The Lost Daughter: Hells Hallow Book One

by Bo Reid

  “Yup, dark witch here,” I joke again and raise my hand, this time allowing the sparks to actively jump between my fingers and lick across my palm.

  “How?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Long story.”

  He glances down, finally noting the duffle bag in my other hand. “You’re leaving.”

  “Have to.”

  “Were you going to say goodbye?” he asks, hurt evident in his tone as he slowly shakes his head in disbelief.

  “No,” I state, my voice lacking any emotions. If I can convince Michael that I’m unaffected by having to leave the coven, then maybe, just maybe, I can also convince myself.

  “You were just going to leave me?” he asks as his face begins to pale, and his tone rises.

  “What do you want me to say here, Michael? What was I supposed to do, find you, spill my life out to you, and then say okay, I’ll catch ya later, but probably not because I gotta go be a dark witch now, and you’re still very much a pure white witch.”

  “You don’t have to be dark, Tanda, you can use your powers for good things. I know you can, you just have to make a choice.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Michael. And if it did, I wouldn’t want to try and change. This isn’t my life, this was never meant to be my home, and I don’t belong in this coven. Never did. You and me? We don’t belong together, and we never did. Find someone else, someone better suited for you. Trust me, Michael, I was never going to be any good for you.”

  I don’t wait for his answer. Instead, I turn around and continue walking down the steps of the main hall. I make my way towards the bus stop when a classic black Chevy Impala pulls up next to me on the curb — very Supernatural.

  “Get in,” a deep voice calls from inside the cab. I bend at the waist and look inside.

  In the driver’s seat sits a man in his early forties. A thick dark beard covering his face, hair slicked back like John Travolta in Grease, and aviator-style sunglasses covering his eyes.

  “As sweet as this ride is, I don’t talk to strangers, and I certainly don’t take orders… from anyone.”

  “Tanda Morass, Deimos Clay. My coven was the brother coven to yours; your mother and father entrusted me to teach you the dark arts when the time came. That time is now. Get. In.”

  “Look, Deimos, I really don't give a fuck who you are, I don’t take orders. Not anymore, got it? I’ll get in, but only because this ride is better than the fucking bus.” I reach for the door handle and open it up, tossing my bag in the back and sliding into the front seat.

  “Just like your mother, a pain in the fucking ass, and too stubborn for your own good,” he grumbles.

  I smile to myself, biting my lower lip. Just like your mother. Hells, I hope so; it seems like she was a badass bitch, well badass witch.

  Chapter Two

  Seven Years Later

  Tanda

  “Here is good,” I tell the driver.

  “Uhm, Ma’am, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” he comments, and I bite back a smile.

  “I know. Stop the car,” I instruct, and he brakes in the middle of the two-lane road.

  I reach through the break in the divider and place my hand on his shoulder. He turns to face me, and when his gaze locks with mine, I whisper, “you were never here. We never met. You’re going to turn this car around, drive back to your house, and continue your typical schedule as if nothing ever happened.”

  “Yes,” he says in a monotone voice.

  I open my door, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder before slamming the car door. I start walking down the darkened, abandoned highway as the taxi driver turns the car around and does as he was just told; mortals are so easy. The electricity courses under my skin, lighting up the tips of my fingers. The ground vibrates under my boots the closer I get to my home. When the faint buzzing reaches my ears, I smile, stopping in the center of the road. I tentatively reach my hand out, barely brushing the cloaking shield. It sparks lightly under my touch, deadly to anyone not permitted to enter or exit. Good thing Morass blood is what originally put this shield into place, and in that blood is a little fail-safe if you will, allowing me to tamper with it to fit my own desires. And my current desire is to enter a place I do not belong and without anyone else knowing I’m here.

  A wicked smile pulls at my face as I drop my bag to the ground with a thud.

  “You fucking got this, Tanda,” I whisper to myself as I take a deep breath, a spell of this magnitude would surely drain and possibly kill any other witch. But I’m not just any witch.

  I’m a Morass witch, and there is very little I cannot do once I’ve set my mind to it.

  I close my eyes and rub my hands together, calling upon the electricity, pulling it towards the surface of my skin. When I open my eyes, the power runs over the backs of my hands, up to my arms, and down my legs. I pull my hands apart and watch the lightning skip between them. Smiling, I reach my hands out, barely grazing the barrier with my palms.

  “Patentibus,” (Open) I command as I send the lightning from my hands into the barrier. The sparks lick over the walls and up to the sky, as a doorway opens within it. I kick my bag through, stepping in behind it. Turning, I once again place my hands out to barely touch the shield, “Prope,” (Close) I command and smile when once again the cloaking shield does as it was told.

  Now for the finishing touch.

  I reach into my bag, pulling a dagger from the side pocket, removing it from its sheath, and placing it against my forearm. I bring the blade across my arm until the warm blood runs down my arm and begins to drip onto the ground.

  “In perpetuum usque in sanguine est claudere quondam iterum dicitur aperire ostium,” (Close forever until blood is once again called upon to open the door) I say as my blood drips on the ground, and my lightning flows over the shield.

