Witch of Shadows (Shadowhurst Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Witch of Shadows

  Copyright © 2020 A.N. Sage

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Some characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN 978-1-989868-06-5 (Paperback Edition)

  ISBN 978-1-989868-07-2 (Electronic Edition)

  Published by Cauldron Press

  [email protected]

  © A.N. Sage and ansage.ca

  Witch of Shadows

  Shadowhurst Mysteries, Book 1

  A. N. Sage

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. First day

  2. Big City Girl

  3. Peyton Ling

  4. Fun in Shadowhurst

  5. The Chandlers

  6. Decided

  7. Evil is Afoot

  8. The Only Witch in Shadowhurst

  9. Some Secret Room

  10. My So Called Case Workers

  11. A Witch With a Mission

  12. The Founding Families

  13. Riffraff

  14. Protectors of This Place

  15. Witchy Book Collection

  16. Just an Urban Legend

  17. The Jury’s Still Out

  18. Arrest

  19. Peach Wood

  20. A Tough Cookie

  21. How Much Do You Know?

  22. The Weirdest Thing That Ever Happened

  23. An Impossible Situation

  24. I Will Have You

  25. You’re Not Here For Her

  26. Clay Clayton

  27. Heaven

  28. A Conduit of Information

  29. Hard to Believe

  30. A Freaking Bloodhound

  31. Surprise

  32. So Many Questions

  33. Is That What They Told You?

  34. Chop Chop

  35. Just A Drop

  36. The Witch I’m After

  37. Much worse

  38. What Are You?

  39. You Can’t Kill Her

  40. Seek Out The Truth

  41. New Magic

  Thanks for Reading!

  Acknowledgments

  Also by A. N. Sage

  About the Author

  “The spring sun shows me your shadow,

  The spring wind bears me your breath,

  You are mine for a passing moment,

  But I am yours to the death.”

  -Rosamund Marriot Watson

  Prologue

  It was a dark and dreadful afternoon, even by Shadowhurst standards. I walked the wide corridor of the academy with a scowl on my face and my clammy fingers wrapped around the cool silver handle of the dagger. The magic of the etched runes on the handle slammed into me with their power. By some luck, I remembered to pull out the dagger from the hidden compartment of my boot this time. Looking around the lengthy line of lockers on both my sides and the shadows that crept along them, I somehow had a feeling that dagger or not, I was in it deep this time.

  The tattered strap of my backpack dug into my shoulder and I couldn’t help but hiss and curse under my breath with each slow step. Why did I find it necessary to pack my grimoire for school today out of all days? I couldn’t very well chase the creature I followed here with two pounds of book strapped to my back. On the bright side, if I was right and a shadower was lurking on school grounds, I could always chuck the grimoire its way and hope to hit bone. Get it together, Billie! If I survived this, I would need to get my hands on the High Coven’s cloaking spell so I can leave the damn thing home next time.

  Home. Such a strange word to process after so much time spent on my own. Somehow, Shadowhurst had almost seemed like one and if I was being honest, I didn’t totally hate that fact. I might have liked it a little, which was saying a lot for me. I didn’t even like myself on most days.

  With a grunt, I rearranged the backpack’s straps and wiped the unyielding sweat off my palms before continuing to make my way down the corridor. It was so empty and cold that I couldn’t believe this was the same place filled to the brim with students just a few hours ago. By now, those students were off the premises, leaving only me to roam the academy’s halls like I had a death wish. Why did I chase that shadower again? I mean, I could have just as easily packed my stuff and left with the rest of them. But no, I needed to be a hero as always. If only there was a spell to wipe someone’s conscience away because you know I’d use that in a heartbeat.

  As if on cue, a low growl rose from down the corridor, just beyond my sightline, and I froze in my place. My heart jumped so high in my throat I was sure I could bite right down on it. I took a deep breath and tried to wet my dry lips with whatever saliva was still left in my mouth without success. Around me, the air shifted, turning from a steady cool to an eye-reddening burn and confirming my suspicions. There was only one type of shadower that could radiate this much heat and luckily, I had my fair share of encounters with shapeshifters to know what to do.

  My fingers regained their grip on the hilt of the dagger and I used my free hand to pull an amber crystal from the side pocket of my backpack. Nothing got rid of a shifter faster than silver and fire, and I knew well enough to carry both with me at all times.

