Mardi Gras Publishing, LLC
133 Lake Front Dr. #204
Daphne, AL 36526
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13 978-1-934329-63-4 ISBN-10 1-934329-63-0
Witch © 2007 Midnyte Dupree
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Cover art © 2007 Skylar Sinclair
For more variety in your reading selection, please visit www.mardigraspublishing.com
Witch
by
Midnyte Dupree
Chapter 1
The demon ran his hands through his hair in frustration. She was a witch, and he wanted her with a passion he had only felt when in the throws of hate. Hawk looked into the glass and saw the way her beautiful blond hair flowed down her back in gentle waves of cascading silk. He ached to run his fingers through the strands, to feel their coolness glide over his chest.
Hawk fisted his hands at his sides knowing he would never feel her, never touch, and never inhale the sweet scent that would be her. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let the waves of tension first flow over his shoulders, down through his hands, down his torso then into his legs. Damn the Gods for allowing him to look at her!
Picking up the crystal sphere, he hurled it across the room. “Damn all of you! I will have her. She will be mine.”
Glass shattered then rained down onto the hot marbled floor. Hawk fell to his knees pissed at his own foolishness for destroying the one object he could use to see her. He would find a way.
It was fate that he found her. Someone close to her had done a horrible deed. One of the witches in her coven had murdered, so now the soul belonged to him. When he went to collect her, he caught a glimpse of Isabella, and instantly he knew he would have to possess her, against all the rules of the underworld.
Rubbing his hands together, he knew he would have to plan some way to get to her. Hawk yelled for the individual who now belonged to him. The witch, Gabriel, who had murdered her lover, stepped into the room with the large iron shackles around her wrists and ankles. With her red hair tied in pigtails, her deep green eyes looked at him with contempt and hatred. She would tell him what he needed to know. He could make her stay within the realm—hard or easy. It would be entirely up to her depending on what type of information she could give him.
Crossing to his throne, he sat his large frame within the arm rests and watched as the beautiful little witch, with the fire in her eyes, crossed the room to him. Kneeling, not because she wanted to but otherwise she would be punished, Gabriel kept her eyes lowered.
“You called for me, mighty warrior?”
Hawk smiled knowing that with those uttered words her teeth gritted with anger.
“Gabriel,” he acknowledged, and she looked up at him with her green gaze. “Tell me about the witch, Isabella.”
Fear or something like it crossed her features as she shook her head back and forth.
“No,” she whispered. “You can’t have her!”
Leaning forward, Hawk narrowed his eyes at the defiant woman. “Who do you think you are to question me? You are my slave. You do what I say. You obey my rule!” The last he bellowed into the marble room making the sound echo off the walls. Gabriel cringed and lowered her eyes.
“I’m sorry…master. But you do not want her. Her soul is pure. She is the vessel of power. On Halloween, her magic will be released into the coven.”
Hawk let the information work around in his mind. How could they release her magic into the coven? She is pure? Her soul is white where his is black.
“Tell me how her magic is to be released. Tell me what evil your coven is doing now.”
Gabriel hesitated. Slowly, she shook her head trying to withhold the information he knew would help him gain his prize. Raising a hand, Hawk pointed a finger at her. With wide eyes, she raised her head while trying to grab for her throat that was now being restricted of air. Grabbing frantically, she tried to gasp and wheeze. Her body convulsed. She couldn’t die, but she could feel the pain, the terror of being choked to death.
“Will you tell me what I want to know, Gabby?” Still she flailed wildly; then, she began nodding with big up and down movements.
With a flick of his finger, breath rushed into her lungs. Falling forward onto the marble in front of him, Gabriel looked up with hate filled eyes. The light from the torches on the wall flickered against her hair, causing part of her face to sit in shadow. Hawk felt a moment of elation as he looked at his newest demon. Once she understood she must obey him, she would be an excellent ally.
“So, tell me how her magic is to be released into the coven.”
“She…is…going to be sacrificed.”
Horror filled him. His light, the one he wished to feel against his skin, would be distinguished, and he would no longer be able to look upon her in the glass. He would only have his sordid fantasies to recall the way her hair glistened in the sunlight, the way her eyes laughed, and the slight smile upon her lips whenever she was in another’s company. He longed to see that smile, to hear her laughter, and to feel her touch.
He placed his fist at the place where he imagined his heart to be as it constricted with the pain of never knowing her.
“This will happen on Halloween?”
“Yes…master.”
“Leave me.” With a careless wave of his hand, the little witch disappeared, leaving him all alone in the damp colorless room.
Chapter 2
Her heart ached. Her chest felt tight, and, at any moment, she thought she might hyperventilate. Whoever heard of a virgin sacrifice in this day and age?
Pacing the confines of her small room, Isabella Gutiera couldn’t believe they were actually holding her hostage. The small room was the High Priestess’ guest room, but the door was locked tight. She tried on numerous occasions to open it up.
A rattling noise arrested her attention. A key turned in the door. Expectantly, she waited. It was about dinner time, she guessed, so the guard was probably bringing her something to eat.
