The Dark War: The Dark War, Book 1 Read online

  I touched the torch to the soft linen and it was done. The bodies were no more.

  * * * * *

  The screeching sound of my alarm cut through the horrid nightmare, slicing me away from the terrible memories. I shot my arm out, knocking the alarm from its pedestal on my nightstand to the floor. The beeping halted.

  It was dead. Just like my sisters.

  I laid my hand over my face, pressing my fingers to my eyelids to keep from crying. I didn’t dream about them all the time, not anymore.

  Come on, Kali, snap out of it.

  Sighing, I pushed myself up, then swung my legs to the side of the bed, resting for a moment as I assessed the state of my body. Everything ached. There wasn’t one muscle that didn’t hurt. And damn, I was still tired. I picked up my cell phone and hit the home button. Six a.m. I’d slept through my alarm for an hour. Shit.

  Five measly hours of sleep. It was all I could allow myself. Especially if I wanted to catch up with my bounty. But I had serious doubts she was still at the vampire den. Why would she be sleeping during the day, anyway? No, more likely she was long gone and I’d have to pick up her trail once again.

  Groaning through my stiff muscles, I stood and stretched. I needed to shower, get ready and go. I’d slept enough to reenergize my powers somewhat, but I knew it would be tough going if I didn’t catch up with my bounty immediately.

  My phone vibrated as a call went straight to voicemail. I glanced down at the screen, knowing instinctively who was calling—the same person who had been calling with increasingly paranoid predictions for days now.

  Dad. Nuh uh.

  I dropped the phone onto my bed and headed for the shower.

  Ten minutes later I stood staring into the abyss of my walk-in closet. I owned a lot of jeans, T-shirts and tank tops, most of which were black. Nothing too spectacular. Knives of all sorts, cross-bows, tranq guns, along with many other items both legal and illegal, lined the back wall of my closet.

  I busied myself with dressing, my thoughts turning to the night before and its very strange circumstances. A witch taking refuge in a vampire den. Very weird. Witches and vampires didn’t usually mingle. There was always an undercurrent of mistrust.

  I smoothed the wrinkles from my tank top, then snatched my brush from the dresser. A few quick swipes and my unruly brown locks were up and out of the way, bouncing in a tail at the back of my head. I definitely didn’t trust vampires. They were ruthless killers, usually doing only what suited their impulses and needs. The very epitome of untrustworthy.

  I snatched my witch hunter license from my dresser and slid it into my pocket. If things went bad I’d need my license to prove my legitimacy. It also helped to flash it when I needed to get things done. Most supernaturals understood not to mess with a hunter of any sort. Highly trained killers and all that. It was doubly bad if that hunter happened to be a witch.

  Traitor to my own kind. Not that my own kind are worth protecting all of the time.

  There was a calculated reason why I chose to hunt witches. Indifference and trade secrets. I knew what made them tick. I knew how to find them, knew their weaknesses.

  Call it a personal vendetta, call it revenge. Whatever you labeled it, I hunted my own kind because I enjoyed it. I didn’t go after the innocents, just the evildoers and I wasn’t always hunting to kill. Usually, my bounties followed the traditional notion of the profession, albeit, underground and away from the preying eyes of humans. I would find them and bring them to the local witch court, or hold-up, depending on the need. But it was the independent contracts that brought in the most cash and usually the most satisfaction. Either way it was dangerous, even if I did have personal insight into the species.

  I glanced at my watch. Six-thirty. Too much time wasted already. I quickly moved back into my closet and heaved one of my weapons bags off the floor. I slung it onto my bed as I exited. I didn’t have any more tranq darts. I’d used—wasted—the last one the night before. Cursing silently, I dug through the bag. I usually pre-packed my bags for witches. This time I needed to plan for vampires too.

