Half Past the Witching Hour (Paranormal Personnel Saga #3) (21 page)

‘Steven, get someone on the radio,’ the other office said. ‘And you get on the ground. I want to see your hands!’

In hell—and it looks like you might be here for a while.

Two guns were pointing at me and my legs were trembling with fear. If I let them take me away, my life—and my Dad’s—would be over. If I tried to run, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. The time started moving slowly like a long, slimy snail, wrecking my senses. Magic whipped through my spine fast, making me aware of every single second that passed.

I went for option number two, because I didn’t care anymore if I was going to live or die. My legs started moving before my mind registered my suicidal thoughts.

Those bastards didn’t even give me a warning. They started firing at me. Adrenaline coursed through me swiftly, crumbling the fear into a tiny ball and tossing it on the street. I jumped over the body, somehow managing to avoid getting shot. A bullet came close, an inch closer and I’d have been down, wounded or dead.

I was pumped with the heavy weight of survival instinct. My feet thumped against the asphalt, as I worked my muscles faster than ever before. The shots stopped flying around me for a moment, but I knew that I wasn’t safe. Someone was shouting to stop behind me. I heard thumping and more gunfire. I had no clue if I’d be alive in the next hour, but I was speeding, moving smoothly between the alleys in the darkness.

For some time, probably because of the shock, I kept running, mildly aware of any pain, but as the minutes passed, and the adrenaline started wearing off my system. I was still barefoot, and the rough asphalt had torn my skin apart, so I had large open wounds on my ankles, toes, and the soles of my feet. My magic kept me going, but I started slowing down. A sick twisted feeling settled in my stomach and I kept wondering if any of those officers took a good look at me.

I didn’t recognise any buildings or street names. I had no idea in which part of London I ended up or if I was still in my own native city.

My chest burned, but I raced between the empty cars, glancing behind me from time to time. Police were chasing after me, and there was nowhere to hide, no time to consider any other options. After an exhausting ten minutes, I decided to stop, dropping my hands down like I was stretching, breathing hard. I wiped the sweat and my hair away from my face. There wasn’t any time for hesitation. A police helicopter was probably on the way. Dad explained on number of occasions that whoever was on the run, it was just a matter of time before he or she would get caught.

I chose the wrong spot for a short rest. There were two turns, one on my right and one to the left. I had a few seconds to make a decision. I couldn’t waste any more time and I didn’t want be spotted by anyone. I took a sharp left and ten minutes later I found myself at a dead end. My heart was in my throat. There was no time to get back, no time to panic. Those officers probably called up for backup.

There were some bins in the back, smoke was coming out of the building on my right. I started slamming into a set of double doors on the other side, wondering if I could get inside, but the entrance was shut and there wasn’t another way in. Buildings on the other side seemed occupied, and I had to be careful not to be seen by anyone.

My vision was blurry as I hurried to the entrance in the back, but it was a dead end. Sweat mixed with rain and blood rolled over my face. I yelled in frustration, hearing the voices moving toward the alley. The police were on my heels, and I had to find a way inside. I could already picture the frustration and disappointment on my father’s face. Everything he worked for over the years could be gone because of me.

I ran to the last door and started digging at the metal cover that was pulled slightly. It looked like someone had tried to get inside the building but gave up. Crying in frustration I pushed hard, gritting my teeth. Someone close by shouted. The space was tiny, but I squeezed in, tearing my pyjamas apart and wounding my waist.

I slammed on the ground, breathing like there was no more oxygen left around me, baring my teeth in pain. The silence and darkness were my salvation. I stopped moving and listened. The air temperature around me dropped several degrees, as sparks of power began zooming over my skin.

I stuck my ear to the door, but I heard nothing. Maybe I was lucky and maybe no one knew that I was hidden in this wrecked building. Those officers weren’t paranormals, otherwise I’d have been dead already. My father’s unit used magic to catch bad guys, not guns. Minutes passed, and the silence was making me sick to my stomach. The shock and adrenaline wore off. I desperately wanted to sleep, but I had to stay focused and alerted. My teeth were bared in pain as I lifted my feet and saw blood pouring out of me.

