Grey Magic and Binding Deceptions (Grey Witch Book 3)

by Cece Rose

  We collapse, our knees smacking harshly on the stone floor. The pain twists everything around me as it reverberates through my body. The walls of the temple seem blurred now, out of focus; it’s impossible to make out the friezes etched into them. Even the floor feels not quite there beneath me.

  I hear a pained scream, and feel my heart hammering wildly in my chest.

  “Kayla? Kayla, babe, wake up!”

  The voice breaks through the already crumbling dream, and my eyes fly open, surprised to see Darren’s looming form leaning over me. His hands rest at my shoulders, and I wonder if he had to shake me out of it.

  “Are you okay? You look spooked as hell,” Darren’s voice rumbles softly, as his hand begins to stroke my hair calmingly. I realise my breathing is ragged, and even I can hear how fast my heart is racing, just as it had in the nightmare. For him the sound must be thundering to his sensitive ears.

  “Just a really bad dream,” I mutter, and go to shift my position. I flinch as my knees protest the movement a little. “Can you get the light? You might be able to see, but it’s too dark for me.”

  “Course I can.” He slides out of the bed and flicks the switch by the bedroom door, illuminating the room.

  I blink as my eyes adjust, letting them get comfortable with the brightness before doing anything else. Once I can see, I notice the concerned look on his face and give him a small smile to try and reassure him.

  Feeling a little stupid, I slowly pull the covers off my body and stare down at my legs, not really believing what I’m seeing for a moment. Ugly purple bruises have appeared on both of my knees. Exactly where the pain had jolted me in the dream.

  “What the fuck?” Darren exclaims, his eyes shifting from the surprise. Or could it be panic? He moves quickly across the room and crouches down beside my legs, looking over both of them intently, as if to be sure the marks are real. “You didn’t have these when we went to bed. How the hell did this happen?”

  I bite my bottom lip, staring at my knees. I’ve never had one before. Why now? Why when I only have a small portion of my magic, do I show the signs of an ability for the first time? A shitty ability at that.

  “Kay, talk to me,” he prompts, his voice laced in worry.

  “I had a witch dream.” The idea seems insane, but there’s no other explanation. The dream had meaning. Whether it was prophetic, or not, there’s a reason for it. The bruises marring my skin are a warning of the threat ignoring it poses.

  “Witch dream? Care to clarify just what that is, and how you can make it never happen again?” His hand gently glides over my bruises. “This is messed up.”

  “Hey, the least you could do is make a joke about how long I must have spent on my knees to look like this,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood as I grab the covers, and hide my legs beneath them again. Despite this, I notice his eyes are still shifted. “It’s okay, they’re just bruises. I’ll be fine.”

  “Explain how this happened.” From his tone, it’s clear it’s not a request.

  “Witch dreams are different from the regular kind. They leave you with something, witches think it’s to let us know they’re special, that we need to pay attention to them. Sometimes it’s a bruise, like I have, or maybe you wake up wet after a dream about someone drowning. Some people wake up with something in their hands, or like, dirt under their fingernails…” I trail off, suddenly worried there might be blood on me somewhere. “You can’t smell any blood, can you?”

  “No, are you in pain?” he demands, quickly moving closer, as if to get a better sniff of me to be sure.

  “No… it’s just there was some blood in the dream, that’s all. It was really weird, I have no idea why I’d have a witch dream that’s so crazy. It didn’t even have anything to do with me or anyone I know.”

  At least I think it didn’t.

  “Is it likely to happen again?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “I’m gonna have to seek out some help with this, from other witches.” A sigh escapes me as I let the reality of the problem sink in.

  This is just what I need right now, another complication to my already too complicated existence…

  “Why do you seem so annoyed at that?” he asks, as he tugs me into his arms. I let him hold me, resting my head against his chest.

  “Because I’m going to have to stop by the coven house for help. I’m pretty sure the leader has witch dreams. She might be able to help me.”

  “And that’s bad because?”

