Witches of Twisted Den (Part One) (Beautiful Immortals Series Three Book 1)

by Tim O'Rourke

Very gently, Calix eased me down onto my T-shirt that now covered the ground beneath us. He covered my neck in kisses, which were so very soft and gentle. Closing my eyes, I dragged my fingers through his hair, pulling him down on top of me.

  “I love you, Mila,” he whispered, his breath cool against my neck.

  “I love you, too,” I said. I no longer felt I could hide my true feelings for him. There was a part of me that knew I’d been in love with Calix for a while now.

  Reaching between us, I worked his belt buckle open and then pulled his denims from off his legs. I threw them to one side, happy that we were now lying naked together. Leaning over me, Calix arched his back. I saw the muscles across his chest and down the length of his arms tighten beneath his tattooed skin. The writing – spell – almost seemed to radiate and shine bright as I smiled up at him. Wrapping my arms around his back, I held on tight. He turned his attention to my breasts and kissed them. Locked in each other’s arms in the moonlit clearing, I looked up into the night sky and at the stars. They shone so brightly and moved so quickly they looked like glistening flakes of snow falling all around us. We kissed each other, our tongues working slowly back and forth, intertwined like our arms and legs. I felt Calix ease himself into me, and for the first time, we truly became one. I shuddered with pleasure and so did he. In the clearing, surrounded on all sides by thick, dense trees, it was easy to believe that we were the only two people left in the world. There was only us and no one else to fear or run from.

  Opening his eyes and looking into mine, Calix said, “I won’t fail you this time around. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

  Feeling safer than I ever had, I locked my arms around Calix’s back as he slowly eased himself in and out of me. Drawing my knees up, I arched my back as he rocked his strong hips back and forth, up and down. I ran my fingernails up the length of his back and he groaned as I raked at his skin. The sudden smell of blood filled the air. At first I thought that perhaps my clawing at his back had been too frenzied and I’d drawn blood. But the smell of it only seemed to heighten his pleasure as he began to work his hips faster and faster. He broke our kiss and I opened my eyes. He looked down at me and smiled. But it wasn’t Calix’s smile I could see. It was Flint’s once more. Behind his lips, I could see two fangs glistening just inches from my neck. I blinked in surprise at seeing him, but in a fleeting moment, Flint’s face had changed – revealing his true self – revealing the Beautiful Immortal that he had kept hidden from me. His beauty was blinding and intoxicating. Without saying a word, he lunged forward. His fangs pierced my skin as they entered the side of my neck. But there was no pain from his bite. Instead, the sensation of feeling my blood racing through my veins only heightened my desire. Unable to resist him, or his bite, I seemed powerless to stop my blood gushing into his mouth. He sucked greedily at the puncture wounds he had opened in my neck. I could feel my blood bleeding from the corners of his mouth and splashing my shoulders and breasts in hot, sticky streams. But still I didn’t pull away. A thrilling yet burning sensation tingled deep inside of me, which spread across my breasts, stomach, and deep between my legs.

  Flint moved faster and faster above me, and I bucked my hips to match his intensity. Together, our breathing grew deeper and quicker. With my blood leaking from the corners of his mouth, he kissed me again. And this time, I could taste my own blood. It was bitter, yet sweet all at the same time. I pulled my lips away, and gripping his powerful thighs, I pulled him deeper into me. I threw my head to one side, exposing my neck for him again, needing to feel that rush of pleasure that his bite caused to spread throughout my body. With my eyes only half open through utter delirium, I thought I saw several figures standing at the edge of the clearing beneath the trees. Startled by this, I snapped my eyes open as Flint continued to push faster and faster into me.