I stayed in the same position for a good five minutes trying to calm down my irregular breathing. The skin on my feet felt like I’d been walking on a fire. The silence around me seemed deeper, pulling me away from the darkness. I’d blocked Dad’s protection spell. He couldn’t get involved; my lies would have ruined him. My magic had gotten out of control, and he couldn’t know that I was killing people in my sleep.

Shivering, I finally lifted myself up feeling the ranting pain in both my feet. Despite that, I had to get back to my apartment. Then I’d call the girls and together we could figure out what to do. For the first time since I saw the body, I was seeing the possibility of a bright light in the end of the tunnel. I couldn’t give up.

Knowing that I entered from the back, I figured there was probably a way out somewhere on the other side.

Possibly police units were set all around this area, searching for a girl with my description, drawing conclusions and evidence against me.

I walked in through the metal door, stumbling over rubbish on the floor, hurting my battered foot even more. The only source of light came from my fingers, but the energy lasted for couple of seconds. I was too exhausted to bring my magic back. I heard squeaks in the corners, saw rats, and stopped abruptly. Fear overwhelmed me, turning into glimpses of terror. I kept walking for about ten minutes, failing to find an unlocked way out. I felt like I was in a maze and the monster was going to get me before I found a way out. After trying many more doors, I started to panic.

I hissed, running like crazy, slamming my hands into doors, imagining that I’d be stuck here forever and no one would ever find me. Finally a door opened and I jumped outside inhaling the dusty air—straight into a nest of giants.

‘Oh, who do we have here?’ asked a tall, bulky paranormal who caught me flying through the metal door. I gasped, dismissing the shattering pain in my entire body, trying to dodge away, but he held me tightly.

‘Get off me,’ I screamed, but the one that was holding me slammed his large, dirty hands over my mouth. If they were humans, maybe I would’ve had a chance to escape, but those fuckers were full-blooded paranormals. High on their own energy, alcohol, and fairy dust. From their tattoos I gathered that they were part of some sort of gang.

‘She’s paranormal; I can smell her. Fairy maybe, but not sure now, they are normally sexy. This one here is filthy,’ spat the short obese dark-haired troll licking his lips and gazing at my half ripped pyjama. The group laughed, and I tossed, trying to free myself, but the troll that held me tightened his grip over my neck, slowly suffocating me. He smelled of line detergent and vodka. His hissy breath was near the nape of my neck.

‘We can use her up a little. Gordon won’t mind,’ laughed the biker that was standing on my right. ‘She looks like magic thieves had their hands on her.’

Where am I?

In hell—and it looks like you might be here for a while.

‘She doesn’t smell like them,’ said another one, whose face I couldn’t see.

‘Lets use her. I need to wet my Johnson.’

‘Fuck you, Kirk. She looks like a junkie!’

I screamed, trying to bite through his hand, but he tossed me over and grabbed me by my hair.

‘Fuck all of you, I’m taking her to Gordon. He can decide what to do with her,’ barked the one that was holding me. He started dragging me away, passing others who began to protest loudly. He ignored them, throwing a mouthful of remarks and swears. I tried to think fast, aiming to gain control of my energy, but my body felt like I ran out of fuel. Blackouts were draining away what was left.

I didn’t know how long he dragged me, but I must have lost consciousness for a while. When I opened my eyes I was on a cold floor surrounded by empty barrels in some old warehouse. I snapped my eyes open, smelling magic and the tanginess of blood. It felt like someone had been slaughtering people in this room. My stomach lurched, then revolted before someone slapped me.

‘She is awake, sir!’ roared the same biker who took me away. He pulled me back onto my feet.

