Witchling Wars

by Shawn Knightley

  ‘Things just keep getting better and better, don’t they?’

  “Now tell me,” Officer Rosenberg straightened her shirt as she sat down on the other side of the table. “Why would Officer Parker ask for your help with the disappearance of Samantha Larsen? What kind of relationship did the two of you have?”

  Relationship? Was she serious?

  “Uh… no relationship. He just asked for my help on a few things.”

  Officer Parker let me know details about cold cases that I wasn’t exactly privy to. That no one was really privy to outside the police. I wouldn’t dishonor him now by admitting that he broke protocol. But that also meant that I would have to lie to a police officer. At least about the supernatural details. Not that she would believe me anyway.

  “What details?” Her tone of voice was nearing on intrusion. Almost as if she pushed my buttons just right, she would get the murder confession she so desperately desired. I wondered for a brief moment if this was the point in time where I should ask for a lawyer. But to be honest, I didn’t want the law more involved in my life than it already was. I already had vampire law potentially raining down on me.

  I shook my head. “Not much. He just wanted to know if I could sense anything about where Samantha was.”

  “And did you? Or is the media overplaying your involvement?”

  ‘How the hell should I know? I only learned that they know who I am a couple minutes ago.’

  “I sensed that she was near some water. And that she was in danger. That’s about it.”

  She grunted. “You must be joking! That won’t help you in court.”

  “In court?” I stammered. “What do you mean in court?”

  “You don’t actually think this won’t go to trial, do you?”

  I must have looked stunned because her voice bulldozed over me the second I opened my mouth to speak again, not caring that I was in a state of shock already by seeing Officer Parker meet the fateful end I had envisioned for him.

  “Why were you here in the first place?” she demanded.

  “To ask Officer Parker for help. A friend of mine is missing. The Congressman’s other daughter. Emily. She was staying with me and my sister. But she ran out into the storm. She was in shock and she was grieving. Then she just took off. I was worried and I wanted Officer Parker to help me look for her if he could manage to get away for a few minutes. Or at least alert the other officers that she was missing.”

  She tapped her foot on the wood floor. Her impatience with me was more than a little nerve-wracking. Officer Parker might have been a total prick to me before he died, but I still preferred him to this chick any day of the week. At least he was friendly. Most of the time. Samantha’s case had undoubtedly worn him down. And now it looked like it might have gotten him killed.

  Officer Rosenberg leaned forward on the table between us. “Why would the Congressman trust you with his daughter after having just lost Samantha?” She was edging closer and closer to accusing me of something.

  “I don’t think he even noticed, to be honest. I mean, Emily and I have been friends throughout school. We would sit together on the school bus. She’d come by my house for the occasional reading. He was so consumed with grief that I don’t think she even knew Emily wasn’t at home.”

  “I don’t like your attitude,” she spat. “You’re assuming that the Congressman doesn’t care about the well-being of his own child?”

  That was it. I didn’t have to be treated this way. She obviously felt a certain way about me and that’s fine. Most of the town already thought that I was a bit of a loon. But now I was a media spectacle. And if what she said was true and Samantha’s case was going to go to trial, that meant the police already had suspects in mind. With the way Officer Rosenberg was looking at me, I gathered I was on that list.

  “Have you even met the Congressman?” she continued.

  I was going to keep my answers short and to the point from there on out. Which was probably what I should have done to begin with.

  “Yes, at his evening party about a week ago.”

  “And how did he seem?”

  “Elitist.”

  Not a lie. But technically a judgment on my part.

  She glared at me, and I glared right back. The only problem with my glare was that I had tired eyes and the urge to break down was getting stronger by the minute. Officer Parker was dead. I wasn’t certain if it was my fault in some roundabout way. Or if he just went digging in the wrong hole. Probably both.

  “Did he seem close to his daughter?”

  I guessed she meant Samantha, but damn she had some nerve! She just accused me of assuming the Congressman didn’t care about Emily. And here she was asking me about his relationship with Samantha?

  “Officer, I met him once for about thirty seconds. I know about as much as you in regards to his relationship with Samantha.”

  “Well, you seem to know a lot about his relationship with Emily, so why would it be a stretch for me to ask about his eldest daughter?” she snarled.

  That did it. I had enough. I stood up from the chair and she immediately did the same.

  “Officer, I’m tired. I’m in a state of shock from what I saw and I really want to go home now. If you have more questions, just call and ask me to come back at another time. Because right now I’m so tired that I might bump into something if I don’t find a bed soon. So if you’ll excuse me,” I said the last bit with a hint of sarcasm as I reached for the door.

  “It’s better in here than it is out there, Miss Ashwood,” she said.

  I turned to look at her once more before opening the door, not sure what she meant by that remark.

  “The wolves want a piece of you to showcase to the world,” she sneered.

  It dawned on me that she meant the media was probably dying to catch some new photos of me. Ones that weren’t included in my high school yearbook. But it didn’t matter to me. I needed to get out of there. So I opened the door and let myself out, lifting my coat over my head to cover my face and hair as I made my way to the entrance of the station.

