Circle of Blood: A Witch Hunt Novel

by Debbie Viguié

  She let three more flee with the cross burned into them and then tore the power out of a woman who tried to race past without touching her. Samantha closed her eyes and let her spirit take over. Many she let run free, bearing her brand, some more innocent than others, but a few she could not allow to leave and continue to spread their evil throughout the world. She was God’s vengeance poured out on them.

  At last it was done. All that was left were the dead. She opened her eyes and beheld the fire that was racing up the walls and dancing across the ceiling. It was beautiful in its destructive capabilities. Fire purified as well as laid waste. She would let it burn this place to the ground and she would salt the earth afterward so that nothing evil could return.

  In that moment she remembered at last that terrible day so many years ago that had seen the destruction of her coven.

  • • •

  She stood in the basement of Abigail’s home, her cloak and athame left at home since her mother had insisted she would not need them for this ritual. She felt uneasy as she seemed to be the only one without them. Around her the others had their hoods up, masking their faces. Since they were all known to her and it was not their normal custom, it just put her more on edge. Something didn’t feel right. She was wearing a white dress, one her mother had just made for her. She was barefoot as well and the cold concrete of the basement made her shiver.

  Through her feet she could feel everything, the blood that had soaked into the concrete from so many sacrifices, the excitement that Abigail was feeling, and the mixture of excitement and fear the others were giving off as well. She could feel everyone’s emotions, heightened, intense, everyone except her mother, who felt colder, more detached than she usually did.

  Abigail had an altar set up tonight in the center of the circle, another rarity. On it rested a large book and a chalice. There were a variety of objects surrounding the chalice, and Abigail was chanting and adding them one at a time into the goblet.

  After the last item was added, Abigail looked up, a look of triumphant expectation on her face. “Tonight, we achieve ultimate power,” she boomed to her followers. “For tonight we raise a creature who will be chained to us, who must do our bidding, an ancient demon, one of twelve that ruled this realm ages ago before they were banished. We will claim his power, his allegiance for ourselves.”

  Desdemona shook her head violently from side to side. This wasn’t right. They were messing with something far stronger and smarter than them, and it couldn’t end well. She didn’t want any part of it. Something terrible was going to happen; she could feel it.

  “Mother, we must leave,” she whispered.

  Her mother didn’t answer, didn’t even look at her. She just tightened her grip on Desdemona’s hand. Mr. Black did the same on her other side. The circle must remain unbroken, that’s what he would probably say. But this was different. They were all in danger. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew it with all her soul.

  She had to stop this, had to make them see reason before it was too late for all of them.

  “Only one last ingredient remains and then we shall see him come forth,” Abigail crowed.

  Suddenly she fixed her laserlike stare on Desdemona. “Come here, child,” she said.

  Her mother and Mr. Black pushed her forward and then linked hands behind her, resealing the circle.

  No one ever dared contradict Abigail. Her wrath was legendary, her punishments swift and cruel. But with every moment that passed, Desdemona was more intensely aware that they were all in grave danger. “Please, please, don’t do this. That creature will kill us. We need to leave now.”

  Abigail chuckled. “You really believe that, child? Fear not, this spell will give me control over the demon. We will be quite safe.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Abigail smiled. “I would be less worried about us than about yourself.”

  “I’m sorry to question.”

  Abigail cackled again. There was a look in her eyes that sent terror through Desdemona. “Child, you know why I called you up here?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know why you alone are not dressed as the others?”

  “No.”

  “Let me tell you. There is one final thing needed for this to work. The blood of a witch must be spilt. And we have chosen to sacrifice you.”

  Desdemona stared at her in disbelief. She turned and looked at her mother, and the woman’s cold, cruel face told her all she needed to know. She turned back and saw the athame in Abigail’s hands.

  “No!” Desdemona shouted.

  Abigail swung the athame toward her and Desdemona raised her hands, trying to protect herself, block the knife somehow, but then her mind seemed to go blank and she felt a mighty pulse of energy burst from her.

  She would kill her first.

  And suddenly the knife spun in Abigail’s hands and the witch plunged the athame into her own breast. Her eyes opened in shock. “You! How?” And then Abigail was crumpling to the floor, flecks of her blood spraying everywhere.

  Around her witches began to shout. The high priestess was dead. But Desdemona knew that wasn’t what they should be worried about. They should be worried that the whole room was shaking violently. The demon was coming.

  She turned, shock still coursing through her. Abigail had meant to kill her and the others . . . the others knew.

  She locked eyes with her mother.

  “The devil take you!” Desdemona shouted.

  There was a mighty roar and the room shook so hard it knocked everyone down. A blackness shimmered in the middle of the room, darker than the darkest thing she had ever seen. And through it stepped a giant creature. Its skin was the red of blood but shimmering, slippery, as though there were things swimming through it. Its shiny black horns scraped the ceiling. Its back was covered with curved black spikes. Its yellow eyes burned with a hatred that she understood all too well.