Someone else approached me while I struggled to keep my balance. When my eyes snapped back to reality, I sensed another troll, although he didn’t look like one. His skin was rough, pale, and covered with many scars. His eyes were bright yellow and moving over mine slowly, like he was measuring me, devouring my scent. The lines in his forehead were deep, over a sharp wide face and thin lips. I stopped breathing and stared, trying to break eye contact, but I couldn’t, feeling like he was bewitching me. He couldn’t possibly be a troll. They were mostly wide, short and stocky and the man in front of me was consuming the darkness, pushing the boundaries of danger.

‘What’s your name and why are you here?’ he asked in a raspy whisper that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

He was slowly unfolding my fear, leaving me gasping and panting for air. I was petrified that he would reach out and touch me. I didn’t want to be infected by his ambiance. He was about five inches taller than me, dressed in leather. There was a tiny black cross on the side of his neck, which only embodied more fear, paralysing me and stripping away any glimpse of hope. Once I managed to gather my broken thoughts, I recognised this ugly face from all the posters that hung around my father’s office. I was facing Gordon Lancaster, a paranormal that had been hunted by the police Paranormal Unit since I could remember. The most vicious and desired gang leader in Britain.

I was truly and utterly as good as dead.

‘Dolores Jones,’ I replied, with a shaky voice. I had to lie. Paranormals knew me because of Nathaniel and my work with agency, so there was no way that I was giving him my real name. This was the only chance of my survival, unless he was planning to kill me straight away.

With a sharp intake of breath, he studied me for a very long time; his penetrating gaze was alluring and threatening at the same time.

‘I hate repeating myself, Dolores, so I’m going to ask you one more time. Why are you here?’

‘Boys are ranting that she is a junkie, magic thief, sir,’ barked the other biker who stood close.

I sucked in a breath, feeling like that insult wasn’t helping me. Magic thieves were paranormals that everyone else didn’t talk about. They were outcasts in our society, born without magical genes. They fed on the energy of others, using sex and money to satisfy their own hunger. Most of them didn’t live long, but almost each one of those creatures turned either insane or on the streets. Magic thieves were willing to do anything in order to gain at least a tiny ounce of magic, otherwise they wouldn’t survive.

Gordon could smell my fear. He knew that I couldn’t be a magic thief because of my paranormal aura. He was reading me, not like a troll or another paranormal, but he was forming a connection with my energy, looking down into my soul. Searching for answers.

‘I didn’t ask you, Malick,’ he snapped, and for a brief second I could have sworn that his pupils shifted from yellow to red. My mind started searching for an escape route, but Gordon’s attention was already back at me. ‘Dolores, I’ll get the truth out of you one way or another. You aren’t a magic thief and you aren’t a whore.’

He parted his lips slightly and then I saw his abnormally long teeth, possibly fangs. Everything became clear in a moment and my heart started jackhammering inside my chest. Gordon wasn’t just a troll, he was also a half vampire.

Fear clenched all my muscles, settling back in my stomach, drilling through my bones.

‘Give me what I want. Otherwise I’ll make you miserable, feed you to the magic thieves,’ Gordon said gently, leaning towards me so I understood his every spoken word. His eyes were cold, chaining me with coldness and hollowness. I could see I made him curious and he wanted the truth.

I opened my mouth to give him what he desired, when someone else barged through the entrance, shouting.

‘Sir, something is going on at Harris Avenue. Some shifters showed up. One of them declares himself as a dark leader.’ Still glued to Gordon’s yellow eyes, I couldn’t see his face. My mind sped up. I needed this short moment of his distraction. It was time to run, save my own skin.

Gordon narrowed his eyes and darted his gaze at the newcomer. A vein on his forehead started throbbing dangerously fast.

‘Take her to the room at the back. I need to deal with this,’ he ordered calmly.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied the troll. Soon I was being dragged away as Gordon vanished along with another troll, leaving me at the mercy of the one that brought me here.

‘Now, we can have some fun while the boss is busy. He won’t mind; he won’t mind at all.’

I might be a whore, but soon we will both be dead.

The nausea made my stomach heave. I was pushed outside through the tiny metal door. I inhaled the brisk air deep into my lungs, switching back to survival mode. The troll smelled like sour milk that was left outside in the heat to rot. He had everything pretty much figured out. We were in a back street, behind the buildings, completely isolated from the main road, and he was planning to rape me.