  I bite my lip and smile, “they’ll have to work with me when they realize they can’t even open their own front door without my help,” I chuckle darkly to myself.

  If there is one thing I learned in the last seven years during my training, it’s that you should always hold more cards than any other player realizes. I just raised the stakes before they even have time to understand what game we’re playing.

  They’ll have no choice but to play along, and I don’t feel like sharing the rule book. I check my watch and note the time, 2:30 AM, should give me just enough time to get where I need to be. I’m somewhat surprised at how quiet everything is here, even with the time being so late, this is a town full of various beings that walk at night and make their homes in the shadows.

  Please don’t tell me I just locked myself into a town that rolls up the sidewalks at nine. I’ve spent more than enough of my life playing by the rules and adhering to curfews; I’m not about to keep that shit up here.

  Then again, I am on the very edge of town, and there probably aren’t going to be very many beings strolling around out here. Most wouldn’t be able to feel the barrier, hear the buzzing, or practically taste the magic. If they get too close, the consequences could be dire.

  I hear the sound of bats in the sky, hunting their prey; they’re either actual bats or vampires in bat form. If it's the latter, my cover will be blown sooner than I had intended it to be.

  But if not… “I request guidance,” I call and wait. The ability to have animals understand me is something I picked up a few years ago, it’s very fairytale princess-y, but also really fucking useful. I can’t understand them, at least not with actual words, but I get their gist, and most of the time, that’s good enough. It’s really not much different from training your dog to sit on command, just takes less time and treats aren’t required. Some spells are easy enough to cast to give them all their own voices, but unless I’m going to be consistently working with a specific animal, I feel it’s a waste of my time to give each and every one their own voice. Plus, that would mean taking away their voices after I am done with them, and that just seems cruel — to give them something and the
n simply take it away? Not my style.

  When a large bat swoops down from the sky a moment later, I hold my hand out, and he drops down into my palm, ready for instructions. He is adorable in a leader-of-darkness kind of way — my favorite kind. I run my hand over his head and feel his soft fur against my palm as his nails dig into my hand.

  “Take me to the Forbidden Forest,” I request. He cocks his head from side to side, studying me, no doubt wondering who I am and why I would request such a task.

  He makes a few clicking sounds before taking off in flight; I follow him as he winds his way along the darkened path. I blink a few times to give my eyes a moment to adjust as the trees begin to block off any remaining light from the moon.

  I hear the bat click, warning me of people up farther along the pathway. I can hear the crunching of brush and the snapping of twigs as I hide behind a large tree. If I try, I can extend my hearing up to one mile on a clear path, half a mile if there are obstacles like there are in the forest. But doing so often drains me if I’m not listening for something specific. Picking up the insistent white noise, mumbling voices, and sound pollution for a mile in any one direction would be enough to drive anyone insane. If I can help it, I try not to use that little gift very often,

  “Did you catch the lightning tonight?” I hear one somber male voice ask, I bite down on my lip to prevent them from curving into a smile as another burst of lightning licks across the sky.

  “Yeah, what the hell do you think they do upon that mountain to spark such a storm?” a deep voice asks.

  “Who knows, maybe its crazy dragon shifter sex,” the first one laughs as they continue down the path, talking about my little show that they are undoubtedly blaming the dragon shifters for; because technically I’m not here. Yet.

  The bat clicks once more, and I proceed down the pathway following him. About fifteen minutes later, the trees begin to thicken, the sounds of the nightlife quiet, and there is no pathway to be found.

  We walk farther into the forest, the trek a bit more work since I have to make my own trail, as well as attempt to cover my tracks. The foliage is thick from years of being untouched by footfalls, the trees block out any attempt the moon makes to shed light on my surroundings. Good thing I don’t need the light to see where I’m going, just another coven gift.

  I feel the subtle vibration of blood magic on the ground, seeping through my boots, and calling to my own blood. A wicked smile pulls at my lips as I step through the thick forest and into a small opening where a large cabin sits in the center.

  Home.

  The bat clicks and swoops down as I reach my arm out, I run my hand slowly over his head, and he nuzzles into my hand.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, and he responds with another click.

  “Can you do me one more favor?” I ask, and again he clicks his response appearing to nod his head.

  “Will you be my ears at night?” I ask, and he clicks once more.

  “Da vocem tibi,” (Give your voice) I whisper.

  He clicks a few times as he comes into his new voice, clearing his throat once before speaking. “It is an honor to serve, Miss. Morass,” he says in a low voice, and I smile.

  “Thank you, that is all for now,” I instruct, and he tips his head to me before taking off into the blackened sky.

  I take a deep breath before walking across the open space. The closer I get to the cabin, the stronger the pull of blood magic is. Reaching for my dagger, I place it against my forearm and make another cut where the other had previously healed, dripping my blood along the pathway. Opening the gates the only way possible; blood.

  My blood, the last of the Morass Coven blood.

  “Patentibus.”

  The flicker of magic sparks under my feet as my blood hits the ground with a sizzle and hiss. I reach my hand out and turn the handle of the front door, a light laugh escaping me when it opens right up. Truly that trick never gets old. Stepping inside the darkened, old cabin, I kick the door closed behind me.

