Witching Hour: Blood Magic Book 3

by L.H. Cosway

  “Who’s this?” she asked, eyeing Rita apprehensively, her lips tightening even further.

  “Rita’s helping me with the spell the same as you. She’s a witch, too,” I explained.

  Emilia scowled. “I have met every witch in this city, and she most certainly isn’t one of them.”

  “Well, you must not have met them all, because I most certainly am a witch,” Rita shot back.

  “If that’s the case then which family do you belong to?” Emilia questioned.

  “Uh … the Girards, technically. I’m not an official member. My daddy liked to mess around with human ladies, if you catch my drift.”

  Emilia pursed her lips. “I was never fond of the Girards. Now I know the reason why.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not so fond of them myself,” Rita said, and Emilia seemed surprised by her admission. She lost some of her frosty demeanour before primly sitting down in a seat across from Rita. I followed suit.

  After a few moments of silence, Emilia spoke up, addressing Rita. “I suppose I’m hardly entitled to judge the Girards. I’m guilty of my own fair share of sins.”

  I knew what she was referring to now; the fact that she had numerous affairs behind her husband’s back.

  “Oh?” Rita asked, intrigued.

  Emilia cast her gaze to me. “I cheated on my husband for many years,” she confessed plainly. “I spent my nights in the company of different men, and in the process, I neglected my only child. Before I knew it, she was gone. I thought that perhaps a higher power was trying to punish me for my ways by taking her from me.”

  Rita, seeming a little uncomfortable with Emilia’s unexpected confession, said, “Yeah well, we’ve all done things we regret.”

  Emilia held my gaze. “My regrets are more numerous than most.”

  I felt like I should say something to console her, but I couldn’t seem to muster up any sympathy.

  “Did my grandfather, Filipp, ever find out about your affairs?” I asked.

  Emilia sighed. “I think he always knew. He never said anything though. Perhaps that was what spurred me to keep doing it. I was angry because it seemed like he just didn’t care.” She glanced at me. “But you should know that Filipp is not your grandfather. He wasn’t your mother’s biological father, and that was one thing that he didn’t know. I never had the heart to tell him.”

  “What?!” I exclaimed. “If Filipp isn’t my grandfather, then who is?”

  “Your grandfather, he was unlike any man I ever met before. He was more powerful than a warlock, a shapeshifter, or a vampire. He was a sorcerer.”

  Unearthly silence filled the room as Rita and I shared a wide-eyed look. For a brief moment, we were both thinking the exact same thing. Was Theodore my grandfather? That would make Rita my aunt, which was just too bizarre to fathom.

  “The sorcerer, what was his name?” The words rushed past my lips.

  “His name was Roman,” she answered, and both Rita and I exhaled loudly in relief. Emilia didn’t pick up on our momentary tension. “He had almost the same colouring as Filipp, but he was so much more handsome and a little darker skinned. Luckily, when Darya was born she inherited my pale complexion, so Filipp never questioned her paternity. Her blue eyes and dark hair were Petrovsky through and through.”

  For a moment I pondered the fact that there was more than one sorcerer out there. Not only that, but one of them was my grandfather.

  “I knew there had to be something to explain how gifted you are,” Rita said, looking at me. “I was beginning to get a little paranoid.”

  “Gifted?” Emilia asked curiously.

  “I keep discovering more and more magical things I can do,” I explained.

  “Things like what?”

  “Uh, maybe I’ll tell you another time when I feel like I can trust you better.”

  This seemed to ruffle her feathers a little, but she brushed it off. “I suppose that’s only fair. We should get down to the matter at hand anyway. Explain to me the details of the spell you want me to help you with.”

  I nodded and dove straight in, giving her the basic facts, but leaving out who Rebecca’s father was. Pamphrock clearly wouldn’t want it getting out that his daughter had powerful blood. That would put a target on her head. Emilia thankfully understood my need to leave out some details, especially since she had a daughter with the very same blood herself.

  “The poor child,” she exclaimed. “My Darya was closed off from the world, too. We could never allow her a normal life because this city contains vampires at every turn.”

