The Witch & the Bounty Hunter (Federation of Magic Book 1)

by Rachel Medhurst

  A man in long red robes appeared in my line of sight, his harsh steel expression sending shivers over me.

  “She will fulfil her destiny,” he said in a loud clear voice. “You cannot stop it!”

  The scene changed suddenly, taking me to snapshots of myself and my mother. I didn’t know my father, never had. Who was he?

  “What’s this mum?” I called as a teenager.

  I was bent over an old-fashioned wooden trunk, my arms pulling out a thick leather-bound book. Her footsteps slowed as she came into the room, the pink of her cheeks draining when she saw what I held.

  “Put that down,” she pushed through her clenched teeth.

  Panic crossed my features as I slowly released the book. “What’s a grimoire?”

  “Nothing.” Rushing across the room, my mother slammed the trunk shut and put a gentle hand on my head.

  My face relaxed, the muscles going soft. Nothing more was said as she encouraged me to go about my day.

  As the last scene popped into my head, I shuddered. Why had my insides quivered? What was I about to see?

  “You must run,” my mother screamed, her face contorted as she held her wand towards the man in the robes.

  I was older, wait, this memory wasn’t that long ago. My hair was in its wavy blonde bob, framing my face as I turned and ran out of the door, not looking back to check on her. Why didn’t I check on her?

  A blast from the house sent me flying across the garden, landing hard on the ground. My head hit something and I slumped, my body going limp.

  A whimper escaped my mouth as Tinniel let me go. I almost stumbled, gasping when Naz gently took my elbow to steady me.

  Questions rushed through my mind as the memories flickered in and out, not quite clear. My childhood came back to me. A normal human girl with a mother who loved her a lot. Until something happened to distance her from me.

  “What’s going on? How are you doing this?”

  Naz and Tinniel glanced at one another. I had never seen so much weirdness. Harry Potter did not exist. Wands, transportation spells, they belonged in the books and the films, not in my reality.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this,” Tinniel said, his stoic face belaying his words. “But, you’re a witch. A very important one. And we need your help."

  Chapter Two

  Of course, I had legged it out of there. For some bizarre reason, the freaks had let me go. My legs had carried me back to Jamie’s on their own volition. I hadn’t remembered how I had got there, but I suddenly realised that I was standing in front of our building.

  A terraced Victorian house that had been converted into apartments rose above me. The red tiled steps led up to a brown wood and glass front door. The street stretched towards the city centre, although it was a little way from the hustle and bustle of the shops. Several cars were rammed on the road, parked as closely together as they could possibly get. Parking in London was a nightmare.

  As the memories of my life slipped back into my brain, I trotted up the couple of steps and entered the hallway. The stench of fresh paint made me block my nose as I juggled my bag of food and the keys.

  “Morning,” one the neighbours greeted, leaving his apartment.

  Nodding, I slid past him and hurried up the first flight of stairs, quickly ramming the key in the lock before he could get talking. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but he smelt awful, his clothes reeking of cigarettes. Plus, I’d just gone through a traumatic experience with two sexy men. Okay, that probably didn’t go in the same sentence, but jeez, I was traumatised.

  “Did you get it?” Jamie called as I elbowed our door closed and leant against the nearby wall, trying to catch my breath.

  Incense smoke clouded around my head, the scent calming me as I kicked off my boots. How would I explain my trip to Jamie?

  The bald thirty-year-old came into the hallway, his eyebrows raising when he spotted the bag. “Ah, well done!”

  Coming over, he took the bag and turned to go into the small galley kitchen. His slippers flipped against the cold tiled floor – he had no money for carpet – and his ankle length multi-coloured wool cardigan dragged behind him.

  “Did you want a bacon sandwich?”

  Licking my dry lips, I attempted to reply, choking when nothing came out. I had to clear my throat twice before an affirmation finally sounded. Did I tell him that I knew who I was?

  Deciding to leave it for the moment, I headed into the bathroom and stared at my face in the mirror. My grey eyes looked back at me, studying the slight tilt of my nose and the full rosebud lips. I remembered exactly who I was.