  Another growl filled the air, closer this time, followed by the sound of scurrying feet. The steps quickened, and I sped up to match their pace. This sucker is quick!

  As I ran, my messy braid bounced from side to side, catching on the studs in my leather jacket and making me curse through grit teeth each time. I rounded the corner, throwing my hands up to ready for an attack.

  The corridor was empty.

  DAMN IT! I picked up speed and ran toward the end where the door to the library was still wide open. There was only one place for this bastard to hide now and I was not letting it get away. My legs pumped, and I tried to think of the last time I went on an actual run, though judging by how my pathetic lungs were pulling air, I’d have to say it’s been a while. The dagger felt heavy in my hand and I used its weight to pick up momentum as I sliced my arms through the air. When I reached the library door, I skidded to a stop.

  The scent of iron filled my nostrils, but that wasn’t what gave me pause. There was something else at work here—something magical. I don’t know how I knew, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that things were very wrong beyond that door and that magic had something to do with it. Better safe than sorry, I thought and reached for the power of the amber in my left hand. The crystal warmed against my skin before sparking to life. Shit! That’s hot! I yelped and nearly dropped the ball of fire to the ground.

  This definitely wasn’t the best way to start this but it would have to do. Not like anyone else was here to kill this monster.

  Frustrated, I peeked around the large, wooden doorframe to scan the room. The library was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, most students avoided this place like the plague even during school hours. My breath hitched and I forced myself to move. Nothing you haven’t done before, just keep going. Don’t be a wuss.

  Step by shaky step I walked into the library, the ball of fire glowing in my palm as I held it up to light my way. As my nerves settled, the flow of the flames spread wider, brightening the dark stacks of books that spread around me like curtains. Tomes upon tomes of information that was almost redundant in a modern school such as is. Why bother keeping so many books around if no one eve
n bothered to read them?

  My eye caught a glimpse of movement and I spun on my heels to face a row of shelves on the back wall. Without breaking my pace, I lunged for them, flipping the dagger in my hand as I ran.

  “I know you’re in here!” I yelled out, pausing at the edge of the shelves. “I could smell your stank breath from the hallway!”

  I looped around only to find a whole lot more of nothing in front of me. Whatever this damn shadower wanted, it sure enjoyed playing games. Guess it didn’t account for the fact that unlike most students, I didn’t have much of a social life so I’d be open to chase its sad, little tail around all night if I had to. I hated to admit it but I enjoyed this a little too much. The chase, the fight, the magic—it was like having an infinitesimal part of my life back from before the High Coven cast me away to this dreadful, dead-end of a town without so much as a goodbye. But being here, in this library about to vanquish a shadower, brought me back to myself. This was who I was and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t have to hide it. This filthy creature did not understand that it was about to be handed the ass whooping of its lifetime.

  I swallowed hard and crept to the end of the shelf. My back pressed against the books until I could all but make out the etched words on their spines like brail against my shoulder blades. The smell of iron intensified, and I squeezed around the shelf, ready for whatever lay on the other side.

  My eyes widened as I emerged into the adjoining aisle. The thoughts rushing through my brain scrambled, and I fought against the bile that rose in my throat. There, in between two large bookcases lay a frail and lifeless body. From where I stood, I could tell it was a girl. Smaller than me and with a much fresher face. She was on her back, her thin arms spread to the side like she mimicked a cross. There was so much blood I couldn’t even recognize her and I didn’t need to move in closer to know there was nothing I could do for her. The girl was dead.

  “NO, NO, NO!” I shouted and ran to her against my better judgment.

  I dropped the dagger at her feet and blew out the fireball before gripping her shoulders. My index and middle fingers found her neck, confirming I was right—there was not a pulse to be found. I jumped back from her, staggering to my feet and taking a few steps back. My hands—covered in her blood—were shaking like crazy and I had to ball them into fists just to gain some form of composure. My eyes widened in horror as I took in the familiar signs of ritual around the girl’s body. Salt, amethyst dust and burnt peach wood remains; your standard, very illegal, energy-draining spell. “For the love of…” I growled.

  This was all wrong. Magical ritual like this was strictly forbidden, the High Coven would never allow for any witch to take the life of a human. Not this publicly. This was heresy at its finest and I was smack-dab in the middle of it.

