The DarkWorld SoulTracker Series Box Set Vol II

by T. G. Ayer

  Cloud cover rendered the night dark, and Drake and I struggled to make out a path up to the house that wouldn’t have us falling on our faces in ten seconds flat. The ground was rocky and filled with holes, making the trek from the border of the property to the pump house a nightmare I would have preferred to avoid. As much as I would have loved for Drake to just jump us straight into the house, I knew that could possibly be asking for trouble.

  We had no idea what kind of destructive magic the witch-doctor had set up around the property. We’d survived this far. But there was no guarantee we’d make it any further.

  I studied the house and found myself relying on Drake for the next move. I was so tired, exhausted from the haunting, in pain after the beating. I’d begun to get lazy, depending on Drake to come up with the next move, the next plan to get us closer.

  Why was I giving up the control, giving up the lead?

  I sighed. It wasn’t important who was in the lead. Just that we succeeded.

  I stared at the house, studied the land surrounding the building, the acres of neat lawn, rows, and rows of beautiful trees. It all looked perfect. Like a show home.

  Because that’s what it was. A base, but not a home.

  Sighing, I began to turn away from the house, intent on telling Drake that this was a waste of time when something caught my eye. I spun back so fast that Drake paused beside me, touching my arm.

  “Wait a sec,” I whispered the words as I stared again at the house. Moments later I clicked my tongue. “Of course.”

  I shifted my head until I could see the house out of the corner of my eye, and sure enough, the haze of the magical ward came into view.

  “Just as I expected.”

  “A ward?” When I nodded Drake said, “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”

  “You sound like you admire him.” My tone was accusatory.

  “You’re seriously telling me that you don’t see everything he’s done so far and think that it was quite brilliant? We’ve all been pawns in some great game, ignorant of the machinations of this other being. He put a curse on you. Why? Who is he in the greater scheme of things? Why you? There’s a shit-ton of questions that need to be answered. And until we find him we’re going to be clueless.”

  “And even if we do find him what if he refuses to tell us the truth?”

  Drake patted my shoulder. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, ok?”

  I grunted and faced the house. I was about to say that I hoped that bridge didn’t come when I caught sight of a shadow crossing one of the basement windows at the back of the house. When I glanced at Drake, the expression on his face was clear. “You saw it too?”

  He nodded. “I’ll glamor us. We can make it to the ward line. Can you get us through?”

  I sighed. “I hope to hell the Kitsune’s talisman does the job. Otherwise, we’re toast.”

  Drake snorted and got to his feet. “Let’s move. Keep with me. If we’re not in sync, the glamor will break.”

  I nodded and walked with him, matching his stride until we reached the border of the ward. The magical wall ran along the front wall of an octagonal gazebo. The white painted wood was covered in dog roses, the small flowers lit by a cloud of fireflies.

  It astounded me that this place would harbor such beauty.

  I shook my head and focused on the magic. Holding the talisman within my palm, I stepped up the back entrance of the gazebo and took a slow step toward the water.

  It vibrated around me, shimmering an odd watery blue color as I drew closer. The ward seemed to sense me, and for a moment I was terrified that it would either blow me to pieces or set off some kind of screeching banshee alarm.

  But it did neither. I moved slowly, one-half step at a time, and felt myself immersed in the magic. It wasn’t so much a barrier as it was a dense pool of magic that was deposited over the house.

  I’d never felt anything like it before. Even more unusual was that I didn’t feel any send-off of negativity or darkness in it. The magic was as light as Natasha’s, and I wondered again at what she’d said a while ago about the intent that makes the magic rather than the spell itself.

  Still, it was hard to believe that some innocent human hadn’t been sacrificed in order to strengthen that magic. Just because it didn’t shimmer the color of blood or of a venomous poison didn’t mean the magic wasn’t dark.

  I was now fully within the power, and nothing happened. I turned to see Drake waiting, and I reached out to take his hand. My fingers passed the barrier and cleared the magic, and I closed them around Drake’s wrist.

  Keeping ahold of him, I began to pull him slowly into the bubble of the ward. I moved slowly again, careful not to disturb the magic too much. The expression on Drake’s face was priceless.

  He looked somewhere between constipated and confused.

  When he was finally at my side, I beckoned for him to walk with me. I’d begun to suspect that the barrier consisted of a very thick outer wall and that we were still within it. A few more steps and we popped out, my ears ringing as if I’d adjusted altitude too fast.

  The moment we were free of the ward, we ran.

  We crossed the lawn and threw ourselves against the wall, sliding quickly to the ground. Rows of basement windows lined the bottom of the wall, and I sank closer attempting to peer inside. But the windows were blacked out.

  “Can you see inside?” I whispered to Drake.

  He hunkered down beside me. “No. Probably painted black from the inside.”

  I wanted to groan but suppressed the urge and leaned against the wall. “We need to check each one. They could have slipped up,” I said hoping I was right.

  We crawled along the wall checking window after window and, as I’d expected my luck sucked.

  “Great,” I whispered, sinking down to the hard-packed dirt skirting the wall. We’d reached the corner, and I peered around it as Drake drew alongside me. “Perimeter check?” I asked, keen to get on with it.