  The demon laughed, the deep sound making the room shake more and making her breastbone reverberate. It twisted its right hand and the witches on that side of it lifted off the floor and hung suspended in midair, screaming in terror. Then they ripped in half, torsos flying one direction, legs another.

  The remaining witches scattered, several trying to run for the stairs. They were foolish, stupid. There was no escaping the devil they had called forth. He lifted a foot and stomped it on the floor. The witches scattering before him were flattened by an invisible force, their blood painting walls and ceiling as their pancaked bodies oozed into the floor.

  Desdemona turned and looked at Mr. Black. Only he and her mother remained.

  “Where is your circle of blood?” she shouted.

  The demon flicked its finger in Mr. Black’s direction. The man who had tormented her for as long as she could remember exploded. Hot liquid flew in all directions, but not one shred of flesh remained.

  She turned and looked at her mother. The woman actually looked frightened. Desdemona sneered. “What’s wrong, Mother? Isn’t this who you wanted me to be? All I ever wanted was for you to love me.”

  Her mother crumpled to the floor and Desdemona knew that the woman’s heart had stopped beating.

  Desdemona turned slowly. The fools hadn’t listened; they hadn’t understood. They had raised the demon that would kill them all.

  And slowly she began to understand that because she had caused Abigail’s blood to be spilled, she had sacrificed the witch who would sacrifice her; she was the demon’s master. There was more to it, though. It had something to do with her power and her ability to wield it without thinking. That’s how she could ultimately control the beast.

  She turned to it. It was hideous. It couldn’t be allowed to live. But she didn’t know how to get rid of it.

  She glanced at her mother’s body, and sorrow ripped through her. Things should have been different. Tears stung her eyes.

  “What do you want?” She heard a deep rumbling behind her.

  She turne
d and screamed, “I want you to go!” She felt a mighty pulse of energy leave her, and the room was filled with blinding white light. When it ceased the demon was gone, but all the destruction it had caused was still there. The stench of blood and death filled her nostrils.

  She felt numb, confused, terrified, and yet unaccountably relieved at the same time. She felt as though her mind was descending into a fog even as she turned and ascended the stairs. When she made it to the top, she closed the door firmly.

  “I will never return,” she vowed.

  • • •

  Samantha stood as the fire raged around her. She hadn’t remembered what had happened to her that day, because so much of it had been her unconscious mind acting to protect her, save her. She had called on her natural abilities that her mother had tried for years to retrain and suppress.

  It had been she that had killed Abigail and, inadvertently, everyone else who had been intent on seeing her murdered and a demon raised. She let out the breath she had been holding, turned, and walked slowly from the building, the fire springing up all around her but not touching her. When she finally walked outside, she was a different Samantha Ryan, whole, complete for the first time in her life. And the truth shall set you free, she repeated in her mind over and over.

  “Samantha! Are you all right?” Anthony demanded as he came rushing up to her. Over to the side of the building she could see Trina, Pat, and Thomas checking brands and eventually letting people go.

  She nodded slowly. “For the first time in my life, I think I really am.”

  She turned to Ed. “You have no dog, never have,” she said.

  “What happened in there?” Ed asked.

  She turned and glanced over her shoulder. “Judgment day came a little early.”

  They were both looking at her as if they thought she was crazy. All she wanted to do was laugh and enjoy the feeling of lightness in her chest.

  But first she had something else she had to deal with.

  “Lilith, I’m coming for you,” she whispered, willing the witch to hear her.

  18

  “Do you know where she is?” Anthony asked.

  “No, but I just figured out how to force her to come to me,” Samantha said.

  “Care to share?” Ed asked.

  “Not just yet.”

  She glanced over at Trina. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  She hurried over and Trina looked up at her approach. There was awe in the other woman’s eyes. “I don’t know how you did it,” she said.

  “I got in touch with my inner child,” Samantha said, not caring to explain any further. “Are you about finished here?”

  “Yes, most of them don’t know anything of value. The couple that might, I’m afraid they could be booby-trapped like Albert.”

  “They are,” Samantha said. “Get their information and see if you can do anything for them when this is all over. If I’m still feeling generous.”

  “Already done,” Pat spoke up.

  “What now?” Thomas asked.

  “Now we bring Lilith to us. First, though, we need to get out of here before fire and police show up, and we should call Connor and tell him he missed the party.”

  Trina nodded.

  A minute later they were all piled back in Trina’s car and heading away from the scene. Pat was in the back on the phone to Connor, who Samantha could tell was going through various stages of shock and rage over the events, and the fact that he had been wrong and she had been right. She had a feeling there was one informant who was going to be seeing the inside of a jail cell for a long time.

  “Where do you want to go, anywhere in particular?” Trina asked.

  “No, just drive. I’ll tell you when to stop,” Samantha said.

  She wasn’t sure what she was looking for; she just trusted she’d know the place where she wanted to have her final standoff when she found it. “Tell him to be ready to meet us where we tell him to,” she called back to Pat.

  He relayed the information and she could tell it went over like a ton of bricks. That was fine. Looking out for Connor’s feelings was not her job.