  “Flint,” I gasped, wanting to draw his attention to the fact that we were no longer alone and being watched by a group of people who had gathered just feet away. “Flint!” I tried to shriek, but his name came out as little more than a breathless pant as my skin continued to seethe with that sense of warmth his bite stirred throughout me. A throbbing pulse, like an ache, flooded through my entire body as an unbelievable knot of desire unravelled itself at speed within me and I couldn’t help but cry out. Feeling suddenly lightheaded, I peered once more at the group of figures huddled together at the edge of the clearing. It was dark beneath the low hanging branches of the nearby trees, making it impossible to see who was watching us. Then, one by one these people stepped out from the shade and into the moonlight. Flint remained locked deep within me, his body trembling, then rocking suddenly. He cried out with something close to joy, totally unaware of the odd looking women who were now standing just feet from us.

  I tried to shout out his name, give him some kind of warning, but it seemed that my voice was trapped in the back of my throat and all I could utter was a series of gasps. This only seemed to heighten Flint’s desire. Staring wide-eyed over Flint’s shoulder, I looked at the women. As they stood just feet away, they appeared to be talking amongst themselves. Their lips moved up and down – opened and closed – but no words came out. As they stood and talked, one of the women produced a long-necked bottle from a bag that was slung over her shoulder. She handed this to the woman immediately to her right, then pulled a silver goblet from the bag. Each of the women couldn’t have been much older than me. All of them had long dark hair that hung about their shoulders. They were strangely beautiful in their own right. The woman with the goblet held it out. She said something to the woman with the bottle while the others stood close by and watched. Again, I couldn’t hear what the woman said, even though she was standing within touching distance of me and Flint. And now that they were so close, it became apparent to me that they were unaware of Flint and I making love virtually at their feet. Perhaps they couldn’t see us, just like I couldn’t hear them. Maybe I was seeing ghosts again, just like I had back in my bedroom when I’d seen my mother with the wolf-man on the bed. But who were these women and why was I seeing them now?

  Flint withdrew his fangs from my neck, gasped for breath, then rolled off me and onto his back. He lay looking up at the stars, chest hitching up and down. Reaching for my discarded T-shirt, I covered myself with it and continued to watch the mysterious women. Now that both Flint and I had stopped making love, I could turn my full attention on them. Each of them wore a long, sleeveless dress cut from the most intricate of lace. They wore lace gloves that stopped at their elbows. Although their hair was raven black, their eyelashes were unnaturally long and coloured white, as were their full lips.

  I watched the woman with the bottle pour some of its contents into the silver goblet. The other woman then raised the goblet out before her. Another lifted one hand, pointing one long finger at the goblet. I watched in wonder as a jagged spike of blue light fizzled and spat from her fingertip, forming a wavering ball of light just above the goblet. The women looked pleased with themselves. The one holding the goblet raised it to her mouth and drank from it. She tilted her head backwards a little and I watched the skin that covered her neck ripple as she drank. Once she’d had her share of the contents, she handed the goblet to another of the women, who was quick to throw back her head and begin to drink. As Flint pulled me close once one, I continued to watch with fascination as each of the women drank from the goblet. It didn’t seem to matter how much they drank, the ball of twisting light above it never diminished in size. Once the last of them had drank from the goblet, I noticed that the women’s lips were no longer white but blood red. And it wasn’t just their lips that were now scarlet, but each of them had a thick trail of blood leaking from the corners of their mouths. The woman holding the bottle spoke again, but I was deaf to whatever it was she had said. But this time as she opened her mouth to speak, I noticed that her teeth were pointed. She – all of them – had fangs just like Flint’s.

  I glanced sideways at him. I wanted to ask if he too co
uld see these women and whether they were vampires like him or something else. To my surprise, Flint was no longer lying beside me. He had gone. Feeling suddenly bewildered and lost, I looked once more in the direction of the women – vampires – witches? But there was no longer just five of them, they had been joined by another, who made their number six. This new addition to their group – coven – was different. Sure, she had long black hair but as far as I could see she didn’t have fangs. And whereas the others were dressed in long, delicate lace, this young woman wore a plain black dress. The woman with the goblet offered it to this new addition to their group. She seemed hesitant to take it. The woman offering her the goblet said something and smiled, arming the blood from her lips with the back of her free hand. The newest member of the group finally reached for the goblet, and as she did, she stepped fully into the moonlight. I covered my mouth with my hands to stifle the scream that threatened in the back of my throat. The young woman now holding the goblet looked just like me. The likeness was so uncanny that we could have been twins. I had to blink twice to make sure that it wasn’t in fact me who had taken the goblet full of blood from the woman. If the woman wasn’t me, but looked very much like me, then she could only be my…

