A Stake With a View (You Are The Worst Witch! Goodbye!) (A Wicked Good Witches Paranormal Romance Book 6) (11 page)

“We just went by the ferry landing downtown.”

Charlie was about to order her as calmly as possible to turn around and go home, and they could do this together, later, when he heard her shout and the line went dead.

“Ah, shitballs!” Melinda shouted. She’d lost her grip on the phone as they bounced over a pothole. It smashed against a rock.

“Sorry,” exclaimed Lucas.

“Hazard of the job. Second phone I’ve broken this summer though. Brothers are not going to be happy about that.” She could see Charlie’s face right now, freaking out that the line had gone dead.

“I’m having a hard time keeping up,” Lucas shouted back. The gargoyle took them down the road leading to White Pines. If nothing panned out, Melinda decided they’d stop and check in with Michael and Lizzy, believing them still guarding the old tree.

The gargoyle picked up speed.

Lucas did the same.

Melinda grabbed hold tight as they followed its monstrous silhouette under the silvery moonlight.

CHAPTER 11

Eva Jordan paced impatiently. She had brought the Feyk precariously close to the doorway leading to the power source, but kept them in a gully not too far away, hunkered down as they waited for the cover of darkness. Which had now descended.

Although feeling better, she still could not use her shifting ability. It wasn’t a spell the Feyk could remove... at least that’s what the Feyk claimed. It would take at least another day to wear off.

Her body was feeling physically stronger, but still not up to par. Her strength was barely more than a human woman of her size.

She didn’t have the advantage of a quicker healing solution, like vampires did. They could heal themselves with human blood. Not instantly, if the injury was severe enough, but much faster than a werewolf could.

It wasn’t fair, she often thought. Their bites were poisonous to each other, their blood paralyzing, and yet when it came to healing, vampires had it way easier.

She had no fast cure, only time to let her werewolf body heal itself.

All that considered it was far better than being dead.

Sir Tinkham Sickereaux, otherwise called Stricker, was getting on her nerves again. He wanted to know where the door was, and she kept telling him she wanted proof that the vampire would suffer and die.

She’d done more than her share at this point and wanted to see some results for her efforts.

One of Stricker’s partners in crime popped in out of nowhere, taking a deep bow.

“Yes,” slithered Stricker.

“Good news. We broke the magic the witch performed on the lighthouse doors and the Soul Hunter has left the Isle. Our magic didn’t last long, the doors are shut once again, but it stayed open just long enough to complete the bargain.”

“Good, good,” replied Stricker. “It’s all in motion.”

“Not everything,” reminded Eva.

“Not to fret my shifty friend. Our…
your…
vampire killer will be here any minute.” Stricker made an irritated sound when someone sniffled nearby. He spun around and peered into an iron cage, closed with a hefty lock. “Humans...” he muttered with a shudder. “Always so emotional.”

Eva stepped over to the cage, a cold stare peering down at their new prisoner. “A father for a father.” Her gaze lifted to Stricker. “But I won’t be satisfied until the vampire is ash.”

The prisoner’s only response was sobbing. Stricker, sick of listening to it, slipped his fingers through the bars of the cage and touched the prisoner’s head. The sobbing stopped and the prisoner slumped over, unconscious.

##

William whisked into the Morgan home having no idea what to expect after hearing the nauseating scream of Emily through her phone. He stopped in an instant, listening for anyone or anything still present in the house.

He heard nothing. He stepped cautiously through the living room and into the kitchen. Signs of a struggle were rampant. A knocked over lamp. A broken vase. Food in the kitchen, spilled onto the counter and the floor.

And then he smelled it.

Blood.

It was coming from the back of the house.

He swung open the back door and froze. There was a lifeless body on the ground.

##

“Breathe, Michael,” ordered Lizzy. His gaze shot to the side, his stare intense. No air reached his lungs, just shallow gasps in attempt. They’d stopped at a four-way intersection with a skid, almost missing the stop sign.

Lizzy flipped her head, looking at a motorcycle speeding down the opposite intersection. “Was that Lucas and Melinda?
Whatever…
”

Michael checked for traffic and was about to slam the gas peddle down when he released it. A siren came blaring up behind them, passing by. It was Mack.
William must have called her.
If his heart got any heavier, the weight of it would sink him.