  Without the darts and with my powers still undercharged, things could get dicey. But I had no choice. Every second that passed was a moment lost in catching the murdering witch. I needed to get a move on. I walked back into my closet and rooted through what few vampire weapons were there. Wooden stakes seemed like the best bet and I could sheath them with my knives at my waist. I grabbed all that I had, which ended up being only about half a dozen, and threw them into my bag along with the rest of my weapons.

  I zipped the bag and slid the strap over my shoulder.

  Time to go.

  After grabbing an energy drink and protein bar from my fridge, I left my condo, making sure to lock and then magically reinforce my door before leaving. What can I say? Paranoid? Perhaps. I spent my time hunting the truly horrible in supernatural society. That was bound to pick up a few enemies along the way.

  I heaved my weapons bag into the passenger seat of my SUV then climbed into the driver’s side. Within minutes I was on the freeway, the engine rumbling, vibrating with power in a way that made me giddy, headed right back to the west-end where the vampire den was. I scanned the morning landscape, my eyes skimming the forested area to my left. I liked Tampa. It was humid as hell most of the time, but it sure beat the cold, rainy climate of Massachusetts, where witch headquarters was.

  The American Council of Witches.

  I snorted at the thought. They governed all of the witch affairs in the US and liaised with those in other countries. They trained and molded, taught and produced some of the most powerful witches in the country. And they’d had me in their grasp right up until the moment I’d found out my sisters were dead. Right up until the moment that I realized they’d let my family die.

  I flicked on the radio, hoping to drown myself in some rock and shift my thoughts away from the past. I needed to pump myself up for the hunt not dwell on what couldn’t be changed.

  “The giant solar flare has been predicted by scientists for years, and should be relatively harmless despite what some doomsday preppers are saying.” The radio host chuckled. “I’m no expert, but from what I’ve heard most of us will get a spectacular light show on Friday night. So, folks, keep calm, pop some corn, get a beer and enjoy the pretty Aurora Borealis. Remember: phone, internet, all that fun stuff will probably go on the fritz for a few seconds, maybe a minute of disruption and then everything should be back to normal again.”

  Solar flare.

  I grunted with a smirk, flipping the Bluetooth on to access a playlist on my phone. So much hype. There were a lot of naysayers, folks trying to rile up the masses, get people into a panic over the looming electromagnetic storm. Even my father, with his increasingly panicked calls about some dire portend. He was the reason I’d put my phone on mute. I’d ignore him until the storm passed and his end of the world didn’t come. Just as the radio guy said, no big deal. And my dad wasn’t known for accurate predictions.

  My mind snapped back into focus as the traffic began to merge into a standstill. Taking the next available opening, I drove down the off ramp that led me into the heart of the city, navigating the early morning traffic with mild frustration, the crush of cars only fractionally better than the freeway had been.

  People scurried down the streets, steaming coffees clenched in their hands, eyes downcast on their various smart devices and cell phones, ignoring one another as they jostled through the crowds. You’d never know who was a supernatural and who was a human. Everyone looked the same. It was what saved us from extinction. The humans had no idea. And that was the way it needed to be.

  We’d seen what they could do if they hunted one of us. My people in particular had been hunted and murdered by the thousands during the Burning Times. A horrible period of history that saw many witches tried and judged by illogical and unfair laws. Tortured to
obtain confessions and then burned at the stake or hanged by the neck, sometimes even crushed by rocks. It had been a bad time to be a witch. The humans had even killed some of their own in their murdering frenzy of fear.

  And yes, I know, here I was hunting a witch myself, a card carrying witch hunter. Total hypocrite. But I only ever hunted the evildoers and I didn’t torture—just captured or killed depending on the severity of the crime and the client’s wishes. Anything that didn’t sit right in my gut didn’t happen. It was the reason I’d left the Witch Hunter’s Union. Couldn’t stomach some of the shit that went on there. I walked a fine line with regards to moral code, but I never did anything that would give me a sleepless night. Ever.

  I pulled off the main thoroughfare and moved away from the congested roadways of the city. The vampire den was located in a quiet residential area, a few miles west of city center. As I wove through the streets, my mind wandered lazily, my eyes skimming the buildings and avenues whizzing by me.