  The images, the dreams, they were real memories. Not of me being a witch, that was bollocks. I mean, the flickers of faces and people. Childhood friends, there for me when we had money, gone when we didn’t.

  Quickly after my mother had found me in the trunk, we had moved. Our money had disappeared and my mother had grown cold.

  I had been baffled, unable to understand why things had changed so drastically. Closing down myself, I had become a rebellious teenager, pushing my mother’s boundaries. In the end, I had become hard, unreachable. Not that my mother had tried, she just worked her butt off and ignored me most of the time.

  Until the night of the explosion. Although the memory was vague, her petrified face filled my mind. Why was she carrying a wand? There was no such thing as magic.

  “It’s ready!” Jamie called from the hallway, making me jump.

  Running the water, I splashed it on my face. Sweat lined every inch of me as my stomach rumbled. The smell of bacon was slipping through the crack of the door, enticing me to devour it. Sod it, I needed to stuff my face and try to get my brain in order. Might as well fill my tummy in preparation for a difficult day.

  Leaving the bathroom, I trod into the kitchen, scooping up the plate that had been left on the side. Jamie joined me, sitting at the tiny two-man table, a rolled-up cigarette hanging from his lips.

  “You seem a little shell-shocked,” he muttered, flicking open the free newspaper he had taken from outside the corner shop.

  The man had the values and morals of a saint, and yet, he indulged in society’s fake news. Blimin’ hypocrite. I couldn’t help but snort as I chomped on the sandwich, washing it down with a gulp of tea. I was a traditional British girl when it came to tea and cake. Who didn’t love a slice of Victoria sponge? Anyone who disagreed would never be on my friends list.

  “I’m hungry,” I muttered, remembering that I had to be on my best behaviour.

  If I suddenly changed personality, which was already happening – I could feel the old Lyla coming to the forefront – Jamie would get suspicious.

  “I’ve quickly learned that hangry is a word invented for you.” A smile lit his face when he raised his eyebrows, looking for a reaction.

  Shrugging, I swallowed down a bite of bacon. “What can I say? My name is underneath the definition in the dictionary.”

  Chuckling, he sipped his tea, his eyes going back to the paper. “Is it actually in the dictionary?”

  Gulping my own tea, I waved away his question. An urgent need to get on with my day made me shovel the rest of my breakfast in my mouth, chewing quickly.

  “I’ve got to do something today. I’m hoping it will help my memory.”

  The paper dipped, revealing Jamie’s tired brown eyes. The dingy light above illuminated his bald head. I tried not to stare, instead washing up my plate and leaving it to drain.

  “Wait!” he called when I skipped out of the kitchen.

  Ducking my head back inside, I tapped my nose. “If I’m successful, I’ll fill you in when I get back.”

  His lips pursed before he tutted and went back to his paper. “Fine. If you find any hunky men in the process, bring them back for tea.”

  “Tea?” Shaking my head, I winked at him. “As if that’s all you’d offer them.”

  He shouted something in return as I went to my bedroom. Well, it was more of a walk in cupboard with
a mattress squeezed inside, a blanket thrown over it. Jamie’s apartment only had one bedroom. He’d offered me the sofa, but I’d managed to build myself a little sanctuary in the tiny room.

  Rooting through the few belongings I had, I found my phone. I probably wouldn’t need it, considering no one had my number. It was an ancient phone, given to me by the police so they could keep in contact. Now that I knew who I was, it was time to get rid of it.

  Leaving the flat, I called a goodbye to my friend. I had only known him for a month, and yet, he had saved my life. If there was any chance that he would be in danger, I would have to let him go. I would never risk his life.

  Not that I understood why I felt there could be danger. Maybe the hulking warriors I had met earlier were a big indication. Jamie would certainly appreciate it if I had brought those two home. He’d offer them a sandwich. Not that there would be any bacon in it, just himself. Yep, he was that type of guy, although, I hadn’t seen him actually carry out his crude desires. He was all mouth and no action, as far as I could see.

