Hexed and Dangerous (The Wicked Witch of Future Past) (A Wicked Good Witches Paranormal Romance Book 9)

by Starla Silver

  “I cannot agree with you, Grayson. I would never put more value on my life than another. You know this.”

  “I do. But I am a vampire.” The words tore out of him, each filled with anguish. “A vampire in love who tried to die, and did not. It changed me. Made me believe I was meant to live, and free you. I did try to stop. And after many years, I did try to kill myself again. But I was weak and did not. And now, the longer I go without living human blood the thirst gets stronger. It builds to a need so deep I cannot control it. I will kill any living thing…”

  “Innocents…”

  “Yes,” he admitted dejectedly. “The thirst took over, I had no control of whose life I snuffed out.” There had been a time he’d only drank from humans he deemed unworthy to live.

  “Does this include me? Would you kill me?”

  “I do not wish to find out.” His answer a brutal pull into reality. “The very idea I suffered all I have to return to free you, only to kill you… it would be a final sadistic revenge from Charlotte.”

  “That it would.” Lizzy was getting sobered up now. Love him, hate him, their past set aside, she needed to fix this before another innocent life was taken. The consequences of his actions would have to be dealt with after. She’d not think about that now.

  “You should also be aware Lisbeth, the curse, it worsens. Now that I am on the Isle, I fear I cannot leave it. Charlotte wants me stuck here now. With the bloodlust surging inside me.”

  Lizzy cringed. There were so many possibly meanings behind this. She suspected, again, to make sure Grayson had to die. And she had no doubt in his crazed state he’d be willing to hide the fact he was getting stronger, or possibly planning an escape.

  Self-preservation was a strong motivator for human, witch, or supernatural being. They had just one vial of werewolf blood left, they’d need to get more, fast. And now that she’d spoken to him this would only give him more incentive to escape. Unless he was controlling his hunger in hopes of her help, and not being the monster anymore.

  Disappointment hung heavy in Grayson’s gaze. “You’re afraid. Of me.”

  “I understand the anguish you have lived through, Grayson. I do. More so than anyone else ever could. But I cannot… will not… allow you to hurt anyone else. You did all this to save me, and for that I can only be forever grateful. But I cannot condone taking innocent lives. I would prefer to stay a ghast if it meant you never killed a single innocent soul.”

  She was pulling away. His tone took on a more desperate plea.

  “We can go back to the way we were, Lisbeth. But the longer I deny this thirst the deadlier I will become. The more unstable I will become. We don’t have much time. Hours? A day, until it gets too strong for me to deny the thirst. Unless you break the curse. And then we can live the life we were meant to.”

  “I’m not sure I can, Grayson.” It slipped out but she meant this on all levels. “I’m sure you’re right that I have to break the curse, but I do not know how. And even if I do, I cannot see my future. Our future.” I’m not sure I still love you the same way I did, or if I can, again.

  This riled him, the admittance surging too much energy into his bloodstream. He struggled against his bonds though even with the burst of adrenaline, sluggishly so because of the werewolf blood still diluting his vampire abilities.

  “This has nothing at all to do with me, or what I’ve done,” he growled. “And everything to do with that werewolf.”

  “Yes. And no,” she spoke honestly. “What you’ve done is… reviling, Grayson. I’m not sure I can ever look at you the same again. It hurts me to admit because I do love you. I never stopped for a moment. You were cursed, but you did choose to keep going, and kill, even though it was to try to save me…” She stopped herself, unable to continue.

  Lizzy was no less confused about the Charlie, Grayson thing. And was equally perplexed as to what to do with Grayson. Though he chose self-preservation and claiming it was to save her, didn’t he deserve a second chance? To prove he was in control once removed out of the curse. A second chance because he’d loved her so much and suffered so much.

  If this had been a topic discussed a few days ago with regards to William Wakefield, the answer would have been deserved, maybe. But what about the innocent lives, stripped away without choice? Didn’t they deserve justice too?