  “Yeah, but do you notice anything different about me?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m living a fairly free life even though I have this same blood myself.”

  Emilia narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Now that you mention that, it is a tad strange. How do you manage to move about freely without being sensed by vampires?”

  “When I was a baby, your daughter created a spell that would hide my blood from vampires and anyone else who might steal it to use to their benefit. This is the spell that I want you to help me recreate.”

  She seemed momentarily taken aback. “Have you searched in any magical texts for it?”

  “High and low,” I replied. “For all intents and purposes, such a spell doesn’t exist.”

  “That means my Darya designed it herself. If that’s the case, then it is very near impossible to recreate. She might have even tailored it in such a fashion that only she could be the one to perform it. You’re trying to achieve the impossible. You might be Darya’s child, but she was the direct offspring of a sorcerer. And a very old and powerful sorcerer at that.”

  I didn’t mention the fact that the direct offspring of another sorcerer was sitting right across the table from her.

  “No, you will need to go another route. There are ways around these things. If you cannot reconstruct Darya’s spell, then why not concoct your own? All you really need to do is use a concealment spell and modify it a little,” Emilia went on.

  Rita slammed her hands down onto the table in excitement. “Goddess yes!” She looked to me now. “Tegan, together I think we might be able to pull this off.”

  “Have you any magical texts here in the house?” Emilia questioned.

  “No, but I have a ton of them out in the RV. I’ll get them.” Rita jumped up and hurried from the room.

  At the mention of the RV, Emilia’s face screwed up with distaste. I had to hold in my laughter when I answered the door to her earlier and found her staring at it as though it was the world’s greatest eyesore.

  While Rita was gone, I took the opportunity to question her some more. “How long were you with Roman?”

  Emilia folded her hands in her lap. “Not long. We spent a few weeks as lovers and then parted ways.”

  “Did he ever find out you were pregnant?”

  “Oh, goodness no. I decided not to tell him. I knew he didn’t plan to be in my life for very long, so I thought it better for my child—more stable—if I allowed Filipp to believe she was his.”

  “That’s kind of shady,” I commented.

  “Well, at the time I was a very shady lady.”

  “But you aren’t anymore?”

  Lifting her head to meet my eyes, she spoke quietly, “No, not anymore.” There was a pause as she eyed me. “So, you and Ira both live in this house, yes? Tell me, are you two involved?”

  I sputtered at her question. “No. Ira’s my friend. Well, he was sort of my temporary pet until he changed back into a man. The house belongs to my other, uh, friend, Finn. He’s a slayer with the DOH.”

  “You live here with two men?”

  “Yes, it’s only a temporary arrangement until I can find a place of my own.”

  “I have to admit, in all my years I don’t think I’ve ever come across such an arrangement. A shapeshifter, a slayer, and a witch all living under one roof.”

  “Well, these are unprecedented times,” I replie
d.

  “Seemingly,” Emilia agreed.

  At this, Rita returned carrying a stack of dusty hardback books. As we set to work looking through them, Emilia instructed us on which chapters to consult, as though she knew these texts from cover to cover. When I asked her about it, she informed me that all members of the magical families were schooled in witchcraft from a very young age. She grew up learning from these exact books.

  After a few hours of reading through spells and scribbling down notes, we finally settled on a spell intended to protect a person from being found by malevolent creatures. The malevolent creatures basically being anyone who meant to do Rebecca harm, supernatural or otherwise.

  For the spell, we needed a clear, empty room, so Rita and Emilia began moving the furniture out into the garden. I was surprised when Emilia offered to help since she didn’t exactly look like someone who got her hands dirty.

  I realised why she offered assistance when she started using her magic to clear the room. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we had a poltergeist. One that wanted to rearrange Finn’s kitchen in a very mannerly fashion.

  “That is freaking cool,” Rita exclaimed, watching as Emilia lifted a chair with nothing but a wave of her hand. Emilia showed Rita how to do it and then both of them were at it. Deciding I was only getting in the way, I stepped out into the hallway to call Finn.

