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

by Taylor Aston White

  “Yes Alice, once I’m the boss you won’t speak to Barbara like that at all. That’s even if you’re still here.” They both shared a snigger.

  Ignoring them she walked past to push open the heavy door, allowing it to close behind her gently. She stood by the entrance for a few seconds, waiting for Dread to acknowledge her. He knew she had been sitting there, waiting, just like he knew everything that happened in his Tower.

  “Mickey is after your job by the way,” she said instead of a greeting. He hadn’t even looked up, instead writing on a single piece of paper with his gold pen.

  “I need to retire eventually,” he commented. He signed the bottom of the paper before putting it into a hidden drawer on his desk.

  She fought a chill that threatened to run down her spine as he looked up at her, his eyes, though usually dark, were the darkest she had ever seen. Bottomless pits that encased all the whites of his eyes.

  “What’s pissed you off?” Alice took a seat in front of him, careful to not stare directly into the abyss. The rumours about Vamps hypnotising their prey were widely spread in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, more than likely by the Vamps themselves. While not technically true, the older the Vamp the more influence they wield. It also depended on how susceptible their prey was.

  “Language,” he scolded. “I hope you’re here to tell me why one of my best Paladins has gone AWOL. Danton was supposed to report back but has been uncontactable.”

  “How am I supposed to know?” she frowned.

  “His last contact was with you.”

  “He’s probably hiding with his tail between his legs after he failed to grab me.” She crossed her arms.

  “WHAT?” Dread almost floated out of his chair, the lamp on his desk somehow vibrating as the vein in his forehead burst, giving his pale complexion a flushed appeal. Alice felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge, she thought his eyes were uncomfortable before... “WHAT HAPPENED?”

  “Wait…” Sudden realisation hit her. “If you didn’t tell D to grab me, then who did?”

  A feral sound came from Dread, his fangs punching through his gums to rest below his bottom lip. “Start from the beginning.” He seemed to compose himself, his face marble as he waited for her to explain. “Did you say Riley Storm?” Something flashed across his eyes, but it was too fast for her to catch.

  “Yes.” She left out the part where she broke into the library, he didn’t need to know that. “He interrupted D and...”

  “How do you know Mr Storm?” Dread interrupted, his fingers like claws on his desk.

  “I don’t.” His face said he didn’t believe her. “It was just a coincidence, I hadn’t met him before. I didn’t even know he was a Storm until Sam recognised him.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah, apparently Riley is the new owner of the bar Sam works at.”

  Dread's eyes finally narrowed, allowing some white to peek back through. “What a coincidence.” He grabbed the handset from beside his desk, punching in numbers from memory. “Get me the Archdruid,” he barked into the receiver. “This is Commissioner Grayson.”

  Alice strained to hear the conversation.

  “Tell Mason if he doesn’t call back within the next hour I will pay him a friendly visit tonight.” With that he slammed the phone down, cracking the plastic.

  “Who was that?” Alice chirpily asked. And who’s the Archdruid?

  “You need to stay away from Riley, Alice. He’s a Guardian from The Order.” Alice sat a little straighter, listening intently. He had never been exactly clear what The Order do. “He’s one of the most dangerous men...”

  “Well, I’m pretty dangerous too.”

  “Don’t be a child.” His severe face stopped her next comment. “He is the youngest ever to gain that rank. He is the judge, jury and executioner.” He leant back in his chair, scraping his fingernails across the desk. “What are you even doing Alice?”

  “What?”

  “Do you think I don’t know what you have been up to? Breaking into the library for what? Books on Daemons?”

  Busted.

  “I...”

  “You’re taking it too far. Do you think knowing will bring them back?” Alice sat there silenced, unsure what to say. It’s not like she had a plan. “If the people you’re hunting find out...”

  “Find out what?” She tried to cover the tremor in her voice. “I don’t even know who I’m hunting.”

  “And that is exactly why I’m worried.”