  But William wasn’t cursed. Only tortured near to death and forced to drink insane amounts of human blood to recover and survive. Riley had been cursed, and they held no death sentence over his head. He had not taken any innocent lives though. And she was the only one who carried any love or sentiment over Grayson, who had few acts of humanity to sway to the side of second chances.

  She needed time to sort this all through but as usual, the clock was against them.

  “How do I break the curse? You seem to think it has to be me.”

  “A question I cannot answer, however, something tells me Charlotte would have made sure it had to be you. And no one else.”

  Made sense at some level. Still did not tell her how though.

  Was there any outcome that included Grayson Moone remaining alive?

  From the look on his face, he did not believe it any more than she did. Which made him dangerous. To everyone.

  When was Charlie coming back? Oh right, he hadn’t said.

  They needed more werewolf blood. Fast.

  CHAPTER 6

  Lizzy barreled out of the cell and locked it up without another word. She leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes. There was nothing more to say right now. And Grayson’s pained growls sliced her deep. Wasn’t this the ultimate betrayal in a sense? To refuse to stand by his side, fighting for him, as he always did for her? As he did do, in a sick way, all these years.

  It was the first moment in her life she ever doubted.

  Doubted that doing the right thing, was really the right thing.

  That the good of all was better than sticking up for the man she’d loved, no matter what he’d done.

  So many times she’d wondered, what made good witches go bad? What turned people who were inherently good, to the side of darkness? In some cases, it was easy to determine the path taken. The wrong choice made. Others, it was subtler, or impossible to find.

  Lizzy swore if she looked below her feet she’d be standing on a precipice. She’d always lived by duty, and honor. Where did her duty lie? With the man she’d loved before, or in the life she’d always put first? A life she had not been willing to give up, even when engaged to marry Grayson. But also a life that had shit all over her in a grand fashion.

  Charlie…

  She inevitably ended up there.

  Before Grayson had shown up she’d let herself settle into a future with the wolf. She’d thought herself ridiculously lucky. Like perhaps fate had worked in some sick and twisted way to get her into the time and place she was meant to be.

  And then her past was flung right back at her.

  So what did that mean?

  There was no such thing as fate? Was it all bullshit?

  She frowned and shook her head ruefully. If she was having this conversation with Charlie, he’d not even get angry with her for having such doubts. He’d understand, probably even wonder how she never did before considering the hand she was dealt.

  But it all came down to innocence.

  And even if the curse was to blame for Grayson’s condition, he’d taken so many innocent lives. It changed your view of someone whether you wanted it to, or not.

  Nothing would be decided today.

  And with each step up the stairs Lizzy realized she was taking another step back into the light. No matter who she loved, or wanted to love, she’d never allow innocents to get hurt. This wasn’t duty. Or honor really.

  Just basic belief in human equality.

  No one life is worth more than another, ever.

  No matter how much personal worth you give them over someone else.

  No matter how much worth they
are assigned by anyone.

  Lizzy reached the top of the stairs, lighter, her head on straighter.

  She explained all she’d learned to the others, and when finished, Lucas reached out and patted her shoulder.

  “You look like explaining all that totally wiped you out. I can take you home if you want,” he offered. “It is getting late.”

  “Not yet. There’s something I want to research first.” She looked to Michael and Melinda. “Do you have any old family records, back as far as when I was alive? Or really, I’m looking for Howard history.”

  “Charlotte?” Michael assumed.

  “Yeah. Her.”

  “We do have archives, it’s worth a look.” They all filed into William’s study. It didn’t take long to find the archived Howard history, but it did take time to find the right period. They had to go back quite a few years.

  “These must be a bit like reading your own biography,” stated Melinda after they’d been searching for a while.

  “A little bit. Odd really, to have lived so long, and see your past written down in a book. Especially when it’s the incorrect version and my existence became nothing but a footnote. I’m sure Charlotte made sure of that.”

