Paranormal Romance: The Witches' Prophecy (Calder Witch Series Book 2)

by Martha Woods

  If she closed her eyes, Veronica could still see Leticia’s white braid in the moonlight. She could hear the woman’s violent laughter over their shared bottle of liquor. There had been a time when a vampire could befriend a Calder witch. And Veronica had ruined it. She had betrayed her friend.

  It didn’t help that Veronica could see Leticia every time she looked at Tessa. She heard the darkness in the human’s laughter. They could be friends if only Veronica would relent.

  “Let’s go fuck with some witches,” Veronica whispered.

  Part II

  Veronica crawled into the passenger seat of the Shelby while they discussed their plan. The witches were quick and organized. But, so was Ally. She told Charley, who in turn told them, that the witches had landed in a nearby city and were beginning to band together.

  “The plan is to slip into the city unnoticed. From there we can track and dispose of the witches individually,” Morgan said, finger tapping on the wheel as he thought. One hand rose to push his brown curls out of his face.

  “Pfft,” CHarley made a noise in the back seat. She gripped the back of Veronica’s seat and pulled herself forward. “That is going to take forever!”

  Morgan glared at the teenage demon in his rearview mirror. “It is the safest and most surefire way to accomplish our mission. If you have any better ideas, I’m open to listening, but I promise you my plan is the best.”

  Veronica watched Charley mouth his words mockingly from the corner of her eye. The promise of danger made Veronica’s blood sing. She was excited and that left a strange mix of emotions tumbling through her. She felt guilty and ashamed. Why should she be so happy to be seeking out danger? Was there something wrong with her?

  “Take the witches someplace that they’re uncomfortable. Throw them off their game,” Charley suggested.

  “And how do you propose we do that?” Morgan countered.

  Charley smiled. It was a snake of a smile. “They hate lots of bodies and loud noises. Pick any night club worth it’s salt. The Calder are probably fuming enough that they won’t think twice about following you in. Once the music and commotion throws them off, then we strike them down, one by one.”

  “In a public place?” Veronica couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.

  “Don’t kill a witch in front of witnesses, duh. But if one stumbles by, they’ll be so far off their rocker on drugs that they’ll think they’re having a bad trip.”

  Veronica glanced at Morgan. His jaw was tight. He seemed to hate Charley’s idea, but in the end, he gave in to her. It didn’t help that she pushed and pushed until Veronica was sick of hearing her talking. So, Morgan adjusted his course, steering them toward the city center. They would take their time, parking near the club in case they had to get away quick, but walking a few blocks out and back to grab the witches’ attention.

  The witches found them faster than Veronica liked. She could see the flashes of their sleek, white hair in the crowd as it undulated under the lights. The music pulsed through her, but she couldn’t give in to it. Fear was chewing on her frayed nerves. Yet, it was something stronger that compelled her to stay. A new feeling bounced through her limbs and she didn’t know what to do with it quite yet. Charley seemed to have lost herself completely. Her leather jacket had been thrown off hours ago.

  She was currently dancing, bumping and grinding rather, on a man with a lopsided mohawk. There were a number of holes in his face that Veronica just didn’t understand. What was the reason for the ones in his ears? Charley could have hooked several fingers through either of them and one sharp tug would have torn through his skin. The ones in his lower lip bothered Veronica the most.

  Morgan slid up behind her, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered to her. “You’re supposed to be having fun.”

  How could she? She was surrounded by the enemy. And she wanted to tear each of them limb from limb for hurting her brother again.

  Morgan’s hands moved to her waist, gently guiding her movements. Together, they rocked back and forth. He pressed against her back and, for a moment, she could forget why she was here. She wriggled her ass into his pelvis, rocking in circular motions. He clamped his hands down on her hips with a snarl on his lips.

  “Keep that up and I won’t be able to do my job.”

