Wicked Good Witches- Complete Series Bundle

by Ruby Raine

  “Ghosts?” confirmed Emily.

  “Yes. Ghosts. I found them fascinating. And like some young children, I was able to see them. Let's just say I had many imaginary friends. My curiosity never waned though, and I spent my teen years enveloped in research, delving deeper and deeper into the supernatural world. There came a point however, during those years that I stopped seeing the ghosts, but unlike most other youngsters, I did not forget. No siree, I did not forget.” He paused, shifting his body so that he was leaning in closer.

  “I don’t know to this day, why I did not forget, but even though I no longer see those ghosts, I have never stopped believing they are still amongst us.”

  Emily coughed, catching herself. She knew they were still amongst us, seeing as one had possessed her body just days earlier.

  Mr. Jordan continued. “That said, it has certainly not been easy, a mere human traipsing in a normally secretive, private world. But I will, until my final breath, find the supernatural and paranormal world intriguing as there is always something new around the corner yet to be discovered.”

  He stopped and took a sip of his tea.

  “That may seem like a simple story, Mr. Jordan,” said Emily, “But also quite extraordinary.”

  “Indeed, indeed.” He held a pensive look in his eye, focused on Michael. “I am supposing you are curious as to why I am here, on The Demon Isle?”

  Michael threw a modest shrug in Mr. Jordan's direction. “Can't say the subject didn't cross my mind. I wouldn't be doing my job if it didn't.”

  “As well you should! I am discovering your family is legendary on this Isle. I am sure you feel a strong duty to this island.”

  Michael did not respond. He had only recently decided to stay on the Isle, after adamantly arguing it was not the Howard's responsibility to protect it anymore. Mr. Jordan’s statement hung in his mind too. Was he researching the Howard family? What exactly was his purpose on the Isle?

  Mr. Jordan continued. “My time here is purely for research purposes. There are many indigenous plants on this Isle that are well known in many magical communities, outside of the Isle. There is an ongoing debate that plants grown here on the Isle are more potent than their counterparts grown elsewhere, plus, like most aware of the supernatural side of the island I am aware of the mystical power source that strengthens the Isle. I am hoping to discover whether the plant’s medicinal qualities are enhanced by this source. Purely for research,” he clarified again. “Curiosity always gets the better of me.”

  “Do you think that it's possible?” The idea intrigued Emily. “I've never even thought about how the power source might affect things like local plant life.”

  Michael secretly wondered if plant research was all Mr. Jordan was actually researching. He allowed his empathic ability to stretch out and surround Mr. Jordan, but was relieved to get nothing but thrilled excitement over their conversation.

  “The one thing I have learned over the years, dear Emily, is that anything is possible. However, I think my research will prove difficult as my only measure is comparing the same plant families and their compounds from versions grown off the Isle, versus the same growing on the Isle. There are many factors that could change these outcomes, however, including things like climate and growth cycles, not just magical power sources.”

  “I don't know as I can be much help,” stated Michael, more confident after not sensing anything sinister. “But I can at least tell you, that even though we have no idea where the source is located, or what fuels this power source, it is not why we are magical. Our family were witches long before we came to this Isle and while we are protectors of the source, and the Isle, it is not the reason we are witches. The Isle's power source does not power us. It is possible to tap into the magic, which is why, unfortunately, malevolent forces incessantly make appearances on the Isle,” he explained.

  Mr. Jordan leaned back in his chair, deep in thought over what Michael had said.

  “That detail may not seem like much to you,” he said after a while, “but to me it is priceless. If the source does not create your abilities, but can be tapped into, this changes everything! Do the plants on this Isle tap into the power, making them stronger specimen? This could change the course of my research completely! Brilliant!” he concluded.

  “Glad to help.” Michael reached out again with his empathic abilities, and again, getting nothing but gratified delight.

  Nothing else. Almost like his mind was stuck in one emotion, playing it over and over again. Normally, with others, there were many emotions all at once, with one or two prominent emotions depending on how a person was feeling at the time. Like right now, Emily was happy. However, sided with that happy, was a smaller amount of restlessness and a tiny bit of guilt. Probably over canceling lunch with her father. The restlessness, he was certain of the reason for that. Something he hoped to fix later when they were finally alone again.

