Unknown to Madison, her arrival in New Orleans sets in motion a chain of events that throws everyone’s life into disarray—not just hers. Now, pushed into the middle of an ancient war between vampires and witches, she must unravel the secrets of the house she’s inhabiting before the forces awakened by her very presence rise from their centuries-old slumber, hungry and eager to feed on everything they can find.
Starting with her.
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Awakened
K.N. Lee
1
Cambridgeshire, England
1910
Willa raced through her garden to the road. After an afternoon of napping on a blanket beside the pond, she’d almost missed the moment she’d been awaiting all day. The post was on its way, and she would die if she didn’t receive an invitation from the Dargaard family. At seventeen, this would be her last year of innocence. Her last year to enjoy a life of her own design.
Destiny awaited.
Just not today.
Today, she wanted to be only a young lady, so she could fuss over what elaborate gown she would wear and try her charms on the young Earl of Arendal, Kristoff Dargaard.
Not as the intended queen of the Grand Elite Casters.
Not even as a witch.
A giggle escaped her lips as she skidded to a stop, right before the postman. The sun reflected off his bifocals, making his blue eyes look terribly big.
“Good day, Mr. Fulton,” Willa said with a slight curtsy.
Mr. Fulton cleared his throat and gave a deep bow. “Good day to you, Lady Willa.”
“Do you have something for me?” Willa’s eyes peered at his brown satchel, hoping to catch a letter or parcel with her name on it.
“Hmmm,” Mr. Fulton said, rummaging through his bag. “I don’t believe I saw anything for you today.”
Shoulders slumping, Willa sucked her teeth. “It can’t be,” she said, leaving the plush grass of her family’s land, to stand on the hard-packed dirt road that led to town. Forgetting decorum, she stood right before Mr. Fulton and dug her hands into the bag.
Instead of scolding her, he chuckled and took off his cap. “All right! All right,” he said and pulled a cream-colored envelope with the Dargaard seal.
“You scoundrel!”
Willa took the envelope, a smile spreading from ear to ear and ran back toward the manor. She couldn’t get to her mother and father fast enough to share the great news. Dreams of securing Lord Arendal as a suitor had been her mother’s plan since the day his family moved to their village from Norway. Having such exotic neighbors was the talk of the town. Moreover, the Dargaards were reported to be the wealthiest family in six counties.
That meant little to Willa. All she cared about was how charming and attractive the young nobleman was.
“You’re welcome,” Mr. Fulton shouted after her with a laugh.
Looking over her shoulder, Willa called back. “Thank you!” She gathered her skirts in her hand and quickened her speed. Her dark, tightly wound curls bounced around her face as she made her way to the front entrance.
The instant she stepped into the doorway and entered the vaulted foyer, her mother called her name.
“Willa.” Her voice echoed off of the walls and high ceiling.
Her face draining of color, Willa turned to her mother. Her tone told Willa something was wrong.
Very wrong.
“Yes?” Willa asked, catching her breath. She folded her arms behind her back, hiding the invitation.
Anna Avery, Her Grace The Duchess of Ely, looked Willa over and pursed her pert pink lips. Given the duchess’s lack of age lines, most believed that Lady Anna had a secret cream or diet. They’d never guess that Casters simply aged slower than most humans.
Willa, on the other hand, would stop aging completely at eighteen.
The thought both intrigued and frightened her. Not all Casters were granted immortality. So she knew that one day she would have to say goodbye to her unfortunate loved ones.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed those thoughts away.
“Come with me,” her mother said in an even tone. “Magdalene wants to see you.”
The hairs on Willa’s neck stood on end at those words.
No, Willa thought. Meeting the Spirit Witch wasn’t on her list of things to do that day.
2
The winding pathway through the woods was barely visible beneath the darkness of the trees. The tall oaks seemed to block out almost all traces of light. What did shine through only highlighted the roses that grew all along this part of the woods.
Willa followed behind her mother, her hands folded before her, her head held high. It was a struggle to fake courage in the face of what terror awaited them in the Spirit Witch’s castle.
To think that the castle would soon be passed down to Willa for safekeeping only made her heart beat faster.
Why did she have to be chosen for such a responsibility?
“Keep up,” the duchess whispered. “The path changes if you aren’t paying attention.”
Willa’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes. If you don’t stay close to me, it’s likely to enchant you and lead you to the edge of a cliff.”
With a gasp, Willa quickened her step until she was nearly touching her mother’s back. She did want to hold her hand. But that was simply not done. No longer. Childish fears and habits would have to be put aside.
The path opened to a shiny black gate that appeared before them in the center of the woods. The crowded trees and rose bushes gave way to a slick, white-washed courtyard with a narrow castle that reached high into the clouds.
Willa swallowed and looked to her mother. “Remarkable.”
Instead of replying, the duchess turned to Willa and gave her hands a quick squeeze. Something in her mother’s sky-blue eyes worried Willa. It was as if she peered into a mirror, her own reflection staring back at her. They shared the same black hair, blue eyes, and porcelain white skin. Her mother, however, had lashes that curled, while Willa’s were long and straight. Mother also had a scar that was cleverly hidden by creams and face paints crafted by the best artisans in Paris.
