Spells & Life

by Rachel Medhurst

  Shaking my head, I bit my lip hard. His finger came up to nudge my teeth. Forcing myself to let go, I swallowed. “Ever since I died, I cannot wield the magic I used to. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

  It was his turn to shake his head roughly. I had never seen him so agitated about me. Was he angry that I was no longer a strong agent? I hadn’t known him for too long, but there was a bond between us. Working so closely with someone inevitably made it hard not to form a friendship.

  “Being dead has not stopped you from being you. Don’t make excuses. You are perfectly capable of being the agent you’ve always been. Just because this bastard has a personal vendetta against you, doesn’t mean we can’t stop him. In fact, that should make you more determined. As soon as you admit that he wants you, we can change tactics. This isn’t about the Essex witches...” Coming slightly closer, Dave forced me to stare into his eyes as his lips moved. “This is about you.”

  My chest rose and fell as the truth of what he said sunk in. This man wasn’t after me because I was an Essex witch, he was after me because of the bet my father had made. This whole time he had been using me as an excuse to kill other people. His sick nature needed to be taken down. Why not just come for me, instead of hurting all those people?

  “Let’s go and interview the Cambridges,” I said, grabbing Dave’s arms and squeezing. “And then, I’m going to confront this wanker. He needs to die. I will not marry someone who is not of my choosing.”

  A small smile played on Dave’s face as he tucked my hair behind my ear. Even though there was nothing between us, his light fingers dancing over my skin sent another shiver down my spine. Why was he affecting me so much recently?

  “Let’s do this.”

  Smiling in return, I flashed us to the prison block of the building. The security guard there jolted, spilling his coffee on his trousers.

  “You’ve got to stop scaring me like that,” he said. “You’re a pain in the arse Gemma Abbott.”

  Returning his grin, I winked. “I do apologise. I’ve been in a bit of a rush recently. I promise to make it up to you.”

  His laughter was joined by the shake of his head. “As if you would stop work long enough.”

  Moving over to the doors, he flashed his card and allowed us entry. Patting his arm as we went past, I thanked him. As he turned to go back to his post, I clicked my fingers and spelled him a box of luxury doughnuts. Who didn’t love doughnuts?

  His laughter echoed as the doors shut behind us and we went towards the interrogation room. We had already asked him to bring Joseph Cambridge for questioning.

  The main middle area of the prison block was dark. Lights were embedded on the floor, leading us to the doors of various rooms. Numbers were set in the doors, lit up in yellow light. The darkness was magically induced. It helped those of us who had clearance to use magic in the block while disarming the prisoners.

  “Are you sure you want to question Joseph first?” Dave asked as he led us to Interrogation Room One.

  It was a bit of a stupid question, one that Dave had never asked me before when it came to my decisions. In fact, he had been good to trust in every part of the process. Why was he doubting me now? Maybe he thought I wasn’t capable of staying disconnected. The demon mask was left at the same factory building that Joseph Cambridge used to summon an actual demon. There was no way that the pair were not connected.

  “Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll keep a clear mind. This is still work after all.”

  The door opened when Dave flashed his card across the panel. The slow swish of wind that blew back my hair made me pause for a second. The vampire inside had not only sworn a vendetta against me, he had threatened innocent lives.

  Straightening my spine, I marched in behind Dave who was already approaching the table. Closing the door behind me, I took my time in joining my colleague as I stared at Joseph. His grey hair was thinning on top, the sides bushier than usual. His face was puffy, stuck in the same unattractive expression. I had never seen him do anything but scowl. Not that I’d had much dealing with the leader of the PFF, but every single surveillance camera or picture showed him with an extremely unhappy scowl on his face.

  “You seem to think that you’re indestructible,” he said as he cracked his knuckles.

  He was staring at me as I sat next to Dave. The table was wide, not allowing us to be too near the prisoner. The handcuffs around his wrists were infused with ley line magic. I’d had to use them on several vampires before. The bastards did have supernatural powers after all. Strength was their middle name.