  It was a rarity that someone felt just one emotion, all the time. Mr. Jordan’s was like a recorded feelings track, that played over and over.

  Like Charlie with Eva, Michael could not help but develop an odd sense of distrust in the back of his mind. Something felt off. He decided that he had given Mr. Jordan enough information and hoped that he had noted the gentle reminder of their job here on the Isle: to protect the Isle and its power source.

  Mr. Jordan refilled drinks.

  “Thanks,” said Emily.

  Anthony winked, setting down the carafe of ice tea. “Now, as interesting as this all is, I’m afraid I will find myself rather distracted for the next few days, if not weeks, with the gift your brother and my daughter left in my laboratory last night.”

  “Ah, yes, the dead werewolf,” Michael stated.

  “You can have it.” Emily shuddered just thinking about it.

  It wasn’t a memory Michael was fond of either. “Have you had a chance to examine it yet?”

  “Not really. A general, very shocked, once over.”

  Michael grimaced. “Yes, I would imagine finding a dead werewolf in your garage would prove a bit of a shock.”

  “Indeed. Indeed. But I am curious, no doubt, to see what mysteries lie beneath the surface. And no fear, if I find anything of value, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Michael nodded appreciatively, inwardly wondering if leaving the werewolf in the care of Mr. Jordan had been the right move. Normally, they had other measures to take care of supernatural messes that got left behind.

  Emily made a strange noise and Michael heard her asking, “What is that?”

  He followed her gaze, off the shore out to deeper waters.

  Mr. Jordan turned in his chair and peeked as well.

  “There’s someone out there!” She jumped out of her seat, alarmed. She pointed at a rolling wave about thirty feet from the shore where a darkish blue shape, nearly the color of the ocean, was bobbing up and down in the water. It took Michael a moment to catch it in his gaze.

  “Oh my! Is someone in trouble?” Mr. Jordan got out of his chair to investigate.

  Michael jumped up, slipped off his shoes and heavy jeans, diving into the water. He swam vigorously toward the bobbing figure. The water turned from ocean blue to red as he swam closer.

  Blood.

  A voice cried out for help.

  “Please, it kills,” the voice pleaded. “Cannot get off.”

  It appeared to be a woman, with long strands of wavy blue hair.

  “Mermaid...” Michael sputtered. A mermaid having trouble in the water? “This can't be good.”

  Thump.

  Michael gaze tore down below him in the water.

  Thump.

  Something kept ramming into his legs. A dark shadow circled below. “What’s in the water?” he shouted to the mermaid.

  “Big thing. Bad thing.” The mermaid’s voice was weak, and difficult to hear over the splashing of the waves. She thrashed madly, attempting to grasp something on her back.

  Michael swam forward and a
lmost swallowed water when he saw what was happening. “Bloodsucker...” Practically the length of the mermaid herself.

  She disappeared, pulled under the water.

  Michael dove after her.

  Another bloodsucker had its mouth clenched to her flipper, keeping her from swimming properly.

  Back on the pier, Emily and Mr. Jordan watched in concerned awe. Blood trails were now making their way to the pier. Emily wondered if she should try Charlie, William or Melinda for help. Or perhaps the sheriff would be a better choice.

  A terrified scream stopped her from dialing. It wasn’t from Michael, but whatever he was trying to rescue. Emily had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t a human. Thank God, Mr. Jordan knows about the supernatural.

  Underneath the surface of the water, Michael saw a terrible sight. More bloodsuckers. The blood was attracting them, and quickly.

  He was not sure it would work, but he raised his palm and shot off an energy ball. It moved agonizingly slow underneath the water, and when a bloodsucker swam into its path, it did give the creature pause, but did not do any significant damage. He wished he knew more spells that would work under the water.

