The Fall of Witchcraft

by Claudia Silva

  You seem to be having a great time with your Dylan. Any wedding bells in the near future? You’ve been living with him for over a year now, haven’t you? I think it’s time. I'd love to be a bridesmaid, or maybe you'll consider me for a Maid of Honor.

  I was glad to hear you made a new friend. Doesn’t Dylan get jealous of this Will? Sounds like a cute guy. Maybe you should introduce us. We might hit it off.

  Take care and don’t get into any trouble like me.

  I send you my love.

  Hugs,

  Coleen

  Any wedding bells? Could Coleen predict the future like Emilia Black had been able to? This brought a smile to her face. Clicking the reply button, she made sure the water was still running before typing her reply.

  Hi, Coleen.

  Hey, I’m so sorry about Bob. I know he was never my favorite person, but what he did is unforgivable. I’m so sorry you’re going through all that. I wish I could be there with you, but it’s difficult to find a free moment in this government job. Just a few days ago we took a day off to be together and then they called us for some emergency, can you believe that? I wasn't happy, but Dylan - the workaholic - seemed eager to have something to do. He drives me crazy sometimes.

  She wanted to tell her the director of the vampire agency had congratulated her on a job well done. For a moment she stopped to stare at the keyboard, her fingers hovering over the keys as she pondered the consequences of her actions. What if she told Coleen the truth? What if she wrote to her about what had actually happened? What would Coleen say if she told her there had once been Twelve Covens of witches with real magical powers? What if she told her an evil witch, almost come out of a comic book, had slaughtered them all in three days causing the Fall of the Witchcraft?

  Rebecca was tempted. If Coleen knew about the existence of vampires, witches, and werewolves it would allow her to be completely truthful. No one needed to know. Odds were she wouldn’t even believe her.

  Her fingers brushed the tips of the keys, one by one.

  Maybe another time.

  Fortunately, I have my new friend Will. Of course, Dylan is jealous. I can hear it in his tone. Although, I have the feeling they're beginning to like each other. Something happened that made a weird connection between them. I’ll ask Will soon. I think if I ask Dylan he’ll just avoid the subject. Not that I blame him.

  Before sending the message her way, Rebecca had to tell Coleen the news. Part of her felt guilty about bringing it up so soon after Coleen had just announced her divorce, but it was so fresh in her mind and she was excited about the changes that were coming. Well, more like a mix of excitement, terror, and anxiety.

  It’s funny you ask about wedding bells, because… you won’t believe this, but I am marrying Dylan! It’ll be something short and private. And we decided to go ahead and do it because we met the most fantastic little girl. She's an orphan and we're going to adopt her. I hope you get to meet her one day. She’s twelve years old and absolutely adorable. She’s smart and kind, too. We just fell in love with her and we’re going to take on the adventure of becoming her parents.

  Not all of that was true, but it could’ve been true and that’s all that mattered. Whatever it took to take the superhuman factor out of the news. Well, that and the fact Dylan wasn’t at all convinced about the whole endeavor.

  Keep writing. Every week I come to my computer eager to hear from you.

  Take care and know that I love you and I know you’ll be strong and survive Bob. I believe better times will come. You know you can count on me for anything.

  Well, almost anything.

  Your friend,

  Rebecca

  After reading the message one last time, Rebecca moved the pointer to the send button and clicked on it. Just in time. The running water stopped. Dylan was out of the shower. Rebecca logged off her personal account, logging into her work one. The main menu appeared, and she selected the Reports menu.

  Clicking on New she dated the file and began to type her report.

  October 20th, 2000. 8:36 P.M.

  The Twelve Covens have fallen -

  “Hey,” Dylan peeked into the office, his hair still wet from the shower. Already he had put on a navy polo shirt and jeans. “Ready for dinner?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Gingerly, Rebecca saved her document, logging off from her account. “Reports can always wait.”

  Dylan made a face. “I hate reports.”