  “…mother!” I cried out, jolting myself awake. I sat up in bed. Thoughts of my mother were at the forefront of my mind. Had I been dreaming about her? I couldn’t be sure – I couldn’t remember. I closed my eyes and searched for the last remaining remnants of the dream I’d just woke from. But any fragments simply blew to the furthest corners of my mind, placing themselves out of reach. Feeling unnerved and rattled, I threw back the bedsheets and climbed from the bed. I drifted over to the window and pulled back the curtains, hoping a sudden dose of sunlight would blast away the unsettling feeling I’d woken with – although I had no idea why.

  The sun was sitting low in the sky like it was going to set within the next hour or two. I suspected that I’d slept most of the day away, my body and mind shattered with tiredness from the previous night’s events. I made my way down the landing to the bathroom. Once I’d showered, put on some fresh clothes, I stuffed my mother’s spell book into the waistband of my jeans and covered it with the hem of the sweater that I’d put on. Picking up my gun belt from where I’d left it on the floor the night before, I fixed it firmly about my waist. The only bullets I had were those dodgy ones that Morten had given to me – the ones that went off last night and almost killed Trent. But could I have really killed him? He was a werewolf after all – he was one of the Beautiful Immortals. It was then, as I moved the clothes I’d disregarded the night before, that I saw the photograph of Trent, which I had previously found stuffed between the pages of my mother’s spell book. It must have fallen out as I had gotten undressed the night before. Why had my mother kept a picture of Trent in the book? Trent said that they had become close friends, but how close? Holding the picture of Trent between my thumb and forefinger, my mind turned to the wolf-man I’d seen climbing into my mother’s room. I felt sure that in some way I’d seen my mother’s memories – I’d been looking at the world as she had once seen it. And in those memories I had seen my mother making love with a wolf-man. Had the wolf-man been Trent? I needed to know the answer to that question, because if Trent had indeed been my mother’s lover, perhaps he was my father. But who could I ask? Who would confess such a thing to me if it was true?

  Knowing that I needed some new bullets for my guns should the vampires come back to Shade to rescue Flint or come in search of me, I left the cottage. I headed in the direction of the old redbrick house where Calix had created himself a makeshift home. As I cut across the park beneath the dying sun, I knew that it wasn’t just bullets that I was going in search of. I wanted to know why Calix had left the Weeping Wolf in such a hurry last night. But more importantly, I also wanted to know if Calix knew the identity of the wolf-man – my mother’s lover. Had it been Trent?

  Chapter Seven

  Mila Watson

  The previous night’s rain had stopped, but the wind was still as strong, and slammed against the rickety schoolhouse in the centre of the park. The swing of course swayed backwards and forwards but today there was no Clarabelle riding it. I imagined that she was tucked up in bed, locked away from the world so she couldn’t go on some mad killing spree like I’d been led to believe she had done before. But where were the other children that inhabited Shade? I couldn’t ever recall seeing them playing in the park like Clarabelle did. Where did they spend their free time? Did they not play games or like having fun? Perhaps just like Clarabelle, they too were locked away behind closed doors for fear that the vampires might return at any time and kill them just like they had murdered Annabel.