  Drake shook his head, his dark eyes glittering in the cast-off light from a nearby security light. “You stay here, I’ll use my glamor and have a look-see.” I relented and nodded, then watched him walk off, bold as ever.

  I frowned. He was walking away, but I couldn’t see any sign of his glamor. His camouflage magic usually appeared as a shadowy haze around him.

  Shit. His glamor isn’t working.

  I crouched forward. “Drake,” I whispered as loudly as I could without it turning into a shout. He turned—thankfully—and I beckoned him frantically toward me. When he didn’t move, I swung my hands up making giant crosses and shaking my head. Even I knew my signs would make no sense to anyone.

  Drake just stood there, calmly staring at me, so very confident that his glamor shielded him from any onlooker.

  A light went on upstairs, shining directly onto the gargoyle and I didn’t wait a single second. I ran at him, tackled him and dropped him to the ground, falling with him and rolling beyond the pool of light that would have revealed him to anyone looking out at the lawn.

  Drake grunted as I used his chest to push myself upright. “What the hell, Mel?”

  “Glamor,” I whispered trying to cough out the soil that had somehow gotten stuck in my throat.

  “What?” he whispered loudly as he got to his feet and scooped me up in his arms.

  I glared at him, embarrassed at being carried so easily. I swatted his arm. “I am fully capable of walking.”

  “Not fast enough for me,” he snapped as we reached the safety of the wall and he set me back on my feet. “Now, care to explain what that fucking fiasco was?”

  I cleared my throat softly. “Your glamor,” I whispered, a little worried that he wouldn’t believe me. “It wasn’t working.”

  “What do you mean?” His features pinched as he stiffened and stared at me.

  I spoke slowly, as if addressing a child. “Your glamor was not working. Anyone up in the house would have seen you clear as day if I hadn�
��t knocked you on your ass.”

  “No shit.” He looked so confused that I found myself feeling sorry for him. Even though he was yet to thank me for saving him.

  I nodded. “No shit.”

  Chapter 20

  Drake stared out at the pool of light still burning a path up the lawn. He’d have been made if I hadn’t shoved him out of the way. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” I shifted on my feet encouraging him to follow me along the wall to the nearest corner. “What I’d like to know is why the hell your glamor failed. And how the hell such a thing is even possible? I had no idea anyone could erase a person’s glamor.”

  “Neither did I,” Drake grumbled keeping pace.

  We reached the corner and peered around to scan the rear lawn of the property. A small building sat about a hundred yards from the main house, probably once stables or servants’ quarters harking back to a time in which I was glad I didn’t live. Now, it was most likely a garage or a caretaker’s quarters.

  I glanced over at Drake and acknowledged his nod. We both hurried across toward the darkened building and plastered ourselves to the siding. A keening voice sounded from nearby, and I frowned.

  “Didn’t sound like it came from inside,” said Drake, voicing my suspicions.

  I scanned the area, shifting so that I came to the corner of the building. Beyond was a large field, and further back, lay a dense forest of trees. Lights flickered in the field, and I squinted to get a better look.

  Sighing, I sank back and gave Drake an impatient glare.

  “I’m going to project.” My voice was firm as I spoke, preparing myself for a fight.

  Drake glanced over at me, but I couldn’t see his full expression in the darkness. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “You have other bright ideas?” I widened my eyes, glaring at him, challenging him to come up with a plan that was better than astral projection.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he said, “I’ll go scout the area.”

  “Sure,” I snapped. “With what glamor?”

  “I can sneak around without getting caught.” He spoke as if he wasn’t sure anymore. What the hell had happened to Drake on his trip home to give him such a knock to his confidence? Or was it the whole losing-the-glamor thing that had him squirming?

  I sighed. “Look. I know you’re worried about me. I’m worried about me too. But man, I’m so freaking tired of being cotton-balled. If I die projecting tonight at least I’ll know I went trying to do something good.”

  “And saving yourself is good,” he said sagely.

  I clicked my tongue. “In case you didn’t notice, this asshole is killing innocent girls.” I lifted an eyebrow at Drake wondering again what was wrong with him. How had he not realized how serious this was? “At this point, I’d be happy with just one life saved.”

  Drake appeared apologetic. “Sorry, Mel. That whole glamor thing threw me for a loop.”

  I patted him on the back. “I figured as much.” I paused, taking in his darkened face, hidden by the shadows.

  He stiffened. “You stay here. I’ll check if the coast is clear. I’ll be back.” And then he was off, crouching low on the ground, keeping to the shadows. I couldn’t see him well myself, so I suspected he’d be ok, but I was furious.

  I’d told him what the plan was and he’d deliberately gone against it. I wasn’t pulling rank. In fact, I’d never needed to before. We’d always had a plan, and we’d always stuck to that plan. Now I just wasn’t sure where Drake’s head was at.

  Was it his pride that guided him now? Because he just had to prove himself even in the face of his failure? I hoped that such a need wasn’t going to get in the way of Drake. We’d been through thick and thin, so many cases, so much hardship.