  Veronica laughed, but it felt weak. She needed to get off the floor. There were too many bodies, too many hearts beating. The thump of their hearts reverberated through her bones. She slipped from Morgan’s grasp and made a bee-line for the exit. Bodies jostled against her. Each one smelled like dinner and it was a battle just to push them away. This wasn’t the kind of place she could risk even a sip.

  Finally, she reached the heavy, metal door that led outside. She shoved it open and burst into the cool night air. A weight that had been on her was lifted when she stepped away from the music and the dancing. She let herself fall back against the brick wall, her eyes drifting closed.

  Faintly, she heard the scuff of feet in the alley way. Closer and closer. Veronica tried to stay relaxed. She waited for someone to approach her. Meanwhile, her hand was reaching to the small of her back. Fingers wrapped around the hilt of a blade.

  Scuff.

  Scuff.

  They were right around the corner now. Was a witch this noisy? Veronica didn’t want to believe it. The only reason they’d had the upper hand in the last battle was Tessa’s gift for mind reading. The witches had arrived like smoke in the night. It couldn’t be this easy.

  Scuff.

  Veronica pulled the blade out from the small of her back. It glinted in the orange street light. But, it wasn’t a witch that rounded the corner. Charley yawned as she walked, hands raised in a stretch over her head, the stretch of her pale belly visible. For a moment, Veronica let her guard down.

  Then, as quickly as she appeared, Charley spun. A flash burst from her fingers. The Calder witch staggered in the dark alleyway, blade protruding from her throat. Charley blinked out of existence, reappearing before the witch. She grabbed the blade at the witch’s throat and tore it to the side. Blood and flesh spewed across the brick. Another deft movement had the witch’s head rolling on the cracked pavement. It thumped against the green dumpster.

  “And, that folks, is how you kill a bitch,” Charley said. “Oh, I mean witch.”

  “Aren’t you just the laugh factory?” Veronica jeered. Her blade dropped to her side before she caught the flash of white hair.

  A witch flew into their alleyway, crashing into Veronica. Together they hit the brick wall. Veronica’s arms were pinned to her side. The witch laughed in her face. Veronica smiled. The witch’s laughter faltered. Her head crashed into the witch’s nose and she heard the crunch of bone.

  She wouldn’t be taken by them again.

  She wouldn’t let them hurt the ones she loved again.

  Veronica swiped at the witch with her long blade. In one deft stroke, the witch’s arm fell to the ground. It landed in what had to be someone’s vomit from earlier in the night. That was for the pain they’d made her brother endure.

  The witch screamed. It was an ear piercing scream that filled the alley. Veronica lunged forward, the blade coming down. It sliced through the witch’s shoulder. She crumpled inward on herself, her chest gaping open. That was for Morgan.

  The witch’s head shot up and she threw out her arm. Filled with rage, Veronica lunged forward. A bolt of fire burst from the witch’s hand, racing toward Veronica. Distantly, she heard a howl. Fear and anger pierced her ears. All she could see was the searing light coming towards her. A body crashed into her.

  They tumbled in the reeking trash. As she fell, Veronica glimpsed the arc of Charley’s blade. The witch’s head rolled to where she lay in the alley. A heavy weight pressed on her chest. A familiar head of dark hair slumped across her breast bone.

  Panic filled her. She pulled him into her arms, struggling to get both of them in an upright. A black hole pierced his torso, the singed edges of his shirt falling
to ash. Veronica wanted to scream. She wanted to shake him, but as his eyelids fluttered, hope filled her.

  She turned her wrist to her own mouth, slicing it open in her fangs. Two, jagged cuts marred her skin. She pressed them to his mouth, hoping that he would drink. She would force it down his throat if she had to, fist and all.

  A long moment passed. Her blood welled on his lips. Her eyes burned with tears.

  This was her fault.

  Again.

  Then he gripped her arm. His fingers seemed to be made out of steel, holding her to his mouth. He drank of her and she felt something stir within her core. Each stroke of his tongue felt like a thrust within her core. She fell back on her haunches, unable to hold herself up anymore. Distantly, she was aware that his wound was closing.