  “Joseph Cambridge, when we last met you threatened to end me. What is it that you have against the Essex witches? What makes you think that you are able to threaten a species so violently? Especially putting human lives at risk at the same time.”

  Placing my arms on the table, I pulled forward so that I was as close as I could possibly get. I wasn’t going to show him that I was afraid. Well, I wasn’t actually afraid. He may think that he had power over us because he was leading a terrorist group, but I had the better of him.

  “I’m just trying to restore the balance of magic,” he hissed, his pale face turning bright red as he stared at me.

  The bulge of his dark blue eyes matched the navy suit he wore. His average frame was slightly bulkier than most vampires. There had been a myth that all vampires were attractive. A person who had been changed into one didn’t miraculously become handsome if he had been an unattractive human. The authors who had made out that vampires were always pretty had romanticised the species way beyond reality. Not that I had much of a problem with vampires, they were in general decent... sometimes. The government had tight restrictions on blood drinking, meaning that only blood donations could be used. Not that many vampires adhered to the law. Many humans interacted with them and willingly allowed them to drink.

  “Ever since your killer friend has been meddling with the ley line, the balance of magic has been extremely unbalanced.”

  It was hard for me to keep my cool when he was such a tyrant. Not only had he threatened part of the witches’ race, he had threatened innocent lives. On top of that, he had broken every single rule in the governmental book regarding demons and hell. At least the Prime Minister would have him killed way before he was allowed to be released. That was the law when it came to supernatural creatures who threatened humans.

  Shaking his head, Joseph sat back in his seat, the chains around his wrists clunking on the surface of the table as he did. “I don’t know your killer. He has not revealed himself to me. I’m not saying that he isn’t a part of the PFF, but I’m not actually aware of who he is.”

  Gritting my teeth, I clenched my hands into fists. He was telling the truth, I could tell. Being an agent meant I had been trained as a lie detector. Just the slight movement of a hand or the flick of an eye could give away a liar in one second. And yet, Joseph Cambridge was telling the truth. He had no idea who the Essex Obsessor was.

  “Last night,” Dave said, leaning over and holding out his tablet for Joseph to see. “Your wife planted a bomb at a concert. What were you hoping to gain by blowing up humans who were having fun?”

  The slight widening of Joseph’s eyes as he watched the video of Helen at the arena caught my attention. Maybe he hadn’t been aware that she was going to make that move.

  “Firstly, I’m in here, so I don’t call the shots. Secondly, the reason she would have done that is because the government can no longer control us. We will not allow the likes of you in power to determine how we live our lives. Humans have more freedom than anyone, but they are the least powerful.”

  “They may be weaker,” I hissed, smacking the table with my fist. “But, there are many more of them than there are of us. One word from the Prime Minister and she can unleash hell upon all those who have supernatural abilities.”

  My aggressive reply didn’t move him. Folding his arms as best he could with the chains around his wrists, he raised his eyebrows. “The
y may try, but they are afraid. If we had more control over the ley line magic, we would be able to take humans down.”

  Dave’s snort of laughter made us both stare at him. Running a hand through his loose wavy hair, he lent forward and glanced at me. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

  Shaking my head, I smiled at him. Playing with Joseph Cambridge was fun. How long could we drag out the interview for?

  “Okay,” he said, his chubby cheeks glowing pink as he looked between us. “I’ll bite. What don’t I know?”

  Our amused expressions stayed on our faces as we watched him. His teeth played with his bottom lip as he waited for us to answer. The canines that would extend were safely tucked away, unable to come out the whole time he was trapped in the prison. Those at the top had always insisted that we feed the vampires we kept in isolation. Their donor blood bags were sparse so we could only provide one a day. In a way, it was cruel. However, in my opinion, it was sensible. The less blood they had, the weaker they became. Even though our prison was extremely fortified considering it was paranormal MI5, there was no point in taking any risks.