  Just as Drake’s dark form disappeared into the tree line, a blood-curdling scream rent the air. I swallowed a gasp and slammed myself against the wall behind me. My heart raced, and I found my body shaking. I had to force myself to calm down, to take a deep breath.

  I was tempted to sink into the projection immediately, but the dangers were too great. Projection would leave my physical form vulnerable, and with Drake gone, I couldn’t run the risk of being discovered while I was out of body.

  I searched the lawn as well as the tree line and found a small copse. From where I crouched, the stand of trees was dark, dense as if grown to hide something, likely a generator or a water pump. Before I could allow myself to come up with excuses as to why I should stay where I was, I got up and raced for the trees. I hunkered low and kept in the shadows following almost the same path as Drake, only veering left suddenly before diving into the copse.

  I ran full force into what appeared to be a sealed well. Thankfully, the mouth was covered with a piece of solid wood, or I would have fallen straight into the hole in the ground.

  Sucking in my rushed breath I skirted the well, ducking to avoid the branches that seemed to reach out for my hair as I passed. I paused twice to detangle my hair from the branches, swearing softly and forcing myself to be patient and remove all the strands from the tree with care.

  I’d heard of black magic done with a person’s hair. It was apparently a strong form of magic, one powerful enough to attack the victim and kill them within days depending on the spell. And I refused to leave my hair behind so that someone else could perform another kind of voodoo on me. I was about done with dark magic.

  Finally free, I moved around and sank to the ground, peering into the trees.

  Again, the scream ripped the night air open, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The sound was not coming from the fields or from the tree line.

  My mouth dropped open in shock. How had I not suspected it was possible.

  I turned slowly, and stared at the well. Though covered by a circle of wood and well-sealed, the sides of the stone well were marked with holes; areas where two to three stones had been removed and filled with concrete and chicken wire.

  Someone had created air vents on the sides of the well through which I’d heard the girl scream.

  I crouched down and drew closer, peering into the vented holes. But the spaces were narrow and shallow, and didn’t allow an angle of vision that would have permitted me to see to the bottom of the well.

  I sighed. There was only one thing to be done. I got to my feet and felt the edges of the wooden lip, hoping to find a latch or a hinge, something to tell that it was possible to open the well up.

  But though I felt around the edge of the entire lid, I found it to be solidly sealed, leaving me with only one choice.

  Projection.

  Drake wasn’t going to be happy.

  I sank to the ground, feeling a little safer here, hidden amongst the thick trees. I settled against a thick weeping willow, arranging the fronds around me so even if someone entered the copse they were more than likely to miss me.

  I closed my eyes and sent my consciousness out of my body, searching into the depths of the well.

  I hovered as I sank into the well, a little afraid of what I would see. But what greeted me was beyond my expectations in more ways than one.

  The tunnels beneath the well were a network of corridors, candles flickering at the entrances, fat stubs perching on bricks high up on the walls, or settled in small groups on the stone floor. I drifted along the most brightly lit one, instinct drawing me toward a large set of iron doors that sat ajar.

  I floated inside and scanned the room.

  Three silk covered mattresses lay on the floor in a triangle, each of the girls placed feet to head. Within the center of the triangle stood a hooded man, he held a book in his hand and was chanting words I didn’t recognize, seeming to read from the pages in a sing-song way.

  The girls were dressed in red-and-white robes and lay deathly still, all staring up at the brick-lined ceiling. I drew closer. And had to bite my tongue to prevent the scream that threatened to spill from my lips.

  Their garments wer
e not red in color. In fact, they were covered in white sheets so soaked in blood that they glistened a bright red. But the fabric did not hide their entire bodies. Instead, the soaking linens were draped only waist down. From hip to neck, their skins were marked with tiny cuts, each bleeding so much that they appeared to be covered in blood.

  And the more I studied the torture they’d been subjected to, the more I saw what had been done to them.

  Their faces had been made up, the make-up artists supremely talented. Their hair had been styled, braided and curled as if for a fancy occasion. Even their fingernails had been painted, all the same, saucy red, just a shade brighter than the blood in which they were now soaked.

  The hooded man continued to chant, and I used the opportunity to get closer. He turned as I closed in, the lower portion of his face revealed as he spoke the words.

  What I saw sent me straight back into my physical body.

  I was too shocked to think, too shocked to move.

  It was a fertility ritual centered on the sexual organs of the three women.

  And the hooded figure was eating the sacrifices.

  Chapter 21

  I swallowed the deep desire to scream and scrambled to my feet. Peering through the trees of the copse, I checked the grounds. Darkness coated the land, and the fields were also silent now, as if sensing that the evil deed was done.

  Taking a deep breath, I ran full tilt for the smaller building where I huddled against the siding for a few moments before making a bee-line for the front of the property.

  As I ran, I scanned my surroundings for any sign of Drake. That I got none made my stomach turn. Where the hell was he?

  I had only one thing on my mind—get away.

  I raced from the shadows along the side of the house, skidding to a stop beside the gazebo. As I slipped through the ward, I wondered how Drake was planning on getting through. Hopefully, his entrance with me allowed him a return journey. Or else he was screwed because at the moment it didn’t matter to me that Drake was absent and unaccounted for. All I could think about were the three girls and their horrific deaths.