Peter wasn’t truly a guard but a witch also. His mother was the High Priestess of their coven, and the one who wanted to kill her. How Peter could stand by and allow such a thing was beyond her. The young man slipped in the door with a large tray in his hands. Isabella caught a glimpse of someone with him outside waiting before Peter closed the door.
“Hi, Peter. Thanks for bringing me dinner.” Resigned, Isabella slumped into the only chair in the room. It wasn’t even comfortable.
Peter slid the tray onto the small table at her side then stepped closer to the door. “No problem, Izzy. Sorry mom is doing this. She’s been on such a power kick lately.”
Isabella moved the food around the plate, letting the sweet smell of the meat permeate the room. “You can help me get out of here, Peter.”
Shaking his head, Isabella saw the fear of his mother in his eyes and felt sorry for the poor boy. “She’d kill me if I allowed you to escape.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it. I'll figure something out.”
Peter looked at her for a moment and scratched his head. Something was keeping him in the room with her when normally he was quick to leave. Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked, “What’s wrong, Peter?”
“Well it’s just…I’m not sure I can’t help you, but…” Digging in his pocket
, he pulled out a piece of paper. “Once mom has come in here to check on you, and someone else takes over the guard shift, open this up, and chant the spell. You’ll be transported into another realm supposedly. I don’t know if it works or not, but you might want to give it a try.”
He stepped over and handed her the parchment. Opening up the piece of paper, she saw at the corners the picture of a vicious looking bird of prey. His hawk like nose and beady eyes looked at her straight to her soul. His glorious wings stretched across the top and down the side. For a moment, she thought she saw a shimmer of light rush across the feathers.
“Don’t say any of the words until you’re ready. Only when you’re ready. I don’t know what it’s going to be like or where you’ll go, but any place will be better than here.”
Folding up the piece of paper, Isabella put it in her front pocket. “Thanks Peter. Please be careful. Your mom isn’t who she used to be.”
Peter looked down at the ground listening to what she said. “I know. Something has to be done about her.”
“You should fight for rule. You have just as much power as she does, if not more.”
“No, no. I couldn’t do that. Not to her. Too many people in the coven follow her rule. Look at Gabriel, she killed for mother.”
“Yes, she did, but Gabriel wanted the bastard dead, too, and she still ended up dying, didn’t she? Is that what you want for this coven, Peter?”
Isabella saw the strained look upon the young face and knew she was fighting a losing a battle. Peter was tough and strong, but his power was a little unreliable. Someday he would make for a great High Priest. Even now, if he would challenge his mother, he might be able to win.
“You know it’s not what I want. I’ve got to go, Izzy. Mother will be by later.” Turning around, Peter opened the door then stopped. Over his shoulder he said, “Be careful.” Then, he turned and walked through the door gently closing and locking it behind him.
Isabella couldn’t believe Peter’s mom, Rita, their High Priestess, wanted to do the one thing the Gods prevented them from doing so many years ago. It was against their laws to take another life, especially the life of a virgin. It had never been proven, only speculated, that taking the life of a pure witch on Halloween would disperse her powers throughout the coven, making everyone, especially the High Priestess, more powerful. The High Priestess could drink in the youthfulness and slow her aging. It was easy for Rita to find her. With a wave of her bony hand, Rita had knowledge of every virgin in the coven, which wasn’t many. Isabella was the only one without a family to mourn her death, making it easier for the High Priestess to hide her deed.
Playing around in her food, Isabella’s appetite had long deteriorated. How could she eat when in just a couple of days she would die? She wouldn’t need to eat anymore for that matter.
Time passed as she sat in the small chair watching as her food slowly lost it luster, becoming nothing but limp veggies and cold meat. The light outside the small window, which she had access to, had dimmed until night had fallen. The least they could have done was give her a television or a radio or something.
Soon, she heard keys rattling outside the heavy door again. Her stomach tightened into a knot waiting yet knowing who would soon walk within her room. Not having to wait long, a woman walked through the door, closing it swiftly behind her. With a flourish of her black skirt, she glided across the floor until she stood in front of Isabella. With a beautiful smooth hand, she used her fingers to grab hold of her chin. Her grip was tight as she made Isabella look up into her cold, unfeeling eyes.
Their dark depths seemed to go on in an endless abyss of despair and unhappiness. What could have happened to her to make her so unfeeling? She didn’t have a chance to ask as Rita jerked her head this way and that inspecting her face for who knew what.
“When I enter a room, child, you should always bow to me.” Pulling Isabella out of the chair by her chin, Rita forced her into a kneeling position and made her lower her head. The rough treatment sparked Isabella’s ire, and she jerked her chin from Rita’s hand.
“Let go of me. What on earth has gotten into you?”
With a vicious slap across the cheek, Isabella fell onto her back as she cupped the stinging flesh.
“Don’t ever question me, child! I am law in this coven. What I say or do goes, and my orders are always carried out.”
Rubbing the flesh of her cheek and fighting back the burning tears in her eyes, Isabella rose to her knees before the witch.
“I wanted to visit with you to make sure you are doing okay.” Turning her head, Rita studied the room. Her eyes landed on the full plate at the table. The energy in the room went up a few notches at her anger.
