Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4)

by Nelson, Stephanie

  Hexed

  Book 4 in the Gwen Sparks Series

  Stephanie Nelson

  Copyright © 2014

  All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-0-9906519-2-5

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Addicted

  Addicted

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books by Stephanie

  Connect with Stephanie

  Playlist

  HE FOUND ME wandering down the street. Darkness shrouded his big body in shadows, but I knew it was him. The memory—my only one—of the strange woman animating rose bushes flashed through my head. The vines had coiled around the man’s legs as though they were living things with a heartbeat. I swallowed around the dryness in my throat, not daring to take my eyes off his figure. My hands shook with almost the same ferocity of my heartbeat. Wherever I was, the laws of normalcy did not apply. Things were not as they seemed, not as they should be. The thing was, I could not remember how I had gotten here. More than that, I couldn’t even remember who I was. The man—Dorian I believe he said his name was—had called me Gwen. I wanted to trust that if only because it would give a name to this stranger I’d become. Names are powerful. They categorize and explain things, and right now, some explanation would be nice.

  “Don’t run,” Dorian said right in front of me. I jumped back, a scream leaving my throat as my brain fought to process how he had just been forty feet away and was now standing right in front of me. His fingers curled around my arm with enough pressure that it didn’t hurt, but I knew I wasn’t going anywhere unless he let me.

  “Gwen, calm down,” he said in an uncharacteristically soothing tone, one that did not fit a six-foot-three man wearing leather and sunglasses. My brain spent a split second wondering why he needed sunglasses at night, but the severity of my situation kicked that curiosity to the curb.

  “Let me go.” I thrashed against his hold, yanking my body backwards to break his grip. His fingers only grasped me tighter. It only took me a couple minutes to realize that this man wasn’t going to let me go anytime soon. My best defense was playing along, pretending I was calm and ready to listen. I stopped my struggle, took a couple deep breaths, and stared up at Dorian.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told me, his grip loosening the slightest bit. I nodded all the while thinking that I trusted him about as much as a cobra. His hair was the color of a raven’s feathers, so dark it glistened against the streetlamps.

  “Someone hexed you,” Dorian continued, keeping his voice calm. “What do you remember?”

  I processed his question and tried to remember something—anything. “Nothing.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. You don’t remember anything about your life, or yourself?”

  “That’s what nothing means, isn’t it?” That came out way snarkier than I intended, but I thought I was due for some sarcasm, considering. Taking a moment to breathe and collect myself, I asked, “What do you mean when you say someone hexed me? As in witches, potions, and spells?”

  Dorian’s fingers fell away from my arm. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, tilting his head toward the midnight sky. My feet itched to run but my brain halted them until he answered my question. I really was interested to know what he meant. Plus, this town wasn’t a place I really wanted to be alone in, even if that meant taking my chances with the dangerous man before me.

  “We were in a bakery,” Dorian started. “I don’t know what happened. One minute you were across the shop looking at cupcakes, and the next you were gone.” He shook his head as though he couldn’t understand the very words that left his lips. “The owner of the bakery did something to you. All she told me was that she had every right to kick out ‘nuisances’.” He silently chuckled to himself, entertained by an inside joke I wasn’t part of. “I came out of the shop and saw you standing in the middle of the street a couple blocks away. The rest of the story you know.”

  “Yeah, you chased me down like a lunatic and then that woman had rose bushes attack you,” I said with a huff, taking a step back. “You know, if you want me to trust you then you need to stop attacking me.”

  Dorian snorted. “Attacking you? That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “What would you call it?” I bit out, remembering how scared I was when he chased me down the street. When looking at Dorian, one wouldn’t associate him with safe. His very appearance screamed ‘danger.’

  “I call it saving your ass,” Dorian said just as harshly. “Again. But do I hear ‘thank you, Dorian for chasing my ass all over town so I don’t get myself in trouble’? No.”

  “So, you do admit that you were chasing me,” I said, smiling a little, despite myself.

  Dorian let out a groan, half-turning his body as though trying to decide if he should stay or just leave me stranded. The sudden realization that I needed him hit me hard. If he decided to leave, I would be lost. I couldn’t remember if I had a home or even lived in this town.

  “Thank you,” I said between my teeth, hating that I had to say it but knowing it needed to be said. It was the middle of the night, and I was tired and freezing. Dorian seemed to know me, probably knew where I lived. If I had any hope of remembering myself, he was my only option.