  Alice shuddered as the freezing cold rain battered down, soaking through her jacket quickly. She felt hollow as she walked out of his office and into the street forty floors below, the sky becoming dim as the clouds hid the disappearing sun.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she told the rain.

  And who was the Archdruid? What does he have to do with anything? She had been so angry she even forgot to ask about her sword. Fuck sake.

  A car squelched past at a blinding speed, making her back off from the pavement. Sighing, she looked down the usually busy street, noticing how empty it was. Feet slipping, she turned towards the bus stop and froze, her skin turning to the same temperature as the rain. A hooded figure stood a few feet away, the face hidden in shadow. She stared at it dumbfounded, wondering if she was hallucinating.

  The phantom suddenly turned, quickly walking in the opposite direction.

  “HEY!” Alice shouted to its back. “WAIT!” She splashed through puddles as she chased after it, following it down several streets until it finally turned down an alleyway. Ignoring the crazy looks from other pedestrians she stood in the mouth of the alley, staring at the figure.

  “Hey.” She tried again, wondering if the hallucination had the capability to speak back. “What are you?” Of course it didn’t reply, instead it just stood at the brick wall at the back between two black bins. “Are you from my imagination?” She shook her head. Yes, I did just ask that. “Why are you following me?” She laughed at herself. “Why am I still asking questions?”

  The phantom seemed to shake, its shoulders rising and falling in a fast sequence.

  Great, my imaginary ghost is laughing at me.

  With a huff she picked up a can, throwing it at the figure, watching as the metal sailed through to hit the brick wall as if no one stood there. Verification that she was crazy.

  “Yeah, well. Fuck you.” She turned to leave when the figure stepped forward. Halting, she watched it move slowly towards her, her back stiffening and the hairs on her arms stood to attention. The figure stopped when it was within a foot of her, within touching distance. The rain suddenly stopped, the wind no longer biting. The figure raised its cloaked arm, reaching out...

  “Alice?” A feminine voice called from behind, making Alice jump back and turn at the same time.

  “Why are you standing alone in the rain?” Rose held her gym bag above her head.

  Alice spun back to the alley, blinking through the rain that she could feel once again, wanting to confront her cloaked phantom.

  “I don’t know.”

  Chest tight, she carefully peered around the trunk of the oak tree, staring at the shadowed man, his large body covered in darkness.

  “Come here you little bitch.”

  Sudden light brightened the garden, the flash blinding her.

  Blinking past the glare she peered over the trunk once again, gasping as she saw the monster standing by her house. His face was distorted into a scowl, twin horns protruding from the centre of his forehead, curling through his hair before finishing by his ears. An off-white teddy bear was clutched between his large palms, the fur speckled with pink.

  “Come out, come out, where ever you are,” the monster sang.

  The light turned off once again, leaving only the moonlight. She felt her heart beat in her chest, a rabbit trying to escape. Salt on her tongue as tears streamed from her eyes, mixing with the snot against her upper lip.

  “Shit. Where are you?” Shoe
s crunched as the monster moved closer.

  Chapter 29

  Something’s watching me.

  Alice woke to the sudden realisation she wasn’t alone in her bedroom. She blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. A shadow stood ominously by her open door, taller than her phantom cloaked figure but a shadow, nonetheless.

  Great. She rubbed her face with her hands, I'm seeing other things now. Flopping down onto her back she stared towards the ceiling, deciding it was just best to ignore it.

  A squeak, the floorboards protesting.

  What the fuck?

  The air moved above her.

  Acting on instinct she rolled quickly over as a hand came down, a rag pushed forcibly down into the pillow where her head should have been. Kicking out into the darkness her bare foot connected with something hard, someone or something grunting at the blow.

  “You’re real?” Scrambling out of her bed she fell to her knees, clenching her teeth at the shock of pain.