  “Hey,” he answered, sounding breathless.

  “Um, hi. Did I get you at a bad time?”

  “Nah, we just finished up a hunt. I think I might have broken a record with all the chaos mist I killed today.”

  “Well, you’re nothing if not thorough,” I joked.

  “Oh, you haven’t seen the half of how thorough I can be,” he replied huskily and a small tingle shimmied in my belly. I quickly ignored it.

  “Quit flirting with me and focus. I have good news. Rita, Emilia, and I have figured out the spell for Rebecca. Is there any way you can let Pamphrock know? We’re setting it up now, so I kind of need him to bring her over as soon as possible. Oh, and I need Emilia and Rita with me to do this, so you’ll have to okay that with Pamphrock. I know he’s a little touchy about people knowing about Rebecca.”

  “You told Rita and Emilia?!” he accused.

  “Calm down. Rita is one of our own. She can be trusted with the secret. And I haven’t told Emilia whose daughter Rebecca is. Not yet, anyway. But once Pamphrock arrives, it’s going to be pretty obvious.”

  Finn sighed. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. How has Emilia been? Any weirdness?”

  “Too much weirdness, but not the kind you’re thinking of. We had a little heart to heart, and she told me that her husband, Filipp, wasn’t my mother’s biological father. Get this, it was a sorcerer she had an affair with.”

  “Christ, it wasn’t Theodore, was it?” Finn questioned in disbelief. “Because if it was, for a fella with a face on him like a Rottweiler chewing on a bee he got some serious amount of action in his day.”

  I laughed. “A Rottweiler chewing on a bee?”

  Finn chuckled. “Irish joke, never mind.”

  “Uh, okay. And no, it wasn’t Theodore. That’s the conclusion Rita and I initially jumped to. But apparently it was some guy named Roman.”

  “Never heard of him,” Finn said.

  “Me neither.” I paused and blew air out through my mouth. My grandfather’s identity was a topic for another day. “So, you’ll make sure Rebecca gets here, yeah?”

  “I will. See you soon.”

  We hung up, and I returned to the kitchen, which was now clear of furniture. Rita was kneeling on the floor, using a piece of black chalk to draw what appeared to be some kind of satanic Venn diagram with two pentagrams intertwined. Then she took some red chalk and drew an inverted one in the middle.

  All the spell ingredients were spread out beside the pentagrams. Included were four beeswax candles, a bowl of green moss from the garden, a packet of matches, ice cubes, a bottle with what Rita claimed was dragon blood—though I had my doubts about that,—clove oil, a large bottle of vodka, cinnamon sticks, and one short piece of rope. Either someone was in for a wild night, or as Alvie liked to put it, we were about to get our spells on.

  Just as we’d finished assembling everything, the front door opened and Finn led Pamphrock and Rebecca into the house. The moment Rebecca stepped into the room Emilia’s eyes lit up. The little girl wore a fancy cream dress with a purple sash around the waist. On her feet were shiny black Mary Janes, and her hair was styled in a perfect French plait.

  “Oh, aren’t you just a little darling,” Emilia exclaimed as she introduced herself to Rebecca. Pamphrock didn’t express any surprise at finding her there, so I took it Finn filled him in. Emilia explained to him that she once had a daughter just like Rebecca and that she’d do anything to assist in his cause. This information seemed to put him more at ease.

  I watched Emilia interact with Rebecca and thought I saw her eyes glaze over a little. Was she upset? She turned away and dabbed at her cheeks. When she caught me looking, she explained, “She’s just so much like Darya, so sheltered but so sweet. And she feels just like her, too.”

  I assumed she meant “feel” in the magical sense. I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent. In a way, I felt like Emilia was disappointed that I wasn’t dainty and innocent like Rebecca, or like my mother had been as a child.

  Well, I was who I was, and she could take me or leave me.

  Once she gathered herself, she returned her attention to Rebecca, cooing over her pretty dress and gorgeous blonde hair. It was like she’d fallen in love at first sight. Emilia’s eyes gleamed with a kind of maternal possessiveness, which put me a little on edge.

