Rogue Witch (Daughter of Darkness Book 2)

by Val O. Morris

  Yet Malek hired me to get the relic from Kellen.

  And someone else must know about it since it was stolen from him.

  The text continued: …the amulet has the power to stop Dominion.

  I paced around the kitchen. When I turned once more, there was Mrs. G, standing in the doorway.

  “Is it true? Dominion?”

  She nodded.

  “How did you know that’s what I’ve been doing?”

  Mrs. G sat down. She was stalling—wanting to choose her words wisely. “You have more enemies than you realize. There are a lot of jealous people in Blackwood that would rather see you hang than admit they’re wrong.”

  “Someone’s been spying on me.” I shook my head in disbelief. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe it, but that I assumed it was the Council, and I couldn’t believe they could stoop so low. “So, you’ve been watching the watchers.” I smirked. Mrs. G was good, and I was thrilled she was on my side.

  “I’ve gotta find that relic,” I stated.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know who stole it.”

  “Let’s assume that Malek wanted me to have the relic to let its immortal power protect me from this,” I waved my hand round, “this Dominion.”

  I paced again. “Dominion must be a catastrophic event of some kind. Malek wants me to survive it. But someone else wants the relic, and thus, immortality for themselves.”

  I made my way back to the table where Mrs. G was sitting. I was starting to feel like a mouse chasing its cheese. “Who do I know that’s had a thirst for immortality ever since she found out I was a Healer?”

  Mrs. G didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

  I nodded my head. “Alexa.”

  Slamming the book, I pushed it toward Mrs. G. I needed to find out more about her. Perhaps the wise old mage was right.

  “It’s time to visit my mother.”

  14

  I flicked the kickstand to my motorcycle down and approached the dark and foreboding castle. I hoped I wasn’t walking into my very own horror movie. Scratch that—the sequel to my very own horror movie. It would have been more fitting if it had been a dark and stormy night, but thankfully, it was only dark.

  Five turrets stood tall over the castle walls. Were they expecting a war? I couldn’t imagine a Dark Mage to be overly concerned for aesthetic appeal.

  There were butterflies the size of locusts in my stomach about seeing my mother. What do you say to someone you not only thought was dead but abandoned you?

  Hi, Mom! Welcome back from the dead. May I come in and have tea and catch up?

  Um… no.

  A cold chill crawled down my spine just by knocking on the door. I half expected a tall, undead butler to greet me. Instead, a man in a brown robe with the hood nestled around his neck unlatched the peephole and asked, “We don’t do tours,” and then promptly slammed it shut.

  I could tell this was gonna be fun. I banged again.

  The man opened the peephole again, and I said, “I’m here to see Dark Archmage Jasmine.” I hoped that by using her new official title it would give me some clout.

  He looked up at me and stared as if he recognized my face. He had a nasty scar over his left eye that prevented it from fully opening. “She doesn’t see visitors, especially the likes of you.”

  My patience had long worn out. I pushed two fingers through the iron bars to hold open the peephole while I summoned a Lightning Bolt that hovered in the man’s face.

  “I don’t give a fuck who you think I am. Take me to her or this bolt does permanent damage to the other eye.”

  We stared at each other through the peephole. A few seconds later, the lock clicked, and the door opened.

  Sometimes you have to be forceful to get shit done.

  The man looked frightened when he said, “Follow me.”

  I stepped into a huge entry hall complete with vaulted ceilings and dim lighting. Ornate decorations and paintings immediately grabbed my attention as I traced the height of the wall to the largest painting in the center of the room.

  My eyes grew fierce, and my jaw nearly hit the floor. Hovering over the grand room above the fireplace was an enormous oil painting of our mystery man himself, Athan fucking Malek. Its central and highly prominent placement ensured anyone who entered knew who they were dealing with.

  Picking my jaw up off the floor, I said, “You've got to be fucking kidding me.”