  Next to her Anthony slipped his hand around hers and gave it a squeeze. She could feel his anxiety, practically hear all the thoughts colliding in his brain. The same was true for Trina and Pat. Thomas’s mind seemed strangely quiet. From the backseat she could hear Ed think, Samantha, are you okay?

  Better than ever, she reassured him. Just ready to end this once and for all.

  That seemed to satisfy him because his mind fell quiet as well.

  Trina just drove, waiting for a sign from her. That was fine, because she was gathering her thoughts, her strength, for the final showdown. Because it was coming and she knew it was going to be nasty.

  “There!” she said at last, pointing to a large warehouse.

  Trina pulled over and then around the back, where she parked.

  “What is this place?” Ed asked.

  “It’s a warehouse where they store Mardi Gras floats,” Thomas said.

  “Isn’t that about to start up?” Anthony asked.

  “Yes,” Thomas said, “the warehouse should be filled with all kinds of interesting things.”

  She didn’t know why, but in her gut she knew this was the place. And if the last several days had taught Samantha anything, it was to listen to her gut. She nodded and turned to Pat.

  “Okay, call Connor and let him know where we are,” she said.

  She climbed out of the car and the others followed behind. She walked up to a side door, twitched a finger, and it flew open.

  As she walked through the door, she turned on all the lights in the building so it was ablaze.

  “Not exactly inconspicuous,” Ed noted.

  “It’s not meant to be,” Samantha said.

  Around them were more than a dozen brightly colored floats, just waiting for their big debut. Samantha inspected them while she waited for reinforcements to arrive.

  One of the floats had a giant jester head that made her grimace. Garish purples and greens abounded. At last she found what she was looking for. Three of the floats were designed with large spaces for people or performers to stand on top of and they had rubbery surfaces that made for comfortable standing and extra spring for anyone doing any kind of acrobatics.

  Minutes later Connor and his crew arrived, looking exhausted despite the fact that they’d had nothing to do for the last hour other than drive around and raid an empty office building. It was almost laughable.

  “Okay, people, listen up,” Connor began.

  “Samantha’s in charge,” Trina said quietly.

  “Yeah,” Pat added, backing her up.

  Connor looked as if he was about to burst a blood vessel but in the end realized he had nothing he could argue otherwise. “Fine, what’s the play?” he asked.

  All eyes turned toward Samantha. “When things start and get ugly, which they will, get yourselves and as many people as you can onto these three floats,” she said, indicating them. “They have thick rubber matting that Lilith won’t be able to pull energy through to drain people and use them as human batteries.”

  Connor blinked. “I thought you said you disbanded her coven.”

  “Oh, we did. But when she comes, she’ll be bringing everyone she hasn’t killed yet with her. Everyone with power will be here. Whatever she’s got planned, it’s big, and somehow I’m now a part of it since she ceased trying to kill me. I have a suspicion I know why, but we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

  “I wish I was,” she said.

  “All those people will be coming here?”

  “Yes. This is it. The last battle. We have to be prepared for it. I’ve seen what witches can do when they want to use a whole lot of people, the whole human battery thing. It’s important that we cut her off for two reasons. First, we can’t let her accomplish whatever she’s trying to accomplish. Second, if she drain
s a person of too much energy, it sucks the life from him and he dies. I’ve actually seen people turn to ash.”

  “Salem,” Trina whispered. “Randy said it was terrible, and he was powerless to stop it. He was one of the ones being used.”

  “That’s true,” Samantha said. “We can’t let that happen here, which is why I need as many agents up there to start with as possible. And seriously, get as many people up there as possible without endangering yourselves. Trina and Pat will be in charge of that.”

  They both nodded and after a long moment so did Connor.

  Samantha turned around. “Anthony, Ed, I want you to take three agents and hide. Once Lilith is in the building, I want you to try and stop and turn around everyone else who will be following. Knock people out, make barricades out of their unconscious forms, do what you have to to keep as many people out of this as you can. It’s possible her reach will extend far enough to use them as batteries. If you feel her starting to drain you, run, get as far away as you can. Do not ignore me on this, understood?”

  Both men nodded.

  “Great. Grab your people and go find a good spot to wait, preferably behind the warehouse so she doesn’t find you guys before she comes inside and finds me.”

  Anthony hesitated and she knew he wanted to come to her, to hug her and kiss her one last time, and she wanted that, too, but it would have to wait.

  Besides, she didn’t want to kiss him right now. She was afraid that if she did, it would be good-bye, and neither of them could afford to think that way. No, they had to focus on fighting, surviving, winning.

  He gave her a strained smile as if he understood but didn’t like it.

  “And where will you be?” Ed asked, clearly not going to go as quickly or as easily.

  “Right here, in the middle of the warehouse, waiting to greet her,” Samantha said.

  “And I’ll stay with you. She’ll know there’s more than one person here, but depending on how many are coming right on her heels, she might not be able to determine more than that. Seeing another person might buy the others a few seconds of anonymity,” Thomas said.