Witch's Sorrow: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye Series Book 1)

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Witch's Sorrow: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye Series Book 1) Page 24

by Taylor Aston White


  “I have been asked…”

  “Since when do you listen to every order?”

  D stood a few feet back, his pale fingers pulling his long hair away from his face in an uncharacteristic display of agitation.

  “Did Dread send you?”

  “Alice, you need to listen to me. This is important.” He stepped toward her.

  “Back off." She dropped her voice a few octaves.

  He pulled the sunglasses from his face, showing her his dark eyes. “You threatening me petite sorcière?” An unfriendly smile.

  “Whatever works.” The wind whipped at her hair.

  “You don’t understand. You need to come with me.” His leg tensed as he leant forward. “It isn't safe.”

  The moment she realised he was a threat she stumbled back, his long arm reaching before she managed a shout.

  “ARMA!” With a hiss D was repelled as the aura shield touched him, burns appearing across any exposed flesh, healed over within the next second. “Were you actually going to jump me?” Alice felt all the anger leave her, replaced with shock. “Take me by force?”

  Danton wasn’t just her trainer or fellow Paladin, he was her friend. She didn’t want to fight him. She wasn’t confident who would win.

  “Wow. Nice aegis.” A whistle.

  Stunned, Alice turned towards the voice, only just seeing the tall man poke at her bubble.

  “This is impressive. Did you really make it all by yourself?” The man walked around the circle, appreciating its structure. “You can make this but you couldn’t escape handcuffs?”

  “Riley?” she gasped. Fate must have it really in for her. “What are you doing here?” She risked a glance at D, who was staring at the druid with a look of pure hate.

  Riley poked at her shield again, sparks sprouting at the connection. "How are you, sweetheart? Your back okay from all the action last night?" Alice choked out a cough at the blatant innuendo.

  She could hear D growl, his fangs releasing from the top of his jaw. “Do not speak to her.”

  “Oh. Vampire.” Riley smiled, showing teeth. “Hop along now. Alice and I have something to discuss.”

  “Reculez enfant.”

  Riley laughed. “Attention aux insultes vieil homme,” he replied in the same language.

  French. Why didn’t I bloody learn French?

  “Alice, please.” Danton slowly moved around the bubble, further away from Riley, almost as if he was worried, or scared. “You need to trust me.”

  “Trust you? You were about to grab her if I wasn't mistaken.” Riley played his fingers along her shield, smirking as D stepped further away. “Vous devez reculer.”

  “Boys,” Alice shouted, annoyed. “If you’re gonna talk about me, make it English.” She glared at both of them in turn.

  “Sorry sweetheart, your Vamp friend was just leaving.”

  “Vous avez entendu mon ordre, druide.”

  “Ensuite, vous pouvez parler avec Le Conseil.” D’s face burned red at Riley’s reply, his lip curled as he stalked off.

  Alice watched him go. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing important,” Riley shrugged as he leant against a lamppost, his black t-shirt rising up before he pushed it down. Not before she noticed his tattoos went across the left side of his abs.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Would you believe it’s a coincidence?” That smile again, one that lit up his face, highlighting his cheekbones. He studied the structure of her aegis, slowly walking around the dome. “So, are you going to pop this or what?” He poked at it again.

  “Not until you tell me why you’re here?” She crossed her arms, dropping them as soon as his eyes dropped to her breasts.

  “You said something interesting last night…” He tilted his head to the side, some of his dark hair draping over his forehead. “Something I want to investigate.”

  “Well isn’t that nice for you.” She pressed her lips together.

  Riley’s face turned cold, his grey eyes flashing, almost mirrored.

  It must be a trick of the light.

  “Now what I want to know is why Jackson Skye’s daughter is researching Daemons?” A curve of his lip. “Looking to taste the dark side are we?”

  Alice felt her mouth snap open. How the fuck did he know that?

  “It wasn’t hard to find out much about you sweetheart.” He stopped directly in front of her. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  “And you didn’t poof and disappear. The world is full of disappointments.” Stomach churning she looked around, noticing how the street was empty.

  “I want to go speak to this woman who was recruiting. Where can I find her?”

  “Oh, so there is something you don’t know.” She widened her stance. “If you want anything from me we need to compromise.”

  “Compromise?” His brows came low over his face. It was clear he had always gotten his own way.

  “I will tell you where to find the necromancer, if…”

  “If?”

  “If you take me with you.” She watched his reaction carefully. She was so close to piecing her nightmares together she could taste it. Without Riley’s perspective on things, she was out of options. She just had to deal with him first.

  “You will only slow me down.” She didn’t budge. “I’ll only agree on one condition.”

  “What condition?”

  “We do this my way.”

  “We are not going on that.” Alice eyed the shiny Harley motorcycle parked up on the curb, Riley gently leaning against it. “You’ll kill us.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” He stoked across the shiny metal, his leather jacket draped over one of the handlebars. Alice just tapped her foot, observing the bike wearily.

  No way in hell. She had changed into something more comfortable, something that didn’t have the word ‘cheeky’ embroidered onto it. Tossing her ponytail off her shoulder she stalked towards him, swinging her car keys around her finger.