“You have not eaten?” Isabella watched her curiously as she crossed the room to the table. Rita grabbed the meat with a sharp snap as she stalked over to Isabella. The room seemed to lose its light; the walls felt like they were closing in on her. Isabella’s stomach clenched up in tiny knots while she fought back the growing panic. Rita got to her too soon. Grabbing her chin once again with her deadly grasp, Rita’s fingers dug into her jaw forcing and prying her aching jaws apart.
“You will eat this. You will keep it down. If I hear that you have thrown up, then I will force it down your throat once again.”
Knowing what Rita was going to do, Isabella pulled back, fighting with all her strength, but Rita just waved her hand, and all Isabella’s motions ceased. The tightly woven magic danced across her arms at the elbow, pulling her arms close to her body. Her ankles pinched against the invisible cord holding them in their place.
“No, no, no. Stop!”
Still the witch tried to force the meat within her jaws.
“You must eat. You must. You will not go to the alter half starved. The king would not like that at all. He might withhold my powers. I simply will not have that!”
Isabella heard a small pop as ungodly pain raced down her jaw into her shoulders. She felt the meat pass the barrier of her teeth and feared that Rita had broken her jaw. Knowing that fighting more would only make matters worse, Isabella bit into the meat chewing past the pain, which now accosted her jaw.
Thank the gods the meat was tender as it broke away into bits within her teeth then slid down her throat. Tears fell from her eyes; Isabella could have hated herself at that moment for showing a sign of weakness to the High Priestess.
“There you go, Isabella. Eat it all. I don’t like to cause you or anyone else pain. If you would just listen to me the first time, all this could have been avoided.”
As Rita stepped back, dropping her hand from Isabella’s jaw, Isabella slumped to the floor, forcing herself not to cry in great heaving sobs. Angling her eyes, she saw Rita step away from her while wiping her hands on a napkin. Her white hair was such a contrast to her black dress. Her black bottomless eyes bore into Isabella’s gaze. Hate lay in the depths. It was a darkness Isabella didn’t ever want to get close to.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Isabella choked out. Her throat felt like it was closing in. Each breath forced past her aching lungs. Finally, with the meat completely eaten, Isabella felt her strength grow a little. Her power flared into the room. Rita smiled, closing her eyes to let the energy soak into her body.
“Mmm. You have to ask such a silly question?” With her head angled back, her eyes closed, Rita looked like a woman who had been well pleasured. When she once again gained control, Rita opened her eyes. The dark spheres looked lazy, and a ghost of a smile curved her lips.
“I want your powers for this reason. You make me high; you make my body once again feel young and alive. For a short time, all the pounding emotions are gone, leaving me with a feeling of euphoria.”
“It won’t really happen if you kill me. My power will die with me.” Isabella stayed on the floor on her knees, trying not to anger Rita too much. How could Rita not know what she planned was foolish. Everyone knew the power died with the owner.
Walking with a stag
ger, Rita knelt down until the two were eye to eye. “Oh but you see, child. I have someone who will see that the power is transferred. All he wants is a pure witch. And of course, for more power, I was all too easily tempted. Then, I found you. One without family, without many friends. No one will mourn you, Isabella. You are the vessel that will make this coven grow into its power.”
Not sure what possessed her, Isabella lifted her hand and slapped the witch across her face. The woman’s head jerked to the side. With a slow precise turn, Rita turned back to look at Isabella with a smile across her thin ruby lips.
Isabella flinched as Rita gently, slowly traced a path down her cheek with one long fingernail. “Oh, he will love your spirit, Isabella. I have chosen well. You give him hell, will ya?”
Then, with another flourish of her skirts, Rita rose exiting out the door. The key turning in the lock sounded loud as the locks fell into place.
“I hate you! Let me out of this room, now!” Isabella ran to the door throwing her weight against the heavy wood. She pounded against it, screamed, and pounded some more, wishing the guard outside would listen.
“Please, let me out!” The tears began to flow as she kicked and hit at the nonmoving wood. “Please someone; please let me out!” Dropping to the floor, Isabella leaned her warm cheek against the wood, hitting the door with her fist. Each bang on the door was softer and softer until she stopped. Letting her head rest in her hands, she cried.
Chapter 3
Sometime later Isabella awoke curled into a ball next to the door. Her limbs ached, and her knuckles hurt. Rubbing her right hand, she noticed bruises already forming on the outside of her hands. She wouldn’t cry, not again.
Pushing up from the floor, Isabella guessed it was early morning on the day before Halloween. She could feel her magic inside her body stirring and stretching as if it were waiting to be unleashed into the world. With a flick of her fingers, she aimed her magic toward the small bed, the blankets lifted up from their resting spot at the end of the bed, stretched out in the air hovering just above where they would fall, lowering perfectly down onto the bed. It felt good to let it out, but inside she knew her power was growing. Halloween was like a mystical birthday for witches. Some grew in power while others were able to refine the powers they held. Usually the younger ones grew in power. As each year passed, the magic would level out.
Witch Page 1