  The robed man flinched when he looked at me. I guess he could tell I was irked and was afraid I would take it out on him.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Considering the fire in my eyes, I didn't blame him for thinking it.

  Scar-eye’s voice quivered. “Dark Lord Malek. He built this place.”

  My how the pieces had begun falling into place. My heart raced. “Is he here?” I was both curious and frightened at the thought, but I had a few things I'd like to get straight with him.

  “Oh, no.” The man looked scared and shook his head frantically. “Lord Malek doesn't hang around here. If he needs to see you, he'll find you.”

  Too good to even answer questions from those he'd hired? Hmph. I admit, I was a little relieved.

  Other paintings that weren’t as equally tall but still looming adorned the walls all around us. I assumed those paintings were of important people, too—probably the Ancients I’d read about.

  I think I’ll hang a huge ass picture of myself in my store. Remind people whose gaming store they’re walking into.

  I rolled my eyes.

  We walked up a stone staircase that had purple carpet draped over each step. Candles lined the cold, gray walls to light the way. When we reached the upper level, there were several men dressed in black robes spaced throughout the hallway waiting to pounce on anyone who got out of line.

  My scar-eyed guide led me down the hallway past the magical secret service and into a dimly light room with black drapes hanging against the stone walls. A bookshelf with a single candelabra stood in the center of one of the walls. At the opposite end was a closed door. The manor reminded me of something I’d seen in an Elder Scrolls game. I got the feeling I was walking into the sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood.

  Scar-Eye stopped. “Please don’t hurt me, but you’ll have to wait here.”

  He looked truly worried I would zap him, but I think there was even more fear from what someone else would do to him if he couldn’t get me to obey. I played nice. He did let me in, after all.

  The man disappeared behind the door. The sudden chill of being alone in this place set in like a brick to the nose. After all these years… I was finally about to come face to face with my mother. Those locust-sized butterflies were fluttering around, gnawing at my insides.

  I peeked around the corner back out into the hallway. The magical secret service was still there standing guard.

  My foot nervously tapped the floor, trying my best to wait patiently, and I wondered if people got off on making others wait on them.

  Finally, the door opened, and Scar-Eye reappeared. He looked as if he'd just gotten the shit chewed out of him. I felt bad for him. His voice shook when he spoke. “I-I’m sorry. She’s not here.”

  “Bullshit!” I said as I slammed open the door and barged in.

  You could say I probably should not have walked in there with a chip on my shoulder, but then again, when have I ever done things the rational way?

  The rank smell of death and the metallic smell of blood smacked me in the face. Candles dimly lit the large room, but did nothing to brighten the dark colored walls. A desk and sitting area stood on one side of the room and, on the other, what looked like the equivalent of a mad scientist’s laboratory. The coffered ceiling gave the final touch to the tomb-like room.

  When I barged in, a lady, my mother, Jasmine, zipped around. She wore the only light-colored thing in the whole room—a white lab coat stained with dark dried blood.

  “I've been expecting you.”

  I was just a little girl the las
t time I’d heard her voice. A lot of hate-filled years in between then and now.

  I moved closer. Her long hair, now permanently turned silver blonde thanks to her transformation into Archmage, flowed behind her like a trail of wisps. Her skin, as smooth and as blemish free as a child’s. The way she stood, tall and full of grace, she was… beautiful.

  As I moved through the room, the hatred I had held for her for over ten years was being slowly over shadowed by a feeling of awe. There was a pang in my gut that reminded me of the anticipation of something exciting. Like how I felt when I opened my game store or when I met Spratlin. Only this, this feeling was familiar. It was dark. Powerful.

  She reeked of power.

  And it was alluring.

  I moved closer to her, both out of not wanting to show fear and of morbid curiosity of what she was doing.

  “I would’ve been here sooner if I’d known you were alive.” That last part came out slowly when the realization of what she was doing set in.

