A Curse in Darkness by Sherilee Gray

Chapter 1

Willow

An icy breezebrushed over my bare skin, and I shivered as a steady stream of blood ran from my thigh, down my leg, to soak into the soil where I’d dug my bare foot.

An owl hooted in the distance, and I searched the shadows surrounding me.

Oldwood Forest was at the southernmost end of the larger Roxburgh State Forest, just beyond the city itself, and a hangout for all manner of creatures, mainly the unpleasant kind. So, standing here, completely naked, wasn’t my idea of a good time. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice.

Reluctantly, I tossed my dagger onto the pile of clothes I’d recently shed, drew in a deep breath, and closed my eyes.

Clearing my mind, I allowed the warmth of the soil to soak in, heating the soles of my feet. It vibrated, like the earth was humming softly beneath me.

The autumn breeze grew stronger, shifting my long, out-of-control red hair against my bare shoulders. Closing my eyes, I lifted my arms, tilting my head to the moonlight, its glow a welcome caress. “Guide me, old ones. I am your servant, the Keeper chosen to fulfill the rite of Coven Thornheart.” The wind blew around me faster, dried leaves brushing past, small twigs and sticks scraping my skin as they whipped around my naked body. “I’m here to accept my task. Whatever you ask, I will undertake.”

The air suddenly stilled, and cold, dark dread arrowed up my spine, shooting into the base of my skull. I gasped as silence engulfed the wood. Even the owl was silenced, not wanting to draw notice from the creature I’d summoned from its slumber.

Something oily scraped my leg, the tickle of a forked tongue tasting my blood. Then it came, the rattle, like a plastic bottle filled with dried beans.

I opened my eyes and the enormous serpent lifted its massive head, its glossy black eyes staring into mine. Dark and light, terrifying magic flowed from her, surrounding me.

The magic of my coven, of others like it.

Mother Nature, the Great Goddess, the Creatress of all life—or Mother, as she liked to be called by the witches who worshipped her—was not some beautiful maiden; she had no corporeal form at all.

But when she needed one, she chose to inhabit her pet serpent. At least thirty yards long and as thick as the ancient oak behind my aunt Else’s house, she was a terror to behold. I held my ground. Any sudden movement would prove I was unworthy, and my life would more than likely come to a brutal and swift end.

The Goddess didn’t play. She may create life, but she wasn’t averse to taking it either.

Being the Keeper of one’s coven was an incredible honor. If I were given a choice, though, it would have been a hard pass from me. But we didn’t get a choice. And I’d rather it be me than someone else I loved, especially one of my sisters.

The mother’s voice filled my head with the same words she’d spoken to me the first time I came here, around a year ago. No, this was not my first rodeo, but the mother didn’t like to rush things. Instead, she left you hanging for twelve months, worrying and waiting for this to finally be over. Each coven needed to complete two tasks to receive the mother’s gifts. This was my second and final.

I will grant you your gifts, witch, if you complete your task by the time the vines meet. If you fail, you will be unworthy of trial, and gifts past will be returned to the mother. If you complete your task yet fail to win your trial, again, your gifts will be returned to the mother.

She always referred to herself in the third person, it was odd. But then everything about this was freaking odd. “I understand.”

I barely had time to brace before she struck, her massive fangs sinking deep into my waist, her venom pumping into my body. Her jaw unhinged, and she finally released me. Gasping, I dropped to my knees, then she was gone, vanishing into the shadowy night.

Covering the massive puncture wounds just below my ribs with my hand, I snatched up my phone with the other and turned on the flashlight to get a better look. She’d gone deeper than the last time, and her venom spread quickly, creating black, thorny vines snaking across my skin and winding together, some just below my breast and some curving around my hip.

A black shoot extended an inch farther down my ribs as the puncture wounds rapidly closed.

Whatever my next task was, I had to complete it before the inky vines reached out and met in the middle. This, of course, wasn’t the first time she’d permanently decorated my skin; the other went from my elbow down, covering my hand and two of my fingers. Only now it was a multitude of colors, something that happened when you passed both task and trial, solidifying your new powers. Powers that would be taken back if you failed.

At least this one could be hidden.

I stumbled, the strength in my limbs draining away, dizziness hitting me hard, faster than last time, and I reached for my clothes as my sight flickered from black to flashing white light.

Shit.

There hadn’t been as much venom last time. I’d had time to get dressed before its full effects had hit me. Right now, I wasn’t even capable of lifting a protection ward, let alone get to my dagger. I fell heavily to my side, unable to move as the mother’s magic worked its way through my body. Magic, that had left me paralyzed, while naked, and utterly defenseless.

The earth was icy and damp, and I lay there blinking at the shadowy tree line.

My family was going to be so pissed if I got eaten by a demon or some feral shifter.

Something moved in the distance.

