Invoking the Witch (The Faction Series Book 1) Read online

  Voice raised, I stood firm, defiant, and stared back at Daniel. My chest heaved with each laboured breath.

  His lip twitched. “Ellie, darling, you’re not yourself right now. The stress with the baby being due soon, it’s scrambled your fragile mind.”

  “Don’t you dare talk to my daughter like that. The only thing that would possibly be fragile about her mind is whatever mess you’ve obviously caused in there. If you come anywhere near her again, I’ll put you six feet under, do you understand me?” My father’s eruption shocked me, quite like mine a minute ago.

  Daniel’s face darkened and he took a few menacing steps toward my dad, lips drawn back, he looked… evil. He squared up to my dad, and I shrank away from their standoff.

  “Listen to me, old man, and listen good. That child inside of your daughter belongs to me! We will be back for it the moment it’s born, and there won’t be a damn thing you can do to stop us. Do you understand me?” Daniel’s thundering voice sent chills down my spine, even Dad and Alice paled.

  But he could go to hell talking to him like that.

  “Back off, Daniel,” I spat at him through clenched teeth.

  I moved closer and chanced a glimpse at Alice’s look of surprise, her face mimicking her red hair as she talked into her phone—to the police, I assumed.

  “Shall I share something with you, Bernie?” Ignoring my eruption, Daniel’s tone lowered, his eyes dark, almost black, retaining his otherworldly look. “That daughter of yours is one fine lay. She’s so juicy and tight. I’m going to miss her when that baby is born.”

  Oh hell no! A red mist descended. Fury rippled through me with a strength and resolve I never knew I possessed. Rage swirled in my belly and heat seared a scorching trail through my blood. My skin burned and my fingertips prickled.

  I reached for Daniel’s shoulder. “Get away from us!” I screamed. A static charge jumped from him to me and I shook out the tingle in my fingers.

  Daniel turned to face me, surprise in his wide eyes before his face turned ashen. My dad grabbed hold of Daniel’s shoulder and kneed him in the genitals.

  Doubling over, Daniel’s face turned an ugly shade of reddish purple. An immense, thriving energy somersaulted around my stomach and bounced off every inch of my buzzing body.

  Daniel’s expression changed to something far more sinister, and a threatening smile crinkled his squinted eyes. “You’re both going to regret this moment for as long as you live.”

  “The police should be here any minute,” Alice announced, loud enough for us all to hear.

  Daniel turned and ran down the street. An engine gunned and he raced passed us in his car, amid screeching tires and the acrid stench of burnt rubber.

  Alice ran over to me. “Are you okay? Jesus Christ, that guy is a nutcase. What the hell did he mean when he said ‘we will be back’? Who the hell is ‘we’?”

  Realisation dawned, and I cradled my belly—he did say “we,” and “there won’t be a damn thing you can do to stop us.” With light-headedness, my body slumped into Alice’s and Dad’s firm hold.

  ∾∾∾

  I gave the police my statement about Daniel’s on-going abuse—I left nothing out. While the experience proved difficult to relive, I couldn’t fault the attitude of the two officers who interviewed me; they didn’t pressure me, just asked questions, took photos and wrote notes. With promises to be in touch, they left me with some counselling leaflets.

  Drained by the end of it, my appetite for dinner subsided. Outside, seated on a patio chair, I indulged in what remained of the warm, evening sun. I reflected on what all this meant for me—for us—while I caressed my bump. No way would I let Daniel get his hands on my child—the police would also help see to that.

  Looking down at the half-eaten salad on the table in front of me, I started to pick at it again when my dad came out of the cottage.

  “Elora, the police just called.”

  The officers who took my statement told me they planned to go round to my home in search of Daniel.

  Home.

  My hand stilled over my plate as I contemplated that word.

  Did it ever feel like home?

  I thought so, once upon a time. I kept it clean, cooked his meals, played the doting housewife. I’d been proud.

