Invoking the Witch (The Faction Series Book 1) Page 2

  Sergeant Chloe Roberts stood talking to him. She joined eighteen months ago and the other officers gave her a hard time. She came from money and spoke with a rather ‘posh’ accent. But the chatty, shrewd redhead didn’t let it get her down, instead using her quick wit to give as good as she got.

  Both good officers, Amelia thanked her lucky stars for her team.

  “We’ve been ‘let out’ to the Faction again. Nate’s waiting for us on site with a stab victim.” Amelia figured she might as well be blunt about it—they weren’t going to like it, either, but they didn’t have a choice. “No other details as of yet.”

  “We’d best not keep the grump waiting, then?” Chloe quipped.

  ∾∾∾

  Amelia took Chloe in her blue Vauxhall Astra while Sam hopped onto his blue and white Suzuki GSX R1000 motorbike and roared off in front of them.

  “Jackass.” Chloe shook her head and chuckled.

  “Aw, let him have his fun. He saved up for that beauty like his life depended on it,” Amelia smiled.

  “Yes, and I never heard the end of it. ‘I can’t go out with my mates tonight,’ ‘I can’t take this really hot girl out,’ ‘I can’t take this other really hot girl out.’ He bored me to tears.” Chloe mimicked Sam in a voice a few octaves higher than necessary.

  Amelia laughed at her. “He still can’t take really hot girls out. Where they gonna sit?”

  “Oh, don’t even get me started on his ‘ride me’ jokes. I wanted to punch him.”

  *

  It didn’t take long for Amelia and Chloe to pull up behind Nate’s battered old van parked on a dilapidated industrial site full of decayed, empty warehouses.

  “How is he not embarrassed to be driving around in that knackered, old death trap?” Chloe mused aloud.

  “You’ve seen him, right? Scruffy hair, bum fluff all over his face, clothes hanging off his arse. It would be difficult to imagine him driving anything else.”

  “Good point. I suppose we’d best go find him.”

  Exiting the car, they walked around Nate’s van to find him and Sam all but drooling over the bike. Amelia rolled her eyes—men.

  “Put ’em back in your pants, boys. Where’s the vic?”

  “DCI Ellis, looking as ravishing as ever.” Nate stood up tall and turned on the charm within seconds.

  Sam smirked and dismounted his bike.

  Amelia knew Nate’s game—and his reputation—a self-confessed ladies’ man. She could see why women fell for him. Nate’s tall build, naturally tanned skin and dark hair and eyes made him very attractive. He did have a scruffy look to him, with his trendy surfer-style haircut that swept over his deep eyes and his “couldn’t care less” attitude over what oversized, tatty attire he decided to wear. But he pulled it off well.

  “Cut the crap, Nate, we’re here to work. Where’s the body?”

  He smiled a dimpled grin and extended an invitation for her to go on ahead, eyeing the sway of her hips while she sauntered up to him.

  Running a hand over the light stubble on his chin, he gave Amelia an appreciative grin and she caught sight of his angled hand, poised to pat her backside before she sidled past him.

  “Do it, and I’ll rip your arm off and smack you with it.”

  “Feisty,” Nate growled at her with a smirk.

  The four of them walked into a crumbling warehouse.

  “Young, female vic, gutted throat to groin, and she was pregnant. No sign of the baby.” Nate’s matter-of-fact tone left no room for emotions.

  The three officers stopped in their tracks, Chloe’s brow furrowing. Nate bumped into Amelia’s back with an “oomph” before taking the opportunity to cop a feel of her arse. She didn’t care at that moment, focused only on the gruesome news he just delivered.

  “I beg your pardon? She was slit open, and the child was removed?” She spun around to face him.

  “Yup.” Nate sounded casual and unaffected. “I’ve taken pictures and gathered all the evidence.”

  “So, why do we need to be here?” Amelia cocked her head in query.

  If he made any smarmy comment about how he wanted to see her face or whatever, she’d blind him with her own fingers.

  “The scene’s a bit … strange. There’s definitely witchcraft involved, and I know you’re pretty hot with that topic. I thought you could take a look, see what you think.”

