Dead of Night
Book One in the Thorne Hill Series
Emily Goodwin
Dead of Night
Book One in the Thorne Hill Series
Copyright 2019
Emily Goodwin
Cover photography by Braadyn Penrod
Cover art by Covers by Christian
Editing by Not Your Brother’s Edits
Editing by Contagious Edits
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or places is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
To Felicia.
All I have to do is say the word
and you’ll get the shovel ready.
Contents
Extras
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Thank you
About the Author
Also by Emily Goodwin
Extras
Play list
Pinterest board
Callie’s recommended reading list
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Chapter 1
“You know,” I say as I turn my dagger over in my hands, looking out into the dark woods in front of me. “I’m starting to take this personally.” I wait, closing my eyes to get a better read on the energy around me. Something dark and demonic is lurking about, but they haven’t made their move yet.
“It’s not like I smell.” I pick up a strand of my wavy brown hair. “I showered and everything. My socks even match.” The clouds that were covering the moon roll away, bathing the earth in pale silver light. I cast my eyes up, feeling the power of the full moon. “Come on, I just want to talk.” I stand, needing to stretch my legs. I’ve been sitting on the cold stone steps of this historical farmhouse for an hour, waiting to make a kill. Shadows move across the porch and my heart skips a beat. There’s more than one demon and I’m out here by myself.
Hell yes.
A small smile plays across my lips. Closing my eyes, I inhale and pull in energy from all around me. I’ve been tracking this demon for weeks, following several cases of people going missing on hikes at this national park. With no signs of foul play, the police have come to the conclusion that the hikers continued their journey through the park, going to the lake where they fell in and got swept away by the undertow. The lake has been searched, of course, but it’s not like you can drag all of Lake Michigan for their bodies.
But me? I know better. There are no signs of foul play because every last part of the bodies has been consumed. More hikers will go missing if I don’t stop the demons. They’re at their full power under the light of the full moon, manifesting from non-corporeal beings into those with physical bodies, which might be bad news for me if I didn’t know that tonight was also the only night they could be destroyed.
For good.
Well, if I can get to the spell I have written down on a piece of paper and folded in my pocket in time because very specific words need to be spoken in order to send these guys into the earth for a final dirt nap. I hold the dagger up in one hand, reaching around with the other for the spell.
The air around me cools, and I know at least one is approaching. Dammit. So much for getting out the spell. Yeah, I know I should have memorized it, but Latin has always been difficult for me, and I was banking on being able to look at the paper and read instead of recall. I almost roll my eyes imagining Tabatha’s narrowing gaze as she crosses her arms in her tale-tell I told you so look.
I hurry down the rest of the stone steps and move around to the side of the house, keeping my eyes trained on the dark woods closest to me. One of the demons lurches forward with a roar, teeth bared and taloned hands outstretched. The other stays behind, and if I couldn’t sense the darkness surrounding it, I wouldn’t know it was there.
“Silly demon. You should know better than to trust a witch when she says she just wants to talk.”
It lunges for me and I dart out of the way, knowing there’s no way I can stop and get to the spell now. I can’t kill it…not yet. I hold up the dagger, blade glinting in the moonlight.
“Hit him hard and hit him deep. Strike the heart and make him weep,” I whisper and feel magic pulse through my hand and into the blade. Without a second thought, I spring up and turn, throwing the dagger into the night. It hits one of the demons, sinking into its chest and sizzling with red-hot magic.
The other demon who’s humanlike in appearance but is covered in coarse gray skin, hisses and jumps away, rounding on me with talons splayed in my direction. I pull the spell from my pocket and unfold the paper. Right as I look down at my messy letters scrawled across the page, something grabs my hair and yanks me back.
The paper falls from my hand, fluttering to the ground. I jerk my head back, headbutting whoever is behind me. A demon growls and lashes out from the pain, moving its hands from my hair to my waist. It pulls me close and something warm and wet drips along my neck.
“Sick,” I say, bringing my elbow back in a swift movement. I hit it hard in the ribs, twisting and breaking out of its hold. I don’t have time to grimace from the demon blood that is rolling down my skin. The demon without a dagger in its chest barrels forward. I jump out of the way, diving to the ground and rolling back onto my feet in a well-practiced move. The wind picks up, blowing the piece of paper with the spell written on it away from the house and into the woods.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter and throw out my hand, sending a ball of magical energy at the demon. It staggers back, knocked to its ass by the force of my power. I use the small distraction to my advantage and turn toward the paper. The other demon pulls the dagger from its chest and hurls it at me.
