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

by Taylor Aston White

  Ernest Rhodes – Infection started.

  Alesha Morgan – Dead.

  Bobby Dust – Dead – Did not take to the infection.

  Mischa Palmer – Dead.

  Jackie Nunez – Dead.

  Alexus Pride – Survived – Rabid, had to be put down.

  Francis Carter – Dead.

  Louis Owen – M.I.A.

  Tomlin Kar – Started infection – Got caught by target. Had to be made an example of.

  Roman Wild – Started infection – Taken to infection perfectly, looks promising.

  Alice stared at Rex’s brother’s name, a million questions forming at the forefront of her mind.

  Does Rex know?

  She flipped further through the book blindly, unsure how to deal with the information.

  “Oh,” she gasped, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. With shaking hands she traced the indents the pen had made on the page, the name circled many times. Her name. Repeated over and over.

  “Anything?” Riley’s voice made her jump.

  She glanced at him, wide-eyed. “My name’s in here.” She held out the book, he accepted it before flipping through the pages.

  “So it is,” he grunted, tossing the book onto the counter.

  Alice walked away to stare out the window of her balcony, the light of dawn threatening to break in the distance.

  “May I use your shower?”

  She nodded, still facing the window, her emotions too raw to reply. She felt him rather than heard him walk away, silent even though she knew he wore heavy leather boots. The shower started in the bathroom only minutes later. Grabbing a mug from beside the sink she poured in hot water, and simply held it in her hands, watching the water as it settled.

  Riley re-entered the room a lifetime later, the mug now cool in her palms, his chest bare, jeans low on his hips. He leant against a cabinet opposite, his eyes reflective in the light.

  “What happened to your cupboard?” He nodded towards the dent.

  “Rex thought he would redecorate.”

  “Did he touch you?” A low growl.

  Alice refused to reply, instead she looked up from her mug she caught his eyes. “What are you?”

  “You know what I am.” He turned his head at an angle, an animalistic gesture, something she was used to watching Rex do, or even Sam.

  “You’re more than that,” she stated. Her eyes travelled across his chest, following the patterns that flowed across his left peck, further down his taut stomach before disappearing below his jeans. His right arm was completely covered in the beautifully intricate designs, his left only partially covered. A slight pink scratch marked his chest, the only evidence of the wound from the lions. He held her gaze, the silver sheen reflecting heat. “Rex called you a wolf.”

  “Did he?” No smile. Only eyes.

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “A wolf?”

  Riley didn’t hesitate. “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s a yes or no question.”

  “I’m not a shifter.” Controlled words.

  She refused to let him bend. “How can you lift a Daemon off the ground like that?”

  “I work out.”

  “You were faster than those lions.”

  “They were lazy. Alice what do you want me to say? I am who I am.”

  “Then who are you?”

  “I am me,” he stated, face tense. “Now who are you?”

  “Who am I?” she laughed. She didn’t know the answer to that herself.

  “He called you a dragon.” He stepped closer.

  Alice remained silent.

  “What did he mean?”

  She moved further from him, not liking the fact he was towering over her, her height giving her little advantage.

  “I have no idea.” She really didn’t.

  She had no idea why her name was in a book.

  Why he called her a dragon.

  Why her family was slaughtered and she was the only survivor.

  Riley narrowed his eyes as he decided whether she was telling the truth. Alice stared back, daring him to comment, the lukewarm tea forgotten in her hand. What did he expect from her?

  “You’re not telling me something.” A statement.

  “Oh, like you haven’t told me you’re a Storm?” She watched something dark pass across his face. “Or was it just something you forgot to mention?”

  “We’re not talking about me.”

  “Like hell we are!” She felt her voice rise.

  “You know nothing of me and my family,” he said, annoyed as he backed towards the shadows, hiding his face, hiding his eyes.

  “And I know nothing of mine.” She moved up to him, trying to see his expression through the darkness.

  She could feel his gaze on her face, could tell when he decided she was telling the truth, that she didn’t know what the Daemon was talking about. A light suddenly reflected across his eyes, the iris turning silver in a flash before becoming hidden once again. Swallowing her emotions she stepped away, trying to get her thoughts together.

  “What was he talking about? The poem?” She didn’t recognise it.

  “It's just a poem,” Riley replied, his voice soft. “It supposedly depicts the four horsemen of the apocalypse.”

  She turned to the balcony, watching the pink sky.

  “War, he called me war.” She felt a warmth against her neck, butterflies in her stomach. Turning she looked up at his face. His eyes were inhuman, something ancient staring out. She didn’t feel scared, only a sudden anticipation. It was different with Riley, a natural attraction compared to the torrential longing she felt for Rex. She didn’t feel like she needed Riley beside her, but wanted him instead.

  He stared down at her, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Slowly, he leaned down, giving her time to change her mind. He sighed her name as his lips came down on her own, the contact electric. She melted into the kiss, surprised by her sudden voracious hunger. Sliding his hands down her waist he bunched up her T-shirt, going beneath to touch his warm hands to the bottom of her back.

  “Alice…” he groaned as if she were the greatest pleasure, or pain.