  “I’m a terrible witch, and I never go to coven meetings or events unless they’re mandatory—even then, I’ve skipped a fair few by making up excuses.”

  “Can’t you ask your mum? Or Silvia, maybe?” he suggests, and I shake my head against his chest, feeling another sigh escape me.

  “I wish. Neither of them have witch dreams, though. I need someone with experience.”

  “Why do you not go to any of the coven stuff? Do you not like them?”

  “It’s not that…” I trail off, a yawn slipping out. “It’s just… I don’t fit in. I never have. The only witch there that ever really clicked with me was Lizzy.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says gently.

  “Me too. I wish she was here and could come with me. She’d know all the right questions to ask.”

  “I’m guessing I can’t come?”

  “Witches only in the coven house,” I confirm, shifting slightly to get into a comfortable position. I yawn again, and let my eyes shut as I feel myself relax more against him.

  “You wanna stay up, or go back to sleep? It’s still like, three in the morning, but I’ll stay up with you if you’d rather talk or something,” Darren offers.

  “I should be okay to get some rest. I doubt I’ll have another witch dream tonight anyway.” I pause, smiling a little to myself before adding, “You mind getting up and switching the light back off? I’m too comfy and lazy to move.”

  Darren presses a kiss to my forehead, before releasing me from his arms and slipping out of the bed. He flicks the light switch, drenching the room in darkness once again, before climbing back into the bed. My smile grows as he slides his arms back around me as he tugs me close.

  I’d figure out what the hell is going on with my dreams in the morning. For now, I’m happy to forget my problems and just enjoy this.

  Eleven

  Coven of Bitches

  I really freaking hate this place.

  Staring at the pretty, white Georgian villa that serves as the official coven house, I feel dread flooding through my body. It’s been months since I’ve been here, and back then I’d had Lizzy with me to make it more tolerable. This time, I’m all by myself. Darren had to go somewhere, so he’d left pretty quickly after dropping me off here; Leaving me to stand around outside like an idiot while I try and get together the will to actually go inside.

  Despite my resentment of the house and everyone in it, I have to admit the building itself is rather pretty. It’s in immaculate condition considering it had been built around 1800, with just a touch of pretty green ivy creeping up the side of the house to my left. Green grass surrounds the building, leaving fairly large gardens before the trees that line the edge of the property.

  Knowing there’s no use just standing out here all day, I force myself to head inside. I open the front door and just let myself in, casting a quick glance around the entrance hallway, spotting someone walking out from the kitchen.

  “Kayla, surprised to see you here,” the lanky witch offers in greeting.

  I try and search my brain for the guy’s name, but it eludes me, so I just settle for, “Hey, is Medea here at the moment?” Maybe a little less friendly than I’d been shooting for, but at least I’d gotten to the point. Make this as quick and painless as possible, in and out before any awkwardness can occur.

  “She’s in the study, I think.” He pauses, and stares intently at me for a moment before adding, “Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I
narrow my eyes at him, and he shrugs.

  “Didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you might like someone to talk to, with Lizzy being gone and all.”

  Damn, this guy knows everything and I don’t even remember his name. Maybe I’m the shitty one in this coven after all?

  “Sorry if I was being snappy. I’m honestly a little stressed, but I’ll be fine, really. Thank you for asking, though,” I apologise with a small smile.

  There. That was nicer. I can be nice.

  “It’s okay. Look, gimme your phone a sec,” he asks, holding out a hand expectantly.

  Nervously, I comply, pulling it from the back pocket of my jeans and handing it over to him.

  “What are you doing?” I question, as he swipes to unlock the screen. He taps at it for a minute or so in silence, before handing it back. I stare down at the screen, seeing a new contact saved. Blaise Harlan. At least I know the guy’s name now.

  “I’ve got to go meet my boyfriend for coffee now, but there’s my number. You need a friend to talk to, just give me a message, okay?” he asks.