In a heartbeat he pulled me to his chest, breathing heavily, grabbing my hips. I felt his erection on my thigh as his other hand fumbled my boobs. My body clenched with disgust and I tried to scream, but he slapped me, probably aware of what I was going to do. Stars came and he tore the rest of my pyjamas apart. Everything was happening so fast. Desperate to live, I began forming a new plan in my head.

I had no idea how I managed not to scream. My stomach kept churning as he started struggling with his trousers. I knew that this area was completely deserted, so there was no way that anyone could hear me. I had a moment of distraction, a short space of time when he was focused on himself rather than me.

I slammed my knee down between his legs, roaring with rage. He yanked and moaned in agony, trying to grab me, but I dodged him and got to my feet. My legs started moving while my subconscious screamed at me to hide. Ignoring the state of my feet, the pain and my torn clothes, I started running, hearing curses behind me. I wanted to see the sun again, experience it on my face, feel its warmth.

‘I swear, bitch, I’ll kill you once I get my hands on you!’ he shouted after me.

Pumped with more magic, I ran, praying that at the end of this alley was a way out, not another dead end.

The troll seemed to recover quickly because now he was after me. Heavy thumps were closing up on me. Breathing fast, I reached the end of the ally and with enormous relief I saw another way out.

I stopped for a second to catch more air, although my chest felt like it was on fire. My right foot felt like it had been chopped off. I noticed blood and nearly enough collapsed seeing the long straight wound across my heel. The world around me spun with the realisation of pain. I hadn’t felt anything at all while running, but now I feared that my escape was over.

The sound of my own breathing scared me, but something completely different caught my attention. A few meters away from me I saw two dark large shadows emerging from the gloom. In the darkness it was hard to see what I was looking at, but the air changed, the temperature dropped down, and every hair on my skin shot straight up.

I rubbed my eyes as two large wolves approached slowly, their eyes shimmering with silver light. Somewhere in the background I heard heavy footsteps. One of my oppressors was close. Fear mixed with that disturbing feeling that I was going to die now jetted right through me faster than a shooting star. I stood utterly frozen, my legs rooted to the same spot like I lost my own will.

‘There you are, sweet whore, now you are—’

I might be a whore but soon we will be both dead.

That loud raw, snarling sound broke the silence as the two wolves came closer. The troll stopped abruptly a step away from me. His face became ashen as his eyes focused on the two wild animals. My heart pounded in my chest, freezing my blood and every nerve in my body. The wolves were impressive, their grey fur shining under the moon that appeared in the navy sky.

Their snarling splitting sound filled me as they bared their sharp teeth, ready for attack, bending their front paws. These wolves were shifters or werwolves, and they looked pissed.

‘Wolves,’ hissed he biker. ‘You’re at Gordon’s district!’

He spit on the ground. He didn’t sound confident, his voice strained with a dose of fear. He moved his hands closely, like he wanted to use his magic, but the wolves were faster than anything that was ever alive. I dropped on the ground covering my face and my head, waiting for my last breath. I heard a rumbling scowl and something large landed next to me.

The troll shouted something in another language, before I heard an agonising tearing scream in the alley. Someone was standing next to me and I knew that I was going to be next. The snarling sound passed me. One of the wolves was on the troll, ripping his neck into pieces.

Then I heard a familiar voice. ‘It’s okay, you’re all right. Let’s get the hell out of here.’

My best friend Kelsie was standing next to me, naked. I blinked rapidly, opening my mouth to say something, but the noises in the background made me sick. I heard a cracking noise of broken bones, and smelled blood everywhere, as the screams slowly died down. I glanced back at the troll who was pinned on the ground, the wolf’s mouth covered in his blood. It wasn’t long before he stopped moving.

Kelsie took my hand, covering my chest with pieces of my pyjamas. I was still in shock, mumbling incoherent words, until Kelsie forced me to sit down.