  “I’m not doing a five hour drive on something with two wheels.”

  “We could make it in half that.”

  “No.” She tapped her foot again. “I’ll drive.” Riley sombrely followed her as she guided him down the side road.

  “That,” Riley said as he looked over her beetle. “Isn’t a car. It’s a rust bucket.”

  Alice tried not to get offended. “Well, it has four wheels and a metal roof. Already safer than your death trap.” She glanced over her car, admittedly it had seen better days. She hadn’t actually realised the marks around the door were rust, she just thought it was dirt. “It gets the job done.” She smacked the roof in reassurance, trying not to cringe as rust flaked off.

  “Fine, I guess it will do.” He went to open the driver’s side. “I’ll drive.”

  “I don’t think so.” She smiled at his annoyed face. “My car, my rules.” He looked like he wanted to argue before allowing her to slide into the driving seat. He climbed into the passenger side, having to push the seat as far back as he could to fit his long legs in. Even then he had to bend his knees, his shoulders taking over half of the area available in the small space.

  “Why are we taking your car again?” he grunted, closing the door.

  “Because I’m not getting on the back of that bike. Besides, you don’t even know where we’re going.” She inserted her key into the ignition, the car grumbling to life a second later.

  “It’s called a sat nav.” Stretching, he took off his leather jacket, throwing it onto the small backseat.

  “What’s with your tattoos?” she asked, not looking at him.

  “My tattoos?” He glanced over at her, her face burning at the attention. “They’re special runes, but you already knew that.”

  “I’m more interested in what they mean and why you have so many?” Her father had always told them they were special tattoos, but he had never explained further.

  Druids, from her very limited childhood knowledge, were similar to
witches in that they were magic based Breeds. However, rather than just using their aura and chi they also could use the earths ley lines, natural forming earth energies that seemed to connect ancient sacred sites, undetectable to anybody who wasn’t attuned to the earth. The rumours were that the tattoos were embedded with magic, not that any druid had ever confirmed it, not even her father.

  “You’re asking questions I’m not willing to answer.” She peeked at him then, catching eyes that had gotten impossibly dark, the grey almost black. There was a hint of challenge in them, almost a dare. She looked away quickly.

  “So, if you want to be friendly, what’s with your dagger?”

  “It’s not a dagger,” she quickly corrected.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it isn’t.” She couldn’t help but look from the corner of her eye before concentrating on the road once again. “It’s a sword.”

  “Sword?” He chuckled. “It’s a very short sword.”

  “How observant of you.” It actually wasn’t that short, it was slightly longer than her forearm, giving her perfect balance in her swing.

  “Does it have a name?”

  “A name?” Is he on something?

  “Don’t all swords have names?” He clicked his tongue.

  “No, it hasn’t got a name.”

  “What about spiky?” Riley casually drew across the window with the tip of his finger. “Or maybe Pen?”

  “Pen? What sort of name is that?”

  “It’s something small and pointy.”

  “That’s not even a little bit funny.” She drummed her fingers across the steering wheel in irritation.

  Riley flashed her a smile before turning to stare out the window. “What about ‘Phantom Iron Sword’? Or P.I.S. for short.”

  Alice snorted. “I’m not even going to comment.” She opened a window slightly, letting the breeze play through her hair. “Why are you investigating the cult?”

  “Why are you investigating it?” he countered.

  She clutched the steering wheel hard, ignoring the slight squeal of the leather. If they were going to act like a cat and dog the whole journey, the drive would be unbearable.

  “You’re very small for a Paladin,” he said, turning so his back was to the passenger door.

  “What’s my height got to do with anything?”

  “It hasn’t. I was just making an observation.” He tilted his head to the side, his dark grey eyes staring at her intently. “I know for a fact Paladins don’t get contracts based on Daemons.”

  “How would they know Daemons were involved?”

  “You’re ignoring my point.”

  “And you’re ignoring mine.” Alice blinked up at the traffic lights, waiting patiently for green. “Now why are you investigating the cult?”

  “It’s my job, I am the guy they call when they need something exterminated.”

  Alice hesitated, surprised he answered. “And who called you?”

  A dark chuckle. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “To a market in Hollow Creek.”

  A nod. “I know the place.” He continued to stare, his eyes penetrating as she concentrated intently on the road.

  This was a bad idea.

  Why didn’t she listen to the advice of never getting into a car with a stranger? Especially a stranger who wouldn’t stop staring, his gaze leaving heat on the exposed skin of her arms and neck. She tried not to fidget, the harness against her back, hidden beneath her clothes rubbing against her in irritation. Riley just continued to chuckle beside her.

  Chapter 26

  Car parked in an empty space, Alice climbed out, locking the door behind her. The entrance to the market was surprisingly empty of all pedestrians, the energy and colour of her previous visit a complete contrast to the dilapidated, malodorous state of the boarded up stalls.

  “You sure this is the place?” Riley asked, his leather jacket back on to cover his black t-shirt.