  “Umm, yeah. Thank you?” I respond, feeling all kinds of confused at his friendliness. Nobody in the coven ever bothers to be this nice. What the hell is going on here?

  “Oh, and word of warning—be careful with Medea. I think she’s in a mood.” He smiles brightly despite his words, before slipping past me, and heading out of the coven house. I let him leave without a word in response, still a little in shock from how chatty he was being. Nobody here ever usually tries to make friends. My only friend that was in this stupid coven has been shunned.

  Whatever weirdness that was, I’ve got bigger problems to deal with. I need to ask Medea about my witch dream, and hopefully get some answers or at least an idea of how to move forward with this. I shove away the lingering curiosity at my conversation with Blaise and head for the study.

  The thick, oak door of the study is shut when I reach it. I pause for a moment, listening quietly for sounds of any conversation or movement through the wood, but there’s a dead silence. Cautiously, I push open the door and peer around the edge into the room, quickly spotting two figures sitting in a chalk drawn circle in the centre of the it. Medea and Mina—I think?

  They don’t seem to notice my entrance as I step into the room, and continue to talk, it appears, from within the circle. No sound reaches my ears, but in the circle, they seem to understand each other perfectly well. They’re having quite the animated discussion from the looks of it. Why would they need to use a silencing circle while they’re in the coven house?

  Medea’s long auburn hair is braided and curls on the floor behind her. I know that when she’s standing, her thick hair flows all the way down to her knees. Both of them are dressed in soft, light colours, looking much more the part of a good, wholesome white witch than I do.

  I step closer, and suddenly both of their heads turn to face me in unison—it’s as if I’ve triggered an alarm by getting too close. Upon seeing it’s only me, they both visibly relax. Medea gives me a small, fake-looking smile, before pushing her hand through the chalk outline on the ground, dropping the magic binding the silence at the same time.

  “Kayla, what a lovely surprise to see you here today,” Medea offers in greeting. “Nina and I were just having a personal discussion, but we’re pretty much done. Right, Nina?”

  “Yes, Medea. Thank you for your time.” Nina stands, meeting my eyes just for a moment, before tearing herself away, and quickly leaving the room. I jump when the door slams loudly into its frame.

  “Is Mina—Nina, sorry—okay?” I ask, biting my lip nervously as I look between Medea and the door.

  “She’ll be fine,” Medea answers dismissively, pursing her lips when I give her an unsatisfied look. She sighs, and then adds, “She’s just going through some things at the moment and needed my advice, that’s all. However, I feel she’s a little disappointed in the words I had to give her. Let’s hope I don’t leave you as wanting. Now, why are you here today, Kayla?”

  “What makes you think I’m here for help?” Despite my words, I move to sit opposite her on the floor, where Nina had been sitting only moments before. I swear the hardwood floor still feels warm. I can’t help but feel curious about their conversation, even if it’s none of my business. I wonder how long had they been sitting here in the circle talking to one another?

  “Are you not here for my help?” she questions back, once I’m settled and sitting cross-legged in the broken circle drawn around us.

  “I am,” I admit begrudgingly, sighing before I add, “Look, what can you tell me about witch dreams? For example, how likely is it to just have a one off experience?” If it wasn’t likely to catch her attention, I’d cross my fingers and pray like hell.

  Medea’s eyebrows raise in surprise at my line of questions. “You had a witch dream?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you did have one.” She’s staring at me intently now, as if she’s trying to read whatever is going on inside of my head.

  “Yeah, I did,” I agree, as I clench my fists in my lap, letting my nails dig into my palms just a tiny bit. Goddess, why do I hate asking my own coven leader for help? Surely she should be someone I feel comfortable going to? Relaxing my hands, I force myself to get this over with already. I didn’t come all the way here to chicken out without getting any actual help or advice. “I woke up with bruises on my knees. They’re almost gone now, but I’ve never had a dream like this before… I just—I just want to know if it’s going to happen again or not, or if it’s a dream I even need to pay attention to. I mean, it was pretty random. I wasn’t in it, neither was anyone I know, so I don’t see how it could be connected to me. I—

  “Breathe, Kayla,” Medea interrupts my rambling, holding up a hand to silence me along with her words. I let out a long breath, and then take a few more, letting my breathing even out as I stare down at the floor. All this stress is really starting to get to me. It’s not just the witch dream, it’s that my entire life this year has been a never-ending train wreck of chaos.

