Invoking the Witch (The Faction Series Book 1)

by Lindsey Jayne

  “Please tell me she’s OK, Jacob,” Bernie pleaded with him, but stopped short of grabbing Jacob by the arms.

  The doctor placed a gentle hand on Bernie’s shoulder and soothed, “She’s gonna be fine, B. She’s lost a bit of blood, but we’ve set her up with a transfusion.”

  Bernie ran a hand over his pallid face, then through unkempt hair. “My grandchild… ?”

  “… Is just fine. Elora’s body reacted to a stressful situation. She had a nightmare, but there’s no cause for alarm anymore.”

  “What about her chest? She was grabbing at her chest,” Deacon implored, his eyes enlarged.

  “A simple panic attack. Her nightmare spooked her a little more than it should have and she started to panic.”

  Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief and Jacob offered reassuring smiles.

  Bernie took a step closer to the doctor. “Can I see her?”

  “She’s sedated at the moment. I want her to get some rest before she deals with any visitors. I need to be sure she won’t have another reaction.”

  “But she’s my daughter!” Bernie exclaimed, his brow wrinkling above wide eyes.

  “And she’s my patient, B.” Jacob put a hand on Bernie’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Let me do my job and make sure she’s one hundred percent.”

  Bernie hung his head and nodded his understanding before Jacob walked back through the doors. Bernie turned to Deacon.

  “You were there? What happened?”

  “When I went to see her, she asked me to stay with her. She wanted to feel protected, she told me. I sat beside her while she slept. As I was about to leave she started to thrash about, I called her. She woke up screaming.”

  “She seems to be in good hands now, though, and safe,” Amelia added, trying to inject some assurances into the guys.

  Deacon didn’t notice her presence until now—he eyed her injuries. “What happened to you?”

  “She had an argument with a window. Believe it or not the window came off worse.” Blake flashed a smile at Amelia.

  The DCI looked at him, unimpressed, and rolled her eyes before she focused her attention back on Deacon. “We went to check out that address, but something beat us to it.”

  “Something?” Deacon’s brow dipped and he cocked his head.

  Blake nodded. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. It was fast. Faster than me, and powerful.”

  “Had it gotten to Belinda?”

  “Not that we could see. I think whatever it was realised that she wasn’t home, just as we came on the scene. It blasted something at me that knocked me for six before throwing Amelia out of a window.”

  “Jesus,” Bernie breathed.

  “You didn’t see it then?” Deacon pursed his lips.

  Amelia shook her head, “No, it was way too fast and a complete blur. I did get a partial plate number on the car that was parked near the house, though.”

  “You did?” Blake and Deacon asked in unison, Blake with notes of surprise in his voice and Deacon with angst.

  Amelia nodded, she forgot to mention it earlier—she blamed the blow to the head. “I’ve already given the details to Ember. She’s looking into it for us.”

  “How did you manage that? You were inhaling dirt when I found you,” Blake raised a brow in question.

  “Noted it before we went inside. It was parked on double yellows with no indicator… I am good at what I do ya know.”

  Blake’s lips twisted into a smile.

  “Good thing one of you is,” Deacon glared at Blake with a look of slight humour dancing about his features.

  He visibly relaxed after Jacob’s visit; his shoulders lost some of their tension and he no longer clenched and unclenched his fists.

  With the moment of silence that followed, he looked toward the theatre doors. His chest puffed out as he inhaled a deep breath, and his jaw went rigid.

  Elora meant something to him; that much became clear. His stiff posture, while he glared at the doors, told Amelia—as she watched his laboured breathing—he wanted Elora safe, well and protected.

  ∾∾∾

  Amelia’s injuries didn’t deter her from the job at hand. Reluctant to leave, lest more information filter through, she joined Blake on the sofa in the living area. However, exhaustion began to creep up and settle in her bones.

  Her body relaxed, and random images filtered into her subconscious as she dozed.