  “Damn, dude.” Charley whistled. “You sure do know how to do the white knight thing.”

  “Fuck off,” he said, releasing her arm.

  Had she had any energy left she would have launched herself onto him. She would have wrapped her arms around him and never let go. Instead, she had to force her knees to make her stand. She reached down, offering Morgan a hand. He clutched where the hole had been in his stomach and took her hand. They were alive. They were mostly in one piece.

  The witches, on the other hand, most definitely were not.

  “You knew what we were supposed to be doing,” Morgan growled, eyes trained on Charley.

  While Veronica had been feeding Morgan, Charley had been cleaning up their mess. She was in the process of throwing an arm into the dumpster when a few dancers lurched out of the door. They stumbled into the brick wall, laughing a little too loudly. They were too far gone on whatever they had taken to realize what Charley was holding.

  The demon shrugged and chucked the arm into the open dumpster. She dug through her pockets with tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. After a long moment of exaggerated searching, she came up with a bic lighter.

  “Charley knew what? Hey, isn’t that my…” Veronica’s voice trailed off.

  Charley lit an alcohol soaked t-shirt, that had probably been dumped by some frisky lovers, and tossed it into the dumpster. They didn’t know how long it would burn and they didn’t have long to figure out. The sun would be peeking over the horizon in a matter of hours.

  Tired and aching, the three of them made their way back to the Shelby. It seemed to take forever. Veronica’s knees didn’t want to support her weight let alone Morgan’s, but she refused to let him go. She had come so close to losing him in a shitty alleyway like she’d always feared. That wasn’t how she wanted this to end.

  Her mind wandered off, trying to unravel her mess of thoughts and emotions without Tessa nearby, when everyone came to a sudden halt. Morgan’s eyes burned with a fire that she hoped never turned upon her. She followed his line of sight and felt her jaw drop.

  The witches liked to vandalize modes of transportation, it seemed. Not too long ago they had burned Tessa’s truck and trailer. There wasn’t much left of it when Ally had gone back to find it. Thankfully, the Shelby was nowhere near as bad.

  That had been a threat.

  This was a message.

  Two Down had been carved into the side of his car. The witches really had thought they won long before the fight had started, Veronica thought. But, as they rounded the other side of the car, they found another message waiting. This one made the hair on the back her neck stand on end.

  A head was mounted on the dashboard. Red hair flopped over glassy eyes. A hot well of rage filled Veronica. Morgan gripped the door handle of his car, the crunch of metal audible in the night. They would never again hear Ryan’s sweet, lilting southern accent. Beside it, carved into the dashboard, was an occult symbol.

  Charley stood back, her lips twisting. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

  “I can’t get in,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” Morgan asked. His voice was pure fury and rage. The witches had not only violated his car, but left a part of his friend behind in it.

  Charley reached out toward the car when a shield of gold light arched through the air. Her hand hit it and Veronica could smell burning flesh in the air. The globe of light faded as their eyes met over the Shelby.

  “Can’t do it, big man. They warded against my hellish ass. Sigil magic is a bitch for demons.”

  They were on their own. Charley could bamf, as she liked to call it, somewhere else, but that left them on their own. They were in no condition to fight off another wave of Calder witches. Veronica had lost too much blood and Morgan’s body was still knitting itself together.

  Veronica snatched one of Charley’s black blades and slid into the car, trying hard to ignore Ryan’s head staring blankly out the windshield. She scraped at the circular symbol on the dashboard, trying to erase it from existence. The symbol stubbornly refused to be erased. Veronica let her head fall to the dashboard. She never thought she’d dread seeing the demon leave.

  She turned her head and met Charley’s gaze. They weren’t defeated. Far from it, but morale was low. More witches would be on their trail. That had been the plan, after all. Morgan finally flung his door open. He threw himself into the driver seat and slammed the door with such force that Veronica cringed.

  “Please tell me that you have a hideout, a safehouse, anything,” Veronica said.