  “SAM!?” she shouted, her heart turning to ice when he didn’t respond. “SAM?” she shouted again as she rolled out the way of a kick. Launching to her feet she tackled the intruder, knocking them both to the floor in a heap. “FUCK!” She tried to get up but something clamped around her wrists.

  She yanked herself free, scrambling across the floor in the dark.

  A chuckle close behind. “Come here, bitch.”

  “LUX PILA!” A ball of light bursting into existence above her, illuminating the small bedroom with an eerie blue glow. She stood by her curtained window, sheets from her bed piled on the floor in her panic. The large shadow loomed by her doorframe once more, a pale cloth clutched in its big hands.

  A fist flew towards her face, connecting with her cheek and throwing her head back. Crashing against the wall she clutched her cheek, the pain sharp as copper coated her tongue. Another fist came towards her holding the cloth, a sickly sweet smell emitting from the white fabric. Sliding out of the way she yanked at the curtain covering her window, throwing it in the vague direction of the attacker. The curtain landed on its head, disorientating it enough that she kicked out with her foot, connecting painfully with its groin.

  Distracted with the pain he (it was definitely a he) clutched himself, her knee meeting his nose in the next instant.

  A deep growl as the man pulled the curtain and threw it on the floor, his face scrunched up in a snarl as light leaked from the uncovered window. With a roar he leapt forward, picking her up by the top of her arms and throwing her straight through the open bedroom door. She landed hard on her tailbone, her head connecting with the edge of the side table. A weight settled on top of her, hands constricting her throat. She clawed at the man, his dark eyes bleeding into a vibrant red.

  “Ignis,” she whispered from a strangled breath, sparks flying from her fingertips. His hands tightened impossibly further before suddenly loosening. With a yelp blisters appeared along his hands and arms, red welts that expanded to bursting point as the sparks ate away at his skin.

  Alice wriggled, trying to get out from underneath him, her efforts useless as he reached over and grabbed another cloth from his back pocket. Holding it above her head he laughed, showing small pointy teeth along both jaws.

  Calming herself she flipped onto her stomach, her sleep t-shirt riding up so her skin gripped the laminate floor uncomfortably. She stretched, trying to grab the side table…

  A loud crash, the front door slamming open and ricocheting off the wall with such power it automatically shut itself. A black blur grabbed her intruder, throwing him against the wall between the bedrooms with such force the picture nailed to the wall smashed to the floor.

  Alice clutched her throat, her body suddenly remembering how to breathe as she coughed violently, oxygen struggling to recirculate her system.

  What the actual fuck?

  She pulled herself to her knees, her head swimming. Feeling as if her skull was weighted she turned to look behind, her eyes taking too long to take in any details.

  “Riley?” she coughed again, her throat protesting at any sort of speech. “How? Why are you here?” she wheezed in another painful gulp, successfully stopping herself from fainting.

  Point to me.

  Riley slammed the attacker against the wall, his legs flying wildly in panic. “I was watching the place, I didn’t trust they hadn't already tracked the book.”

  “Did you see Sam?” she coughed again, the pain mingling with her growing headache.

  “He isn't here.”

  Oh yeah. She finally remembered. He was called into work.

  Alice leant against the sofa for support, attention on her attacker, the view better from the living room as the light from the balcony stretched through the kitchen archway. The guy was huge, easily double her size and wore all black. His red eyes were wide, the pupils slit, like a cat, or a snake.

  “What is he?” she asked, her throat painful.

  “Daemon.”

  The Daemon cackled deep in his chest, smiling with his teeth.

  “A Daemon?” she parroted. She stared at the man, if she could even call it a man, as it struggled against the hand at its throat. The shadow in her nightmares was nothing compared to the real thing. Over six foot with bulging muscles overlaid with dark veins. Heavy features scrunched with pain, dark hair longer than her own styled to cover the small horns that had been sanded down.

  “What are you doing here?” Riley snarled. The Daemon continued to laugh, blood bubbling around his lips. “What are you doing here?” Riley repeated, the words resonating with a power Alice had never heard.