  Solid arms lifted her off the sofa, and her eyes flickered open to see Blake’s handsome face smiling down at her.

  “You were starting to drool on my shoulder,” he whispered to her through his wide grin.

  She hummed an incomprehensible sound and snuggled her head into his rock hard body.

  A chuckle rumbled through Blake’s chest and Amelia’s eyes sprang open. She wriggled out of Blake’s grip and he laughed harder. He grappled with her to place her on her feet in order stop her falling arse first onto the floor.

  Amelia brushed herself off and cleared her throat a few times, avoiding Blake’s gaze. She smoothed her hair back and hissed when her fingers caught the stitches on her head.

  “Sorry. I—”

  “You don’t have to apologise, Amelia.”

  Her name sounded so rich and warm rolling off his tongue. Her face heated. She shook herself off, straightened her back and puffed out her chest. Big mistake. Blake’s eyes zoomed right in on her breasts.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and pouted her lips. Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued walking. With a quick glance back in his direction, she caught sight of that damn sexy grin of his.

  “Don’t be shy, babe.” He drawled.

  Babe? What a nerve this guy’s got. She tried to convince herself of his rudeness, pet names usually reserved for intimate couples. She tried telling herself that, when in reality the moment the word left his lips, her stomach vaulted straight into her throat.

  No, no, no. I am a professional bloody police officer, working a case with these guys—affectionate terms of endearment were not appropriate… not until they completed their assignment at least. She needed to get her shit together.

  “I’m going to bed, I’ll—”

  “That’s exactly where I was taking you.” Blake threw her a sly smile.

  Damn it! Screw him and his sexual innuendos and his drop dead gorgeous face and his sexy-ass smile. Screw him all to hell. He’s toying with me, teasing me, just like she did to him.

  Despite the pain in her head and shoulder, she let herself enjoy every damn minute of his flirty behaviour. Even with shrouded judgment from the night’s events, she couldn’t sustain her imaginary annoyance. The back and forth between them stirred excitement deep within her, stoked the embers of a fire lit the moment she saw him. And two can play this game.

  “I’ve told you before; I can do things for myself.”

  “You have, but you don’t have to… just so you know.”

  God damn it, he could not win. Her face burned, no way am I having this, absolutely no way would he be allowed to think he got under her skin.

  “Duly noted, Ace. But I know how I like things done.” She winked at his smirking face.

  Yes! One point, Amelia. Up yours, vampire boy! she thought.

  “There’s nothing wrong with change,” he countered. With a quick twitch of his head, he winked back.

  Anticipating such a response—timed to perfection—she opened the door to her room and stepped inside.

  “That’s yet to be proved to me.”

  She cast him her best sultry smile and closed the door on him. Her smile widened when she heard his low growl from the other side.

  *

  Damn it! Damn that woman and the things she could do to him. She made his body react with purely feral urges. His blood boiled and his whole body screamed to be pressed tight against hers—and she knows it.

  The more she played this game the more determined Blake became to claim her for himself—every part of her. He want
ed to make her body quake for his touch just by breathing her name, to feel every inch of her pulsate for the need to be taken in every way he could possibly dream of—and he dreamed of a few.

  He wanted to watch the pure ecstasy spread across her face when he did things to her body she probably only read about. The mere thought of her hot, naked, writhing form beneath him caused an erection to strain painfully against his jeans.

  He remained outside her room, breathing in her scent—he could sense her on the other side, leaning against the door. He could feel her heart beat though it and imagined hearing her take deep, drawn-out breaths because she, hopefully, harboured similar thoughts about him.

  Chapter 11

  A serene calmness swept over me. My eyes were closed, but I could hear birds singing; melodic alongside the high pitched chirps of grasshoppers—nature’s own orchestra. The sun beat down on my face, and I smiled in the warmth, my whole body tingling. A slight breeze tickled my flesh and goose bumps puckered my skin, but I still felt delightfully flushed under the sun’s beating rays.