  I pointed at the table with the dead body laying on it. “Alexa been bringing you her murder victims so you can practice reviving the dead?” Jasmine had been stitching a man’s arm back on his body like she’d seen too many Frankenstein movies.

  “You put too much faith in the ramblings of the misinformed citizens of Blackwood.”

  I knew she was practicing Necromancy. How far she’d come with it was still unknown. “I hear congratulations are in order… Dark Archmage Jasmine.”

  Her surprised look told me that she was impressed.

  “Someone’s done their homework.”

  “I wouldn’t dare walk into a lion’s den unprepared.” Hell, I'd witnessed the ceremony, but I'd save that detail for another time.

  Jasmine lifted my hand that wore her ring. “This suits you.”

  I snatched my hand away. “You know nothing about me.”

  “You’ve been a busy girl. A budding business woman, ridding the town of demon varmints…” Her eyes turned dark. “Saving people from death.”

  Mommy dearest wasn't gonna get a hold on me that easily. It was time to turn the tables on the situation. No matter how fascinated I was of her, Jasmine still betrayed me, and we had some unfinished business to attend to.

  “No thanks to Alexa. Why didn’t you send for me after you found out what that lying bitch did?”

  “What Alexa did was unfortunate.”

  “Unfortunate? She stole my fucking childhood. And you let her!”

  Behind me, Scar-Eye asked, “Dark Archmage Jasmine, would you like me to call security?”

  Jasmine waved him off. That only pissed me off more. I could show her how much of a threat I was.

  “Enough about my bitch of a half-sister. I want to know who you fucked that produced me.”

  The shock on Jasmine’s face was priceless. Sometimes you have to be forceful and brash to get things done.

  “The man who raised you was your father.”

  There was no denying the love I had for Dylan Adams. He was a kind and loving man, and we had a wonderful relationship. In no way does learning who my biological father is take anything away from the connection Dylan and I had.

  But if knowing who my biological father was helps me understand the unique magical abilities I have, then bonus for me.

  “The man who raised me didn't pass down the gift from Hell.”

  Jasmine ushered Scar-Eye out of the room, and then closed the door so we were alone. As she walked closer to me, she removed her gloves but kept the blood stained coat on. She stood inches from me and gently caressed my cheek.

  She absolutely disgusted me, yet I was drawn to her. She was fascinating. Dark, foreboding, yet she had an elegant grace about her. She had been on both sides of good and evil and has stared dark magic in its alluring face. It wasn’t lost on me how much we favored.

  An unsettling thought.

  “Mackenzie, my dear, you have a unique gift that most people would kill to have.”

  Oh, the irony.

  I turned away, making it clear that I had no interest in her thrusting her doting ways on me. She gave me a disappointed look and turned back to her lab table.

  “Did you know I would be a Healer, or was that an unfortunate byproduct of your sordid affair?” If she wasn’t going to come out and tell me who my biological father was, maybe she would at least give me some details about my so-called gift.

  “We suspected.”

  “We?”

  Jasmine gave me a quick glance from over her shoulder. Maybe the truth was too hard to face. Not that I had any sympathy for her.

  “When I met your biological father, he promised me the world.”

  I snickered and shook my head. Can’t believe she fell for that old song and dance.

  She continued, “It didn’t turn out that way.”

  “Don't play the victim here. What was so special about this guy?”

  “He was a powerful sorcerer. More powerful than anyone had ever seen.”

  “I've been hearing those words a lot lately.”

  She spun around, arms crossed in a disapproving way. “Why did you really come here?”

  I pulled out the photo of Malek’s necklace. “I’m trying to find this relic. Ever seen it?”

  Jasmine took the photo and turned away from me while she studied it.

  I continued, “I’m not sure who the original owner was, but this guy named Athan Malek came into my game store wanting to hire me to find it.”

  She spun around. “Malek? You stay away from him!”

  I took a step back because she looked as if she was about to slap me. “I think you lost the right to say who I have dealings with when you kicked me out.”

