Fae Witch Chronicles Books 1 - 3 Read online

  In the kitchen, I fling the basement door open and it slams against the wall. It makes a satisfying gunshot sound, my message being, Do I sound scared? Because you sure as hell should be. I’m guessing it’s most likely a demon, meaning a great big pain in the ass. What are the odds on my first job? But fine. Demon it is then. The problem being that the word “demon” encompasses a broad range of undesirables, meaning I could be about to encounter anything from an imp to a gorgon.

  “Hey, fuckface!” I call out, figuring that term applies across the board. I flick the light on and stomp my way down the cellar stairs. “Did you seriously just threaten me?”

  Of course, as soon as I get down there, the lights sputter a few times, then cut out altogether. The room plunges into total darkness. This doesn't particularly surprise me. Messing with your mind is what demons do, and their specialty is knowing what throws you off balance. So, naturally the prick knows that dark cellars freak me out.

  On the other hand, I'm sufficiently juiced up from supernatural agitation that sparking a magical flare won’t be a problem. I do so now, a shimmering orb appearing in my upturned palm. “Dude, do you even know what a veil witch is? Because if you had half a brain, you'd have—”

  I stop as the light spreads to reveal the figure of a woman. A chill runs down my spine as my pulse escalates. Oh, shit. It's her. Of course it's her, since like a total idiot I was just thinking about her minutes ago. I basically served up my deepest fears on a platter.

  “Did you miss me?” Opal says.

  I saw her in this form only once, when I was eleven, just before she took me. She steps toward me as she did then, tall and graceful, with long black hair and piercing gray eyes. The woman who stole my childhood. The woman who inhabited my body for fifteen years.

  “Of course, I never really left you,” she says, almost purring. “Did I? I’ve known you like no one else ever will. After all, I’ve lived inside you.” Opal’s laugh echoes against hard walls.

  I stand paralyzed with fear, my heart pounding in my chest. Part of me knows she’s dead—that I, in fact, killed her. A much deeper part of me, the child who first encountered her, remains forever terrified. Because she’s right. I’ll never truly be free of her.

  The light I hold in my hand continues to dim, the darkness seeping in again around me. Suddenly, there’s a different voice—a voice I feel more than hear. Hey, are you okay? My connection with Julia breaks the spell. The orb in my hand flares back to life, dispelling the darkness.

  Still, the Opal clone tries again. “When you lie awake at night, when you’re alone in the dark, I’ll be there waiting. You know it’s true.”

  I let the orb float free and it rises, light spreading. Then I use a practiced gesture to invoke the magic I’ve just recently learned. My pant leg lifts and the sheath unsnaps. The demon glances down, seeing what’s strapped to my calf, a dagger already glowing with magic. Yep, that does it. The illusion of Opal fades, another form taking her place.

  I stare, both repulsed and fascinated by a creature resembling a baboon crossed with a vulture crossed with a shit-ton of ugly. It stands hunched on all fours, blinking back at me through beady yellow eyes set wide by a large hooked beak. It flaps bat-like wings, as if trying to blow out the orb, which glares bright enough now that I too have to squint. “Damn, you’re hideous,” I say. “What the hell are you?”

  The demon ignores my question. Instead, it tries to bluff. “You don’t really think a knife can kill me.”

  As if in response, the dagger flies into my readied hand, its handle snapping into my palm. The glow of the double-edged blade intensifies, as tendrils of greenish-white light wrap themselves up my forearm.

  “Well, it’s not just a regular knife,” I say. “It’s an athame. One presently imbued with magic. You get that, right?”

  The demon studies me, then nods.

  “Okay, good,” I say. “Just making sure we’re on the same page. And you do understand that I’m a witch.”

  Something like a grin splits the demon’s beak, revealing rows of pointed teeth. “Witches have no power over my kind. Nothing mortal does.”