  My feet carried me down the road, past the corner shop and onto the main road. Waving down the bus, I jumped on, showing my bus pass. Yes, I was able to get a free bus pass. It was a bonus I never thought I’d appreciate. But, here I was, staring out the window, wondering how I would play my next move.

  “Lyla?”

  Turning when a female voice said my name, I swallowed hard. A girl I recognised was on the seat behind me. After weeks of not seeing anyone, why would my previous friend appear?

  “Lucy, wow, it’s been a long time. How are you?”

  Smiling brightly, she leant forward. “I’m good! How about you? Did you ever win that trophy?”

  A flashback slipped into my mind. I had trained at kickboxing for ten years. My mother had insisted that I learned to defend myself. At the time, I hadn’t known why.

  Wow, no wonder I had known how to fight off the terrible twins. I had gone pretty far in the field, even though I had never truly enjoyed it.

  “Nah, I gave it up not long after you left.”

  It was true. I’d tried for years to win a trophy in an attempt to please my mother, to make her feel something. She had never been impressed by rewards, just results. In fact, she would be so insistent that I train, I almost felt like she was afraid for me. If my new memories were anything to go by, the woman had been hiding a whole life from me.

  “How’s your mum?” Lucy asked, smiling gently. “She was always so kind to me.”

  Well, whoopee for her. How did I explain that my mother had been pretty crazy in the end, rarely listening to me or wanting to talk?

  “I’m on my way to see her. It’s been a while.”

  I couldn’t exactly tell her that the last time I’d seen her, something insane had gone down, and I’d ended up smashing my head and losing my memories.

  The tannoy announced the next stop. Lucy jumped up in a flurry, throwing a smile down at me. “This is me. It was great seeing you, look me up on Facebook!”

  As she hurried off the bus, I watched after her. Facebook? I had never been Miss popular in school, or in the kickboxing club. Reason? Everyone thought I was weird. Which, I was. But only because my mother was distant, so I had to find a way to escape. Most of the time, it was books. Sometimes it was watching period dramas. I even played kick-chase with the boys. Yeah, it was no longer a catch and kiss game, but a beat them until they hit the ground, game.

  Blinking my eyes slowly, I took a deep breath. Did I want to see my mother? Had the explosion killed her? So many questions rolled around in my mind. It made sense that I had lost my memories when I’d hit my head. Maybe the man in the long robes had been a delusion. He waved a wand for goodness sake. I wasn’t an extra in Harry bloody Potter. It made no sense.

  My stop was announced, sending a chill through me. I left the bus, my footsteps light as I hugged my thin denim jacket around me, bracing myself from the icy cold wind.

  There, not too far ahead, was our street. Each apartment or house held impoverished people, all trying to make it through the day. No children played in the park, hopefully they were all at school.

  Rounding the corner, I froze when my gaze landed on our front door. A shudder shifted through me as I glanced behind, checking that no one was around. Was that a movement of someone by the nearby car?

  A shadow passed but no one was there. Why did it feel like I was being watched? The skin on the back of my neck tingled as I pushed forward, shaking myself free of the paranoia that was a daily occurrence.

  The house looked exactly as it had the day I last remembered being there. No windows were blown out, neither were there holes in the walls. The intact façade was only marred by its original run-down appearance. But, there had been an explosion, hadn’t there?

  My footsteps sped up as panic forced me forward. Throwing open the gate when I reached it, I left it open, just in case. Of what, I didn’t know, but my nerves jangled, making my stomach flutter.

  It was a tiny two bedroomed house crammed in a terrace. The front door was PVC, the plastic dirty from neglect. My bedroom window was covered by an old bedsheet in place of net curtains. I didn’t like people being able to see inside, especially at night. My mother had refused to buy curtains because we didn’t have the money.

  “Are you here?” I whispered to myself as I pushed the key into the lock and let myself in. I had found the small metal key in my jacket pocket the morning I had been found.

  The silence thundered, almost painful to the ears. The clunk of the door closing made me jump. A laugh escaped me as I listened for life.