  “Welcome home, Tanda,” I whisper to the empty building with a deep sigh.

  Because no one is left; they’re all dead.

  And it’s up to me to finish what they started.

  I move around the space, running a finger along the dusty surfaces. “Ignis,” (Fire) I whisper, and a small flame lights up the tip of my pointer finger. Reaching out, I place it at the wick of a black candle.

  I don’t truly need the light to see, but it makes things seem a bit less ominous. Plus, there isn’t going to be anyone out here to see the small light of a burning candle. I didn’t just spend the last seven years researching and perfecting black magic, blood spells, curses, and controlling my own powers. I also spent that time studying Hells Hallow, my new home. The place I was born, and the place where my coven gave their lives for mine.

  Gave their lives for everyone.

  In this very house, in this very spot where I stand, my coven, my parents, my family, they gave their lives for me. They believed in me when I was just a baby. They knew I would be able to handle this, to finish this. And I will, I refuse to let them down. I refuse to allow their sacrifice to be for nothing.

  “I’ll make you all proud.”

  I knew every inch of this town before I ever contemplated stepping a foot onto its cursed grounds. I know more about the residents than they know about themselves. History going back generations, scrolls that date back to the resurrection of this very land. But even with all that knowledge, with all this power, I’m still going to be reliant upon others to finish what my coven started. Honestly, that infuriates me; they have no idea what is coming for us, and I have to convince them to help me?

  A demon, siren, werewolf, vampire, dragon, and the devil all bond with a dark witch in order to save the world… It sounds like the start of a bad joke.

  Unfortunately, it’s my life.

  I walk around the open space of the cabin abandoned long ago, “I’m going to finish this, with or without them,” I whisper.

  If I’m quiet, I can hear the cries from the Lost Soul Lake even without my enhanced hearing gift, and it should be only about a mile from where I am now; it’ll be my first stop in the morning. For now, though, I need to rest, blood magic really takes a lot out of a girl, and fuck man, that travel time to get here has me beat — talk about jetlag.

  Just as I’m about to reach my hand out and cast a small spell to lock the cabin up tight for the night, I hear a light tapping on the window by the door, followed by a caw. I smirk before turning to walk over to the window and throw it open, a large black crow is perched on the old window planter box. He cocks his head side to side to study me before hopping inside. I close the window after him and watch as he jumps around the space as if he is familiar here.

  “Da vocem tibi,” I say, and watch him shake his head at me.

  “So it’s true,” he says in a gravelly voice, his tone almost a whisper.

  “What is?” I ask.

  “I never thought I would see the day that Morass blood would reclaim this land,” he says.

  “I have a job to do,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Then I am at your service,” he says with a low bow, spreading his dark wings out wide as he tips his head down in submission. The moonlight streaming in through the windows reflects a silver shine against his dark feathers. “I need eyes and ears in the daytime,” I tell him.

  “That, I can do. Anything else?” he asks.

  “I need an object from each of the leaders, one thing, nothing too large, but something of personal value. Nothing that will be immediately missed,” I inform him of his task.

  “When do you need these?” he asks.

  “Take your time, they are not an instant need, and some will be harder to get than others. By the end of the week should be fine, any sooner and you’re quite an overachiever,” I say, and he nods his head in agreement.

  “You’re going to ruin them first,” he whispers, “weaken them, make them re
alize they need you before you ever offer your help…” he trails off. “You’re going to make them beg for your help, not the other way around.”

  I smile, those that believe they rule this land won’t know what hit them when I take it back. My family’s blood is what makes this place what it is, and without a Morass witch they have suffered, they’re just too stupid to realize what they have been missing.

  I intend to show them, then I’ll make sure they know what’s coming for us. They won’t like it, alpha males never do, but this is one alpha bitch that won’t take no for an answer. I quite like my life how it is, I don’t need anyone trying to fuck it up; I suspect that will be one thing we can agree on.

  “Yes,” I finally whisper, biting my lower lip to hide the smile I can’t help. I have spent seven long years working out this plan, and it’s finally coming together piece by piece, thread by thread, I will weave my plan into the very fabric of our existence.

  “Your mother would have done the same thing, had she known what she needed to prepare for,” he whispers.

  “Did you know her?” I ask.

  “I served her. You will be hard-pressed to find any elder here that will not willingly serve the last Morass witch.”

  “Excellent,” I laugh, and my smile broadens. I move around the cabin, whispering spells to clean up the space as I go. The dust that has collected here for the last twenty-five years is thick and even coats the air I breathe into my lungs.

  “Do you know where they are?” I ask, turning around to face the large black crow.

  “This way,” he says, flapping his wings and flying towards the back of the cabin.

  I follow him outside and watch as he swoops down low and sits upon a large stone towards the back of the property. He nods his head toward the other twelve stones that line the back yard. I tentatively walk towards them, feeling the ground beneath my feet vibrate — or maybe that’s my knees weakening.

  I walk towards the two stones in the middle of the row, the two largest stones. I slowly drop to my knees, placing my hands into the grass before the mismatched headstones.