  “He’s bad news. I may not have any right to give you advice, but if there is any shred of love for me left, I beg of you… listen to me when I say, you’re better off walking away right now.”

  She was right—she didn’t have any right to impart her wisdom. I waved my hand around. “I hear this place is his. Why don’t you want me around him?”

  Jasmine handed me the photo. Her deep gaze studying me, for what, I didn’t know. “Athan Malek is an evil, evil man. He won’t simply kill someone to get what he wants. He will strip them of everything they have so they come begging to him. Then, he will make them his slave, make them do his dirty work, all the while keeping the cookie jar just out of reach. And once they’re at their absolute worst, when they have no redeeming qualities whatsoever, and the rest of the world has shunned them, then he’ll kill you. Slowly. Painfully. It may take weeks, months, years. But you’ll feel every agonizing second of it.”

  Jasmine shook as she stumbled backwards against the table.

  “Is that what he’s doing to you?” I may not have much love left for the mother who kicked me out, but I hated as much as anyone to hear that an evil man had a hold on someone. If I could stop it, I would.

  Her eyes darkened again. When she finally spoke, she uttered the words that I had been suspecting for some time and, yet, did not expect to hear.

  “Mackenzie, Athan Malek is your father.”

  15

  Pain in my head.

  Pounding in my ears.

  My chest felt like someone was playing drums on it.

  The room spun.

  The rushing sound from my heart racing filled my head.

  I was being swallowed.

  There was no way Athan Malek was my father and yet, it made perfect sense.

  His eyes. They were mine.

  I knew it the moment I first saw them.

  After what seemed like hours but was really only seconds, the feeling of oppression lifted, and I slowly regained my composure. I wondered just how much I had lost. The last thing I wanted to do was show weakness in front of a powerful Dark Archmage, my mother or not.

  Finally, I was able to confidently get to my feet. Jasmine was pacing in front of me like the lioness I alluded to earlier.

  “Surely you've felt it. Controlling ener
gy in a way that alters its form? Producing magic not of your element? The pull of dark magic?”

  “So, you're saying that's all him? Sounds like I've gotta little bit of mommy dearest in me, too.”

  Her smug expression told me I had touched on a sore spot. We locked eyes as she circled me. “You like people to believe you were forced into this position. You like it.”

  “Then you'd better take a look in the mirror, dear, because you're my greatest creation.”

  I blinked away the last of the blurred vision. When I no longer saw double, I lunged at the lone figure before me, choking her against the table.

  “How could you let this happen?” Saliva dripped from my mouth like a rabid dog. I wanted to take off her head with my bare hands.

  Her screams of agony only ignited my rage.

  “To protect you,” I heard her gasp.

  I eased my grip a little. “What?”

  “I sent you away to protect you from him.” She stared at my free hand, the one ready to take off her head in one breath. It was in the shape of a Lightning Blade once again.

  Fear and panic filled her eyes. She was truly scared of me.

  “Please,” she cried. “Let me go. This isn’t you. You’re kind and decent. Nothing like him.”

  I leaned in. “Like I said before. You know nothing about me.”

  “Mackenzie! Don’t!”

  Spratlin burst into the room dragging Alexa with him. Scar-Eye and five magical secret service men were hot on his tail. He had a knack for catching me in compromising situations, but it was cool to know he could get by so many Dark Mage bodyguards.

  I leaned in close to Jasmine who was now smirking at me because she knew she'd gotten off easy. “You’re lucky my voice of reason just reared its pretty head.”

  Okay, so I was more concerned what the five body guards would do to us if I didn’t go quietly. Then I pushed myself away from her quickly putting distance between us.

  To my surprise, she didn’t come at me. Instead, she rubbed her neck where my grip had been and pleaded with me with her eyes to not come closer. She finally regained her stature, straightening her blood-stained lab coat and brushing the stray silver locks from her face.