Awesome. Just freaking wonderful.

There’s that saying that life is what happens to us while we’re making other plans. In my case, life had kicked me in the crotch, spat on me, then ground my humble plans to dust.

I thought I had it all figured out. It was a simple plan: run my store, look after my family, use my powers to help others, and enjoy a variety of energetic and highly skilled lovers. But most importantly, my plan was to avoid drama at all costs. Growing up in a house with my grandmother, great aunt, mother, and three sisters, I’d had more than my fair share. The Thornheart women were not only powerful witches, they were strong-willed and extremely volatile. So that last one was easier said than done.

But I loved them more than anything in this world.

And now I was going to be eaten alive.

Someone really had it out for me.

Darkness creeped in at the edges of my vision. Oh goody, maybe I’d pass out first?

The scars on my back burned, reminding me they were there as dark, disturbing memories pushed forward, invading my groggy mind. There was no fighting them this time. The twisted face of my torturer filled my head as shadows of the pain the monster had inflicted on me a year ago spiked through my nerve endings.

He’s dead.

Azel was dead. The fallen angel had been decapitated, burned, and sent to Hell. He would never hurt anyone else again, that was a fact, but it didn’t erase the scars on my body, or my soul. Or the fact that my weakness had almost allowed him to hurt the people I held dear.

A howl, powerful and filled with the terrors of the night, promising pain in the most gruesome of ways, echoed in the distance.

If I could move my jaw, I would have cursed. I knew that howl.

The darkness pushed in even more.

The saplings growing between the trees bordering the clearing cracked as they were walked on. The beast was coming for me. A dark shadow appeared at the edge of the clearing, amber eyes glowing from the nothingness, aimed directly at me.

Then it burst from the woods, charging—

Everything went dark.

* * *

“Wake up, Wills. Jesus, you need to wake up.”

I moaned. My eyes were superglued shut.

“The hound’s coming.”

That did the trick. My eyes snapped open and stared up at Ren. I was still in the woods. “W-what are you doing here?” I sounded like a demented toad.

“Saving your ass.” He slid an arm under my pits and dragged me off the ground. “Where’s your dagger?”

“By my clothes.”

He cursed and rushed over to grab everything. “You need to get dressed.”

Ren Macanroy was my best friend. He was nineteen, a mortician at his family’s funeral home, and a fox shifter. He was also my familiar, and the fact I was trying to shield him from my current situation was a sore point between us. Familiars could be shifter or animal, and you never knew what you were going to get. Ren had lived down the street from me his whole life, and one day, at age fourteen, he’d just shown up at my door, drawn there by a force he hadn’t understood. We’d both felt the connection instantly.

But he wasn’t equipped to handle the shit I found myself in now. Fox shifters were cunning, quick-witted, strategic, and extremely nurturing. They were tactile caretakers and loved to be around others, but they weren’t fighters.

Most Keepers usually had some kind of vicious mofo as their familiar, like a bear or a lion, or maybe a honey badger or even a mongoose. From what I’d seen and heard, anyway. But then, I was never meant to be the Keeper. And Ren was never meant to be a Keeper’s familiar.

That honor had originally traveled down another branch of the Thornheart family, only the succession was broken when Joshua Thornheart—the only living descendant from that line—was killed in a house fire. We had no idea which branch of our coven would pick up the hellish honor in his stead—well, Gran had, another of her secrets—until I was compelled to come here to this spot close to a year ago and was greeted by a giant serpent. Saying we were unprepared was an understatement.

So yeah, now I found myself in a bit of a pickle.

My legs wobbled, almost giving out, and Ren cursed, grabbing me before I landed on my ass. Good thing shifters weren’t fazed by nakedness, and there was also the fact that the bond between us was not romantic in any way, shape, or form. We had more of a sibling vibe, just as deep but also…different.

Not every witch and her familiar was the same, though, or as lucky as us. Sometimes feelings became romantic, which was all well and good when those feelings were mutual. When they weren’t, that’s when things got complicated. Being tied to someone you were in love with and being unable to walk away because of the bond between a witch and her familiar, then watching them with someone else, was a special kind of torture.

“You’re going to have to help me,” I said.

The howl came again, closer.

Screw clothes. The alpha hellhound had been getting more and more possessive lately and I couldn’t deal with his crap right then. “How far away is your car?”

“Not far,” Ren said as he shoved my sweater over my head, that at least covered my butt, and handed me my dagger.

I gripped it as tightly as I could manage.

“I’ll finish dressing on the road.”

His jaw tightened. “Right. This way.”

We stumbled through the woods, Ren all but carrying me since the venom was still pumping through my veins. He walked quicker every time one of those bloodcurdling howls echoed through the trees behind us.

Something moved just ahead, followed by a high-pitched screech.