All Willa knew about the scar was that it was caused by a demon.
That was all she needed to know.
“Aren’t you coming?” Willa chewed her bottom lip and glanced at the castle. How the clouds were thick and gray at the very top was beyond her—it was a clear, sunny day just beyond the woods.
Duchess Ely shook her head. “I cannot. You must go alone.”
Willa tensed. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Do not worry. The Spirit Witch will not harm you. You will be fine. I will be here at the gate, waiting for your return. We will go home, and talk about that invitation you hid.”
Willa cracked a side smirk. “You promised to stop reading my mind…”
Duchess Ely smiled back at her daughter. She pinched her cheek, much like she did when Willa was a little girl. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Bad habits, I suppose.”
The screeching of the gate made them both jump as it opened, nearly scraping them with the double doors. They moved back and waited for the gate to fully open.
“Go now, Willa. Do not show fear. You will rule in a year. Remember that.”
Willa swallowed another lump in her throat as she stepped inside the courtyard. What if I don’t want to, Mother?”
“I heard that,” Duchess Ely said.
When Willa looked back at her mother, she froze at the tears in the duchess’s eyes.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Willa’s blood ran cold as her mother ran a finger along her scar.
“Someone has to control the evil of this world. I wasn’t strong enough. But you are,” she said, closing her eyes. “You have to be.”
Willa opened her mouth to reply, stunned by this sudden revelation, when the gate slammed shut and her view of her mother vanished with a haze of fog. With a gasp
, Willa ran to the gate and wrapped her hands around the bars.
“Mother!”
There was no reply, only the soft hum of the wind that wrapped around her, chilling her cheeks.
Mother was gone, and it was just Willa, the fog, and the creepy castle at her back.
She spun around to face her fate, her evergreen dress swishing around her legs. The faint outline of a thin woman stood out in the darkness. Her white skin was almost translucent, her white hair almost reaching her knees.
Without a word, the woman turned and entered the castle.
Willa’s breaths quickened as she realized that was her cue to follow the Spirit Witch. She forced her feet forward, and tilted her chin upward.
Regal.
Brave.
You are the most powerful witch in the European coven, she told herself as the creases in her forehead relaxed. Act like it.
She’d practiced this face for what seemed her entire life.
A queen must never show weakness, mother would say.
The bubbling in her belly betrayed her façade. Good thing no one could see her insides.
Two statues stood at either end of the main entrance. One was an angel, with its wings wrapped around its body like a shield, its sword pointed to the sky. The other was a demon, crouched low to the ground, eyeing the angel with its dark stone eyes.
For a moment, she expected the demon to shift its gaze, and glare her way. Shivering, Willa kept her eyes averted and walked up the slick, stone steps. The light that came from deep inside the entrance comforted her only slightly.
She had to step into the tall doors all alone.
The Spirit Room. It awaited her arrival.
One last glance back at the gate did little to soothe her nerves. Willa didn’t think she’d ever wanted her mother by her side more than that moment.
Why the Spirit Witch wanted her so soon was vexing.
Did the other witch really think Willa was ready?
Inside, she covered her exposed arms. A chill in the air startled her.
“Apologies, Willa,” a soft voice said from behind her.
Willa stiffened and glanced over her shoulder. The Spirit Witch stood there as the doors closed on their own.
She was beautiful. Of course. Willa expected nothing less. If a Caster was going to be immortal, she would certainly maintain her beauty while doing so. Or his. Willa had yet to come face to face with an ugly witch. It was merely one of the many gifts bestowed by such power. Though wtiches carried their share of curses, too.
With thin green eyes that had an upward slant, the Spirit Witch had taut skin and the appearance of a girl of eighteen.
Something about her beauty comforted Willa, even though she knew what was to come.
“Have you been well?”
Willa nodded, and watched as the Spirit Witch walked before her in a shapeless black dress that hung long to her ankles. The flickering light behind the Spirit Witch was distracting, seeming to dance and grow brighter and brighter.
It was a fire, crackling so loudly that the sound echoed throughout the empty castle.
Clearing her throat, Willa glanced upward to the second level where there was nothing but darkness.
“I’ve been well, thank you, Spirit Witch.”
“Call me Magdalena. We are sisters. No need for formal titles,” Magdalena said with a small grin. She looked Willa up and down. “At least not yet. When you are queen, I shall refer to you as such. Until then, you are simply my darling student, Willa Avery.”
“Yes, Magdalena,” Willa said, returning the smile. Comforted by the student and teacher dynamic, Willa relaxed. If there was one thing she enjoyed above all else, it was the quest for knowledge. Proficient in mathematics, science, history, and an assortment of classical languages, Willa was a scholar worthy of the highest accolades. Soon, she would embark on her first year at university, a journey she’d dreamed of since childhood.
Now, she needed to learn one more thing. The one thing neither her mother nor her grandmother could ever master.
How to tame a demon.