  Amelia nodded. “Roberts, you gonna be OK with this?”

  Chloe paled, but nodded. Her experience so far didn’t stretch to gruesome murder scenes, but this would be something she’d need to deal with—best to suck it up now, and get it over with.

  Amelia turned to back Nate, raised her eyebrows, and swept her hand in front of her.

  Following Nate toward the back of the warehouse, Amelia came over uneasy.

  The air around her grew thick and heavy with the aftermath of murder, yet everything remained eerily still, aside from the occasional creak and groan. Plastic coverings over the windows flapped in sporadic bursts amid quick gusts of air trying to permeate the gloom. Their footsteps echoed off the corrugated walls.

  A darkened room extended off the main warehouse, a cloying, ominous ambience hung in the area within.

  Outside the entrance, Nate stopped. Amelia saw light flicker inside—candles, perhaps? The stench of blood and death lingered. After a few deep breaths, she covered her nose and walked through the doorless entryway, the deathly silence palpable.

  Larger than first thought, the room shone with the glow of several spluttering candles, in various states of use—puddles of dried wax surrounded those distinguished. Numerous colourful cushions lay in disarray towards the centre encircled by a large white-powdered symbol. The salt circle, used by witches to keep evil spirits and demons at bay, lay broken.

  A coven likely gathered in this warehouse to chant and pray.

  Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Amelia ambled toward the scene against the far wall. Adjacent to the circle, it contained the more disturbing evidence; the metal wall itself smeared in a dark, drying liquid—blood. Lots of it; its coppery tang hung in the air.

  Burnt in the wall and caked in flaky blood, a cryptic symbol depicted a crescent moon above an upside-down cross. Amelia noted the distinct smell of rotted meat coming from the smoky remains. It penetrated the fetid odour of the slaughter that took place—the horror of which she now stared at.

  Beneath the smouldering symbol lay the body of a woman, horror in her eyes made more gruesome from the shadows dancing about her face and the gnawed, bloodied teeth marks from the vermin who made a feast of her flesh. Her hands lay above her head, fused together, skin raw. Her legs spread apart at an unnatural angle and bruises formed around the joints, highlighted by her ashen skin.

  Taking two steps closer, Amelia glared at the gaping hole in the woman’s stomach. Thick blood pooled from it into a congealed mass beneath the poor soul. The jagged edges of the flesh looked scorched, cauterised. Shifting her gaze to the woman’s wrists and ankles, Amelia noticed angry, red scald marks around each one. The wrists bore the brunt of the damage. Whatever caused the burns melted the skin on each wrist together to form one big mass of bloodied, blistered flesh.

  “Jesus,” Sam exclaimed.

  Amelia flinched. Morbidly mesmerised by the scene, she didn’t hear Sam approach behind her. She turned to Nate and Chloe, having wandered in.

  “T.O.D., Nate?”

  “Liver temp puts her time of death roughly seven hours ago. Around midnight.”

  “Theories?”

  Nate shook his head. “It’s dark magic, that’s for sure. But by who and for what purpose… well, that’s where you come in.”

  “That symbol,” Amelia nodded her head in the direction of the wall, “I don’t recognise it, do you?”

  “Afraid not, Doll. Maybe we’ll have some luck searching the archives.” He wandered closer to the remains. “What do you make of the condition of her wrists?” He proceeded.

  “Demonic, for
sure, but we’ll know more when we get the samples back for testing.” Amelia pointed at the smouldering symbol. “That’s got something to do with the marks on our victim’s wrists and ankles, I can assure you.” Turning to Sam, she challenged, “Initial thoughts?”

  He circled the body and surmised, “Black magic. The vic wasn’t here alone to start with. She was meditating with others. They left, the murderer pounced. She knew her attacker because the scene isn’t disturbed. There’s no sign of any struggle until the victim was restrained.”

  “Good. What about the nature of the wounds, Roberts?” Amelia cocked her head in the ashen Sergeant’s direction.

  Chloe swallowed hard before she dropped to crouch beside the body. “The incisions are fairly precise; the murderer remained calm. They knew what they were doing. The weapon has some kinks in it, though, because the tool marks aren’t completely straight.”