They peeled out after the sheriff, following. They pulled into the Morgan’s driveway and before the truck had come to a complete stop, Michael jumped out, running to the door.

Mack met him and stopped him.

“Let me in,” he ordered breathlessly.

“I will, but first you should know...” Michael peered over her shoulder, straight through the house out the back door. William was pulling a sheet over a body.

Michael staggered backwards.

“It’s Mr. Morgan,” revealed Mack. William had told her over the phone.

“Em-Emily?” he got out in a coarse whisper.

“Missing.”

Mack stepped aside and let Michael through. He barely felt his legs moving underneath him. The next thing he knew he was falling to his knees next to Emily’s father’s body, staring blankly up at William.

“Stabbed. Through the heart.” He saw no point in lying or smoothing over what had happened. “He died quickly.” It was the only comfort he could offer. He looked away from Michael to see Lizzy at the back door, tears brimming in her eyes. Mack was inside, on the phone.

William reached down and grasped Michael’s shoulder to show his support, then left him alone to gather himself.

Lizzy followed him inside.

“Still excited to be human again?” William asked her, his voice stricken with pain.

“Death sucks,” Lizzy whispered. “Can’t escape it.” She shook her head. “I meant that it happens every day. It doesn’t make it any less of a suck fest.”

“On that, we agree,” said William.

Mack came over. “Any idea what really happened? Should I call the cleaners? Let my deputy handle it? Do I need to come up with a story that’s believable?”

Michael strode inside, his face sickly looking. “What happened, is Eva Jordan.”

“How do you know this?” questioned William.

“She left us a
message
.” He’d found Emily’s phone next to her father’s body. He held up the phone and pushed play on a video.

Lizzy had to turn away. She couldn’t watch.

Michael cringed as he listened to Emily begging Eva to spare her father, screaming in horror when Eva killed him in front of her.

“A father for a father,” Eva trolled sadistically. She waved into the camera as if recording a snippet from a fun summer party. It was a game to her. Child’s play.

Eva turned the camera on Emily, her deflated frame held up by two Feyks, one holding each of her arms. Tears mixed with blood, trickling down her cheeks. She had a cut below one of her eyes. Eyes that now looked dead and lifeless. Rather than bouncy and cheerful.

Eva grabbed hold of the Feyk and they dissolved into smoke, taking Emily with them.

Michael handed the phone to Mack. His brain numb. Unable to process what the hell was happening.

Lizzy could think of nothing comforting to say. This was a level of anguish and insanity she’d never dealt with before, during her human or ghastly years.

Even William had no words. Mr. Morgan’s life was the price of him not killing Eva when he’d had the chance. Each time he thought they were gaining the upper hand and about to fix everything, they were shot a mile backwards. Always playing defense. Eva’s vengeance over her father’s death, and her mother’s from years ago, now came with a hefty price tag. He’d never forgive himself for hesitating. He’d always regret not killing her when he had the chance.

And odd thing happened to Michael as his brain processed what had taken place. The numbness grew. Spreading. His senses shut down completely. No emotions. Not from Mack or Lizzy. He never got any from William, as he was a vampire, but he’d never had his empathy just shut down.

For this one moment, all he felt was a singular desire, something completely his own. “That evil fucking
bitch
is going to die, in an extreme way.”

William didn’t like hearing Michael say this. The hatred in his tone. The vengeful warning flicking off the edge of his tongue.

Although he agreed wholeheartedly.

But Michael didn’t kill just for the sake of killing, and there was a toxicity in his tone he’d never heard before. A raw desire for revenge. To cause harm. Not just to end what needed to be ended for the sake of the Isle, or for the greater good, but a desire to hurt.

It was a natural human response to what had happened. However, William feared he was losing his wards. That this battle would take them down a dark path, one difficult to recover from. One that would leave permanent scars.

Darkness was okay for him. It was his true nature. But not for the Howards.

“You guys better get out of here,” advised Mack. Her fight was all but gone. “No sense in dragging you all into this mess. You can’t do any good here. I’ll take care of Mr. Morgan. You… you go find Emily.”

They left, though not nearly as energetically as they’d arrived.

Michael got behind the wheel. His resolve hard and steady. “Where to?”

“Home,” said William. “We need to regroup.”

CHAPTER 12

The gargoyle came to a sudden stop. So then did Lucas. 