The dagger vibrated in my hand, not a gentle warning but a shriek, telling me that someone was going to hurt me, badly, like lights out forever bad.

“What the fuck is that?” Ren said.

Adrenaline surged through my weakened body, and when a demon ran at us, huge maw wide, serrated teeth dripping with rusty-colored drool, I threw out a hand and tree roots burst through the ground, wrapping around his ankle, stopping him in his tracks. I let my blade fly and it imbedded in its throat with a thud. The demon dropped to the ground, gurgling and flailing, and I closed the space between us.

“Hold him still,” I said to Ren, too weak to do it myself.

Ren paused, but only a split second before he rushed forward and kneeled on the demon’s twitching body.

Using the last of my strength, I hacked through its throat. Muscle was needed to take off a demon’s head, and right then, mine were spasming and useless. So with pure, raw determination—finesse be damned—I kept at it. Blood sprayed us both, and Ren made a gagging sound. Its head finally rolled aside and the demon turned to ash—something that happened when you liberated one of these bastards of their craniums.

“Okay?” I asked him.

“Totally.”

He was so lying.

Helping me back up, we struggled on.

Witches drew their power from one of the four elements. Wind, water, fire, and earth. And on the rare occasion, a witch was gifted with more than one. Mine were earth and wind. I could manipulate the plants and trees, I could cause a good shake when I wanted to, and I’d been known to throw the odd rock or boulder when necessary. And the wind, she was my bitch. Some witches had specialized powers, like Iris, who could communicate with animals—or was learning to, it was a fairly new power for her—and our cousin Zinnia, who could commune with the dead. I’d never been so glad to have been gifted with the little extra I’d been born with than in the last few months.

Finally, Ren’s Toyota Camry came into view. He helped me in, rushed around to the driver’s side, got in, and started the engine—

What felt like a truck hit the side, metal crunching, the tires sliding half a yard on the deserted road. Ren bit out a curse, put the car in gear, and sped off.

His gaze sliced to me, his handsome face slashed by shadows and moonlight. “What the hell, Willow?”

“I guess he wanted me to stay and talk?” I glanced in the rearview mirror and Warrick, alpha of the hellhounds, stood in the middle of the road, no longer in his beast form but as a man, huge and naked. And judging by the glowing red eyes, pissed off.

“I thought you were going to talk to him?” Ren said. “Just because the guy has the ability to know where you are at all times, doesn’t mean it’s cool to act like a stalker. And he just messed up my freaking car.”

“I’ll get it fixed, and I’ve tried, believe me.” The alpha did whatever the hell he wanted. I’d turned him down every way it was possible to turn someone down, but since hellhounds could see where a person was by their scent, he always knew where I was. And he wasn’t giving up.

Ren gripped the wheel tighter and scowled. “I don’t care about the car…I’ll talk to him.”

Lord, spare me from overprotective males. Between Ren and Warrick—and the half angel, demon hunter knights of Hell, who also happened to be my good friends—I was up to my neck in a serious amount of testosterone.

I glanced at him. “And what are you going to say?”

“I’ll tell him to stay the hell away from you.”

Closing my eyes, I rubbed my throbbing temples. “If you go to the clubhouse, his den, he’ll see it as a challenge, like you’re making some claim over me, and he’ll hurt you.”

“I’m your familiar; I do have a claim over you.” His expression turned mulish. “I’m not afraid of him, you know. I’ve been training.”

I held back my bark of disbelief, because the last thing I wanted was to hurt his pride. “Warrick is an alpha. He’s huge, unreasonable, aggressive, and has lived a very long life, most of that in Hell, among the kind of violence we can’t even imagine. He got to the position he’s in now by killing and maiming anyone who dared challenge him.”

Ren’s cheeks flushed pink. “You think I’m weak.”

Teenage boys. Sheesh. “No, Ren. I think he’s really freaking strong. You’re also still young; he’s hundreds of years old, maybe more.” I reached over and gave his arm a squeeze. “He’s just had more practice, that’s all.”

My sweet fourteen-year-old shadow was now a surly nineteen-year-old man-boy, and his drive to protect me was messing with him. The danger I’d been in lately was bringing out a side of him that should never have been. Which was another reason I had been keeping things from him.

Familiars, animal or shifter, got themselves killed doing all kinds of stupid shit trying to protect their witches. I would not let Ren take on an opponent he had not a shit show of beating in a million years. My gran and great aunt had both suffered through the loss of their familiars. The grief had haunted my gran until the day she died, mere months ago. I wasn’t letting anything happen to Ren. There was not a single chance in hell I was going to willingly involve him in this mess I found myself in, at least not until he was a lot older, a lot stronger, and a whole lot wiser.

The rest of the ride to my great aunt Else’s house was quiet, besides the angsty 80s grunge music Ren turned up while he brooded.

So I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me, and let myself drift off.