  “Report back to Ally,” Morgan barked at Charley, turning the key in the ignition. The demon tucked the dismembered head of their friend under her arm and blinked out of existence.

  Veronica slammed back in her seat when he hit the gas pedal. The two vampires sped out of the parking lot. “You weren’t even supposed to be here,” he growled.

  Veronica sat up straight. “You’re telling me you could have handled two Calder witches on your own? You left me behind without so much as a fucking word. I wouldn’t have known what happened to you until Ally went to scrape you out of that damned dumpster. What was it that Charley supposedly knew? Why were you so mad at her?”

  Morgan gripped the steering wheel and she could hear the metal beneath the leather groaning. “You almost died tonight.”

  “And you think it would have been better had Charley and I stayed at the house in the valley? Instead, the only deaths were the Calder tonight. You can trust me, Morgan. I really wish you would try it sometime. You’re avoiding my question. Tell me. What did Charley know?”

  He sat in silence. The car weaved in and out of traffic, narrowly missing a few fender benders. Veronica thought that the conversation was over, whether she liked it or not. There had been something in his mission, orders, that he refused to tell her. Frustrated, she fisted her hands atop her thighs.

  “This isn’t going to work out, is it?”

  “What?”

  “Us, what we have. It isn’t going to work out. You’re doing exactly what you did last time. Your job was number one and I was just a doll that you kept on a shelf for when you came home. That isn’t the kind of life that I want. I can take care of myself. I’m not going to break if you let me out of the house. It’s up to you to trust me.”

  Morgan was silent and completely still. She wondered if he was looking away from the truth. Did he even want to realize his mistake?

  “How can I do my job if I’m terrified something will happen to you? I can’t keep my mind about me when I know you’re in the thick of the chaos and death.”

  “I’m not your wife,” Veronica reminded him. “I’m not human. I haven’t been for two hundred years. The witch fire would have hurt like a bitch, but it wouldn’t have killed me anymore than it killed you.”

  It hurt to bring up his wife. Veronica knew how she had died. The woman he had married died alone after watching her children die. Morgan hadn’t been there. When he came home, his family was dead. His landlord had still been sitting on the front porch of their cabin. The man held a knife to Morgan’s throat and made him look at his children while he reminded Morgan that the rent on their la
nd was overdue.

  Veronica was made of tougher stuff than his human wife. She would not let herself die at the hands of a witch. She’d fought her way out of their clutches before. No one knew that other than Kristian and the Calder witches. She tried to forget, but the memories would resurface if she caught sight of a bottle of vodka on a table or held an queen of spades in her hand.

  Leticia spent an entire year pretending to be her friend. She seemed like a confident aunt, someone more experienced that Veronica could come to. The woman had let her in on their secret world of magic. Probably only so that Veronica would confess her secret, too. It was not too often that Veronica found pleasure in the company of others. Letitica was her first real girlfriend.

  They played cards beneath the gazebo, a bottle of vodka between them. They played with shots, the loser would throw back. More often than not, Veronica lost. The alcohol would buzz through her system quickly, but not before making the world spin around her. Not before loosening her lips. She told Leticia of her paltry life, of her husband’s demise. She told her of the apartment that she shared with her brother.

  Veronica did not expect it when several of the witches burst into their home during the daylight hours. The witches tied them up, gagged them, and shoved their bodies into coffins. It was easy to convince their neighbors that the two of them had passed in the night. It was easy to drag them back to Leticia’s home under the protection of the sun.

  Veronica remembered waking up inside of a cage. Her hands had been bound with silver and it burned through the skin of her wrist. Beside her, Kristian glared at the world like an animal. His bright green eyes were glazed over. Anger radiated off him.

  A white haired witch approached his cage. Kristian lashed out, his fingers hooked into claws. The witch caught his arm in her hand. Veronica could still hear his howls of pain when the witch incinerated his skin, his flesh with the touch of her hand. It was nothing more than charred bone when her hand fell away.