“White Pines,” mumbled Melinda. They were at a side entrance to the park. One still used but not as often as the main entrance. Somehow, it did not surprise her that the park is where they had ended up.

She worried about Michael and Lizzy in there all by themselves, guarding the old tree. She had no idea they were no longer in the park. And with her phone smashed, she had no way to contact anyone.

Lucas didn’t have his phone, having left it at the mansion. The battery had died, and he hadn’t had the chance to go home and get his charger since they’d found his brother. It was an older phone, and the Howards didn’t have a charger he could borrow.

Lucas hid the motorcycle behind some trees.

The gargoyle lifted its head and pointed, with a sharp snort.

“I guess that’s where we need to go,” said Melinda. It was a path leading into the woods.

“Do you know where it leads?”

“No, I’m not sure. And it’s getting very dark.” Melinda held back a shudder.

A damp nose nudged her arm. The gargoyle snorted with a panting grin, its wet tongue hanging out. She reached out and petted its broad head. It returned her gesture with a nuzzle against her hand. A strange sort of happy trill came out of its mouth.

“I think it likes you,” Lucas chuckled.

Melinda smiled. “Thank you,” she told it. “Thank you for helping us.”

It abruptly turned and dashed into the shadows. She assumed to return home.

“There are some parts of this job I’m not sure I will ever get used to.” Melinda turned to Lucas. “William said they sensed evil, but he never mentioned they could track evil.”

“Maybe William didn’t know they could track.”

“I doubt that,” said Melinda. “Probably just didn’t bring it up. Probably didn’t expect we’d be following one so soon.”

Their gazes turned from the shadow running home back to the path the gargoyle had brought them to. Lucas looked apprehensive. He wanted to find his brother. But this did not seem like the smartest idea, just sauntering off into the dark woods unprepared.

“I am aware,” stated Melinda, recognizing the look he wore. “We’re not prepared in the least. I just want to confirm if this is where they are, then we’ll go home, meet up with everyone and make a solid plan.”

“Okay. We’re not prepared, but I don’t think I could just leave Riley out here either way. I need to know where he is.” He led the way, motioning for her to stay close behind him. He wasn’t about to abandon his brother, but he would have preferred to be more prepared. He had a bad feeling his brother was going to need more help than he or Melinda could offer.

It was dark. An ink black sky. The moon hidden by passing clouds.

Melinda didn’t dare create any light for fear of giving away their presence. They took one cautious step at a time, attempting to remain calm. Melinda was glad she had worn her tennis shoes rather than flip-flops today.

She broke a twig underfoot and froze. They held their breath but heard nothing in response to the noise she made. Lucas reached behind him protectively, keeping her steady and still.

The moon came out of hiding casting a silvery glow around them. Shadows danced, tree branches swayed as if reaching for them.

Just the breeze. Just trees.

Melinda
flicked her head to the right. Had something just moved? Her eyes searched but saw nothing.

“Let’s keep moving,” whispered Lucas, turning his head toward her.

“Okay.”

They moved forward, deeper into the woods. The only sound their quiet as possible footsteps, and shaky breaths. Lucas stopped abruptly, reaching back to stop her. He shook his head a minute later.

“Sorry. Thought I saw something up ahead. There’s nothing.”

The silence was overwhelming. If they didn’t move, and stopped breathing, and Melinda could somehow control the thudding of her heart against her chest, the silence was almost deafening.

The silence… “Do you hear that, Lucas?”

He listened, and shook his head.

“There is
nothing
to hear,” she told him poignantly.

They listened again.

Nothing. Not anything.

No birds. No insects buzzing. No owls hooting. Just utter and complete silence. Almost like all life had been sucked out of the place.

“I don’t like this,” breathed Lucas heavily.

“Yeah, I’m starting to agree with you.” She toyed with turning around and getting her brothers, feeling as though she’d made a terrible mistake. Why had she come here? Why had she followed the gargoyle? Why had she allowed them to fly off without being prepared? And Lucas didn’t know shit about using magic.

She sucked in and let it out slowly.

She’d done it to save Riley. So had Lucas.

Melinda gasped.

A sound. Lucas heard it too.

Hideous snickering.

Melinda tried not to let out the frightened whimper gurgling in her throat. She was confident she knew exactly what sort of freaky ass face was making such a terrible sound. She wished desperately William and her brothers were here to help.