  There was little time. The mermaid was sinking, now unconscious. Michael swam to her and with all of his strength pulled at the bloodsucker attached to her back, while kicking at the one attached to her leg. His lungs burned for air but he did not surface. He could not perform the underwater breathing spell like Charlie.

  Michael put his hand up to the sucker attacking her back and blasted it at the closest range possible with an energy ball. Its grip loosened enough for Michael to peel it off.

  He blasted the bloodsucker on her leg, yanked the mermaid upward sucking in a deep breath when finally above the water. He swam toward the shore with the mermaid in tow.

  Bloodsuckers swarmed, a frenzy of bodies searching for the source of the blood.

  As Michael swam, he kept hold of the mermaid with one hand, shooting off spells with the other. The slippery, cold skin of the bloodsuckers chafed his skin like sandpaper each time one got close enough to brush up against him. When Michael touched bottom, he stood and pulled the mermaid toward the beach. Emily and Mr. Jordan raced to his aid.

  “Stay out of the water,” Michael warned through heavy breaths.

  They waited at the water's edge, helping him pull the mermaid's body onto the shore. Michael ignored his own injuries, which appeared to be minor and thankfully had not punctured his skin, thus adding no additional blood to the sucker’s frenzied search. He collapsed on the shore trying to catch his breath, while Emily checked on the mermaid.

  She’d never seen one before. Michael had told her they existed. But wow. A mermaid. And unfortunately a severely injured mermaid.

  She had two long, muscular legs with flippers for feet. She wasn’t moving and as her body dried, milky white skin replaced her scaly legs. Her long locks of blue hair lay limp over her body.

  Mr. Jordan stared in awe at the sight. He had seen a mermaid once before, but it still amazed him that they were real. “At breakfast a werewolf, and lunch, a mermaid! What’s for dinner?” he cried out in bewilderment.

  The mermaid lay on her back, seemingly unable to catch enough air. The sand underneath her body was turning red as she continued to lose blood.

  “Can’t move legs,” the mermaid whimpered.

  “She’s losing a lot of blood,” Emily warned.

  Mr. Jordan’s astonished gaze turned to one of grave concern. “Don’t imagine we can just call an ambulance, can we?”

  “No. We definitely cannot do that.” Michael wasn’t sure what to do, other than use magic to try to stop the bleeding. Healing wounds was tricky though. And even trickier when they were supernatural beings, and not human.

  Michael crawled over to the mermaid, gently rolling her onto her side to check the wound on her back. The bloodsucker had sliced into her skin, leaving an oval shaped set of teeth marks where it had clamped down on her skin. Blood leaked out uncontrollably. “We have to stop the bleeding or she won’t make it.”

  Suddenly the mermaid's eyes flickered, and she tried to speak.

  Emily leaned in, listening.

  “Bad bad things,” the mermaid stammered. “Killing sisters.”

  Emily tried to comfort her while Michael tried desperately to stop the bleeding.

  The mermaid peered into Emily’s eyes. “You save sisters, now.” The mermaid grasped Emily’s head, pulling her in close. “I die now.” With her last ragged breath, a stream of ocean blue light poured out of the mermaid’s mouth.

  “You must let go!” Mr. Jordan called out quite suddenly.

  It was too late.

  Emily breathed in the stream of light, now holding a lifeless mermaid on bloodstained sand.

  Michael stood up, exhausted and disappointed.

  The bloodsuckers were turning out to be a problem after all. They would have to deal with this situation as quickly and discreetly as possible, before anyone else got hurt or died, above or below the water.

  However, that was not the only problem.

  Emily’s panic reached his mind before her voice.

  “Um, Michael... help,” she squealed.

  Michael and Mr. Jordan watched with bewildered gazes as Emily’s brown hair lengthened, shifting in color to a shade of ocean blue. A wave crashed to the shore, splashing saltwater onto her legs. Scales erupted on the surface of her skin, lining her arms and neck. Emily fell over, unable to stand as her legs disappeared from underneath her, replaced by thick, brightly colored, scaly flippers. The shorts she’d been wearing shattered. Her hips suddenly shapely and thick.

