A Stake With a View (You Are The Worst Witch! Goodbye!) (A Wicked Good Witches Paranormal Romance Book 6) (7 page)

“Take it from someone that could win awards for beating themselves up over things they have no control over... and perhaps it’s time for our families to be allies again. We were once. Maybe our generation is smart enough not to let history repeat itself.”

“Do you think we’re really capable of that? Putting history behind us and starting fresh?” asked Lucas.

“I’d like to think we are.” Just because she felt this way, didn’t mean her brothers or William did. Not yet anyway. It seemed like they were coming around.

Lucas cast her a wry smile. “Definitely starting to understand why my brother’s so crazy about you. For once, I think I can give my full approval.”

The way his eyes lingered on her, reddened her cheeks. She turned away, busying herself with brewing another pot of coffee, not that she needed more caffeine on top of the three cups she’d already had that morning.

“So, Lucas, since you aren’t into the magic thing, what are you into? Did you go to school for anything in particular?”

“No college. Just high school. Our parents died the summer after I graduated. Car accident,” he explained.

She’d had no idea how they’d died, only that they had. “I’m sorry. That’s also something I have personal experience with. It sucks.
Really
sucks.”

“Well, on top of the sucking, Riley was just entering high school. He’d lost so much already, I didn’t want him to change schools and friends as well. So I skipped out on college. Went right to work. To be honest though I really had no idea what to major in. It didn’t feel like a big loss to me. A relief really. The pressure to choose what I wanted to do with my life... I found that difficult to handle.”

“So what did you do for work?”

“Anything I could get my hands on, that did not include sitting on my ass in a cubicle, or being stuck indoors all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t see you doing that.”

“I don’t mind hard work. I don’t mind getting a little dirty. I like to fix things. I like to make things. I can’t think of anything more soul-sucking than sitting my ass in a chair staring into a computer screen, or pretending I enjoy talking to obnoxious know-it-all customers for eight hours a day.”

“You have some good points there, Lucas. Makes being a witch look better and better.”

“So how about you?” he asked, catching her off guard.

“Me, what?”

“Are you in school? Have you ever had a job? A day job I mean, outside of the whole being a witch thing.”

“No. No time for a day job. Being a witch pretty much takes up my free time and my not-so-free time.” She didn’t have the wherewithal to explain her self-imposed years of imprisonment.

“But let’s say suddenly tomorrow, you’re no longer a witch. What would you want to do with your life?”

Melinda watched coffee dripping into the pot, staring at each droplet falling and rippling in the carafe.

“I’ve never really given it any thought,” she admitted after a minute. “Rather pathetic, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say pathetic,” he replied kindly.

“I honestly have no idea. After my parents died, well, Mom died and Dad disappeared, I finished high school at home. William was my teacher. I never even thought about college or work. I didn’t even want to leave the house, never mind go to classes.”

Before she knew it, she was explaining her life to Lucas anyway, and found it wasn’t as wearing as she’d thought it would be just a moment ago.

“I’d just started having my prophetic dreams,” she explained. “And let’s just say I didn’t handle it so well. That’s actually putting it kind of lightly. I sort of wrote myself off. Became the island freak. Only left the mansion when I absolutely had to. It was only days before I met your brother that I had started attempting to get a life outside the house. But the job became all-consuming almost overnight. And being a Howard Witch, it pretty much comes first so having any sort of life is... kind of impossible.”

“You shouldn’t give up,” encouraged Lucas. “I know your life is fairly laid out for you, but if you find that
something
that make you happy, you should grab onto it. Life’s too short not to.”

“Yeah, maybe. If I ever have the time to find it...”

“I’m gonna go check on my brother again. You mind bringing me a mug of that when it’s ready?” he asked, nodding to the filling coffee pot.

“Yeah, will do.”

He left her alone. No one had ever asked Melinda what she wanted from life before, and she’d never given it any thought. Was there something wrong with her? That she’d never even had any desires for her future... other than for the way too hot vampire that lived in her house, and the molasses eyed motorcycle man currently tied up in her basement (that wanted to torture and kill said vampire).

“Thoughts for another day,” she muttered, while opening up a cupboard over the coffee pot. “Perfect.” She grabbed a box of toasted-coconut-covered chocolate donuts. “It’s a donut kind of day.”

She grabbed two coffee filled mugs, put the box under her arm and headed down to the basement, curious suddenly as to whether gargoyles liked donuts.

CHAPTER 6

With every hour that passed, Eva Jordan was getting her strength back. She was up and walking around a bit now, however painful spasms periodically caught her off guard as the vampire venom worked its way out of her veins. Even with the potion Sir Tinkham Sickereaux, otherwise called, Stricker, had provided, she’d still need more time to heal fully. But being back on her feet was a good start.

The Feyk were busy preparing to cast a summoning spell; one meant to summon the Soul Hunter. The key, Stricker explained, was that the Hunter would only answer the call if there was the promise of a new soul. They did not have one to offer in trade, however they did have something else the Hunter wanted more. Its freedom. A way to get off the Isle.

Eva had explained to the Feyk about the lighthouses and the doorways hidden in each. How Lizzy Deane had used a spell to lock them shut; she even knew exactly what Lizzy had said to close them, being that William had written it in the diary.

“I bet he never expected that to backfire,” she delighted haughtily.

The Feyk were now working on a way to undo the late ghast’s magic so they could free the Hunter. They were hoping to strike a bargain, its freedom for the release of Jack Howard.

Unfortunately for Eva, she was the only soul the Hunter might be interested in collecting; therefore, she’d have to be the bait. Stricker insisted she’d been in no danger and would not be traded. Only used to entice…

Eva was sure to remind Stricker and the Feyk that she hadn’t yet told them where the power source was supposed to be located, just in case they got any ideas. She did not want her soul traded as part of some trick on their part… she was bait only.