  "Yes." Alice led the way, trying to ignore the almost haunted looks of the closed stalls and shops. Graffiti was painted badly across the wood partitions, all in bland colours, as if life and colour had been sucked away, leaving behind just monotone. Numerous alleyways broke out from the centre atrium, many previously hidden from view by the bustling market. The sun strained against the thick clouds, shadowing the already dark alleyways.

  The streetlights flickered on and off, confused by the lack of light, solar powered bulbs that were fuelled by the sun, but reacted to the darkness. Plastic bags danced in the wind, mingling with the other litter that had been carelessly tossed away.

  Looking around, Alice hesitated, not recognising anything straight away. Shit. Maybe she had taken a wrong turn. “I think it’s just over here.” She pointed to the corner of the square.

  The tapestry shop was boarded up, absent the same as the rest. A sign hung dangerously off its pivots, telling her it was the right place. Riley pushed against the heavy door, the locking mechanism not moving. Peering inside Alice checked the gaps in the boards, the interior too dark to see.

  “Give me a second…” Alice began.

  Riley kicked with his heavy boot, splintering the wood surrounding the solid lock.

  “Ever heard of a locksmith?” she asked dryly.

  “I smell blood.” He pushed the door open, the hinges squeaking into the darkness.

  “Holy shit, what happened?” A Putrid odour leaked from the open door, undertones of copper.

  Riley didn’t respond, instead walking into the room. He pushed the burnt tapestries across the floor, scorch marks smearing the hard concrete. “Looks like someone tried to destroy everything, but didn’t finish.”

  Alice remained silent, swallowing the bile threatening her throat.

  “You okay?” he asked when he noticed her face.

  “Fine.” She swallowed again. “Her office is over there.” She flung her arm in the general direction of the hidden door, the tapestry barely hanging against the wall. The door opened easily, the noxious smell reaching its peak inside the small airless room.

  “It’s been ransacked,” she stated, breathing carefully through her mouth.

  “So it has.” He wandered in, inspecting the remnants. “Stay there.”

  “What?” She took an automatic step inside, staring at the remains on the floor. “So that’s what the smell is.” She quipped, no humour in her voice. “It looks like she exploded.”

  “It’s a ‘he’.”

  Alice stared at him wide-eyed. “How can you even tell?” He didn’t answer, instead looking around the room. Pulling her top to cover her nose and mouth she bent down to the floor, staring at the remains.

  The skull was larger than she would have thought, humanoid with oversized canines. Patterns like a spider web cracked across the top, breaking into an eye socket.

  “He was hit on the head numerous times with a blunt object. I can’t tell if it was before or after he exploded,” Alice murmured. Another chaotic pile of human tissue and organs sat in the corner of the room, half hidden by the overturned table. A femur stuck out from the pile, a shock of white against the browns and reds of the old congealed blood. “There’s more than one body here.”

  “It’s an ancient summoning spell. Normally someone is sacrificed around an inverted pentagram. The more men sacrificed the longer the connection.”

  “Willingly?” She couldn’t see any evidence of restraints.

  “I doubt it.”

  “What does it summon exactly?”

  “There are a few possibilities, but probably Daemons, but only if you know their names. The summoner creates a circle from which the Daemon cannot escape, the blood from the victims fuelling the dark magic.”

  “People still summon Daemons?” That realisation floored her, Daemon summoning hadn’t been reported since the early nineteenth century.

  “Very rarely, not many people still have the knowledge. A Daemon also isn’t willingly going to give up their fr
eedom even if it is only while they’re in the circle.”

  “What do you mean give up their freedom?”

  “Once they have been summoned, they are magic bound to the summoner, at least, until the timer is up.”

  She knew nothing of this magic, but she could feel the remnants leak through the floor.

  “Is there anything here?” she asked, her stomach recoiling as the black essence leaked from the corpses, almost like a tar caressing her skin, obstructing her airways.

  “Nothing I can see.” He kicked at the rubble, moving the table across the room. Leaning down he touched the floor, dry blood flaking beneath his fingertips.

  The inverted pentagram was carved into the concrete, congealed blood from the three men soaking into every crack. “The spell’s still leaking, probably because the bodies aren’t even a day old.”

  Alice saw something out of the corner of her eye, reaching down she gently moved the table, frowning at the small object. “I’ve found something.”

  “Grab it, we need to burn this place down before someone else finds it. I don’t want to risk someone syphoning off the remains.”

  Nodding, Alice grabbed the small rectangular object, shoving it in her pocket without giving it a second glance.

  “Scintillam.” She lit up the walls, holding the flame steady as it slowly ate away at everything that wasn’t concrete. The flesh of the bodies began to burn, a noxious cloud filling the air to the point she had to escape the room.

  Walking out into the cold she left Riley to finish, the wind cool against her skin.

  She was glad she didn't deal in death, didn't deal in the dark magic that was the opposite of her own. Magic was yin and yang, right and wrong, darkness and light. Newton's third law, for every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. Every spell required a sacrifice in various options of severity, whether it was a plant, her own blood or death. There were reasons being a black witch was illegal.

 

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