  “Holy fucking wow!” choked Michael, in total shock.

  “Sorry,” muttered Mr. Jordan. “I tried to warn you, but it was too late when I realized what was happening.”

  Michael just stared. Speechless.

  “You see, in my research, I have discovered that a mermaid, in their moment of death, can transfer their essence to another sister. But not to fret! We have until sunset to solve this conundrum.”

  “What do you mean?” demanded Emily, seeming to be unable to control her wildly floundering flippers.

  “If we cannot change you back before sunset, the water will call you home, my dear,” explained Mr. Jordan. “You will not be able to set foot on dry land, or turn back into a human, but one day each month.”

  “Oh dear,” Emily whimpered. “This isn't at all what I pictured being a mermaid was like... I used to dream about being a mermaid when I was a little girl,” she paused, now panicked. Her gaze fixed on her boyfriend. “I really don't want to be a mermaid, Michael.”

  He gulped hard, unable to take his eyes off Emily. He struggled to ignore her panic over this development and focus only on his own. He didn’t want a mermaid for a girlfriend, either. He finally allowed his gaze to float toward Anthony Jordan. “Sunset you say?”

  Mr. Jordan nodded a curt yes in reply.

  “Stay right here, Em. I gotta make a few phone calls.” Michael raced to the jeans he’d left on the pier to get his cell phone. He wasn’t sure who to call first. He just prayed someone knew how to keep his girlfriend from becoming a permanent resident of the Atlantic Ocean.

  WILLIAM WAKEFIELD STOOD at the entrance of a mausoleum. It was located in the center of The Demon Isle Graveyard. An engraving over the doorway read, Howard.

  He pushed open the heavy iron door with ease, entering into a stone room, which was lined with urn after urn, each carved with the name of a deceased Howard; many of whom he had known and called friend during his many years living on the Isle.

  He stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes for a moment as if listening to voices no one else could hear. The voice of each Howard he’d watched come into this world, only to die, typically far too young.

  “I have watched many of you come and go.” His mournful whisper echoed softly. He opened his eyes. “And to one of you, I made a promise: to always look after and guide th
e next generation of Howard Witches.”

  He took a few steps, caressing each urn with his hand before continuing, remembering the beginning and end of each of their short human lives.

  “It is getting harder to keep this promise,” he spoke to the urns, his voice low. “Harder to watch each of you succumb to your inevitable end, while I remain, unchanged. Although I fully realize your inevitable end, I am beginning to fear it. Now, more than ever.” The admittance squeezed tight in his chest.

  He stopped at an urn, which stood near the back of the room, speaking to it directly. “There are but three of you left. Four, if we can locate and save Jack Howard. If I cannot protect them, what will become of this island? What will become of me? It is selfish of me to consider such things. But you have been my salvation, my family, these many years. But if I fail? If I cannot keep this promise I have made?”

  William bowed his head as if to pray, kneeling in front of the urn, leaning his forehead against it. He allowed memories to flood his mind. Memories he had tried to suppress for many years.

  A woman. Young. Standing alone in a snow-covered wood. Her bright blue eyes scouring the area, searching for something. She pushed out a frosty breath, her ruby lips illuminated by the surrounding white. Her mouth turned into a captivating smile as a shadow emerged. “William,” she called out as he approached.

  “My dearest Angelina.” William kissed her cheek gently, abruptly letting go, backing away from her. “I do not yet trust myself to be this close to you.”

  “Ah, yes, the problem with being courted by a vampire.” Her reproach hinted sarcasm. “If my family finds out what I've been up to...” she shook her head. She imagined telling them, introducing them to the man she loved. A vampire. It would not go over well.

  “You need not tell them, Angelina. You know that I am a friend to the Howard Witches, but they may never fully accept me as such.”

  “If you'd just let me tell them all you’ve done, William,” Angelina implored. “Just how many years you have lived here, helping them. Saving them. And all in secret.”

  “It does not change my past, my love. I may desire friends. Family. I do not yet deserve these things. How can I ask for salvation when I still have so much to make amends for?”