  Kneeling to join her colleague, Amelia searched the corpse with slow, measured focus. She grabbed a small torch from her jacket pocket and shone it across the remains several times. “The weapon used was a sacrificial blade.”

  “How do you know?” Nate switched his gaze from the DCI to the victim’s stomach.

  “They’re scorched; the blade was enchanted before it was used. But, more importantly… you missed one vital clue.”

  “I did? No way.” Having the good grace to look astounded, Nate moved closer.

  Fishing some tweezers from the small kit she carried, Amelia bent further over the woman’s corpse, recoiling at the noxious stench before she delved into the grisly wound. She offered Nate the two centimetre piece of bone she held. He stretched out a gloved hand for Amelia to drop the article in.

  “What is it?” Sam stepped closer.

  “It’s a fragment of a knife. My guess, is it’s made from human bone, and the only knives made from human bone in a witch’s circle are sacrificial ones.”

  “Shit. I assumed it was just a fragment of one of the vic’s bones.” Nate turned the evidence over between his fingers.

  “You know what they say about assuming, Nate. It’s a good thing you called me then.” Amelia cocked a smile at him. “How you thought it belonged to her is beyond me, it was lodged in between the bones of her second and third rib. Also, look at the distinct discoloration and the sharp tip. You can see where it’s been carved into a point.”

  “And you wonder why we need you here.” Nate grinned back at her. “Sebastian woulda found it, though.” He winked.

  “Um, guys. I hate to rain on both your parades, but you’ve missed something else.” Sam hovered over the woman’s face.

  Amelia and Nate turned, the DCI curious. “What is it, Chapman?” His boss crouched next to him.

  “See how her trachea is protruding slightly? Unless she’s a transvestite, there’s something wedged in there.”

  Amelia bent over the victim, pried her lips open and retrieved the object stuck in her throat. Pulling it out, she held it up to the light. “A bird claw?”

  “A what … ?” Nate glanced at Amelia. “Is it an owl’s claw?”

  “If I were to guess right now, then yeah, I’d say so.”

  “Puts things into perspective. We should get back to the Compound, we got research to do.”

  “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, mate,” Sam interjected.

  At the warehouse exit, Nate stopped while he ran a hand over his stubble. “Millie’s right. This does involve the sacrifice of babies, and it won’t be stopping at one. Someone’s trying to resurrect a demon.”

  Chapter 2

  “You should go. Daniel will be home soon.” I hung my head and stared at my interlaced fingers resting on the light oak kitchen table. I caught sight of a fading bruise and pulled down the sleeve of my jumper to further hide it.

  “And? Ellie… ,” Alice sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Okay, but call me when you get back, all right?”

  Nodding, I kept my gaze averted. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. I imagined her eyes burning into me with accusation and pity.

  Daniel and I would be leaving in the morning for a weekend away together. A last short holiday while he could afford the time off work, and before I gave birth to our daughter. Our first child together and my last shred of hope.

  I didn’t want things to return to the way they were after she arrived.

  “Listen, sweetheart. I know you said you weren’t sure about a christening or anything, but my mom called me today and offered you the function room free of charge. If you want it.”

  Set against a backdrop of gorgeous Lancashire countryside, their beautiful Georgian Establishment offered a perfect location for my daughter’s christening. Alice’s parents and I had formed a close relationship over the years and I appreciated their offer, but I couldn’t accept.

  “I don’t think Daniel is too keen on the idea,” I murmured.

  “And what about you, what do you want?”

  My face heated, anxious palpitations gripped me at her accusatory tone. “It’s not just Daniel; I’m not big on the whole religion thing either. I just don’t see the point in going through with a ceremony where none of the beliefs mean anything to me.”

  In truth, while I didn’t practice the religion, the rest of the process excited me; the pretty dresses, the gorgeous gifts, the excuse for a party. But Daniel wouldn’t have liked all the fuss. He just wanted a quiet life with us, his family. We didn’t need an excuse to throw away unnecessary expense on a party.

  “Well, the offer’s there if you want it, love.”