‘It’s over; you don’t have to worry about him. He won’t hurt you.’

Her voice got through to me, and I snapped out of it, staring at her.

‘Kelsie! God, what are you doing here? What is going on?’

‘We were running, wandering around this district, hoping to catch a sign of Craig, before we saw you,’ she said.

I wasn’t listening because I was staring at Michael Longbridge who was walking towards us, naked covered with fresh blood that was spilling down his throat. The metallic smell turned my stomach.

‘Julia, are you even listening? What are you doing here, so far away from home?’

I turned back to look at her, searching for memories. My whole body trembled, wanting to ease the pain, cursing away the horrible images from a few minutes ago.

‘Don’t worry, Miss Taylor, he’s dead. He’s not a threat anymore,’ Michael said. It took me a long moment to grasp what happened and stop shaking. My foot was bleeding fast, but I started talking, explaining how I woke up in the middle of the street with a dead body. Then the police, Gordon, and finally my route to escape. My head buzzed, tangled thoughts were hurrying through my mind.

‘I’m going to shift into a horse and you, Miss Taylor, will ride on me. It’s not safe here and we can’t risk walking through the main road. These streets are filled with rebellious shifters and Gordon’s buddies,’ said Longbridge.

I started to protest, but he didn’t listen. One second he stood in front of me, the next he became a large brown animal. Kelsie helped me climb onto him. I couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on, me riding on a shapeshifter in one of the most dangerous areas of London. It felt surreal.

Kelsie shifted back into a wolf and followed after us. A few streets later, Michael was back in his normal form as we hid from the approaching voice in one of the back streets. Kelsie mumbled something about the bag, vanishing for a minute. When she came back she was fully clothed. I was confused, hurt and scared. The pain drained me and I couldn’t move.

‘We need to get her to the hospital, Michael. She needs stitches; her feet are a mess!’ Kelsie hissed, pointing at my bloody wounded legs.

‘No, no hospital. I need to get home. No one can know, especially not my father,’ I cried out.

Naked Michael vanished soon after Kelsie gave him a black bag, probably filled with his clothes.

‘Julia, no offence, but you’re a wreck. You can’t walk and your jaw is swollen,’

‘I don’t care, Kelsie. I need to get the hell out of here and find Tron fast. You have to leave before I have another blackout,’ I shouted, shaking my head, grabbing my knees towards me.

Michael came back a minute later, holding a mobile phone in his hand.

‘Help’s on the way. Don’t worry, Miss Taylor, we won’t take you to the hospital,’ he said, running his hand through his hair nervously like all of the sudden he didn’t know what to do. ‘Blackouts. I don’t understand; has this happened before?’

‘Michael, not now, please. She shouldn’t talk,’ Kelsie hissed. I didn’t know what they were planning to do with me, but I sat on the ground for a couple of minutes before I dropped my head on Kelsie’s shoulder. I closed my eyes. My body pulsed with pain and I wanted relief, but when I opened my eyes again I felt like I was dreaming.

‘Nathaniel?’ I asked shyly, looking around, desperate to know if he was real.

‘Julia, come on, let me help you,’ he said, and before I could say anymore, he wrapped his hand under my knees and lifted me off the ground.

‘You called him?’ I asked, looking at Kelsie, but she was chewing her lips. Michael’s face was still covered with blood and those heavy memories shattered through me fast. Blackouts, Abi’s body, and Gordon’s eyes.

‘You didn’t want to go to the hospital, Miss Taylor, so I thought that your boyfriend—’

‘He is not my boyfriend,’ I said as we approached Nathaniel’s limo. Kelsie looked uncomfortable, shooting me fearful looks. I wanted to argue, but as the adrenaline wore off another dose pain hit me hard, dizzying me out.

Roberto opened the door as Nathaniel gently placed me in the back seat.

‘Thank you again, and you too Kelsie,’ I heard him say.

‘You know who I am?’ asked my friend, stunned.

‘Of course, you’re Julia’s best friend and Lucinda’s PR. Remind me later that I have to give you a raise.’

