by Jayne Hawke
Copyright Jayne Hawke (2019) ©. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are purely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is fictionalised and coincidental.
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
Cover art by Deranged Doctor Design
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
OTHER BOOKS BY JAYNE HAWKE
ONE
There was no such thing as a quiet night in our line of work. I’d finally gotten myself mostly comfortable. It had taken almost half an hour to curl my legs and arch my back just right so that I missed all of the springs that were sticking up through the mattress trying to stab me. The pillow was a lost cause, but we couldn’t have everything.
The motel had been cheap for a reason. We’d booked a twin room on the ground floor so we could leave in a hurry if we needed to. Ash was out stocking up on the basics like toothpaste and potion vials. I closed my eyes as I tried to ignore the way the silence pressed down against me. I’d never been very good with the quiet, but the TV was broken and there wasn’t a radio. If I’d have been thinking, I’d have set the laptop up with some white noise, but it had been a long week and all I wanted was to sleep through the night for a change.
The distinctive sound of claws scratching the window drew my attention. I cursed. I’d been right on the edge of sleep. The high-pitched sound came again, louder this time. The creature was trying to get my attention. I didn’t know how it had found me, but I was going to put an end to it.
Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I slowed my breathing and reached out with my magic. Different witches experience magic differently. Some of us feel it in our mind’s eye, others hear, smell, or see it. I didn’t envy those rare few who tasted it. Death magic was reputed to taste like rotting meat with a nasty lingering taste of peat bog. Personally, I felt the magic. Every type of magic had a different texture in my mind.
The creature outside had a knotted mass of magic within its chest where its heart should have been. Silky delicate threads entwined with coarse ropes. It was another of the experiments we’d been sent to the town to deal with. Sometimes fae got bored, and as they were the ruling class, the laws didn’t always apply to them. That was where Ash and I came in. We were shadow knights. We came from a coven of witches that had come together centuries before with the explicit purpose of helping those who found themselves in dangerous situations they couldn’t survive alone.
The scratching came from the window once more. There was no way to save the creature. It was an abomination, a monster made from bits of fae and shifter. At one time it had been a fae partbreed, an unwanted result from a union between a fae and something else. Judging from the flat life essence that ran through its veins, it felt as though it had been mostly human. That was before Cedric had gotten his hands on it.
Reaching out with my mental fingers, I grasped onto the great knot where its heart was and yanked. The magic held firm, but an anguished roar came from outside my door. The creature began banging on the flimsy hotel door. It shuddered and began to crack beneath the onslaught. Focusing, I gripped the magic more tightly and yanked harder. It remained firmly where it was.
The door creaked and groaned. The wood began to splinter inwards. One more good blow and the creature would be in the room with me. I hated stripping the life essence from something. It was a messy and exhausting process. Sometimes it was called for, though. Swallowing down the fear that was rising within me, I reached deep into the gaping pit of the being, searching for its life essence.
In my mind’s eye, the essence was a nest of flat ribbons that nestled against each other. Exhaling through my nose, I tried to ignore the scent of wet dog that was filling the room around me. I had one breath, two at most before its powerful claws would rip me open.
I grasped onto the ribbons of the life essence and used my innate spellbreaking skill to shred the ribbons. Cold hard claws pressed against my throat. My breath caught, and my chest tightened. The stench of rotting meat filled my nostrils. Warm blood began pooling in the hollow of my collar bone.
The ribbons evaporated into a fine dust. Air filled my lungs in a painful gasp. I opened my eyes to see the beast on the floor. My blood coated its claws. It stared at the ugly green ceiling with unseeing eyes. Rubbing my throat, I fought to keep my breathing steady and calm while I ignored the warm blood beneath my fingertips. That had been closer than was ideal.
Ash stepped through the gaping hole in the door and looked down at the dead beast. Its dense silvery fur covered most of its body. The hands remained distinctly human with pale almost porcelain skin. Long curving black claws tipped each fingertip. I looked away from the face, which had cold human eyes with the beginnings of a wolf’s face, the jaw elongated and full of sharp pointed teeth. Even if it had found some way to bring the warring natures within it together, it would never have been accepted anywhere in society. The partbreed fae had it bad enough, and most of them could pass for very pretty humans if they chose.
“You’ve been having fun without me,” he said with a smirk.
“I just couldn’t resist,” I said with a smile I wasn’t feeling.
The beast shouldn’t have known where we were.
Ash nudged the ribs of the beast with the toe of his boot.
“Should I harvest what I can, or do we need to move on?”
He was a pragmatist, and I appreciated that. Abomination or not, the blood would have its uses in some of my spells; the bones, teeth, and claws could be sold on to other witches. It was messy work, but the hotel rooms weren’t going to pay for themselves.