  “She probably also made sure that things she didn’t want revealed about herself were not included,” noted Michael. “But we’ll keep looking just in case.”

  The entry on Lizzy wasn’t all that big. Mostly, it talked about when she went missing. There was even some who believed her vampire had lost his way and killed her. She hadn’t heard that while in her ghastly form. Poor Grayson. Again. Forced to put up with those accusations. And most likely Charlotte’s doing. Once those people lost trust it was not easily earned back.

  “It’s weird how time can somehow romanticize reality,” she murmured to no one in particular.

  “How so?” prodded Lucas.

  “Just the generalness of how I pictured my life after I lost it. Sometimes now, seeing the truth with a little more clarity, and distance, I wonder why I ever wanted to go back.”

  “So it wasn’t all skittles and rainbows?” jested Michael gingerly.

  “It wasn’t all bad, or all good, I guess it just… was.”

  It didn’t take long to find a few sections about Charlotte Howard. Most notably, her excellence as a witch. The first woman to train other witches in combat and battle.

  “I wanted that job,” Lizzy recalled. “It was not an easy time to be a woman and a witch. Not so unlike today in some things. Men still don’t like women in combat. It was even harder in my day.”

  “You’re doing that job now,” reminded Melinda. “You didn’t end up being the first woman to do it, but I’d wager you’re one of the best teachers considering how Charlotte turned out.”

  Lizzy chuckled. “I do like teaching you guys. I always saw myself teaching others. Someday I’ll get to teach my little babies…” she caught herself. She hadn’t meant to say that. She swore she heard Grayson snarling in the basement. Babies and the vampire were not possible. She’d never wanted them in her previous life.

  No one said anything.

  “Oh, look,” prompted Lucas. “I found another Charlotte entry.”

  They clambered around the book he held. It was old and made of weathered leather. But all the Howard history books had been protected by magic so they’d last as long as the Howard’s were still witches.

  “That’s right,” said Lizzy after a minute. “It’s coming back to me now. I had been so eager for Charlotte’s death thinking it would free me, I did not attend her funeral. I had…” she shook her head. “I went to a very dark place when she died and I wasn’t freed. I thought her death would end my curse.” She shook herself before delving too deeply into that dark vacuum that nearly sucked away all her hope. “Anyway, this never made sense to me. Charlotte didn’t want her body burned and put into the Howard Mausoleum as was the tradition.”

  “Huh, that does seem odd, seeing as that’s where nearly every Howard ends up. If it’s possible.” Michael scrubbed his hand across his chin. It hadn’t been possible with their parents who were now permanent residents inside the old tree next to the power source. “I don’t recall anyone in our family who specifically requested a ground burial. On the witch side of things at least.”

  “No, because supposedly, if the body of a witch is burned after death, their magic is said to return and strengthen the bloodline. Who knows if that’s true or not,” rattled Melinda.

  Lizzy shrugged. “Whether true or not, Charlotte did not go with the tradition. And they obliged her final request. She specifically wanted a ground burial. She’s in the Demon Isle Cemetery. Probably not much of a headstone left after all these years. Or, knowing Charlotte, it’s mystifyingly pristine.”

  That got a few chuckles.

  Michael held up a page from another Howard history book. It was a map of the cemetery including the names of all the non-witch Howard family buried there. The ones who married into the family but were not from the witch bloodline. It also included members of the Deane family, non-witch and witch, as even though their bodies were burned after death as well, they’d never built a mausoleum like the Howard’s had.

  Lizzy grabbed it and looked it over. Her breath catching at seeing a name she recognized. “Mathew…” It had been such a long time. She looked up to see everyone staring at her. “An old friend. He died far too young. Before I was ghasted. Actually, the same day I met Grayson. But I miss Mathew like he died yesterday.”

  “He was a witch?” asked Melinda.

  “Yeah. The clumsiest and most loveable witch I’d ever known. Would have been a master potion maker had he lived longer. And been permitted to practice his craft more freely.”