I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, because I closed my eyes, easing myself into the leather seat. It didn’t matter how comfortable I tried to be, my feet hurt like hell, and I kept losing more blood.

Roberto started the engine as Nathaniel situated himself next to me.

‘Where are you taking me?’ I whispered. ‘Not the hospital?’

‘No, we can’t go there. I’ve called a healer to a hotel room in Chelsea. She is going to patch you up,’ he explained, pinning me down with his hazel eyes. ‘I don’t want to ask, but I’m fucking livid that you’re in this state, barely alive.’

His eyes moved down to my torn pyjamas and marks on my naked breast. His breaths were long and laboured, hands clenched in fists. I couldn’t think about how I made him feel because my raw skin burned. I tried to bare my teeth imaging as the pain was going away. After a long agonising hour, the limousine finally stopped outside a large, old hotel. Nathaniel insisted on carrying me upstairs. I was too tired and too drained to fight with him, so I let him take me.

‘I won’t ask you anything now. The healer will be here at any minute,’ he said, looking at me with so much pain in his eyes that I thought he was going to start trashing the room. For some time he was my distraction from pain. My feet were raw, black, mixed with blood and dirt. The large wound was open and I could see pieces glass scattered inside. My stomach rolled but I kept swallowing, hoping to avoid being sick in this beautiful bed. I just wanted to close my eyes and drift to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes I saw Gordon’s face again.

‘Michael shouldn’t have called you. This is nothing to do with you. My situation is complicated, very complicated,’ I said, looking directly at Nathaniel’s pain.

I could see he wanted to start shouting and punch the wall, but his fury was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He swore under his breath, possibly because he wanted to take me across the knee and hit me for being so careless.

A very short and old hag stepped in, sweeping the room with her small, watery eyes. Her face was covered with warts and she had this large nose with a pimple in the middle. She nodded to Nathaniel and placed her bag by my bed.

‘You have to take her clothes off. She is filthy and she stinks of trolls and shifters,’ she ordered, getting to business at once.

Nathaniel looked like he was going to say something but he instantly changed his mind. The hag found the bathroom and moved around the room like she was at home. Nathaniel didn’t say a word when he started removing my bloodstained pyjamas. I had nothing underneath, but this didn’t feel erotic. His smooth hands were gentle and I could feel that his breathing sped up as his eyes lingered on the bruises on my body.

‘Now leave, leave. Let me work,’ barked the woman, pushing Nathaniel through the door as soon as I lay on the bed stripped down to knickers only.

‘My name is Jacaba. I’ll wash your feet first and then put a balsam that will heat up the veins. It will heal much quicker. The large open would will be more complicated.’

‘Okay,’ I breathed out, ready to pass out.

She was older, maybe in her sixties with heavy lines all over her face. She vanished into the bathroom and brought back hot water. As she said before, she cleaned all the patches of dirt. When she started to take care of the deep cut, my head swam with pain. She kept muttering to herself throughout the whole procedure, and I kept feeling magic evaporating through her fingers. Her touch was gentle, but I had to hold on to the mattress, as her stitches hurt like hell. After I was cleaned up I saw the extent of my injuries. In my head I was trying to go over and over what happened to me.

The clock on the wall was showing four in the morning. My dad probably already got the call about Abi. Soon the whole police department was going to be searching for me. I never in my life thought that I’d spend an evening running around London and killing people. My magic had taken over my body. I’d lost a piece of me, my own soul, and during those few hours the darkness spread over, pushing me to the edge.

I clenched my teeth when the healer started applying the balsam. My feet felt sore, but after she finished I felt like my skin was going to come off in large patches. Once the magical balsam was spread evenly on my feet, she took care of my forehead and the bruises on my chest and stomach. My magic was flaring up, tossing my emotions up and down, again alive and rising. Soon enough I drifted into sleep after the healer promised me that I wouldn’t have any dreams.

Also, before I closed my eyes she leaned over and said, ‘This man out there loves you, but he is greedy and possessive. You will never get enough of him, so you must let go.’