  “That painful, huh?”

  “Who’s ungrateful now?” I asked him, crossing my arms. “I said what you wanted to hear, now tell me how to fix this.”

  “I think your manners disappeared with your memories. I didn’t hear a please in there.”

  “Ugh!” I ran my fingernails through my hair, getting even more annoyed when they snagged in tangles. “Forget it, I’ll figure this out on my own.” I started past him, tensing as
I waited for him to grab me again. When he didn’t, I stopped a couple feet past him. I had no clue where I was going.

  “Can you please point me in the direction of the police department?” If anyone could help me figure this out, it would be the cops. A victorious smile spread across my lips as I realized that I didn’t need Dorian’s help after all.

  “It’s that way,” he said pointing in the opposite direction. “About three blocks down and to the right.”

  Nodding, I turned and walked past him again. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he was smiling. What the hell was so entertaining?

  AS I FOLLOWED Gwen, I wondered why the hell I put myself through this. She had been nothing but a thorn in my side since I first met her, yet here I was secretly trailing her as she made her way to the police station. She hugged her hands to her arms, and I knew she must be cold. I should have given her my coat. What has happened to me? Give her my coat, seriously? That woman not only annoyed me with her ability to get herself in trouble, but my reaction to her also frustrated me. I spent eons wandering this world, entertaining myself between the legs of willing women. Gwen was just another woman in a long line of many. At least, that’s what she was supposed to be. I’d screwed up and slept with her, breaking another of my rules. I only had two: don’t sleep with spirit walkers under my tutelage and never bring the dead back to life. I had broken both rules for her. I didn’t know why, couldn’t figure out my motives where she was concerned. She is beautiful, but I’d spent time with a lot of beautiful women, and I wasn’t the type of man that let a pretty face distract me. I’m not a man at all, not really.

  Gwen stumbled, tripping over a small pothole in the street. I snorted with laughter, smothering a hand over my face when she turned to inspect the noise. Hiding behind a tree, I peeked around the trunk. She wouldn’t see me; I was hidden by the shadows of the branches. When she began walking again, I slipped out of my hiding spot and followed. My eyes traced her body, enjoying the spill of ebony hair down her back and the sway as her hips moved. Just a day ago, we’d been tangled in sheets and covered in sweat. I thought getting a taste of the very woman who aggravated me for so long would eradicate her from my mind. I thought after I satisfied my need for her, she would cease to complex me. I thought wrong, and it pissed me off. I didn’t get attached to people, didn’t see the point in it. Everyone dies, their meager existence a tiny speck in time while I continue on, wandering the earth like all the lost souls in the realm of the dead. The only infinite thing in this world was death—me. Gwen would die eventually and become just another one of my memories, a woman from a time in my very long existence. I had no business submersing myself in her world any further. My subconscious whispered for me to walk away, leave before things got more complicated. I ignored the warning and continued following her.

  BRIGHT FLUORESCENT LIGHTS blinded me as I pushed through the double glass doors leading into the police department. One main desk sat in the middle of the floor. A short wall formed a U around the reception, blocking anyone from entering the main section.

  “Gwen?” A woman with shoulder length brown hair and deep set green eyes stared at me. The dip in her eyebrows told me she was as confused as I was. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

  “You know me?” I asked expectantly, recognizing she had used the same name as Dorian. Hello, my name is Gwen. That was the first puzzle piece into figuring out who I was. The crease in the woman’s forehead deepened. She came around her desk to stand in front of me.

  “Of course I know you,” she told me. “It’s me, Marie. I’ve been working here for the past five years.”

  “Right, of course,” I said, trying to pull off nonchalance. “Did you lose weight, change your hair?” I had no clue why I was pretending as if I remembered her. She was as much of a stranger as my own reflection.

  “No,” she said looking down at herself before meeting my gaze again. “Are you okay? Has something happened?”

  “I’m okay, but something has happened,” I told her. “Is there a police officer I could talk to?” I swiveled my head to stare around the department. Other than Marie, it looked pretty empty. Half of the lights were off, except the one over the reception and one toward the back.