I dive forward, narrowly avoiding being hit right in the boob with the dagger. It clips my shoulder, tearing open my flesh. I fall to the ground, grunting in pain. Muddy grass squishes beneath me, smearing across my already-ruined shirt. I push off the ground, grabbing the paper and springing back to my feet.
“Mater et luna voco,” I start to read, and the demons let out a shriek. They know what’s coming and I enjoy the hell out of this each and every time. “Redde unde exierunt,” I go on, voice growing louder. “Cinis cinerem. Pulvis sunt pariter!”
I yank a crystal from around my neck and throw it down at the demons’ feet right as I fi
nish reciting the spell. It sparks, sending a wave of magic into the air, and incinerating the demons into nothing more than a pile of ash.
* * *
“Morning,” Kristy says cheerfully, coming into the bookstore with two coffees in her hand. It’s an unspoken rule that the person who doesn’t open the store we own together stops by Curlew Café for coffee in the morning. She sets my black coffee on the counter and waves her hand at the blinds, making them magically roll up.
“What happened to your shoulder?” She comes around the counter and stashes her purse in the cabinet under the register.
I’m wearing an off-the-shoulder black sweater and leggings, and I didn’t even realize the cut was showing.
“Stupid warbler demon threw my own dagger at me. After I’d stabbed him with it.”
“Gross.” Kristy wrinkles her nose. “I hope you disinfected it.”
“I did, and I used up the rest of my healing balm this morning.”
“I’ll make you more.” She walks across the store, running her fingers over the spines of books and turns on the open sign.
“Thanks.”
“How was the hunt, though? Did you get them?”
“Don’t I always?” I grab my coffee and pop the lid off the paper to-go cup, letting it cool down.
“Don’t get cocky now,” Kristy teases, and it’s only funny because I’m not. I’ve spent years training, and most importantly, I know my limits.
“I’ll try my hardest not to,” I shoot back. “And really, these lower-level demons don’t put up much of a fight. I didn’t even have to summon my familiars for help.”
“That’s good.” Kristy shudders and flips the lock, opening up the store to the general public. Two customers come in by the time she gets back to the counter. Kristy and I met years ago, and while we both have magical powers, we’re quite different. Which is why we make such good friends.
Kristy is a pacifist. She likes making love potions, healing balms, and good luck charms. She spends her spare time gardening and watches nothing but HGTV. But cross her, hurt someone she loves, and the toy poodle turns into Cerberus.
“I’m going shopping later today,” she says, coming back behind the counter and pulling a notebook out of the drawer under the register so she can start making a list. “Shopping” is code for she’s traveling to another coven to purchase magical supplies. “Do you need anything?”
“Black salt and mandrake root,” I tell her quietly, eyeing the couple who went right to the romance section. We’re the only independent bookstore in the area, and after the last big chain retailer went out of business, things really picked up for us.
“What about vervain and garlic?”
“Yeah. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Though so far the vamps in town have been pretty polite.”
“It’s always the quiet ones who turn out to be cold-blooded killers.”
“Kind of like you,” she pokes, though it’s true. Killing demons is more of a public service I don’t get paid for, than murder, but it’s still killing.
Overall, the vampires have assimilated into the general population better than anyone expected once they revealed themselves to the world several years ago. But witches aren’t the general population. We have a bit of a jaded history and letting the world know vampires exist puts the rest of us magical folk at risk of being exposed. Which we don’t want. At all. Witches were persecuted once, and we don’t want to be in the public eye again.
With animal blood being sold by the bottle, vampires claim they have no reason to feed on humans anymore. And if they just happen to be craving the fresh blood of the living, they can pay top dollar for “privately and ethically harvested” human blood. The whole thing is still a hot debate, with some people saying it should be illegal to sell human blood like that when the Red Cross goes through shortages every year. Others say we should be able to do what we want with our blood, and if selling it to be filtered and poured into fancy black bottles is what some want to do, then we should let them.
“That’s all you need?” she asks, jotting down a few more things on her list.
“Yeah, I did an inventory a few days ago and I’m good. Though if you’re able to stop by the Redwood Mortuary, I could use some more Dead Man’s Blood. Preferably something fresh and not from anyone with heart disease.”