“Get what you can,” I said.
The exhaustion filled my bones and formed deep dark shadows around the edge of my vision. Ash’s high cheekbones and moss-green eyes were beginning to look hazy when I allowed myself to collapse back onto the bed. I immediately regretted that action as a spring stabbed me between the shoulders.
It just wasn’t my night.
TWO
I woke up with my forehead pressed against the cold glass of Ash’s car, the sky still dark. Groaning, I rubbed my temples. My mouth was dry, and my head was pounding. I hated doing big workings like that on the fly. It left me feeling like shit. Magic of that level needed preparation, but we don’t always have that luxury, so I dealt with the consequences.
Ash gently pressed a brown paper bag into my hands. His fingertips lingered against mine for a beat. I’d grown up with him, but there was an odd weight between us. There was no one in the world I trusted more, but there was the expectation that we’d get married and have two children someday. That was how the coven worked. We were paired off as little kids, chosen for our compatibility as warriors and breeding
partners. The coven needed to produce the very strongest witches to continue fulfilling our role in the world.
“Thank you,” I said hoarsely.
I opened up the bag to find a pair of health potions in simple white vials and a small punnet of fresh strawberries.
“You shouldn’t have,” I said softly.
The strawberries were a rare luxury, an indulgence that we couldn’t really afford. They were usually reserved for special occasions such as the summer solstice or birthdays.
“Enjoy them,” Ash said with a warm smile.
I pulled the vials out of the bag and knocked back the thick syrupy potion that I’d brewed myself a week or so ago. The honeysuckle taste coated my tongue, making me want to scrub it clean. Thankfully, it passed, leaving no residue. The potion slid through my system, slowly relieving the aches and the crushing pain in my head. I wouldn’t be able to weave magic like I had on the beast for another day, but I’d be back in fighting form within the hour.
The strawberries were perfectly ripe. I bit into one and closed my eyes in bliss as the sweet taste filled my mouth. Ash must have gone to a farm somewhere to get strawberries so rich and fresh. We weren’t affectionate with each other, we were work partners, but we tried to make life a little brighter where we could. I savoured half of the strawberries before I carefully placed the punnet in Ash’s lap for him to finish.
“They’re all yours,” he said.
“We split them,” I said firmly.
He nodded, knowing better than to continue trying to argue. I settled back into the familiar leather seat of Ash’s Camaro. That car was his world. It had been a gift from the coven when he had passed the final exams as the best male witch of our generation. They’d imported it from America. Ash made sure that it remained in the very best condition. There wasn’t a scuff or speck of dust to be found inside or out.
“The birds will be out on their first missions now,” Ash said as I began to slip into sleep.
“Mmm.”
Each generation had a theme for the names chosen for the children. We came from the tree generation. The generation born a couple of years after us all had bird names. I didn’t envy them. As much as I’d desperately wanted to be called Willow while I was growing up, I preferred Rowan over Swift as one poor girl had been called.
Our next place to crash was a few steps up from our last. We were somewhere around Worcester in the West Midlands. Ash had taken us down a small back road lined with tall old trees gnarled by the decades and centuries. A brightly lit sign caught his attention. The brilliant white stood out in the darkness.
ONE ROOM AVAILABLE
We were both beyond exhausted. A room sounded great, and we'd slept in bad places before. We weren't fussy. At the end of the road sat a tiny bed and breakfast. The small building didn't look big enough to hold more than six people. We got out of the car in the middle of the night, the sky dark and heavy with thick cloud cover.
The parking area in front of the building was poorly lit. Even Ash's headlights seemed to struggle to cut through the darkness. That should have been our first clue, but sometimes you just really need a bed for the night.
Ash led the way. I was still a little light-headed after using my magic as I had. He walked tall and strong, his shoulders back and his head held high. My eyes lingered on the revolvers at his hips, ever present and ready for any trouble we might encounter. I could hold my own in a fight, but we covered each other's backs. To my surprise, there was someone up and waiting for us in the little entryway. They must have had some magical trip somewhere that alerted them to someone approaching. The building looked to be made from old stone with roses growing up around the dark wooden front door. It was almost postcard perfect. There was a sense of peace about it, which immediately set me on edge.
We were taught from a young age that anything that puts you at ease quickly is dangerous. That place looked too quaint, too peaceful. Ash must have felt something as well. He tensed, and his right hand went to his gun. The slightly plump woman's smile faltered as she caught the motion. There was a cold hardness to her eyes, there and gone but I caught it. This was a modern gingerbread house, and we'd never walk out of there if we took that room.
"Sorry, we were mistaken. This isn't our place after all," Ash said, drawing in the blink of an eye and ending her hotelier career with a single shot. Sometimes protecting the innocent was just that easy.