  My eyes fluttered open and I gazed into the clear blue sky—not a cloud in sight, beautiful. I didn’t remember feeling this peaceful in a long time. I didn’t want it to end.

  I turned my head to the side and noticed I lay in a field upon lush, green grass. With no-one else in sight, I smiled at the tranquil solitude. Stretching out, I fisted the grass at my sides.

  A gentle echo travelled along the breeze—a soft whisper, and I raised myself to my elbows to properly investigate my surroundings. Nothing but vast stretches of open countryside, the odd tree imposed upon the otherwise sweeping expanse. But I could see nothing that might have caused the noise I heard.

  About to chalk it up to my imagination and lie back down, I caught a glimpse of white material behind one of the trees a few hundred yards away. It flapped in the wind. A figure stepped out.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  A woman stood in the distance, surrounded by a magnificent white light. Beautiful. Every aspect of it. I didn’t know her, but she looked so very familiar. I couldn’t make her out a hundred percent because of the distance between us, but I knew of her long, brown hair dancing with gentle strokes in the breeze, her face like smooth porcelain and her lips lusciously full and pink.

  A voice inside of me put her appearance much older than the late-twenties she looked. I couldn’t explain how I knew that, I just did. She possessed a particular air about her—seasoned maturity and something else, something more… powerful. An energy buzzed in the air around me.

  She edged toward me, but her movements were slow and hesitant, even though her face beamed, welcoming and pleasant. The closer she got, the more familiar she became, to the point where my eyes widened, the resemblance uncanny. She looked like…

  “Elora, honey?”

  Dad? Is that his voice I can hear? With my eyes still closed I couldn’t tell for sure, but it sounded like him—albeit somewhat muffled and distorted.

  My eyes flickered open to see Dad’s tired, pale face hovering over me.

  “D-dad?” I sounded hoarse, my throat dry like I’d swallowed sandpaper.

  “Oh, darling, yes it’s me. How are you feeling?”

  “Exhausted,” I croaked.

  Dad’s hand covered my forehead and wiped hair from my face. I struggled to remember what happened to me until Deacon’s words rang through my head, ‘you’re bleeding!’.

  “My baby… !” Trying to sit up, the sudden movement caused pain to shoot through my stomach and chest. I winced in agony and screwed my face up as I fell back against the pillows propping me up.

  “Don’t move, sweetheart. The baby is absolutely fine, but you need to rest.”

  I cupped my belly and cried. “What happened?”

  “You lost some blood, darling, but you’re OK now. Jacob saw to that.”

  “My chest… .”

  “Panic attack, that’s all. Nothing serious. You’re gonna be fine.”

  Far too exhausted to try and piece anything else together, I closed my eyes again and drifted off to sleep while dad stroked my hair.

  ∾∾∾

  Amelia and her guys spent their day trawling through yet more books. They awaited the results of the DNA samples taken from Ivy, and when night closed in, Sebastian called everybody down to his labs to discuss the evidence.

  The DCI felt drained. Catching sight of herself in the reflection of the morgue’s steel doors, she noted her gaunt face; pale through lack of food and proper sleep since the investigation began.

  Her eyes felt hollow and the skin around them taut. But she refused to give up on the case until they found something. Anything. They needed to catch this coven before they attempted to bring any kind of demon back from the underworld.

  Sam and Blake’s search of the exterior of Ivy’s house turned up squat. Blake suspected the sister—Madison Rose, according to letters around the house—took off through a wooded area behind the property. But her trail ran cold the moment they got past the first line of trees. Even Nate couldn’t pick out any scent.

  The boyfriend situation proved fruitless—nothing in the house suggested a man lived there. No male DNA, no male clothing, no letters or anything addressed to anyone other than Ivy and Madison.

  The only piece of good news they did have, brought them all standing in front of Sebastian.

  “I’ve got the results back from the DNA under Ivy’s fingernails. Blood and skin particles. Her attacker was careless. No match in any of our databases, but it does match the hair you pulled from your first scene.”