  But Daniel chose the décor, decided which room would be which, where the furniture went, he picked the curtains, the dining set, the bed. Him, him, him.

  A heat flared inside me. It had been his castle, and I his slave. His domain.

  Well, he could fucking have it for all I cared. I didn’t want to live in a place reeking of his very essence—where his influence poured from every furnishing, wall and floor.

  “Elora?”

  I apologised to my father and recalled his statement. “That was quick.”

  I didn’t like the look on my dad’s face at all—his ice blue eyes held a sadness beneath half-raised brows.

  “He wasn’t at home. Neither was his car. They think he’s done a runner, sweetheart.”

  I went cold despite the sun’s heat. My stomach sank while I fought against the urge to be sick. My voice trembled, “He’ll come after me and my baby.”

  Kneeling in front of me, Dad placed two reassuring hands on my legs. “No, he won’t, angel. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “That’s impossible, Dad. You have to work.”

  “I’ve called the Faction and they’re making up some rooms for us.”

  “Oh, Dad, don’t be daft. That’s too drastic.”

  “I don’t care, darling. That psycho threatened to take your baby, not to mention the hints that there are others involved in… well, whatever he’s involved in.”

  The reminder shook me to the core and brought with it fresh bouts of nausea. “Dad… how am I meant to live in a building run by vampires?”

  My dad looked taken aback by my question. “They won’t hurt you.”

  I chuckled, “No, Dad. What I meant is how do I adjust? Don’t they just come out at night?”

  He laughed at me—a glorious sound, “Oh, sweetheart, no. They can’t go in direct sunlight, or they’ll burn, but they do work during the day. The Compound can be closed off from sunlight.”

  “How claustrophobic.”

  “They have a couple of huge gardens you can get a breath of fresh air in. They also have modern guest quarters, a library, a huge fully staffed kitchen, a hospital wing, and a full security team. You’ll be fine, and perfectly safe.”

  It still sounded oppressive to me—I could imagine being bored out of my mind without much to do there. But it didn’t matter—the safety of my child trumped all else. And, at the end of the day, I didn’t want to be away from my dad right now—Daniel would come for us. He said as much. At least guarded by vampire warriors, we would be safe from him, and whoever they were.

  ∾∾∾

  Pulling up outside the Compound in Marles Wood, I grabbed the case of my belongings Alice went back to her apartment for, before she headed to work.

  In the velvety darkness the Compound stood, a grand edifice against the backdrop of dense woodland; a modern structure surrounded by walls twenty feet high, topped with another two foot of barbed wire. Floodlights bathed the entire yard in a bright, white glare. Two guard towers stood either side of two sets of thick, barred gates, and two more behind those.

  Dad told me human patrol units manned the entire Compound, and the barbed wire on top of the walls could be electrified at the push of a button.

  Being here for the first time, it left a weird, nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Taking my bag off me, Dad shouldered his and motioned for me to follow. We stood before the thick steel gates and Dad pulled his ID out. He swiped it over a security mechanism on the wall. After that, he bent down to a monitor for a retina scan and, after attaching heartbeat sensors to his chest and head, submitted his thumb to the pad for a fingerprint scan.

  “Wow, bit security conscious?” I comme
nted, standing beside him. My voice trembled.

  I gawked at the Compound, unsure whether I felt safe or scared. Have I thought this through? Vampires. I would be living with creatures of the night who fed on fresh blood.

  Sure, my dad said they weren’t the blood-thirsty savages of centuries-old tales, but how could I be certain of that?

  “They have to be, flower. Amongst other reasons, there are a lot of ancient relics in this building that could be lethal in the wrong hands.”

  “Oh.”

  I caressed my swollen belly and swallowed past the lump in my throat. What choice do I have? The Faction may not want to feed on me or my unborn child, but Daniel did want us, and his intentions would be less than amiable.

  My dad had worked for the Faction for five years—they’d never once hurt him. I needed to do this. For my baby’s sake, if not for my own.