  As I made my way along the meandering track that led up toward the church and the hill where the red brickhouse was, I still found it impossible to reconcile the fact that Flint could be responsible for the death of Annabel – or anyone else for that matter. It only seemed like yesterday that as children we would sneak away together, find space of our own where we could play, and then as older teenagers do something far more fun. I could clearly remember the last time we had made love. It had been in the house that Flint had once shared with his father. As always, Flint had been so gentle and loving with me. I could clearly remember the time he had saved me from the old man in the disused store. With memories of that particular incident at the forefront of my mind, I climbed over the slate wall and dropped into the field that led up the hill to where Calix lived. That repulsive man – repulsive creature – who had wanted to hurt me that night in the old shop would have done so if Flint hadn’t come to my rescue. But had his real motive for coming to my rescue that night been because I was too valuable to lose? Not because he loved me, but because the vampires hoped that one day I’d become an asset and help them defeat the werewolves once and for all? How long, exactly, had Flint known that I was a witch? Or had he only found out when the night-watchmen had discovered that my uncle had let me leave Shade and go in search of answers about my parents? Surely Flint would’ve known what I truly was because he was one of the night-watchmen.

  Reaching the brow of the hill, I looked into the distance and could see the spire of the church behind me and the squat red brickhouse before me. The light from the dying sun reflected off the redbrick making it looked scorched. Slowly, I made my way down the hill and approached the building.

  I peered through one of the broken windows, but there was no sign of Calix. The mattress he slept on was dishevelled as always and I could see spent shell casings scattered across the stone floor. The chalk drawings of the vampires that covered the walls were peppered with bullet holes. Some of them I had made myself during the shooting practice I had undertaken with Calix.

  Turning my back on the building, I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Calix! Calix can you hear me?”

  The sound of my voice echoed back at me from off the rolling hill and the old brickhouse. I waited several moments for any response, but all I could hear was the rustle of the leaves that covered the branches of the nearby trees and the howl of the wind which screeched over the hillside. Hitching up my gun belt, and with the pistols slamming against my thighs, I made my way toward the wood wondering whether Calix was sitting alone by the stream again.

  I followed the path through the trees until I reached the spot where Calix had once faked his own death. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I remembered how naïve I’d been believing that I’d killed Calix with a stray bullet when really he had been faking, conjuring up any excuse to take hold of me and kiss me. And although my relationship with Calix had been troubled and we hadn’t always seen eye to eye at times, I’d not been able to push him away. There had been a part of me – for a long time – that had wanted to be kissed by Calix. And when that moment had come, I’d savoured every second of it – kissing him back with the same intensity that he had kissed me. And as I reached the tree where we had shared that moment, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of r
egret that the kiss we had shared hadn’t turned into something more. Secretly, I regretted that moment hadn’t turned into a lazy afternoon of carefree sex.

  Driving such thoughts from my mind, I turned my back on the tree and looked in the direction of the stream. But there was no sign of Calix. Once more, I cupped my hands around my lips and called out his name. Just as before the only response I got was the echo of my voice coming back at me. Where could he be? I hadn’t seen him since last night. It was unlike Calix not to have paid me a visit at my home as he so often did on the pretext that he was bringing me supplies. Perhaps he was fearful that I would no longer want to be friends with him – more than friends – now that I knew the truth about him and what he really was. Was that why he had left the Weeping Wolf last night? Was he scared that I would reject him, not only because I’d discovered he was a werewolf, but because Flint had re-entered my life, too? But who was I kidding? Scared? Calix was never scared of anything.

  I made my way out of the woods and back up the hill. As I went, I wondered how old exactly Calix, Trent, Rea, and Rush really were. Rush had told me they had travelled from Switzerland to England as children and that Rea had been like a big sister to them. But I now knew this was not to be true. This had simply been a cover story to hide the fact that they were older than they really were and didn’t age in the same way that humans did. Calix and the others were immortal after all. I suspected that they looked exactly as they did now as when my mother knew them. Had each of them lived a hundred years or more? I had no idea of knowing.

  Reaching the wall that circled the fields, I scrambled over it once more, dropping down into the road on the other side of it. Directly ahead of me, and on the opposite side of the road, stood the church. I knew that beneath it was the crypt where Flint was being held. Again, I got an overwhelming urge of wanting to see him. I wanted to confront him in search of answers to the questions that Trent and the others had been unable to answer. Crossing the road, I pushed open the gate set into the wall, and stepped into the churchyard.