  Amelia sighed—it didn’t mean much, considering they didn’t have an ID for the hair, but at least it meant the hair no longer remained circumstantial.

  “You got anything else for us?” Lucas pondered.

  Sebastian nodded, picking up wads of notes. “The residue from the wrists was definitely demonic. Given the extent of the damage, it was excruciatingly hot.”

  “Demons can’t cross a salt circle, and, from what we’ve seen of the salt circles around our victims, they were all disturbed. Witches broke the circle, then summoned the demons to restrain our girls. What demons are we talking about here?” Amelia surmised before asking her question, certain she knew the answer.

  “My team’s research suggests lesser demons; ones called forth to act as servants to do the bidding of those that summon them.” Sebastian shuffled the papers on the table in front of him. “They reside in the lower regions of Hell because of their inferiority and, subsequently, are one of the easiest demons to call upon.”

  “Are they dangerous?” Chloe’s eyes bulged.

  “They can be, if their instructor wills it.” Amelia nodded. “They have no thought process of their own, so, they wouldn’t harm you unless they were commanded to do so. And if they are, then they can be deadly.”

  “Where does this leave us?” Blake placed his hands on the table and glanced at Amelia.

  “With a heap of information, but no actual condemning evidence,” Amelia sighed.

  “So what now?” he pushed.

  “Now, we hope and pray that Ember gets something off that car number plate, and both Belinda Larkin and Madison Rose turn up on our doorstep alive and well… and with info on our elusive suspect.”

  ∾∾∾

  “Boss, you need to get some sleep.” Sam placed his hand on Amelia’s arm.

  She blinked a couple of times, but her eyes remained heavy.

  Chloe left for home with a mountain of paperwork to sift through, but Sam opted to stick around, offering his assistance. A fresh pair of eyes looking over all the same books and texts wouldn’t hurt—even if Amelia did explain it to be a waste of time.

  She ignored his statement, sat back, threw her pen down exasperatedly and sighed while she ran her hands through her hair. “This is pointless. We’re going over the same shit and it’s just telling us the same stuff, it isn’t getting us anywhere. We know about Lilith, we know about the symbols,
we know why the girls are being murdered. What we don’t know is who the fucking hell is doing it, and where the hell they’re hiding.”

  Sam blanched at Amelia’s profane frustration—he’d never seen a case get under her skin in quite this way. Then again, they never encountered a supernatural case of quite an appalling nature before. Amelia was usually in top shape when it came to working these things out, but this case vexed her and it showed.

  “All the more reason you need to rest. You’re doing yourself no favours, Amelia.”

  The soft but firm use of her first name made her turn to face him.

  Sam felt every bit as tired and miserable as she looked. He sympathised with how she let her emotions over this case cloud her head, but he did feel the same doubts and resignations she voiced over the situation.

  Christ, they needed a break, anything to steer them in the right direction.

  “Sam’s right, ya know.”

  A gasp caught in her throat, and her body shuddered as she turned.

  *

  Blake leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. He stared at her and his senses came alive. Charges fired around his brain and heat pooled in his stomach.

  She may look tired and worn out, but he still thought her stunning. The sleepy look in her eyes and the way her hair fell, effortlessly, over her shoulders while she looked at him, made his whole being tingle with intense desire.

  “Sleeping isn’t going to find us a killer.”

  Her voice came out low, laced with fatigue, giving it a sensuous, dreamy undertone.

  “Neither is burning the candle at both ends. You have to rest, Amelia, your body needs it.”

  “How do you know what my body needs?” she asked, staring at him from under thick lashes.

  Moving off the doorframe, he gazed at her, his breathing heavy. “It speaks to me.”

  “Does it now? What else does it say?”

  “Ahem.” Sam cleared his throat, an exaggerated sound indicating his presence. He shifted in his seat.

  Amelia smirked and turned back around, but neither offered an apology. After a few more seconds she stood up.