  The first set of gates buzzed open and we walked into a small area between them. We waited for the first set to close before the second set opened. Once through, we made our way to the front of the building. The impressive entrance before me stood huge, with a large windowed façade that I could only see my reflection in.

  Swiping his ID card once more, Dad took a small step back before the glass-fronted doors opened into a sleek reception area.

  Black marble tiles adorned the floors, walls painted in contrasting greys and whites. Several glass-topped coffee tables lined one end with plush, grey sofas set around them. Green potted plants added a splash of colour and the subdued lighting created a calming atmosphere.

  The cool, open air filled my lungs and the sweet aroma of lilies and honeysuckle tickled my senses. I closed my eyes and smiled as my fears began to subside.

  “Evening, Wendy.”

  I opened my eyes at my dad’s voice and noted a large desk at the far end of the reception. A woman sat behind it amid a bank of computers, keypads and telephones.

  She beamed at my father. “Evening, B. This must be your lovely daughter.”

  “In the flesh,” he smiled.

  Everyone who knew my dad called him B—short for Bernie, which is short for Bernard, but no-one called him that.

  Getting up from her chair, Wendy walked round to the front of the counter. A somewhat large lady with a wide, infectious grin, dark hair scrunched in a bun and red rosy cheeks. She gave me a wide smile, but her eyes threw a quick glance to the bruise on my cheek. I dropped my gaze, but she grabbed my hand and held it between her two.

  “Hi, Elora, my name’s Wendy. It’s really nice to meet you. Your dad talks about you a lot.”

  “He does?” I turned to Dad and he winked at me.

  “Oh yes. Worships the ground you walk on, he does.”

  I liked Wendy—cheerful, pleasant and she made me smile like a fool, despite my situation.

  “And this must be the precious little girly.” Wendy placed chubby, warm hands on my bump.

  Facing life as a single mother didn’t fill me with great confidence—would I be judged? Where would people assume the father was? Would they pity me because of the bruises on my face? Question after question sent me light-headed and nauseous, but Wendy’s gaze showed no judgement as she grinned between me and my belly.

  “That’s my bun. Weeks away from joining us,” I returned with a half-smile.

  “Oh, I bet you are so excited! Have you thought of any names yet?”

  “No, not really.” In truth, Daniel suggested we not pick any names because we’d know her name the moment we laid eyes on her.

  Against his wishes—but not to his knowledge—I chose a couple I liked the sound of. With him out of the picture now, it left an empty feeling inside the pit of my stomach. My child would be fatherless in essence. Yet, I would be free. We both would. But it still didn’t stop the speculation and the ‘what ifs’.

  Wendy returned to her computers and buzzed us into an elevator. Dad swiped his key card again and we ascended.

  Entering a large foyer-type area with bannisters overlooking the reception below, we headed through a set of double doors in front of us and moved into a vast sitting space. The floor went down a level where large, interlinked sofas surrounded a huge square fireplace in the middle of the room—the suspended flume went up into the ceiling. I marvelled at the beauty of the fire; watching it glow an unusual blue.

  Windows lined some of the walls, and thick blackout blinds were rolled up to expose the gorgeous gardens and the beautiful moonlit Lancashire countryside below. Spotlights fixed into the ceiling produced a warm ambience, and I could hear the delicate sounds of a harp accompanied by the soft tones of a piano in the background.

  Looking further into the room, I noticed a few closed doors on a couple of the walls, and a bar set in the far corner.

  “This place is impressive,” My fears of claustrophobia sailed away with the idyllic soundscape floating through the air.

  “And this is only the main lounge. You wait ’til you see the rest of the place.”

  Before Dad and I could make a move toward the sofas, one of the doors opened and a man walked out, his attention buried in the paperwork he carried. His nose twitched, and he looked up.

  Wow! Words failed me when his gaze slammed into mine with the powerful force of a tsunami. I stared into a set of the most piercing, beautiful eyes—a deep, glistening purple. They accentuated his short, chocolate-brown hair, light stubble, and a perfectly defined face set atop muscled flawlessness.