  Lifting her up he moved her to sit on the edge of the sink, she could feel him through the fabric of his jeans, a large bulge against her most sensitive area, her underwear giving little protection.

  She moaned into the kiss, nipping at his lip before he started to peck down her neck. She panted heavily, her brain overpowered with arousal as her chi danced from the electric current. With a small bite to her neck, he let her slide to the floor, her legs like jelly. He took step back, staring at her with a blank expression. In one slow movement he bent at the waist, light perspiration glittering along his back.

  He walked out without looking back, leaving the cold to swarm into the space he just stood.

  Chapter 30

  “Fucking stain,” Alice scolded the blood that seemed to have permanently ingrained itself into the laminate flooring. “He had to bleed all over the place didn't he?” She pushed the cloth through the red liquid, squeezing the excess into the bucket next to her. Sighing, she scrubbed the floor, the supposedly 'magic' bleach doing little.

  After what felt like hours Alice finally sat back, staring at the doomed flooring. It wasn't budging.

  "Well, I guess this place needed a new rug anyway." She threw the destroyed rag into the bucket when a loud knock rocked her door. "Shit." She looked around the room for something to hide the stain. "JUST A MINUTE!" she shouted through the wood.

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  "For fuck sake." She cringed at the blood. She did not want to explain anything to Mr Tucker or her landlord. “I SAID,” she shouted even louder through the door. “JUST A MIN...."

  The door swung open, two men dressed head to toe in black swarmed in, their faces covered by oversized black sunglasses.

  On instinct she kicked the bucket, letting the mixture of water, bleach
and bloody mucus shower the men. Their shocked faces were all she needed as she lifted her elbow up to meet the first man’s nose, causing his head to flick back into the wall with a crack. The second one snarled as his arms encircled her, lifting her off her feet as he growled something inaudible in her ear. Chest constricting she threw her head back, catching his face and kicking out at the same time. The momentum threw them both back, hitting the wall with a thump his arms loosened around her. Turning with a snarl she called to her power, lighting up her palms…

  "ENOUGH!"

  Attention shifted to the older gentleman who closed the door gently behind him. His suit was clearly pricey, ironed to perfection with a silver clip holding his blood red tie in place. His face was aged, but in a way rich people age, someone who has never had to worry about where their next meal would come from. Fashionable laugh lines. His eyes were cruelly pinched, annoyed as he looked her up and down, and from the scowl she knew he was disappointed.

  "Bruno. Marco. Please wait outside," he instructed the two men who had taken to stand beside him.

  Sunglasses number one held his nose, blood pouring down his face, while sunglasses number two frowned at the broken glasses clenched in his big fist, intricate runes were tattooed around his left eye, pulsating in irritation before he followed his friend out the door. The bleach had already started to eat away at their black shirts, leaving white patterns like a badly designed tie-dye.

  “I don’t think we have been properly introduced,” the older man started. “I am…”

  “Mason Storm. You’re Riley’s father.” She could clearly see it after she looked past his severe expression. He had the same high cheekbones as Riley, ones that seem to be chiselled from stone with a strong forehead and jaw. His skin was clean-shaven, hair the same dark tone as his son’s but peppered with grey.

  His eyes the same unusual shade, eyes of a predator.

  “I see you have no manners,” Riley’s father tutted to himself. He folded his arms across his chest, bringing her attention to his expensive watch. “You may call me Councilman Storm.”

  Councilman?

  That was something she didn’t know. Dread had taught her to always be wary of The Council, of the people who believed they ruled everything.

  “Why are you here?” Alice breathed heavily as her chest ached, her ribs protesting with every inhale. “Why did your bodyguards attack me?”

  “Firstly they didn’t attack you, they defended themselves.” His eyes narrowed as he took in the bloodstains across the floor. “Secondly, I am here because my son seems to be fascinated with you, Miss Skye.”

  He appraised her once again, his face turning into a grimace as he noticed her black t-shirt. It just happened to be the one that said ‘CLASSY AS FUCK!’ written in white across her breasts. She folded her arms to cover it.

  “I like to take an interest in anything my son does. I personally don’t see his fascination.”

  Okay, rude.

  “Can I help you?” She tried to keep her voice civil.

  “Your manners are atrocious, your father would be disappointed.”

  “Excuse me?” She dropped her arms. “You knew my father?” Alice fought for her voice not to break.

  “Of course, he was my advisor, a high-ranking Vector. He left it all for your mother, the fool he was. Right until the very end.” He tilted his nose up slightly. “He was corrupted by that woman. I will not let it happen to my son.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes. “So you’re the Archdruid?”

  “Well, of course, who else would it be?” he smirked, full of himself. It’s nothing like the smirk Riley can do, a smile full of tease and laughter. This smile made her want to run for her blade.

  “Now tell me, how did you survive when your family did not?”

  Alice remained silent.

  “You seem surprised I know that?” He chuckled as he tugged the ends of his black suit jacket. “I’m a man who knows secrets. So, are you going to tell me? No? I’m sure it is an amazing tale. But one for another time then?”

  A blue flame burst across her fingertips, her irritation manifesting itself as she swallowed down the excess power.