  “Well, that’s just it,” I say. “At the moment, I’m on something of a temporary immortality visa. Long story, but I’m not just a regular witch. I’m a veil witch.”

  The demon shakes its gruesome head, confused. “What’s a veil witch?”

  “A special kind of witch,” I say. “A psychopomp.”

  “A psycho-what?”

  Yeah, I know. It’s a term I first heard from Autumn. It still sounds weird to me too, and I am one.

  “It’s from mythology,” I say. “Psychopomps guide souls from this realm into the next. But we also act as gatekeepers. Kind of like—” I glance once more at the asshole who just burrowed into my mind. “Oh, fuck it. Never mind.”

  I release my hold on the athame’s grip and it shoots through the air, its blade plunging into the demon’s chest. As if tethered by elastic light, the dagger snaps back into my palm again handle-first. I watch as light spreads through the demon’s body, illuminating him from inside. For just a moment, I see the outlines of his ribcage and sternum. I even see what looks like several beating hearts. Then he explodes, splattering crap all over me.

  I jump back too late, crying out, “Are you shitting me?”

  Oh, my God, it stinks too, like meat left at the back of a dorm-room refrigerator over the summer. I start brushing chunks of demon from my shoulders when something like warm syrup starts dripping down from my hair. I close my eyes and grit my teeth.

  “Right, got it,” I mutter. “You must have been a Stench Demon. No wonder you didn’t want to tell me.”

  I cross the cellar and march back up the stairs. No, I’m not cleaning up. It’s not that kind of cleaning service. I make a mental note to add that to the fine print. And also to raise my rates. Fucking demons.

  CHAPTER 3

  It starts to rain as I walk to the bus stop. At some other time, that might annoy me, but I’m okay with it now. As it was, I came this close to taking a shower fully dressed back at Dean Richardson’s townhouse. Although, that was mostly psychological since, by the time I left, the smell and stains had already faded from my clothes. A reluctant check of the basement confirmed the same down there. All signs of demon splatter had vanished. I'd say as if by magic, but that's basically what it is. Well, if not magic, then supernatural properties. Whatever you call it, it amounts to the same thing. What's not of this realm to begin with can't leave any remains. Thankfully, that aspect stays consistent. Now if there was just some way to keep them from creeping in here to begin with.

  How all of that works is a mystery. Part of me thinks it's just a matter of where there's a will, there's a way. And maybe it's as simple as that, given just how many different kinds of supernatural vermin there are creeping around. I don't suppose the mechanics involved really matter much, other than to say that the place we call home is infested and has been for some time. That part, I’ve come to accept. But what I didn’t think possible, until recently, was that I’d find myself trespassing in another realm. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that one.

  It happened a month ago, on an October evening that was mild even for Richmond standards. Not surprisingly, on that night I wasn’t alone in thinking it might be nice to take a walk by the canals. For once, I’d been without a supernatural agenda. I wasn’t out looking to make dust of vampires, face off with demons, or expel more body snatchers from the human realm. I’d imagined myself to be just like those others around me who’d stepped out for a stroll. Of course, imagining my life being anything close to normal is just asking for weird shit to happen.

  At first, I thought it was one of the murals that caught my eye. A huge black bird spread out across the concrete, with golden eyes and a feather crown of bright blue and purple. It’s a cool mural, one I’ve looked at before. But this time, it only served to draw my attention toward something else. A shimmering. A nearly invisi
ble rippling in the air. I shook my head, making sure it wasn’t some trick of the light, then reached out a tentative hand. The rippling parted, a seam opening at my touch. If I’d had an ounce of sense, I would have started walking again. But if I have one consistent trait, it’s that I remain dangerously curious. I looked around to be sure no one was watching, then reached out again. This time, when the curtain parted, I stepped through.

  I found myself standing in a snowbound forest, surrounded by trees seemingly made of glass. Sunlight gleamed past ice-encrusted branches above, and I looked past them to see a sky of pale violet. It seemed like I should feel cold, but I felt somehow less cold than I had moments before, in this place where nothing stirred the air. A frozen world that wasn’t freezing. It made no sense, but none of it made sense. I’d experienced many dreams less dreamlike.