“I can stop by and see what they have. Want me to bring everything over tonight?”
“Nah, you can bring it in next time you see me.” Kristy lives downtown, within walking distance from the store, and I live on the outskirts of Thorne Hill in an old house I renovated myself.
The rest of the morning goes on like any other. I recommend my favorite indie author to a group of college-age girls, hook up an older couple with a romance series that’s sure to put the spark back into their love life, and find the perfect self-help book for a shy teenager who I’m pretty sure is skipping school right now, but hey—who am I to judge?
Kristy leaves when the lunchtime slump hits, and I sneak into the back room really fast to use the bathroom and grab my lunch. I turn on music, dancing in place as I open a Tupperware container of last night’s leftovers. I hold my hand over the spaghetti, using magic to heat it up. I sit on the chair behind the register, thinking I’ll get a minute or two at least before someone else comes in. But then the bell dings as the door opens.
I blink a few times and look up, eyes focusing on the dark-haired girl who just walked into the store. She looks around, wringing her hands, unsure of herself. It’s her first time here because, trust me, I’d know if this woman had set foot in my store before.
Because she’s my sister.
“Abby?” Her name rolls off my lips and I feel just as surprised as she looks. It’s been over a year since we’ve seen each other, and the moment she turns and looks right into my eyes, something tugs on my heart.
I miss her.
“Hey, Callista,” she breathes, eyes wide.
“Callie,” I correct and then feel bad. Maybe she forgot I don’t go by my full name anymore. “What…what are you doing here? I mean…it’s nice to see you. Wait, is something wrong?” I jump out of the chair behind the counter and smooth my hair back again. I slept on it wet and it dried all wavy. It’s pointless to try and tame it.
“I wanted to see you.” She moves into the store far enough to get out of the way of anyone else coming in but doesn’t take a step further. Clutching the strap of her Gucci purse, she looks around before turning her gaze on me. “Penny turns one soon. We’re having a party.”
“One year already,” I echo, feeling a pang in my heart. “That went by fast.”
“Tell me about it,” my sister says, still not moving into the store. She steals another glance around the place, not quite sure if the books are going to stay put or not.
“It’s a regular bookstore,” I assure her. “You’re safe.”
“I…I…I’m not…it’s…” She shakes her head, stumbling over her words. Clearing her throat, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a cream-colored envelope. “I’d love to have you at Penny’s party.”
I come around from behind the counter and take the invitation from her. I swallow hard, refusing to let myself feel.
“It’s at our house,” she goes on. “We’re updating our kitchen, so all the food is being catered and brought in from Luciano’s. You still like that place, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, though I haven’t been in years.
“Good, because there’s going to be a ton of food. And their famous red wine.” She meets my eyes and gives me a small smile.
“I do like wine,” I say, not agreeing or disagreeing to go to my only niece’s birthday party. “I thought your house was new. You’re doing a renovation already?”
“Oh, right. You don’t know. We, uh, we bought a place in Lincoln Park.”
“Really?” I say, not meaning to sound so surprised. “I thought that penthouse was your dream
house and it was so close to the hospital you work at.”
Abby casts her eyes down and her cheeks grow red. “We just thought a change would be, uh, nice. For Penny. The new place is close to the lake and a park.”
She’s not telling the whole truth, but I’m not going to press. As long as she’s got a roof over her head and a safe place to sleep, I don’t care where she lives.
I look down at the invitation, not knowing what to say. She’s my older sister. I’ve known her my whole life. But this…this is awkward and suddenly I forget how normal people act. I turn my gaze back up, finding her looking around the store.
The bell chimes behind her and she moves forward, making sure she’s not in the way.
“This place is nice,” she says with a smile. “You always were a big reader.”
“Yeah. Books were my safe place.”
“I’d really like it if you came to the party.” Her eyes go to the cut on my shoulder. She inhales as she looks me over. “You look good, Callie.”
I wave my hand in the air. “You don’t have to lie, Abby. I had a late, rough night last night.”
“With a guy?” She offers a small smile.
“A few guys, actually.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Sounds fun.”
Is that a real smile I see on my sister’s face?
“It’s not what you think. I’m just ridding the world of evil.”
Dead of Night: Book One in the Thorne Hill Series Page 1