  I peered over to the front desk where a large man was sitting with a police uniform that looked as though he hadn’t been home to change it in a couple of days. None of them had.

  “Can someone escort me to my car?” I asked him, knowing that the media was waiting for me.

  “I think you can manage,” he said with a scowl.

  Great. Just great. The entire station hated me. Or at least they didn’t want me to have any mercy at the hands of the media. They weren’t granted a reprieve, so I guess they didn’t think I should be either. Better yet, they were convinced that I made them look bad. I could envision the headlines without even seeing them.

  ‘Town psychic finds the body of Samantha Larsen before the police.’

  ‘Town psychic proves the police are useless.’

  ‘Town psychic shows the police how to properly conduct a missing person case.’

  ‘Town psychic might be involved in the murder of Congressman Larsen’s daughter.’

  I gave a huff and headed out the front door. The media saw my red hair peeking out from my coat and instantly knew who I was. Let’s face it. How many girls in rural Georgia have flaming red hair down to their hips? I’m guessing the number is low.

  ‘Just freaking perfect.’

  I covered up my face as best as I could manage, but the intrusion of the media’s light bulbs on their cameras made it nearly impossible for me to hide. I was blinded by the first camera that went off.

  “Harper Ashwood!” one of them hollered.

  The one journalist recognizing me and calling out my name was all it took. Soon there was a stampede coming my way. One of the photographers was so close that his camera knocked me in the head. I was tempted to turn around and slug him. What better way to deal with a prying journalist? But then again, my position on not getting lawyers involved with my life still stood. I didn’t need an assault charge on top of everything el
se. As it was, I wanted to get home, clean up, and pray that whoever Tobias was sending for me that night didn’t greet me in the same manner that Nathaniel did the first time we met. With a knife to my throat, threatening me not to mark him or else. As if I had any control over that crap.

  “Miss Ashwood, how did you know where Samantha Larsen’s body was?” one screamed at me as I pushed through to Caleb’s truck.

  “Miss Ashwood, did you hear that the Congressman is being questioned?”

  “Can we get a statement?”

  “How did you feel when you saw the body? Was there blood?”

  “Do you know the name of the officer killed?”

  Rotten little twerps. They didn’t care that two people were dead. Only if there was a story to tell and someone to slander.

  It took a bit of effort, but I made it to my car. Which was lucky given that their light bulbs blinded my vision every few seconds.

  Once I reached the door handle, one of the journalists actually placed his hand on my door to prevent me from opening it. Unlucky for him, I knew this vehicle too well. And the problems that Caleb had with it over the years. I yanked the door with all my might and the driver’s side window went flying open, smashing the journalist in the face and knocking him back a pace or two. That darn window had been Caleb’s main problem with the car that he could never fix. Now I was grateful for it.

  I launched myself into the driver’s seat and shut the door as fast as I could. Then I put the keys in and started backing up. The lying scumbags were already trying to prevent me from leaving by standing behind my car so they could get more photos. I slowly let the truck back up at a snail’s pace. They eventually got the message and moved out of the way. Good thing too. Another wonderful feature about the truck was it had random spouts of exhaust that would sputter out once I hit the gas pedal. A big puff of black smoke engulfed them and their cameras the second I was on the street and ready to take off.

  ‘Bless Caleb for not having all the necessary mechanical skills to fix this truck up just right.’

  Lord knows no one tried harder to fix a vehicle and get it in good shape, but today I was thrilled he never managed to get it done to his liking.

  I worried that the reporters would be at Madison’s house once I pulled in. To my surprise, they weren’t there. Then again, they were probably at my house which was still surrounded by yellow tape like a robbery had happened. That would keep them occupied with possible theories.

  ‘Oh, how this just keeps getting more and more interesting.’

  Once I got inside, I pulled off the coat and used my shirt to wipe away some of the sweat barreling down my face. Just because it was raining didn’t mean it wasn’t still hot. And I forced myself to wear it covering my head all the way home in case more journalists were waiting for me on the other end.

  My need for air kept coming in larger and larger gulps. I felt for my heartbeat. It was racing. Tears threatened to come barreling down my face. Only these tears weren’t for Caleb. They were for Officer Parker. He met the very fate I feared for him the second I shook his hand in his office and asked him questions to see if I would find helping him worth my time. And worth the risk of discovery.

  ‘No! You’re not doing this. Push them back. Push them back, damn it!’

  The stinging behind my eyes was intense, but I managed to stop them. I had a good record of not crying for a decent amount of time to maintain. And countless other things to worry about. I would soon be before the Catach-Brayin, its coven master Tobias Vallas would decide my fate, and the entire country had seen my face on the news regarding a high profile murder case.

  ‘It might not be long before I join Officer Parker in the grave. If Tobias Vallas doesn’t kill me, the court of public opinion will.’