  I turned to look behind me, seeing more of the same. Rows of trees reached toward the sky, their smooth bark of varying colors. Some were a shade of peach, others sunflower yellow, others purple and some a pale green. I listened, hearing nothing but my own breathing as short puffs of air left my mouth. Any sign of the seam through which I’d passed was gone, but that didn’t concern me as I gazed around.

  I took a step forward, breaking the stillness as my boot punctured the crust of icy snow. The sound echoed through the woods. I took another step, then stopped again, expecting to hear a bird take flight, or the startled scurry of a small animal. I heard neither. I reached out to touch a pale blue tree, running my fingers up its trunk to where one tiny sprig held a miniature azure leaf, suspended frozen. The otherworldly beauty of that tiny blue bud, encased and glistening, held me captivated. It felt like the tree had given one last attempt to bloom before finally succumbing to an unexpected winter. How long had it remained that way? Months? Years? I stood staring in that alien landscape, feeling as if I too had become frozen in time.

  That’s when I heard it. Something thumping against the ground, at first nearly imperceptible but becoming louder. The footsteps of someone running, followed by the sound of ragged breathing. I peered beyond the trees to see a figure drawing closer, a girl running toward me across the snow covered clearing. She was young, maybe sixteen, wearing a simple gray dress. Her long red curls whipped wildly behind her, as her brown eyes searched wildly for cover. Her freckled cheeks were flushed from exertion, and her mouth agape as she gasped for air.

  Then I heard a drumming against the earth, the unmistakable sound of galloping horses. The girl was almost to the trees, where she might have stood a chance of escape, when her desperate gaze locked onto mine. In that dreamlike moment, my eyes took in yet more details—her flaring nostrils, the tears coursing down her cheeks, the island of a birthmark upon the pale flesh of her neck. Then they were upon her.

  There were three riders, wearing leather tunics and leggings, each with a sword at his side. They seemed comprised of all sharp angles. Tall brows, thin faces and high cheekbones. Straight noses and square jaws. But it was their eyes that arrested me most. One had light purple irises, one eyes of tangerine, and another of green so pale that they glimmered like sea glass. They had porcelain skin and long blonde hair. They were both striking and frightening, as they rode in a circle around the terrified girl, their profiles revealing yet more sharp angles, this time ears tapering to points.

  The girl spun helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Leave me alone!”

  The men laughed, revealing gleaming teeth to match the snow. One of them said, “Where, exactly, did you think you were going?”

  “Home! I want to go home!”

  Another man cocked his head in mock-confusion. “Don’t you like it here?”

  “Just let me go!”

  The men brought their horses to a stop. One of them dismounted, dropping to the ground and walking toward the girl. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” he said. “Not at this time.”

  Her voice rose to a piercing wail. “Then, when? Just tell me when!”

  He spoke calmly. “In time,” he said. “In time.”

  “You’re lying!”

  He grabbed hold of the girl’s arm, the others dismounting to encircle her. Grins rose upon their faces as they closed in. The certainty of what was about to happen broke my horrified trance. I ran toward her, about to call out, when more hooves pounded the earth. Another man rode up, standing out in contrast to the others with jet black hair and dark brown eyes. He wore no shirt beneath his tunic, his tan arms bulging with muscles. He reared his horse back, bringing it to a stop. He looked down upon the other men with disgust.

  “Let her go,” he commanded.

  I stopped running, my breaths rising in sharp, all too audible gasps. The man who’d just rode up jerked his head in my direction. His eyes found mine just as something latched onto my arm and pulled. I stumbled backwards into the dark, coming to a stop as I slammed into someone.

  “Shit, watch where you’re going,” a guy said.

  I spun around, disoriented and dizzy.