  I need to get myself together.

  His eyes watched the flame in fascination. “So much like your mother. I wonder if you will learn to control it? Or allow it to consume you.”

  She frowned. “Consume me?”

  He checked his watch. “Now this has been lovely but I really do need to be getting off. Important people and so on...”

  He turned to the door, opening it slightly before looking back over his shoulder.

  “Stay away from my son Alice, or else people close to you could get hurt.”

  He tugged something from his inner pocket, unfolding it before flinging it towards her.

  “This is for you. I found it pinned to your front door. I’m sure you don’t need any more enemies Miss Skye.” With that he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Alice clenched her hand, crinkling the paper he had handed her before she calmed herself, flipping it over. Her temper instantly cooled, acid coating her tongue as she studied the photograph. It was Sam, unconscious with his wrists and ankles painfully bound by silver, bruises pattered across his face and chest.

  Below it was an address.

  Sam’s phone went to voicemail. Again.

  Swallowing her dread she parked up the dirt road, a short walk away from the long driveway of a compound. The address was just out of the city, surrounded by land for miles on all sides.

  There was an old manor house built at the end of the drive, surrounded by smaller, similarly designed buildings. Alice surveyed the area, noticing the house backed up to a dense forest. Several cars were parked along the drive, a mixture of cheap run-arounds and expensive 4X4s.

  Crouching behind a black truck she analysed the house, squinting to see into any of the windows. There was clearly something happening, shadows moving erratically behind the curtains. She heard a howl, followed quickly by a loud growl.

  The front door crashed open and a shirtless man stormed out, heading straight towards where Alice was hiding. Confused, she stood up from her crouch, arms folded across her chest as she made her way around the truck.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Rex snarled. “Why are you here?” He halted a few feet away, close enough for Alice to see a slight sheen of sweat across his skin, glistening next to the blood that had already started to clot from the deep abrasions.

  “How did you know I was there?” she asked.

  “Alice, I don’t have time for this.” He turned back to the house, expecting her to follow.

  “Where’s Sam?” She ran after him, her voice strained as panic began to rise. “Is he here?”

  “Sam? What are you on about?”

  She followed him down the hallway, her boots tapping on the wooden floor.

  “I got a photo and it had this address on it.” She pulled out the photograph, showing it to him when he finally stopped walking. “Where is he?”

  Rex looked at it carefully, his lashes low when he handed it back. “I have no idea, he isn’t here.”

  “But he has to be...”

  “Oh look who it is,” a voice mocked from an open doorway. “How is little Alice?”

  She turned to the voice, her hand automatically drawing her sword when she noticed Cole. “What are you doing here?” she asked through clenched teeth, hand tightening on the hilt.

  “Helping out my friend,” he replied with a curl of amusement on his lips. “Has the little witch come to play?”

  “Cole, enough.” Rex held out his hand. “Alice, give me your sword. There are no weapons in the Den. This is a safe place, I will not have you walking around armed.”

  “No.”

  “Then we won’t help you find Sam,” Rex growled.

  Panic built further as Alice took a moment to decide, calming herself as she surveyed the room. The calmer she made herself, the clearer she saw.
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  Cole stood behind Rex, leaning casually against the door jamb, his body language seemingly uninterested in the situation. His eyes, however, were burning, emotions intense.

  Rex crossed his arms as he waited, his face grimacing as he opened one of the deep cuts across his chest. Blood trickled down his abdomen to drip on the floor, each drop slowing as his blood clotted once again.

  Seemingly out of options she licked her dry lips.

  “What happened here?”

  Cole answered before Rex could. “Pack matters. We don’t need assistance from a witch.”

  “You aren’t pack,” she bit back.

  “Alice I haven’t got all day…” A howl interrupted him, tightening his jaw he waited for the noise to finish before continuing. “Give me your sword, so we can help.”

  She hesitated, not wanting to be without her weapon. Blade hot against her palm she handed it over.

  “Thank you.” Rex nodded as he handed it to someone behind him.

  She remained silent, not sure about the situation.

  A shadow leapt through a doorway, smashing itself against the opposite wall.

  Howls of pain erupted as the large man-wolf clawed at its own chest, deep enough to see bone. Alice moved out of the way, never seeing a shift so violent. The beast’s snout elongated as razor-sharp teeth erupted from newly formed flesh. Black liquid oozed from open wounds across the creatures bare chest, the fluid thick and stringy. Bones cracked, skin stretched, growing, shrinking and rearranging as the body morphed. The fur looked to be absorbed back into the body, pink muscles and ligaments appearing underneath before hardening like leather, a burst of colour compared to the darkness of the fur.

  This shifter’s transformation was a violent metamorphosis of one form to another. The strange black liquid continued to pour out of the wounds that didn’t seem to heal, the thick substance sticking to the floor.

  She had seen enough shifts to know that it wasn’t normal.

  “Cole,” Rex grabbed the scruff of the wolf. “Take Alice outside.” He wrestled the wolf as it tried frantically to bite him, his claws digging into Rex’s chest.

  “What’s happening?” She really wished she had never given up her sword.