  Suddenly, Finn was at my side, studying the spell ingredients. “I can’t tell whether you’re planning on casting a spell or setting up for a night of kink.”

  I elbowed him in the side and gestured to Rebecca, whispering, “Shush.”

  Finn chuckled low. “She can’t hear me.”

  Rita appeared in front of us. “You ready to get this show on the road?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  She began lighting the candles as Emilia carefully guided Rebecca inside the red inverted pentagram.

  “I don’t like the look of those drawings on the floor,” Pamphrock commented. “If you three are up to something untoward there will be hell to pay.”

  “Calm down, Gov,” Rita said. “Pentagrams aren’t all about Satanism. You’ve been watching too many horror films.”

  “You will address me as Governor Pamphrock, witch,” he replied sternly.

  Rita clearly resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she continued with the preparations. Emilia took the rope and tied it around Rebecca’s wrists. I entered one of the outer black pentagrams and sat down.

  “Why does she need to be tied up?” Pamphrock questioned in concern.

  “It’s just a part of the ritual,” Emilia explained, leaving Rebecca and stepping outside of the pentagram. My grandmother approached Pamphrock, laid her hands on his shoulders, and looked deeply into his eyes. He seemed momentarily taken aback by her proximity, but she managed to charm him. “Do not worry about anything you see here. Once it is done your daughter will be safe and her blood will be all but non-existent to anyone who sees fit to do her harm.”

  Pamphrock blinked and visibly calmed at Emilia’s touch. “I understand. I just worry about my daughter’s safety. All of this is unknown to me.” He gestured to the set-up on the floor.

  Emilia let her hands fall to Pamphrock’s biceps now. “Do you trust us?” she asked in a sultry voice.

  “I do,” he swallowed. Ugh, my granny was flirting with the governor. The sooner this was over and done with the better.

  “Do you have the blood?” I asked Pamphrock.

  He stepped past Emilia and reached inside his coat, retrieving a glass vial and handing it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said before passing it to Rita.

 
Emilia stepped back inside the circle, and we all sat down. I made sure to leave the back door open, so there was a light breeze flowing into the room. Rita placed a large spell bowl in front of her and began throwing in the ingredients. First was the moss, then the bottle of what may or may not be dragon blood. Next came the cinnamon sticks, followed by a few drops of clove oil. As we planned earlier, we each took one of the now half-melted ice cubes, licked them, and threw them into the bowl in unison.

  Rita uncapped the vial of Felicity’s blood and poured the whole thing in before swiftly grabbing the bottle of vodka and emptying it into the bowl. She picked up the packet of matches, lit one up, flicked it in, and the concoction was alight with magical, multi-coloured flames. The air in the room thickened with what I’d come to recognise as magic. It had a scent, too. Like church incense, but stronger and spicier.

  Rita, Emilia, and I took each other’s hands and began the chant that we all learned by heart earlier.

  “Earth, Wind, Fire and Water, Nature, Ice, and Creatures of Myth, lend unto us your power. Give us your strength and protect this child. By saying your names, so it is done.”

  The colourful flames burned higher, and Rebecca cried out as the rope around her wrists tightened. It only lasted for a few seconds before the knot miraculously untied itself and her hands fell free. An unnaturally strong wind blew into the room, putting out the fire in the bowl, and the spell was complete.

  Silence filled the space.

  “Is that it? Is it done?” Pamphrock asked with urgency.

  Emilia turned to him with a benevolent smile. Something about her expression made me suspicious though. The smile seemed fake. “It is done, Governor. Your daughter is safe now.”

  Not seeing why she would be smiling at him falsely, I brushed off my suspicion.

  Pamphrock rushed to Rebecca’s side and lifted her into his arms. “My God,” he exclaimed. “It’s true, the spell really worked.” He took a deep breath. “She smells different now. She smells just like you, Tegan.”

  He put Rebecca down and approached me, pulling me up by the hand and taking me into his embrace. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said. His words were so grateful. I felt like saying it was nothing, because when it came down it, it wasn’t that hard to do. But obviously the spell meant everything to him.