  “I know you do.” Rebecca stood up, grabbing his neck before planting a kiss on his lips. “First dinner as a family, uh?”

  Dylan took her hands in his, pursing his lips. “I’m still not sure how this is going to work.”

  “Well,” she walked past him, reaching the front door, “at least I can say I’m looking forward to becoming Rebecca Sawyer Torrence.”

  He frowned when he reached for his wallet from the kitchen counter. “Really? You keeping the Sawyer?”

  Hearing that made her happy. It mattered to him. “Ok, sure. Rebecca Torrence. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “You bet it does.”

  “Come on.” Rebecca opened the door. “We don’t want to keep our daughter waiting.”

  “Right,” Dylan sighed. “Let’s not be late.”

  October 20th, 2000

  8:44 P.M.

  She opened her eyes to the soothing colors and familiar walls.

  It was difficult, but she turned her head to one side to look at her pink alarm clock, the one she'd used since her ninth birthday, and noticed she'd slept for hours. Outside her window, she saw the full moon brought enough light in to illuminate everything around her. Reaching for the lamp, she turned on the artificial light. Then she let herself drop back on the bed.

  The soft and colorful comforter felt wonderful under her; her black silk nightgown was so smooth and light, she almost didn’t feel it on her skin. Taking a deep breath, she tried to sit up under her white-framed bed canopy; the pain on her leg bringing back the memories of that afternoon. The image of her own knife buried on it would be imprinted on her mind forever. Her knife. Her own precious knife. It was gone now. The knife her father had given her on her twentieth birthday, lost. She would never forget the note that came with it: To obtain power one must make sacrifices.

  And she had. She had made many sacrifices. One was the wound she had cleaned in her bathtub hours before. When she'd killed her first victim, she'd believed the burden of having caused someone’s death would be the greatest sacrifice she would have to make to get what she wanted. But no. The more she killed the more she understood it was a necessary evil to obtain something greater - just like the note had said. Killing was only a means to an end, and the power that came with it, she wouldn’t change for the world. A feeling the child who’d hurt her had taken away, proving to her she had failed in her ultimate search for power. No matter what she'd done, it hadn’t been enough to prove herself.

  But, it would be.

  She would make it so, and her father would be proud.

  Her room didn't reflect the persona she presented to the vampires. Even when she stored the black cloak and black dresses in the back of her closet, the rest of the room shone with bright colors. The walls were pink, so was her duvet and her curtains. Her father had helped her paint the walls and had taken her shopping for her every desire since she was a child. She was his little princess. He had yielded to buy her each of the many stuffed animals she collected around the room; everything was a gift for her. Her father always found a reason to shower her with gifts - from doing the first cartwheel, to being hired as an empath by the Colorado Coven. Every little success had granted her a reward that became part of her collection.

  “You’re awake.” He surprised her. Her father stood under the threshold of her room. His tall and handsome frame commanded respect as it always did. His dark suit perfectly tailored, his hair short and groomed.

  “Hello, senator,” Liliana teased. He knew she preferred to be called father.

 
“Senator,” her father scoffed. “Could you be the only one to call me father? I hear many men and women call me Senator throughout the day and I’d like for my only daughter to refrain from using that title. But you know this,” he smiled.

  Lily smiled with him, letting him come in close enough to move a lock of her hair back, feeling the back of his hand on her cheek. He was always so warm. Yet, her expression changed in an instant. So much that even tears threatened to come out. “They hurt me, father.” How broken she sounded. How weak.

  The Senator took the tip of her chin, pensive; trying to understand. Lily showed him the wound on her leg, like a child would show her parent a scrape after she’d been playing with her friends. Her short nightgown failed to cover her long legs, yet she'd never minded when her father admired her beautiful body; she enjoyed it. She was his.

  Her father examined the wound. “I’ve seen worse,” he said.

  “I don’t heal like you do.”

  He leaned to kiss her forehead now, tipping her head back. Lily's black, disheveled hair rustled loose behind her back. “You will heal, precious. You always do.”