  “How do you mean?” asked Michael. “Witches made potions in your time.”

  “Yes, but it was considered one of those jobs for the ladies,” she jabbed. “Men learned some basic knowledge about making potions too, but they were expected to fight. Be the protectors. If Mathew and I could have switched roles, I think we’d each have been much happier. And he was an inventor really. Had a keen, scientific way of thinking of potions. Back in my day the elders of the community did not see the value in mixing science with witchcraft.”

  “It was such a different time,” Melinda said. “Crazy to think about, I imagine even crazier to have lived then, and now.”

  “Times have changed, no doubt. Mostly for the better. But anything cool I learned about potions, I learned from Mathew Bishop.” His name rolled off her tongue fondly.

  Lucas coughed, and cleared his throat. “Bishop? Mathew Bishop?” he repeated incredulously.

  “Yes.” Lizzy cocked her head, the look on her brother’s face unreadable. And yet it was distressing for some reason.

  “He wasn’t a Howard or a Deane?” queried Michael. “I didn’t realize that was even a thing.”

  “It didn’t happen often, but now and again a witch family would come to live on the Isle. Sometimes just for a while. It was sort of a safe haven. As safe as things got for witches at the time. Mathew was the last in his line. When he died, followed by his father a few years later, the line ended. Sad really. He might not have been the best witch, but there were few who matched his honor or loyalty.”

  “Were you in love with him?” Courtney had a twinkle in her eye.

  Lizzy shook her head. “No. No, it wasn’t like that between us. It never would have been. Mathew wasn’t into me. Nor I him. Not in a romantic way. Lucas?” she threw his name at him. He was looking pale and like he was about to fall over a cliff or something. “Are you okay?”

  “Um, yeah. Fine. Sorry.” He shook his head, some of his color returning.

  “You didn’t just have a traveling thingy did you?” asked Melinda.

  “No. No, not that. Just a weird, déjà vu kind of thing. Coincidence I’m sure, I had a, um… friend… same name, Mathew Bishop. He moved away a few weeks before I came to the Isle.” Melinda swore his words carried a bitte
r sort of sadness.

  “Fairly common name I’d imagine,” noted Michael. From the look on his face he was picking up the same emotion Melinda had heard in his words, but let it go. Wasn’t his business.

  “Sorry, Lizzy, I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were saying?” Lucas looked frayed, refusing eye contact with Melinda though she attempted to catch his eye.

  “Oh, well, Mathew was a really special guy. My best friend. I would have done almost anything to see him happy.” It was still hard to think about, even after all this time. The happiness her friend had never expected to find. She hoped he was happy in his afterlife. And at peace.

  “So, um, we have a map. Any reason to go to the cemetery?” Michael put forth, getting them back to topic.

  “No,” Lizzy responded. “I don’t honestly think any of this helps our cause. I was hoping for more about her magical gifts, but nothing is listed that wasn’t already public knowledge. And what I’m looking for is an ability to see into the future.”

  “She sure did seem to guess a lot of things right,” conceded Michael.

  “Kind of scary right,” Melinda chorused.

  “And yet none of this helps me figure out how to break the curse.” Lizzy set the book aside. Overwhelmed, exhausted, her brain overloaded with memories and uncertainty. The air in the room becoming too thick, and too hot. And chances were, even if Charlotte did possess some gift of foresight she must have kept it hidden.

  “Want me to take you home, Lizzy?” asked Lucas, determined he would whether she wanted to or not. She wasn’t the only one who needed a little air. However, she put up no fight.

  “Yeah. I need to do that now.”

  She hurried out of the study needing fresh air and a mega dose of clarity.

  CHAPTER 7

  A long time ago on an island not so far away…

  Lisbeth Deane found the beach she was searching for. It wasn’t difficult, just took a little while as the path to it was overridden with boulders, jutting roots, and fallen trees. But it was the only place to be alone for a time. And listen to the waves. Let her sadness get carried away with each pass out to sea.