’d have to see his body. I shiver, and I’m not sure if it’s from how cool it is down here, or if I’m just freaked out.

  Shaking off my reservations, I head over to the cold lockers, thankful that they’re carefully labelled, so I won’t have to go through all of them to find Jay’s body. His is located on the far right bottom, and it looks like he’ll roll right out. Before I can chicken out, I unlock and pull open the locker, dragging out the wheeled slab he’s lying on.

  I’m surprised by the fact he’s just lying there with a white sheet draped across him from the waist down. I’d expected a body bag or something. Instead, I’m shocked with his pale, lifeless face. There’s not a mark on his skin that could tell me anything about how he died from what I can see. I swallow the urge to vomit, and pull him out and into the centre of the room.

  I grab my candles and set them out on the floor around is body. One in each direction—north, east, south, and west. I take the fifth and final
candle with me into the circle. I rest the candle next to the body, whilst I grab my athame from my bag. The small ceremonial dagger was seldom used, but today it was finally coming in handy. I concentrate and light the candles one by one, starting with north and ending with west. I pick up the final candle again, while holding the knife in my other hand. Just a little scratch…

  “What are you doing?” Detective Huxley’s voice comes from the doorway. My eyes dart up to him. It’s been ten-fifteen minutes tops. How the hell can he see me? He looks between me and the body, understanding dawning on his face. “Why are you trying to reanimate the body?” he demands.

  “I’m trying to find out who the real killer is,” I admit, not seeing a point in lying. He’d caught me red-handed.

  “By reanimating him and asking him? Do you realise how unreliable that information can be? That there’s every chance he won’t be able to recall a thing, or that he’ll be too lost in the trauma to even speak?” He walks further into the room, directing towards me.

  “I had to try. Any information is better than none. I want my life back,” I say, holding the dagger a little tighter. I could probably cut myself and say the words before he could stop me…

  He looks between me and the body again. “Reanimating people without a warrant is illegal, Miss Harlow.”

  “I know,” I whisper, hating that my life has somehow come to this. I look down at Jay’s body. A mixture of repulsion and sadness running through me.

  “It’s a good thing that I got here too late then, that whoever did this had already cast the spell and was gone before I walked in. That they left the body animated carelessly,” he says slowly. “It wouldn’t be my fault if I happened to hear something before being able to put the body back to rest,” he adds.

  My eyes dart up at him. He couldn’t be serious?

  “Is this a trick?” I question nervously.

  “No,” he answers. I look at him, trying to see any signs of a lie, but his face is a cool and calm mask, with no emotions playing across it at all.