Oh my God I fucked up.
So bad this time. So bad.

This fear needled into her pounding chest.

The eerie laughter echoed in front of them.

In back of them.

Over their heads.

They were surrounded.

Lucas walked in a circle seeking out any moving shape. Melinda tried to calm herself and focus. She raised her arm, although not as confidently as she wanted to. Her hand shook as she faced her palm outward, ready to strike.

Thwack!

It came out of nowhere.

Lucas toppled to the ground, knocked unconscious.

Melinda spun, gasping. Her voice stopped working and she could not form the words to call out to him. Her eyes widened, bulging. Dark shapes moved fast all around her. Bodies? Trees? Shrubs? Shadows?

Her breaths came out ragged and swift.

She needed light, but she could not create the light orbs like her brother Charlie. It was not wise to start a fire. She might end up burning down the entire damn park. Melinda leaned down and felt around on the ground, snatching up a thin branch. She needed to see damn it! She shot fire onto the thing and it burst to life.

It cast a haunting glow in front of her face, lighting up the night just in time to see the toothy grin of a Firebrand Feyk advancing in front of her.

It pulled her attention away from the Feyk attacking from behind.

##

Michael pulled the truck into the mansion driveway. His brain ran through scenario after scenario of how they’d track Eva Jordan, the Feyk, and now Emily. He was surprised to see the cleaners just pulling out to leave.

They slowed and rolled down a window, explaining that Melinda and Lucas had shot off on his motorcycle, following one of the gargoyles.

“She did what?” breathed out Michael.

“Tore off outta here,” explained Earl Skidgel. “After some prisoner got plucked outta your basement.” He didn’t ask for explanation of why there was a prisoner locked in the basement. The cleaners pulled out.

Lizzy let out a groan, plunking her head onto the dashboard of the truck.

Michael had no response than to turn to William on the other side of her.

The vampire got out of the truck.

“Stay here, Michael. Wait for Charlie,” he commanded. “Do
not
do
anything
rash while I am gone.” He knew Michael was in full swing save Emily mode.

“I’ll wait,” promised Michael, though William wasn’t sure he trusted him.

“I’ll make sure,” said Lizzy.

William nodded curtly. “I’ll find Melinda and Lucas, and will return as soon as possible. Then
together
,” he emphasized sharply, “we will formulate a plan, and locate Emily.”

Michael parked the truck, sitting behind the wheel his mind reeling, his emotions still numb.

William vanished into the night.

Melinda’s scent still hung in the air, faintly, but enough that William could track it easily. He was not surprised when it led him into White Pines. He stopped, breathing her in.

She’d been here recently. The scent was more powerful. No, it wasn’t that her scent was stronger. “Blood,” he uttered. An outraged snarl pushed through his lips. It tore at him to think of her injured and bleeding. With another dash at vampire speed, he stopped and crouched down, his hand hovering just over a pool of blood.

His nose caught another scent.

Another pool. He assumed it belonged to Lucas. Yes, it smelled of Deane.

They were both injured and had been dragged away. Taken. Now prisoners.

Most likely now in the clutches of Eva Jordan and the Feyk.

He stood erect again, sensing something nearby.

With a blink, his eyes flashed an angry black. His fangs dropped, ready to sink into whoever had done this. His eyes shifted from side to side, his head unmoving. His body in complete stillness.

They were near. He could not see them, but they were close. The Feyk. Probably Eva Jordan. Most likely Melinda, Lucas, and Emily, as well.

William reached out for Melinda’s mind. He found her with ease; she was close enough for him to slip into her thoughts. “Melinda,” he called out to her silently.

No reply. Only an entranced moan. No thoughts in her mind, only darkness.

She was alive but unconscious. Close enough for him to slip into her mind.

William let the connection break. He flew forward, her scent still strong.

His eye caught something on the ground. He stopped, crouching down.

It was a tennis shoe, which belonged to Melinda. His eyes scoured the surrounding area for more of her personal belongings. He found her second shoe a few steps away, hidden under a bush.

If Melinda was outside she’d be getting cold. The night air on the Isle was chilling even on summer nights, and she was not dressed warm enough. Plus she’d been injured and was losing blood.

A guttural growl spewed out of his throat.

Those responsible would not live to see morning.