  “The government have a backup plan. One that would destroy every supernatural creature living on this earth.” I cracked my knuckles, copying his movement from earlier.

  Sitting back again, Dave slanted his head to the side as he stared at Joseph. “Don’t think our government is the only one who would destroy us if we got out of control. Who doesn’t have a contingency plan? I bet you even have one for your little group.”

  Joseph thrust forward, trying to get out of his chair. Laughing, I whispered a freezing spell. His legs froze just as his butt rose from the chair. He was leaning forward, unable to reach us, unable to sit back down. The strain on his face was hard to ignore. Covering my mouth, I swallowed the laugh that wanted to escape.

  “Of course my little group...” Joseph spat the last three words. “...has a plan. Shouldn’t you be thinking about what they would do if I was captured?”

  Shrugging, Dave acted like he didn’t care. He was a good actor when he tried, able to disconnect from the emotion of our job. Except when it came to me and the personal links to our case.

  “Your wife has been pulled in for questioning,” I said.

  The roll of his eyes was almost enough for me to lose my temper. I could see the thought that went through his mind. A lot of men were still prejudiced against women, even though we lived in a modern age. Vampires often lived for centuries which meant that they held that view far more than humans and modern day witches.

  “There’s no point in carrying on with this interview,” he said. “There’s nothing I can tell you. Shouldn’t you be out there trying to find the serial killer?”

  His bored tone made me surge from my chair. Pushing his shoulder harshly, I laughed when he toppled to the ground. Dave took my wrist, forcing me to break the spell that held Joseph’s legs frozen in place. As he scrambled up from the lino floor, the vampire sneered at me.

  “You really want to know what we have in store for you?” His words pushed through his teeth, his lips pulled far back from the sharp incisors. “We’re going to take what’s no longer yours to keep. Come the Equinox, you won’t have a choice but to give up all that you are.”

  “And how are you going to do that exactly? Use a demon?” Dave was cool as he spoke.

  My legs were shaking under the table as I tucked my hands into my lap. The Equinox. The serial killer had mentioned that he would perform a ritual at a specific time. He must have meant the Equinox. The time when Earth’s magic was most superior when it connects with the moon.

  “I’m not going to reveal my plans. I’ve said too much already. Curse of being an angry vampire.” Sitting in his seat, Joseph kept a straight face.

  Getting up, I stared down at the leader of the PFF. “You won’t have a chance to ruin me, considering you’re stuck in here. Your wife made a fatal move last night. Neither of you are ever getting out. Meaning your little group of terrorists will fall apart. Especially when you’re executed. You won’t ever get the chance to resurrect anyone, because you’ll be dead.”

  Leaving Dave to finish the interview, I left. He gave me a small nod when I looked over my shoulder. He would ask Joseph about the demon. How he did it, what it entailed and what he’d hoped to gain from using a demon. He’d also speak to Helen and find out who was working with her.

  At that moment, my energy was depleted. If the threat to the ley line was real, which it was, I had to find a way to come back to life. That way, if my enemies ever did achieve their goal, I would at least still live.

  Chapter 8

  The bag of ashes was heavy in my palm as I crossed the street. Taking a deep breath, I studied the ancient disused church that rose high above me.

  A cool wind whipped at my loose hair as I checked around to make sure no one was following me.

  When the gate opened, the rusted metal hinges squeaked. The stench of damp earth swept into my nostrils as I stepped silently up the stone steps of the church, my breath held when I tapped the marked wooden door three times.

  Creaking open, the door allowed me access to the inside of the building. No one was on the other side, telling me that the witch who I’d arranged to see had allowed me entrance with a spell. She must be able to feel that it was me if she could perceive my energy.

  “Welcome!” a feminine voice called as I stalked down the aisle.

  The run down church was gothic in style, the stain glassed windows running down the sides of the walls. It was shadowy, the dark night not allowing any light to stream in through the pretty coloured glass. Candles flickered on every available surface, the flames dancing and illuminating the church.