  When it came right down to it, morally speaking, I was doing the humans a favor Keeping the riffraff members of my species quiet, culling the herd so to speak. Policing anyone who stepped out of line. The worst thing that could happen would be if the humans found out we actually existed. Some members of the witch community were either too stupid or too rebellious to understand that concept.

  Once again, The Burning Times, not fun. The humans always seemed to have a way to subdue us and really, we just couldn’t all get along. It was better that we flew under the radar. Who knew what kind of crazy shit might happen if the humans knew magic really existed, or immortality was a blood chug away.

  I parked my SUV a block away from the den and slid from my seat onto the pavement. The bungalow was in the distance, and it still looked foreboding, even in the bright morning sun. First thing I needed to do was make sure the witch was there. I closed my eyes and breathed in a few deep, calming breaths, then took a moment to reacquaint myself with my bounty’s magic signature, using my witch signature memory to locate her particular scent of magic before casting my tracking spell. I spread it like a giant web, hoping if she had taken off sometime earlier, I’d be able to detect her direction by casting a wide net.

  Tracking was instinctual for me. I didn’t need to think about it. I just did it, like breathing. It was a strength that I was born with. Most witches had at least one that came naturally.

  The other magic, the stuff I had to manipulate—like invisibility and stunning—well, that got a little trickier. That kind of magic required spell casting and spells needed to be learned. I wasn’t the best student growing up so learned magic didn’t come naturally I had to work for it. But tracking, in any form, was a cake-walk.

  Seconds later, her signature touched my senses, teasing along my awareness like a tiny finger stroking a fine thread. I slid my eyes open as mild surprise rolled over me. The magic was strong. It was very possible she was still in there. That she hadn’t run.

  Chapter Three

  The eerie feeling from the night before returned.

  Why, exactly, was a witch housing herself in a vampire den? Vampires were creeps, for the most part anyway. Was the witch donating blood for protection? Possible.

  I reached into the SUV and shifted my weapons bag into the driver’s side. I quickly sheathed my various knives, stakes and whatnot into their proper places at my waist and hidden in a special calf holster under my pants. At least this morning, I’d be prepared for hand to hand combat if necessary.

  The night before had been dangerous folly. I should never have been caught without more weapons. It had been foolish to underestimate my bounty’s powers. Especially since I knew she’d murdered a witch already. I’d assumed she was weak because she’d preyed on a young, inexperienced witch. Dumb assumption apparently.

  My tracking spell’s net lingered as I shut the SUV door and moved toward the house. It was the kind of spell that dissipated with time if I didn’t reinforce it, but it would be there for a while, echoing my bounty’s powers through me like a beacon. As I moved closer, though, my bounty’s strong signature mingled with the magic etchings on the house.

  A wary feeling of mistrust nagged at my gut, adding to my confusion. The vampires were making an attempt to keep humans safe and that in itself was a mystery. Humans were food, so why repel them?

  Most vampire dens were established by gang masters to house their members during the day. And most gang masters didn’t give a crap about whether or not humans stumbled onto their property. Food was food, and vampires didn’t exist, so the human authorities listed another missing person and moved on—especially when some of those vampires were able to use mind control tactics, like persuasion, to keep an investigation away.

  So, again, why the warding?

  I moved cautiously toward the house, my senses tingling with the magic that ebbed from its walls. Powerful and illegal, the symbols that warned humans away were ones that worked by touching a human’s unconscious instincts, giving them that eerie feeling that sent chills down their spines. It triggered their flight response. In other words, run the hell away before the vamps have a chance to smell dinner approaching. Whoever was in charge of this den didn’t want any trouble from anyone, including humans. At least, not where murder was concerned. They didn’t want some unsuspecting human to fall into the hands of a hungry vamp just waking from their nightly nap. Counterintuitive for a blood-drinking creature.