  Reluctantly, she nodded; freeing herself from his touch before turning her head away from him. “I have failed you, father.”

  “Nonsense,” her father declared. “The Twelve Covens have fallen. It’s all going according to plan.”

  “Yes, they have. The Fell,” she admitted. “And I wish I could tell you I’ve succeeded, but…”

  A low guttural sound came from the Senator. It sounded very much like an animal growling. After all, no matter how much her father tried to hide what he was, he would never escape his true nature.

  “Who hurt you?” came his question, signaling to her wound. “The vampires? Which one?”

  But she shook her head, “It was a witch we didn’t know about. Father, she was just a little girl, but she had such incredible power.”

  “I, uhm, don’t understand.” He stood up quickly, facing her in a way that forced her to look up at him. “The building exploded, the witches are dead. What girl? What are you saying?”

  “She was there. In the building. Right before it exploded, she was there. She hurt me, called me evil.” Finally, Lily began to sob. “I’m sorry, but I… I didn’t know she existed and I don’t know how-”

  “You didn’t kill her?”

  “I tried, but she-”

  “And she was only a child?” Her father took a dep breath. “How stupid can you be?”

  For a moment Lily thought he would hurt her, yet his raised hand went inside his pocket. She knew it was hard for him to control his anger. This restraint was proof of his love for her, she was sure, but she had deserved what was coming.

  “I-I will find her, father. I will kill her, like the rest. I won’t let you down. You can trust me.”

  He didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, the wheels in his brain were turning. “No. Don’t kill her.”

  “But-”

  “If she’s just a child, then she can be persuaded. Like the others.”

  The others.

  She didn’t want to tell him. Not yet. That was another one of her failures. Perhaps the biggest one. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn't find out who the magical children in the world were. She didn't know who they were or where they were. Lily knew her father had wanted an army. An army of young witches trained to follow his command. He'd planned for Lily to be their mentor; she would train them to use their gifts to serve his purposes. Not all was going according to plan because his army of witches couldn’t become a reality. She had looked in Emilia Black's apartment, but had found nothing. Of course, she'd been interrupted by that vampire, Rebecca Sawyer, but she doubted if she went back she would find anything.

  She knew her father needed to know about this, eventually. Just, not today. For now, the threat was a little blond girl with crystal blue eyes.

  “I'll find her,” Lily muttered, wondering if he could smell her fear. She probably reeked of it.

  “You will,” he stated it as if it was the only truth acceptable. He was a patient man. He'd been waiting for this moment for over a thousand years. “You will find her and you will bring her to me.”

  “Yes, father.” Lily swallowed the words, she swallowed her hate. She resented not being allowed to kill her.

  Before her father left, he caressed her cheek with the back of his warm hand. “You’ve done well, daughter.” Yes, that's what she longed to hear. It was the only thing missing, and he made sure to deliver. After everything she'd sacrificed for him, she starved for his approval. “Now, rest. Heal your wounds. Refill your power.”

  “I will, father.”

  “The battle is far from over.”

  Part Five

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Claudia Silva is the author of the North American Vampire Secret Agency series and other dark fantasy tales. You can find her online home at www.claudia-silva.com.

  You can also connect with Claudia on Twitter @csilvaauthor, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/claudiasilvaauthor and you can always email her at claudia@claudia-silva.com.

  ALSO BY CLAUDIA SILVA

  Have you read the North American Vampire Secret Agency Series?

  The North American Vampire Secret Agency (NAVSA) series follows the adventures of Rebecca Sawyer as she joins werewolf hunter Dylan Torrence in battling werewolves and other supernatural threats that terrorize mankind.

  Book 1: The Recruit

  Book 2: Werewolf Pbenomenon

  Book 3: The Fall of Witchcraft

  Book 4 - 6 to be released soon

  Find the series on Amazon

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  udia Silva, The Fall of Witchcraft