  A woman stood at the altar, a round stone table in front of her. The pews to either side of me lacked any cushions, only the bare wood, unused for many years.

  “I see you hold the ashes of a witch.”

  She did? Well, she must have very good eyesight. Or the ancestors had warned her that I was coming.

  The bag had appeared in my bedroom the night I got home from my previous visit to the ancestors. I had locked it away, afraid of what it held. I could no longer be afraid, I had to carry out what the ancestors had asked of me.

  “Can you help me?”

  Getting closer, I studied her face. Her forehead was covered by the navy blue hood of her cloak, sending shadows across her cheeks. However, when she looked up, her bright grey eyes pierced me. The wrinkles on her face travelled in lines that marked her skin enough to make it sag. She was an ancient witch, one that my mother had sometimes spoken about. My mother would have very strong words for me if she had known what I was doing.

  Pushing her cloak from her head, the witch stared at me. Her grey hair was frizzy, the ends falling below her shoulders. As she reached her arm forward, her clawed wrinkled hand gestured me forward. “I can try.”

  Feeling into the energy of the church, I relaxed when the energy returned pure. The witch wasn’t using dark magic, which would’ve repelled me from the church before I’d even entered. My muscles still clenched, on edge as I moved closer.

  “I have two things to ask of you,” I started, pausing when she held up her hand.

  Tilting her head to the side, she pursed her lips. “Your energy is all wrong, my dear. What happened to you?”

  Ah yeah, it wasn’t a surprise that an old witch caught me out. Being dead meant that my life force was technically gone, replaced by the magic from the ley line.

  “I... I died. My name is Gemma Ab-”

  “I know who you are. How did you die?”

  Her croaky voice grew clearer as she spoke. She was a no-nonsense witch, my type of person. I couldn’t be doing with airy fairy witches. So often, their minds had lost the plot. Too much magic could turn an old witch a little mad.

  “I was shot. Bullet to the heart. Bled out. Felt like I died, but suddenly, I was alive again.”

  “You’re an Essex witch, trained to protect th
e ley line.” The witch looked down at her stone table as she moved something around.

  Going closer, I ascended the steps to join her. Glimpsing at what she was playing with, I raised my eyebrows. They were small wooden counters, carved with runes. Some witches used rune magic, but they usually had Scandinavian blood lines.

  “My name is Helga,” she said, her lips pursing again.

  Yeah, witches were extremely intuitive too. She must have sensed the question in the air. I had never personally used rune magic, but I respected it.

  “The ley line is keeping you alive. It wants you to keep protecting it.” Closing her eyes, Helga hovered her hands over the five runes laid out in a circle. Whispering a spell in Norwegian, she allowed her head to drop backwards.

  Wind ruffed my hair slightly, sending the candles flickering wildly. They stayed alight, the magic that had lit them strong enough to withstand the breeze.

  As her chant died down, the runes shook violently. When they rearranged themselves, I clenched my hands into fists. I had no idea what the symbols meant, but my nerves still tickled my insides.

  “You’ve been given a task by the ancestors...” Holding out her hand, she waited.

  Passing over the bag full of my father’s ashes, I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to bring my father back to life, but if the ancestors wished it, I couldn’t ignore them.

  “Bringing yourself back to life will mess with the pure magic of Mother Earth. Your own karmic balance will be thrown out, meaning you won’t be able to protect the ley line. Only pure magic can be connected to the line. Or it becomes contaminated.”

  Swiping the runes aside, Helga placed a glass bowl in the centre of the table. Opening the velvet pull-string of the bag, she upended the ashes into the bowl. My stomach churned at the thought of what was about to happen.

  “Go and make a circle with salt. We need to make sure it’s tight so no other spirits can come over with your father.”

  Shoving a jar of salt into my hand, she pointed to a space where many other spells and rituals had been cast. The stone floor was marked with scratches and burn marks. Helga must have been a very busy witch.