3
Six Weeks Later
The Dargaard Ball was more opulent than Willa could have dreamed. Dressed in a rich red gown with a golden sash tied tightly around her thin waist, and golden shoes with a single strap, all eyes landed on Willa as she and her mother and father entered the ball room. She was especially proud of the golden ribbon tied around her hair, securing her bangs and thick dark hair. As it was new, a gift from her grandmother, she was delighted to have an excuse to wear it.
Tonight was the perfect night. Willa was on the hunt for a potential husband…and only one young man would do.
Willa’s eyes widened at the number of people present. It seemed that the entire county of Cambridgeshire and all its towns and villages were there in their finest, eager to see the mysterious new family in town. Willa could relate. She scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Lord Arendal or his many brothers. They were all handsome. But, there was something special about the eldest. An assortment of country folk and nobility crowded the Dargaard Manor.
“Looks like Lady Catherine and her minions are here,” Willa’s mother whispered to her father.
Willa grinned. Six weeks ago she might have been afraid of Lady Catherine and her four daughters, and twin nieces. They were from the Lester family, the only line of witches even close to the Averys.
Still, Willa could meet their eyes with confidence. Her final test had been completed.
No one could touch her now.
“Please do behave yourself, Anna,” Willa’s father, William Avery, His Grace The Duke of Ely, said right before yawning.
Poor father, Willa thought with an inward chuckle. Dragged out on one of our schemes again.
Willa’s mother hid a grin. “I shall try, my love.”
“Very well,” Duke Ely said. “I’ll be in the study with The Markis Kristiansand and his minions.”
Willa laughed and she and her mother curtsied as he walked toward the side hallway off of the main hall that led into the ballroom.
Once they were alone, Willa’s mother leaned in close to her. “Now, darling. Let’s find that man of yours.”
Willa nodded, and together they entered the fray. You’d have thought they were royalty by the showering of compliments and praise Willa and her mother received as they passed each group of women. Lady Catherine, however, simply gave them a nod of respect. Despite their differences, they were in the same coven. No matter what, if it came down to a fight between the humans and the witches, Lady Catherine and her girls would be by Willa and her mother’s side.
For now, they kept their distance.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Pratt said, with a tug on Anna Avery’s sleeve.
Duchess Ely shot a glare at the middle-aged woman, but kept her voice calm. “Yes? Did you need something?”
Mrs. Pratt’s face reddened as she withdrew her hand as if it were on fire. She stumbled over her words. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, my lady. Please forgive my lack of decorum. I just wanted to see if you remembered that my daughter, Emma is going Girton College with young Willa.”
Willa smiled at Emma Pratt, a fair redhead with freckles that gave her an undeniable charm. While they’d never spoken more than a few words to one another, Willa did look forward to having someone she knew around once she departed for her first year of college.
“I do,” Duchess Ely said, glancing at Emma with disinterest.
“Very good,” Mrs. Pratt said, nervously. She took in a deep breath, as if searching for courage.
Willa wished she could soothe the woman’s nerves, but she knew how intimidating her mother could be.
“Perhaps they can be confidants there. I know Mr. Pratt and I are awfully worried about her leaving us. Aren’t you worried about Willa?”
“No,” Duchess Ely said, coolly. “I am not. However, I am certain Willa would be happy to befriend your eldest.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Pratt said, lightin
g up. “Thank you, Your Grace. We can arrange a lunch or something.”
“Very well. Good evening,” Duchess Ely said, her attention diverted. She took Willa by the hand and they left Mrs. Pratt and her eager daughter.
Willa raised a brow as her mother led her away. “What is it?”
Duchess Ely glanced at her. “Lord Arendal,” she said. “He’s right this way.”
Butterflies filled Willa’s stomach. After all of her imaginings of a romantic relationship with the young man, she was now nervous about coming face to face with him again.
Right, she thought. Queen’s face. Use that, and you’ll be fine.
She relaxed her facial muscles and exhaled. Talking to a man should be the last thing she feared.
But, when their eyes met from across the piano, she nearly stumbled.
“Are you all right?”
Willa nodded.
“Silly girl. He adores you,” Duchess Ely said. “I should know.”
Willa’s brow creased. “Mother, stop reading his mind,” she said between clenched teeth.
Duchess Ely chuckled, and stroked the back of Willa’s hand. “Habit, my love. Habit.”
Slightly annoyed that her mother knew more about Lord Arendal and his thoughts than she did, she followed her anyway. With sandy brown hair cut short on the sides and left long on the top, and bright green eyes, Kristoff stood out from the other men at the ball.
At least in my own mind, I will call him Kristoff, she thought defiantly, as if doing so claimed Lord Arendal as her own already.
He and his family wore their Norwegian style of dress, which wasn’t terribly different from the English, but intriguing nonetheless. In a black suit with a long jacket and white vest over an evergreen shirt, he was as dapper as ever.
One charming, white smile directed her way, and Willa forgot everything she’d planned to say.
No one else seemed to matter or exist as she approached the man she’d been dreaming about since their first encounter in town weeks ago.
Not Just Voodoo Page 19