  Chapter 4

  I let my limbs soak in the steaming hot bath of Madison’s large master bathroom jacuzzi. I even stole one of her Lush bath bombs to make the bathtub water pink with a nice aroma to accompany the silky feeling it gave my skin. As far as I was concerned, I earned it. I saw two dead bodies in less than twenty-four hours. Hell, I was the one who found them. I might not have been the one to dig the hooks into the water to search for Samantha, but I found her.

  I closed my eyes and pushed my fingers up onto my lids, hoping the pressure might help erase the memory of Officer Parker’s body from my mind. It didn’t.

  ‘Andrew,’ I reminded myself. ‘His name was Andrew.’

  I spent a solid twenty minutes on the phone with Madison, letting her know what happened and insisting I was alright. But I didn’t dare mention that I was going to be taken to the Catach-Brayin that night. It was mentioning the Catach-Brayin over the phone that got Andrew killed. Eventually. And I wasn’t about to make that same mistake. A part of me would rather Madison thought I simply disappeared over knowing that the Catach-Brayin got me in their clutches. There were some images that I had to live with. Madison didn’t need to.

  The last vision I had was of Madison’s body floating in murky brown water behind me, along with Brian and Andrew. One part of that vision had come true. Andrew was dead. I wasn’t going to mistakingly make Madison a part of that body count. She had to stay where she was. She had to keep her girls safe.

  I laid there soaking as I tried not to break down. But no matter what angle I thought about things from, they appeared hopeless. The Catach-Brayin could decide I was better off dead. The media could destroy my life. The police might decide I was involved with Samantha’s murder because I knew where the body was. Every angle made my heart sink.

  I stood up and grabbed a towel. Getting dressed felt as if I was getting ready for a funeral. How exactly does one dress for a trial being performed by a bunch of vampires? Especially vampires who considered themselves elite in some way because they managed to tame their cravings for blood long enough to form a cohesive and powerful coven.

  The legends gran would tell me about the vampires were less than flattering to them. I gathered they were probably about as flattering as the legends the vixra or luxra told about lowly kruxa like myself. But vampires were bottom of the barrel. A sad and sorry result of something that never should have happened.

  Gran told me one night long ago how the vampires were created. It only took months of begging her to tell me. Centuries ago there were kruxa living in Europe, witchlings who had bred with humans to the point where nearly all their magic was gone. And the little they had left was not easily controlled. In a desperate attempt to gain some of that magic back, they made a deal with a small coven of luxra. One tier above their own bloodline. From what gran told me, that deal involved some sort of spell. The luxra cast it upon the kruxa that were so eager to possess more magic and not be seen as the trash of the witchling world. But their attempts didn’t go the way they planned. As it turned out, there was only one way to keep magic strong in the bloodstream. Don’t breed with humans.

  Vampires were the result of this mad spell going wrong. It poisoned their blood, making them crave more blood to regain any magic they could consume. Only there weren’t enough higher tier witchlings to feed on. And those with more powers easily killed the poisoned kruxa trying to feed on them. So they turned toward humans for the blood they craved so much. And as punishment for the kruxa having stepped out of line and trying to manipulate their way into getting more of their magic back, the vixra cast the spell that would bind kruxa to the vampires. A bind we called marking.

  The only magic the poisoned kruxa we now called vampires had left was the burden of immortality. And yes, it was a burden. No witchling in their right mind would want to live forever in a perverted body that could once feel the glory of magic running through their veins. It was a punishment to live that long. Unless they found a kruxa to pair bond with. Then they would be granted the gift of one human life, and eventually…death.

  If only vampires saw it that way. They didn’t hesitate to turn on their own and hunt down every kruxa they could find, ensuring they could never be kill
ed. And once they learned how to make humans into vampires, there was no controlling them.

  But not anymore. I was about to walk into the den of hungry vampires who thought I cursed Nathaniel by marking him. If I were to guess, Tobias was furious with me. I might only have a few hours to live.

  I wiped away the steam from the bathroom mirror and took one hard look at my reflection. I looked like I had been through a battle. My eyes were red. There were bags under them. I was pale. Probably a result of not having eaten all day. But who the hell eats after seeing a body of someone they know ripped open like that?

  A knock came at the door. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  It was almost six o’clock in the evening. Was that too soon? The letter never stated when my escort would arrive. It only said this evening. I thought I might at least have time to fix myself up so I didn’t look too haggard walking toward my death. Would I even be allowed that much dignity?

  I wrapped up in Madison’s large and luxurious bathrobe, then went downstairs to the front door. A tall blond woman was standing there in the dim cover of moonlight gradually taking over the night sky. The sun had set. This particular vampire didn’t appear to be a day walker.

  “Harper Ashwood?” she asked me.

  “Yes,” I answered solemnly.

  There are a few instances where I actually admire another woman. I was once teased endlessly in junior high for telling another girl in class just how pretty she was when she constantly put herself down every day. She, in turn, told everyone that I said she was attractive and I was labeled a lesbian for the rest of my public school days. That was until Caleb came along. Who knew that trying to lift another girl’s spirits about her appearance would end up with everyone making such an assumption?