  “Hey, are you okay?” a girl said.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, then opened my eyes again. I was back at the canals, standing across from two people, a couple holding hands.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Yes, I’m okay.”

  The girl stared at me. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sorry,” her boyfriend said, his voice softening. “It was like you came out of nowhere.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Don’t worry about it. Really. I’m sorry.”

  I cast my gaze down and started walking. I didn’t look back as I walked toward the stairs that would take me back up to the bright lights of the city street.

  CHAPTER 4

  It’s only when I get on the bus that I remember that psychic ping I got from Julia before. I check my phone to see that she both texted and tried to call. I wait for the bus to get moving before calling her back, since the background rumble might keep people from hearing our conversation. You never know where things might go when talking to someone you once shared a body with.

  Julia picks up on the second ring. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

  I smile at the sound of her voice. I always do, since it’s still novel to hear it from the outside. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for checking in.”

  “More like responding to an alarm. I got a really bad feeling all of a sudden.” Julia keeps panting as she talks, like she’s short of breath.

  “I guess you must be worried. You sound like you’re having a heart attack.”

  At this, the old lady next to me glances over. I offer her a soft smile, then look away.

  “I’m at the gym,” Julia says. “On the elliptical.”

  “It’s like nine o’clock. What are you doing at the gym?”

  “I just told you, using the elliptical.”

  “What’s an elliptical? Isn’t that like a lunar phase?”

  The old lady looks over again, inadvertently creasing her brow. Evidently, she knows what an elliptical is.

  “Not an eclipse, an elliptical. It’s a thing you run on.” She keeps huffing and puffing.

  “Like a treadmill?”

  “Yes, like a treadmill. Crossed with a bike. But you stand up and it has big pedals. Are you for real? It helps keep your butt in shape too.”

  “Why are you worried about your butt?”

  I can feel the old lady trying not to look over again. I glance at her sidelong and she stares rigidly ahead.

  “I’m not worried about my butt. I was worried about you. Like I said, I got a bad feeling. I tried to call.”

  “When did you start working out? We never used to work out.”

  “You never wanted to work out! I kept trying to get you to, but you just wanted to sit around watching Netflix all the time.”

  I can’t help but grin. “But I didn’t have a body then, remember?”

  I feel eyes boring into the side of my head. I definitely need to ride on louder buses.

  “You had my body! Which,
by the way, gained like ten pounds binge-watching five seasons of the Walking Dead with you. Whatever. What were you dealing with?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Cassie?”

  “Okay, demon. Not a very strong one. I took care of it.”

  The old lady starts rummaging through her purse, possibly trying to distract herself, or possibly searching for a weapon.

  “Oh, geez,” Julia says. “I knew something was up. Are you sure you’re okay? What else is going on?”

  “I’m fine.” Which is true, I am. “Nothing else is going on,” I add, to reassure her. Not entirely true, but still. I tell Julia about most things. How can I not, considering the past we share? But I haven’t yet mentioned visiting that icy realm where I saw the trapped girl. She just doesn’t need that, at least until I know more. All it would do is freak her out.

  “I get the feeling you’re not being fully forthright.”

  Right, psychic. How can I possibly forget that part?

  “Seriously, it was just a low level demon. But it splattered crap all over me when I killed it.”

  “Oh, okay. I knew there was something else.”

  The idea is to make Julia feel better. Which seems to work, since her breathing slows to an even pace. So, maybe it was a little bit elliptical and a little bit anxiety. I can’t help but feel guilty, even if I’m lying to protect her.

  The old lady, on the other hand, doesn’t seem comforted at all. She glares at me, clutching her purse hard. She gets up, pushes past me, and starts making her way toward the front of the bus, even though it’s not slowing for a stop.

  Okay, be that way. It’s not my fault I’m a witch who shared a body with another person, who now hunts down bogeymen to pay the rent. I get that it’s a little different. But she still didn’t have to step on my foot.