  Alice rose from her chair at the kitchen table, grabbed her bag off one of the black marble units, and made for the front door, with me in tow.

  “Thanks for the brochures. Daniel and I will have a look through them later.”

  “You’re welcome. Call me when you get a minute, okay? I wanna hear all about it.”

  She pulled me in for a hug. My stiff body loosened in her arms before she held me back and beamed an infectious smile at me.

  Climbing into her red Mini Cooper, she waved at me and drove away. I shut the door and walked back to the kitchen. The brochures she brought around were splayed out on the table—activity brochures for the getaway to Cornwall that Daniel and I would be taking. I scooped them up and shoved them to the bottom of the bin. Being very well organised, Daniel already planned our activities.

  With the catalogues binned, I made sure to wash, dry and put away our mugs, clear the table and hoover the charcoal-tiled floor. A house-proud Daniel hated for things to look untidy or unclean.

  Once done, and certain I cleaned the rest of our two-bed semi-detached with the same thoroughness, I went upstairs to continue packing. We were to spend two blissful days soaking up the Cornish sun and relaxing on the beautiful Devonshire beaches.

  Daniel’s job in real estate demanded a lot of his time. With that and the baby, we both needed this break. Once our little girl arrived, Daniel would only have a couple of weeks to help me and to bond with his daughter before returning to work.

  I didn’t need to work; when I met a twenty-four year-old Daniel, he’d told me he would provide for me. I quit my job at Alice’s parent’s pub, and, at eighteen, settled into creating a home for him.

  Now at twenty-one, I couldn’t complain. I cradled my massive, seven-month bump and smiled. I couldn’t wait to meet the daughter nestled in there. I often wondered which of us she would look like. Would she have my light brown hair and chocolate eyes? Or would they be darker, like Daniel’s? Would her lips be thick and voluptuous like mine? Would she have gorgeous high cheekbones like her father? Excitement swam through me and I smiled.

  Daniel’s key in the front door knocked me from my daydream. The thud of his briefcase drummed off the carpeted floor before his footsteps padded down the hallway.

  “Ellie, where are you?”

  “I’m up here,” I shouted to him.

  Bounding up the steps, he crossed the landing to our room. His tall, muscular fra
me stood in the doorway. Dark, slicked-back ‘business-hair’ damp from the drizzle outside. I could barely make out his once captivating, deep green eyes while they observed me from under furrowed brows.

  “What are you doing?” A note of distaste stained his question.

  “I’m packing, silly.” I smiled while I folded another skirt and placed it in the suitcase that lay across our white-wood bed.

  “What did you call me?” He lowered his tone, full of malice.

  Shit. I panicked. My body shivered ice cold.

  “I’m sorry, darling. I was only joking.” With hurried words, I hoped I righted my wrong. What else do I say, it just slipped out? Anxiety gripped me in a tight vice.

  “Think before you speak, Elora. You’re not that stupid.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered again.

  “Why are you packing alone? I thought we were going to do it together.” His condescending tone soaked into my skin and caused me to shudder.

  “Would you like me to stop? We can do it after we’ve eaten.” When will I learn?

  “What have you made for dinner?”

  Relieved by the change in subject, I replied in haste, “I’ve made a lasagne. Is that okay?”

  “I suppose.” He couldn’t have looked more disinterested, his stoic expression firmly fixed.

  I contained the sigh before it escaped my lips. After his difficult day, I tried not to take his blasé demeanour to heart—stress caused it, and I only made it worse.

  I made for the door. Daniel grabbed my upper arm in a strong grip; so strong I almost yelped in pain as his fingers pinched the fleshy part of my bicep.

  He pulled me into his hard chest with such brute force a painful twinge lanced through my belly. I squinted my eyes against the tender throb.

  Up until now, he’d been careful not to physically hurt me in case anything happened to the baby, and I prayed this wasn’t the start of it again. His virile, bullish behaviour continued, but his laying a finger on me had calmed.

  He stared at me for interminable moments. His look, however difficult to read, appeared neither loving nor kind, so when he forced his lips over mine, confusion reigned. I tried not to grimace at the impassioned urgency while he forced me backwards and all but pushed me out the door.