  “Tell me about your dream.” Her words draw my eyes back up. It’s very clearly not a request.

  I think back to what I can remember about it. The blood. The bodies. The crazy lady who appeared to have slaughtered them in some kind of brutal, ritualistic sacrifice. Maybe Medea doesn’t need all of the details. I don’t want her thinking I’ve lost my mind. I’m probably on thin ice in this coven as it is with how little I’m here.

  “Well, umm, there was a woman. A witch. At least, I think she was a witch. She tried to do some ritual, but it didn’t quite work out how she wanted, and she was really pissed off about that. When it didn’t work, she collapsed, hit her knees, and then it just… ended there. I figured it was just a weird nightmare until I noticed the bruises exactly where her knees had hurt in the dream. I don’t know a whole lot about witch dreams, but the bruises were a dead giveaway that there must be something more to it than a nightmare,” I explain, feeling her eyes scrutinise me the entire time I’m talking.

  “In the dream, were you watching from outside as an observer, or through the eyes of the witch herself?” Medea asks, her voice sounding a little curious about whatever I’d seen.

  “Through her eyes. At first, I thought I was her… it was an experience to say the least.” One I’d prefer not to repeat.

  “You thought it was yourself at first, are you sure now that it really wasn’t you? Did you see something, anything, to confirm she was another person, seeing as you were seeing things through her eyes?” Her questioning now sounds more like an accusation, and I take a moment to consider my response. I’m pretty sure she knows I haven’t told her everything, and I’m more than a little worried she’s trying to trick me into giving her more information about the dream itself.

  The image of the dead bodies floats back into my mind.

  “Yeah, I’m a hundred percent sure she wasn’t me. Her hands didn’t look anything like m
ine,” I lie. I hadn’t noticed much about the hands other than the blood coating them, but there’s no way in hell it could have been me in that dream. For one, I wouldn’t brutally murder three people for a sacrifice.

  “Interesting. And you’re sure that the bruises came as a result of the dream and it isn’t just a coincidence?”

  “Definitely.” I would have had to spend a lot of time on my knees that I don’t recall otherwise. I try not to smirk at the thought. If I did get the bruises some other way, it certainly wouldn’t be from praying…

  “I’m afraid to say I don’t have a lot of answers for you, Kayla, but what I know, I will of course share. It might be an isolated incident, or it could recur, only time will tell which it’ll be. But as for if the dream holds significance over you? The fact you experienced it as the witch, and that you bruised from it, would indicate it does.” She pauses for a moment, allowing the information to sink in before continuing, “Usually, when the dream isn’t directly relevant to the witch having it, it’s a more tame experience. Either viewed from above or from the side, and the carry over into the waking world isn’t so strong as to cause injury.”

  “I just don’t understand how it could be connected to me. I don’t recognise the witch, or the place it happened. The dream, it was somewhere… old. Really old, I think. It looked a bit like a temple.” I close my eyes, letting myself picture the place, and I’m surprised at how easily the image comes into focus in my brain. Like a perfect shot captured forever in my memory. Nothing’s ever been clearer. “It was definitely a temple. There were images carved into the walls, and columns everywhere.”

  “As strange as it may seem, events can tangle themselves together hundreds, even thousands of years apart. Whatever you saw, you would be wise to look into it further for answers. It might be a good thing if you were to have more dreams. Perhaps you will find more information to bring you some clarity as to why you experienced this?”

  “I don’t know about that,” I respond quickly, as I recall the bloodshed from the nightmare. Unfortunately for me, the bodies are perfectly captured in my mind too. The images are far too clear, and I feel my stomach churning.