  “I’ll call Micah,” Marie said, moving back around her desk and picking up the phone. By the way she said his name, I was guessing I knew this Micah guy, too. The question was, did I know him because we were friends or had I gotten in so much trouble that I was on a first name basis with the police. Didn’t Dorian say something about me getting in trouble a lot? I sunk into one of the plastic chairs lining the entrance and buried my head in my hands.

  “He’ll be here in five minutes,” Marie said. “You want something to drink?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you.” What I really wanted was to crawl into a warm bed, sleep, wake up, and find out this had all been a bad dream.

  The doors opening brought me out of my thoughts. A man with broad shoulders and shoulder-length brown hair stopped in front of me. My eyes took a little trip down his body, taking in his jeans and long sleeve Henley that had three little buttons at the neck, all undone. When my gaze made its way back up to his face, I noticed the unusual color of his eyes. They were the color of whiskey, but with more yellow. Strange, but beautiful.

  “What’s happened now?” the man asked me with a small smile.

  “You’re Micah?” I asked standing up and crossing my arms. “You’re a police officer?”

  “Detective,” he responded with caution. “Gwen, what’s going on?”

  My eyes flitted over to where Marie stood beside him, her gaze just as bewildered as Micah’s. The only thing I had to go off of was what Dorian told me.

  “Come on, we’ll talk in my office.”

  Without another word, I followed Micah down the tiled aisle. Five desks sat off to the side while walled offices were to the left. Micah entered the third one down, shutting the door behind us. The room was basic: white walls, gray carpet, one window behind a gray desk. A corkboard hung on the wall, a picture of a map with routes highlighted.

  “Have a seat,” Micah offered, walking around his desk and sitting. When I sat down, Micah leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers in front of him. “So, what happened?”

  “I don’t remember anything,” I told him, just now realizing that he may think I was sick rather than bewitched.

  “Something happened, but you don’t remember?”

  “No,” I told him, “well, yes, something happened. I mean…” I took a deep breath and tried again. “I can’t remember anything as in…anything. I don’t know where I live, who I am or where I am. I don’t recognize people who know me, or remember anything about my life.”

  Micah sat up straight, his eerie citrine eyes widening. “So, you really don’t know who I am, don’t remember anything about us?” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought that little act in the lobby was a joke.”

  I shook my head. “Not a joke.”

  “Shit. When did you lose your memory, and where are Dorian and Fiona?”

  “You know Dorian?” I asked. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though; Dorian looked like he had a few run-ins with the police. “I haven’t met anyone named Fiona.”

  “Yeah, I know him. You and he…have been working together. He’s supposed to be teaching you how to yield your powers.”

  My eyebrows arched. “I have powers?”

  Micah’s face scrunched up. “Of course you do. You’re a witch, Gwen. Well, a spirit walker to be more precise.”

  My head was in a whirlwind. I’m a witch? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what a spirit walker was or not. If I was a witch, did that mean Dorian was one, too? Was that why he was teaching me?

  “Was Dorian with you when you lost your memories?”

  I shrugged. “I think so, yes. He said we were in a bakery, and then I couldn’t remember anything.”

  “So, you’ve spoke with him since it happened?”r />
  I nodded. “Yes, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust him or not. My memories may be gone, but I still possess my red flags, and he sent all of them up.”

  Micah surprised me when he laughed at my statement. “Yeah, he’s hell on the senses. Believe me, I know.”

  I studied Micah a little closer. Essentially, he looked normal. The only bizarre thing about him was the color of his eyes. Then again, looks could be deceiving in a place like this. The woman I had run to help for had looked normal also, until she reanimated the rose bushes. Maybe she was a witch too.

  “What is this place?” I asked Micah. “I’ve seen some things, things that shouldn’t be possible. Is it some government test city?”

  Again, Micah laughed. “Wow, you really don’t remember anything, do you?” When I frowned at him, he continued. “Supernaturals exist: witches, vampires, elves, werewolves… They revealed themselves to the public in the eighties, called it the Great Revelation. Humans accepted us for the most part, but there are segregation laws in some states that determine whether humans and supernaturals can co-exist. For those states, there are magical communities set up for all otherworldly beings. We live in one called Flora. It sits in Missouri, but is bewitched to look like a cornfield to the human eye. This is for our protection against those who wish to harm us.” He gave me a friendly smile. “And that is your history lesson for tonight.”

  “Wow, okay,” I said unintelligently, “So it is possible that someone put a…spell on me? Why would someone want to do that, and how do I fix it?”