We turned and headed back to the car. I would have loved to chop her up and sell her, likely to the same people who bought her customers, but given that the kill probably wouldn’t have played well on the ‘bitch had it coming’ defence it was best to put some distance between us and her before the gunshot drew any attention. When I closed my eyes for a second, I felt the barbs of magic lining the entryway. If I'd have been less tired, we wouldn't have even made it to the parking area. She had clearly been hoping to trap humans and those who couldn't really feel magic. That meant she wasn't harvesting the magic, which meant she was probably harvesting the parts.
"I should have known better," Ash grumbled as we got into the car.
I sank back down into the seat and put my hand on his. It wasn't his fault. He was just trying to get us a bed to crash in last thing. It wasn't as if we had many options at that time of night - or morning.
"I'll head back to the main road, there has to be one of those travel inn places or something," he said as he turned the key.
At that point I'd have been happy to curl up on the back seat. Such was the life of a knight. Long days, longer nights, and rarely a decent bed in sight.
THREE
When we finally found somewhere, it was a dingy little place set back from a back road between Bromsgrove and Hartlebury. The windows hadn't been cleaned in a good while, the door had a dent in it where someone had clearly kicked it, and the scorch marks along the back wall showed someone had been playing with fire. None of that mattered, though. I collapsed onto the bed and sighed in pleasure as not a single spring stuck into my back. It was the little things in life.
I woke up to find Ash cleaning his guns. It was a soothing ritual for him as well as a necessity to ensure they did as we needed them to. Guns weren't the easiest weapon to get hold of. The fae had carefully slowed down the production of guns in the run up to the Fall. No one quite knows how long they planned for the big event when they stepped out of the shadows and into power. Anyone who was alive before that time has a very hazy memory of the time before. There's just a sensation of everything being better since the Fall. The older knights recalled a little more clearly due to their magic and understanding what was happening, but it was still far from perfect.
Guns weren't illegal afterwards per se, they just weren't in mass production anymore, which made guns, ammo, and all the related tools and toys harder and harder to find. Still, it was normal for one half of the knight partnerships to be proficient in guns along with every other possible weapon. Ash had a real knack and affinity for guns and everything related to them. He looked after his modified Colt Paterson 1836s with the love that a father cared for his newborn. When he'd been sixteen and the leader of the coven had asked what his chosen guns were, the Colt was the first thing out of his mouth. That was an important gun in Supernatural, his favourite show.
The leaders of the coven had tried to wean Ash off the show, given it wasn't at all grounded in reality, but there was something about the show that appealed to Ash. I'd watched a good few episodes with him. It had become a bonding exercise each Thursday night when a new episode came out. For a short while, we were free from the rigors of training and living a life that could have been ours in a different world.
"Any news on our next case?" I asked as I got out of bed.
My body was still a little achy from all of the fighting we'd done over the past couple of days. I was hoping for a short break to breathe and heal.
"Maybe, maybe not. There was mention of a weird attack up in Edinburgh. I'm waiting for the papers to come out so I
can get more details."
I stretched and wandered over to our backpack with the basic supplies in it.
"Have you eaten today?"
"I couldn't leave you alone."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm hardly weak and defenceless."
"Is it so wrong for me to look out for you?"
"Was there any sign of somewhere to eat around here?"
"There's a cafe attached to this place. A real greasy spoon."
Ash put the gun back together with practised ease and the speed that came with it.
My stomach growled. A big greasy breakfast sounded like exactly what I needed.
"We're ok for money, right?" I asked.
"We could do with a few games of pool or poker," Ash said with a shrug.
The coven gave us a small wage to cover fuel, bullets, and so on, but it wasn't much. Many pairs resorted to less legal ways of making money from counting cards to hustling pool or selling bits of magic.
"We'll head into Birmingham see what we can find for poker games," I said.
Ash was good at pool, but I was better at poker. Everyone underestimated the small woman. It was so easy to act as though I was animated and completely new at poker, an easy mark. They never saw me coming.
The cafe was about as dingy as the rooms. We'd had to wait outside the front door (which was locked and barred) for the waitress to look us up and down to decide if we were safe to let in or not. We passed the test and were seated at a small square plastic table that might have been white once upon a time. The menus were dog-eared and covered in fingerprints. It was a good thing a little dirt didn't bother me.
"You brought extra healing potions, right?" Ash asked with a cheeky smile.
"I'm not sure if there are enough in the world to handle this place," I said.
The menu might as well have read 'grease, with a side of grease and a touch of meat'. Ash was in his element. His eyes roved over the menu with a broad smile on his face. I wasn't a foodie or a snob, you couldn't afford to be in our line of work. I did like a few vegetables mixed in with my fried and fast food now and again, though.