  Curious, I scanned the signature of the symbols. Any magic in use for sale or profit needed to be cleared by the Council. Symbols of this nature needed to be accompanied by a Council seal, which I did not detect. If I’d been working for the Council, it would be my job to find the creator of this magic and arrest them.

  But it’s not my job and the Council can go fuck themselves.

  I eyed the front door of the house warily. What I needed was a plan. I couldn’t simply walk up to the front door and waltz in. I needed to gain entrance in a way that guaranteed I wouldn’t be detected. Catch her by surprise. Subdue her. Get out of there, preferably without waking the vamps.

  I glanced to the right and eyed the walkway leading toward the back of the house. There could be trouble if I got caught trespassing. I didn’t have a warrant and although my bounty’s magic was still strong, it was possible that the witch wasn’t actually still inside. I’d been wrong before.

  But never with a signature this intense.

  My gut told me she was in there. For whatever reason she hadn’t taken off yet. If I could get in undetected, I could catch her by surprise. And after the night before, I knew I needed the advantage. The witch was tricky.

  I shielded my eyes as I scanned the area one more time.

  Middle of the day, vamps will be sleeping. Get in, get her, get out.

  There was no one around and no cars parked at any of the other houses. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a ghost neighborhood.

  “Yeah, no one around to hear your screams,” I whispered as I moved along the path, sweeping my gaze toward every shadow and potential hiding spot.

  I didn’t trust vamps, but not as much as I didn’t trust witches. With vamps—the Strix vampires at least—there was some security in knowing they had to follow certain rules or they’d fry. With witches, a spell could be launched from several hundred feet away if they were powerful enough. Witches were sneaky, and when combined with a lack of moral code, extremely dangerous. The night before had been a testament to that. Now that I knew how she played, I had to be ready for anything.

  The shaded path led toward a high wooden gate. I paused before opening it. I wasn’t at my best, magically speaking. I was still tired and drained from the days of tracking I’d already done, but I needed to prepare myself for a potential attack. The vamps could have hounds protecting them while they slept or witches lurking just inside the door.

  I took a few deep, steadying breaths and chanted one o
f the spells I most relied on—the stun spell. When I cast my spells, readying them in advance like I was, I had time to think about what I was doing, chant the proper Latin that all spells—good, powerful spells—were constructed with. When I did it in advance, I did it right. It was when I was casting in a panic that things often went wrong.

  I hadn’t been the best student at the Academy. I never had learned my Latin or memorized my spells properly, but what little I knew usually got me by. Most of the witches I hunted lacked any training and I was the stronger one in battle.

  A tingle of unease snaked its way back into my mind. The witch I was tracking now was powerful—perhaps more powerful than I was—and she might even have had some training. As I completed the stun spell, I reinforced it with a second layer, making doubly sure that I’d cast it properly. I used it so often that it was one of few I actually had committed to memory. Once I was satisfied and that feeling of unease somewhat abated, I clicked the latch and tentatively pushed, swinging the gate silently open.

  I took a step in, then froze, scanning the backyard area systematically. Witches could hide anywhere, even out in the open if they had the right kind of spell. I pushed some power into my tracking spell, altering its purpose. Allowing it to trace the area. Better than my eyes, it would be able to pick up whiffs of spell casting or power building.

  There was a pool in a state of disrepair, empty of water and cement cracking on all sides, a small shed, looking about the same in terms of upkeep, and a very high wall that lined the property that was covered in cascading trees. Very private. Very isolated. Perfect for a vampire den.

  I moved cautiously toward the blackened windows of the sliding glass doors. My tracking spell detected nothing other than what I’d already felt, and although I was relieved at the notion of no imminent threat, I didn’t let down my guard. Not for one second.

  I quickly reinforced my stun spell, which had lost some of its power when I pumped up my tracking spell, pooling it in my hand and readying myself for combat. With my other hand, I yanked a stake from my belt, gripping it lightly, ready to launch if the need arose.