  The Daemon gurgled in response, his red eyes glazing over. A light from Riley’s closed fist, a ball of arcane held against the Daemon’s skin, the power licking against his clothing, almost teasing the flesh as it burned and melted.

  Alice stared, her throat dry. Arcane magic was unpredictable, raw power manifested into a ball of light. It took incredible strength to control it so casually.

  The Daemon hissed in pain, blood now pouring down his chin in a steady stream.

  “I will ask you one last time. Why?” Riley leant in. “Are. You. Here?” The last word a breath against the Daemons face, almost intimate in its rage.

  “She is the one,” the Daemon gargled. “She is the last before The Becoming.” A wet cough, its hands holding onto Riley’s forearms so it didn’t suffocate.

  “Stop with the riddles,” Alice responded, her voice hoarse, sore from the strangulation.

  The Daemon laughed once again, the sound wet. Something dripped out of his ears, a sea of red across his dark skin.

  “He is Becoming.”

  “Who is Becoming?” she asked.

  A scream as the arcane ball slowly burrowed into his chest. Red tears leaking from his eyes.

  “What do you want from Alice?” Riley asked.

  “Dragon born. She’s the dragon born.” A hollow chuckle as his chest rattled. “With steady breaths, they ride towards the dawn. Mortals cower in the dark, defenceless, prepare to mourn. Shadows move across their souls, as darkness, corruption and power grows. The four elements, magnets against mortal breath. Generations of lies, of wrath. Power in its truest form, made physical with greed. Are they saviours who wish to lead? Famine destroys along the path, against Pestilence in his wrath. Death stares and waits his turn, as War’s flames turn to burn. The apocalypse they bring to earth, destroying it for all it's worth.”

  “What’s happening?” Alice asked, her face in open shock. The Daemon convulsed, shaking violently. Riley released his grip and the Daemon fell straight to his knees, blood pooling quickly around his body. His dark skin slowly turned red, as if he was combusting from the inside out.

  “Blood’s leaking out of his pores,” Riley grunted, absorbing the arcane back into his hand.

  “Death is coming, War.” A wet snigger. “You are the catalyst.” A smile showing red stained, pointy teeth. “With your ascent, the new beginning will start.”
<
br />   A deep inhale. His face crumpling, eyes sinking into his face as skin was absorbed into his body, a shock of white as his skull appeared through the flesh, cracking and disintegrating before their eyes. The body melting into itself, leaving nothing left, not even dust.

  “Great,” Riley snarled, staring down into what was left of the attacker. Red splashed across his shirt and face.

  “What happened?” Alice asked for the third time, her face white.

  “He was on a timer.”

  “A timer?”

  “Yes, it’s a delayed assassination spell. The spell went off because he was taking too long. If he succeeded and got you out of here the spell would have dissipated and he would've lived.”

  Riley turned to look at Alice, his face expressionless. “Where’s the book?”

  “Book?” A confused look. “Oh, it's still in the lunchbox.”

  Without another word he turned towards the kitchen, opening the lunchbox with a quick click.

  Frowning at the book he reached to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head revealing intricate black and red tattoos along the left side of his back. Scrunching the shirt in his fist he squeezed some red liquid onto the silver clasp, right above the circle indent. With a pop and sizzle, the book snapped open.

  “It’s done.”

  “How did you know that would work?” she asked, having followed him.

  “I didn’t.”

  She walked over to where he was standing, feeling the heat from his skin. “You have blood on your hands,” she whispered, carefully taking the book out of his palms.

  She scanned the book, flipping through pages.

  “It’s a list,” she said a moment later.

  “A list?” he asked, wiping the remaining blood off his face and chest with his destroyed shirt, throwing it into the bin in the corner of the room. Alice stared at the book, careful not to look at him.

  Maxi Swanson – Dead – Survived only 2 weeks.

  Samuel Lewis – Survived.

  Sahari Mooner – Dead.

  Stewart Leonard – Survived.