  “Mum?” I called. “Are you here?”

  No reply, no movement, no sound. Jeez, why was my heart beating in my throat? I wasn’t usually much of a scaredy cat. The energy of the place was giving me big time heebie jeebies. My mother was always home at lunchtime, where was she now?

  Had she even realised that I was missing? Wait, there had been no missing person reports for my name. The woman hadn’t even bothered trying to search for her daughter. Unless…

  Creeping into the living room, I studied the empty plates on the table. Sweat broke out on my skin as I went over to the couch and picked up my mother’s phone. It was lying exactly where it had been when I’d last seen her.

  That meant–

  No, surely not. I would’ve known if something had happened to my mother. There were no blast marks or any evidence of a struggle. What the blimin’ heck…?

  Looking at her phone, I swore when I tried to turn it on. The battery was dead. Surely she wasn’t dead.

  Every inch of my body shook as I tucked the phone into my pocket and searched for her charger. There it was, on the floor by the overflowing bin. Seeing that the room was exactly how it was when I was last in it, I grabbed my bag and headed to my bedroom.

  Something wasn’t right. Nothing made sense. The man with robes, the wand; that was just something my mind must have come up with to cope with my amnesia. The trauma to my head had obviously skewed everything I believed to be real. Maybe my mother had gone to stay with someone. Not that she had anyone, my grandparents were dead, my father never around.

  “This is freaking me out,” I whispered to myself as I grabbed a handful of clothes and prepared to leave.

  “Lyla?”

  Spinning, I held up my arms, ready to punch the shit out of – Tinniel. Wait, what was he doing there?

  “How dare you follow me here!?”

  The tall man with shoulder length brown hair eyed me, his bright green irises twinkling from the bit of sunlight that entered my room. A numb void filled me as I looked around, almost ready to give up on my crazy nightmare. Maybe if I laid down and went to sleep, I’d wake up back in my normal life, fighting with my mother, even at the age of twenty two.

  “I didn’t follow you here, I tuned into your magic.”

  A red mist descended over my eyes. Flying forward, I kicked my leg out, hard and fast, aiming directly at his head. He ducked, f
licked his arm out and knocked my knee away. Something flashed in his eyes as his lip quirked into his cheek.

  “Good shot, try harder next time.”

  My arm came out, connecting with his elbow. Ouch, his bone was extremely hard. Shaking my hand, I clenched my teeth and sucked a breath through them. Bloody bastard with his bony elbow hurting me. He’d probably just broken my knuckles!

  “You need to leave, you’re trespassing,” I said, trying my hardest not to cry.

  Not because my hand was throbbing like a bitch, but because too much information was swirling in my brain. Surely, I should see a therapist or something.

  “I’m here to request an audience.”

  Huh? Who did he think he was, Lord Tinniel, Duke of Hot Damn Sexy-ville? Maybe I could be Lady Lyla of Kick-your-butt-ville. Although, with his rock-solid bod, it would probably be a little hard to beat him. Still, it was a nice fantasy all the same.

  Grabbing up my bag, I moved past him, towards the bedroom door. “The asylum is in another part of the city. You should probably head back.”

  The calm composure that had settled over me was unnerving. A strange man was in my mother’s home, appearing out of nowhere, and I was suggesting that he get some help. What was wrong with me?

  “Lyla Ford, I know what happened to your mother. If you want to know how that day unfolded…” He paused, coming closer to me, his height towering over my average five foot six. “…come find us at Mystic Fever.”

  Looking over my shoulder, I went to scowl, only to face thin air. Yep, the bastard had puffed out of there, apparently able to disappear without a sound. My limbs trembled as I hurried out of the house, locking the door behind me.

  Either some kind of strange world had existed around me all these years, or I had completely and utterly lost my mind.

  Chapter Three

  There was a perfectly good explanation as to why I was currently walking down a dark street, heading for Mystic Fever. Ah, who was I kidding? I was a sucker for a handsome man offering answers that I desperately needed. Plus, I hadn’t been to a club in a while, I could do with a drink or ten.