  The fitted, short-sleeved white shirt he wore, with the top two buttons undone clung to a toned chest and abs in such a way my stomach fluttered into my throat. His strong, brawny arms covered in tattoos, and his tight in-all-the-right-places, black jeans… they were made for him.

  I could feel my heartbeat as it pounded; threatening to burst out of my chest with the way his gazed ensnared me.

  A nagging little noise in my left ear jilted my concentration, and I realised my dad had been trying to get my attention.

  “Ellie, are you okay?”

  I blinked a couple of times and shook my head. “Um… yeah, thanks.”

  The newcomer acknowledged my dad’s presence with a quick nod.

  I turned my gaze back to the vampire Adonis, who came to stand before me. His natural speed made him lightning fast.

  He took a gentle hold of my hand and placed his lips to it, “Miss Lincoln, my name is Deacon De Luca. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

  I heated as his soft, pink lips brushed against the skin on the back of my hand. The friction sent electricity surging through my whole body at his slightest touch. If he felt it, too, he didn’t show it, but he did look me in the eyes when he spoke to me.

  “Please, call me Elora.” I forced the words out.

  “Elora… .” He let my name linger while he stared at me.

  In that instant, as my name escaped his lips and my stomach fluttered, I knew my life would never be the same.

  ∾∾∾

  Having gone to the labs to work, Dad left me in Deacon’s company.

  Dad talked about Deacon to me before; I knew him to be a four-hundred year old member of the Faction—and, damn, he looked good for his age.

  Arms linked, he gave me a tour of the library and media rooms before we ended in the large kitchen/dining area. I didn’t register much of the black and white marble surroundings, instead I hung off Deacon’s every word, committed the feel of his cool skin on mine to memory. I tried to focus on the rooms he showed me, but when he gazed into my eyes, held my stare, I lost all concentration.

  My earlier reservations over staying here slipped away with each word he breathed. We would be safe here—my baby and I.

  I didn’t feel uncomfortable around Deacon, either. Only delightful bliss. And I wondered why.

  “This place is magnificent,” I exclaimed, breaking eye contact in an attempt to mask my infatuation.

  I caught Deacon’s smile before he, too, turned away. “It’s certainly something. Can I make you anything to e
at or drink?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not hungry, but thank you.”

  He placed a gentle hand on my arm and looked me in the eye before he uttered, “Ellie, I promised your dad I’d make sure you ate something.”

  Oh my—my legs quivered at the way he breathed my nickname as if it were intended for his lips only. His voice wrapped around me like silk and sent shivers down my spine. My body tuned in to its femininity, begging me to throw myself at the sexual mercy of this beautiful man.

  What the hell is wrong with me? He’s offering food, not a lifetime commitment. “I guess I could eat a sandwich or something, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “It’d be my pleasure, Elora.” Wow, his words rolled off his tongue like liquid gold—the way he whispered my name left me wet and throbbing and I didn’t even care to know why he affected me this way. I wanted to revel in a sensation I’d not felt in a long time.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and released it while those familiar stirrings stroked my body over and over.

  “Are you feeling okay? You’re breathing rather heavily, and you’re glowing.” Deacon’s voice sailed into my ears on silver-lined clouds—so beautiful and full of genuine concern, with a hint of… what was that… ?

  … Jesus H. Christ, can he sense what I’m feeling? I suppressed a groan at the thought.

  I turned to face him to tell him I felt fine—I didn’t, of course, but I couldn’t let him know. Opening my mouth to speak, in a flash, he appeared in front of me. He traced his hand around the bruise on my face with a feather-light touch. I closed my eyes and committed his gentle caress to memory while my skin heated and puckered under his soft fingers.

  My body groaned at me, pulled at some hidden, charged connection—something so deep I didn’t understand it, but so powerful I couldn’t ignore it.

  “I will never understand how a man can harm a precious woman.”

  His words took me by surprise and my eyes snapped open.