Of course, the Hunter already knew the location of the source as well. It didn’t give her much to bargain with, should the Feyk decide to turn on her. So she also reminded Stricker that she was the only living person that had read the Howard’s diary.

“You know,” he scowled after her third reminder. “We made a bargain. I do not break bargains. And I’m well aware of how valuable your knowledge is.”

She didn’t like the way he said this. There were subtle hints of threat in his tone.

“Sir, sir,” a voice called out.

Stricker turned to see one of his cohorts running into the fort. “Yes.”

“We’ve figured it out. Broken the witches spell. We can open the door to release the Hunter.” Like Stricker, there was a hint of slither in his tone as he spoke.

The Feyk leader licked his lips as if he could taste their success.

It was time to call the Hunter.

He ordered a few of his Feyk to various parts of the Isle, to keep an eye out for the Howards and keep the locals focused on the sightings, and told those remaining behind to ready themselves. He motioned for Eva to join him. She did, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Don’t worry,” he buzzed. “Once we tell the Hunter we can free him, he will not care about collecting your soul.”

“I hope you’re aware that it won’t be as easy as just freeing Jack Howard? The witches
will
put up a fight. And I would not underestimate them.”

“I’ve already got the perfect time bomb waiting to explode,” he blathered triumphantly. “One that will solve more than one of our problems.”

Eva nodded and moved to the center of a circle. The Feyk began to chant around her. Their chant called to the Hunter, offering a soul in return for his presence. Eva gulped, her throat thick with tension as she waited breathlessly. If the Feyk tricked her and the Hunter collected her soul, she’d never avenge her father’s death. Never mind her mother’s death, the reason she’d come to the damn island to begin with.

The Soul Hunter arrived much faster than she expected.

Swirling streams of ink-colored veils encircled her body and once again she found her body weakened and unable to move; the Hunter ready to claim her soul. Terrifying sounds stabbed at her ears. Wailing. Shrieking. Sorrowful moans that filled every fiber of her being with an icy fear.

The Hunter never fully materialized, always moving, never stopping, never solid. And yet its presence consumed her and chilled her to the bone. Her heart squeezed in her chest, pounding heavily against her skin.

This had better go as Stricker planned.

The Feyk leader spoke to the Hunter in a language she’d never heard before and didn’t understand. It sounded like fast clicking and clucking, none of which made any sense.

Stricker clapped his hands together. “Magnificent!”

“We have a deal?” questioned Eva.

“All too easy really,” he said.

The pressure surrounding Eva lessened, the black streams dissolving. The Hunter disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“That was… fast,” she spoke breathlessly, her body and soul freed of the Hunter’s icy grasp.

“You almost sounded grateful when you said that,” Stricker noted.

“Have you ever had your soul on the verge of being sucked out of your body? Oh right… you don’t have one, do you?”

Stricker grinned in devilish approval. “I’d dare say you barely have one yourself my dear.”

Eva stumbled, her strength waning. Even just a moment under the Hunter’s spell, her energy had lessened. The vampire blood still stuck in her veins heightened the effect. She pushed away a Feyk attempting to assist her.

It turned away, slithering out, “Suit yourself.”

“Still so untrusting,” chastised Stricker. “And here I thought we were making progress.”

Eva glared at him. “Would
you
trust you?”

Stricker cast his eerie grin in reply and instead of answering, said, “As we expected, the Hunter wants off the Isle, and he’s willing to give up Jack Howard to do that.”

“So he is alive, inside that thing?”

“Yes.”

Eva shuddered at the thought of being held captive by that creature.
At least it’s not me…
“Can we trust that the Hunter will release Jack?”

“The Hunter fulfills its bargains, as do we,” buzzed Stricker. “Do you think we’d have stayed in business this long, if we did not?” He was growing tired of her distrust and doubt.

“Fine,” she replied tersely. She wanted this business done. As soon as she knew the Feyk would do away with the vampire, she’d tell them where the power source was located and get off this hell hole of an island.

She gasped when another Feyk popped in out of nowhere. Their constant popping in and out was making her jumpy.

“Stricker,” it called out, tossing a head bow in his leader’s direction.

“Speak.”

“The bookstore witch. Followed her. She went to work, and home.”

“Any report on the others?” asked Stricker.

“Not yet. We were forced to leave the Howard property.”

“Forced how?”

“Gargoyles, Sir. Not awake, yet… but they will be soon. Night approaches.”

“Interesting. Yes, they would give away our presence. This complicates things a bit.”

“You’ve been watching the Howards?” questioned Eva.

“Yes. Following their movements. Learning their plans. Gaining some leverage.”

“Leverage,” repeated Eva. She crossed her arms. “The Howards are
good
… when I say
good
, I mean that they cannot skip out on the chance to save someone in trouble. If you want leverage... there it is.”

“What can you tell me about the bookstore witch?” asked Stricker.

“I don’t know who you’re...” it dawned on her. “You mean Emily. She’s Michael Howard’s girlfriend. But she’s not
a
witch
.”

The manner in which she spoke piqued Stricker’s interest.

“This is another one of those helpful things I read about in the diary,” said Eva. A dark desire welled up inside her. Perhaps she was being too hard on the Feyk. Perhaps with her father now gone, a new partnership was in order. Perhaps she could carry out his plans. Same ending, different path to get there.  

Stricker waited to hear her proposal.

Eva’s lips turned into a cruel grin. “I’m feeling like it’s time for a little payback. Shake things up a little. Show the Howard Witches that we mean business.”

“We?” gloated Stricker.

“Is that a problem now?”

“I like
we
,” he reveled. “Come now my dear, and tell me all your naughty plans.”