  A guttural hiss sounded behind me and I turned just in time to see the shapeshifter lunge for my throat. It was smaller than I thought it would be—somewhere between a wolf and a coyote if I had to guess—but that wasn’t enough to stop it from knocking me on my ass. The shifters taloned teeth snapped as it fought to get a grip of my neck and I kicked my legs from under me trying to block its attacks. To make matters worse, my hair had come undone and was now fully soaked in the puddle of blood I landed in.

  I stretched my arm, straining to reach the dagger that lay a few feet away from me. The fingers of my right hand inched toward it while I used my left arm to push the shifter off me. Its body slammed against mine over and over, teeth getting dangerously close to my windpipe. I tried to call for my magic but without the crystal in my hand, it was pointless. I was strong, but not that strong. As I lay there, scrambling to kill the damn beast that refused to back off no matter how many times I kicked its sides, all I could think of was how much had changed in the last few weeks. It was only three weeks ago that I was still in Stamwick, doing the High Coven’s bidding and smoking these suckers like it was nothing. But a lot can change in three weeks. Turns out, it was just enough time for someone to derail their life.

  The shadower lunged for my throat again and I closed my eyes.

  Screw you, Shadowhurst!

  First day

  The drive into Shadowhurst was about as eventful as watching an ant burrow through sand. So far, the only exciting thing we passed was the gargantuan iron gate on the way in. It was almost as tall as some of the surrounding trees with the town’s name inscribed in gothic font below a row of spikes. They looked so much like cemetery gates that I got whiplash looking from window to window to see if graves were lining the entrance into town. I rolled my eyes as we passed through; Shadowhurst may not have been a graveyard but it sure felt like I was being driven to my deathbed. Each twist and turn of the intertwining streets shook the SUV and sent me sliding across the cold leather backseat from the momentum. I tightened the seatbelt around my waist and squinted my eyes to peer through the tinted windows. My eyes took in the small-town shops as we zoomed by them. Cafe, yoga studio, another cafe. This place was no doubt going to be boring as hell!

  My fingers played with the moonstone ring on my left middle finger, twisting it around in lazy circles. I pressed a button on the door panel and listened for the whirring of the window as it rolled down. The cool air hit my face with an obnoxious slap and sent my long blonde hair whirling around my face. I spat out a loose lock, rolled up the window and plopped back in the seat with a huff. Why couldn’t the High Coven send me somewhere a little warmer? I mean, I wasn’t expecting some beach paradise but this sad town was the last place I’d expect to be banished to. “It has a small-town charm!” Luna chimed when they first told me what my punishment would be for accidentally using magic in the presence of a human. Leave it to her to put a positive spin on basically the worst situation ever. I should have known this town would be a dud, something about the way the high priestess let the lie roll off her tongue when she described it so giddily. No one in their right mind would think this place had any kind of charm at all.

  We rolled past a large clearing with a statue of an uppity old man in the center. Benches surrounded the statue in a semicircle and a few people were filling them despite it being the middle of the afternoon. Great, town folk.

  I groaned and crossed my arms, pressing the moonstone ring close to my chest. It was one of the few belongings they allowed me to bring and I was grateful to have at least one piece of home for the journey. The only other thing I was permitted to pack was my grimoire—since no witch could be without one—and the rune-blessed dagger I tucked into my boot. Okay, so that last one was not exactly prescribed by the High Coven but what the high priestesses didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Besides, they couldn’t expect me to live in this weird little place without protection. Especially when I was strictly prohibited from using my magic. I was relieved when they let me keep the ring, probably because I begged them like an idiot and cried for days about it. I’m still unsure why they caved but it likely had something to do with the fact that the moonstone crystal was the most useless element conductor out there. Sure, it was good to direct balance and was handy to have during rituals and spell-work but other than that, it was just a pretty rock. Still, it was my pretty rock, and I was happy to have it; since I couldn’t have anything else I loved. One minor mistake and I’m suddenly the black sheep of the entire family. Go figure!

  Fine, it wasn’t a minor mistake, but still… They could have at least given me a second chance. The shadower I fought was vanquished, and the coven wiped the human girl’s memories so what was really the harm here? The witches have been killing off the dirty creatures that threatened humans in the nighttime for ages but I vanquish one pathetic soul sucker and get sent off? What reason did they have to tear into me this hard?

  Of course, I knew what the reason was. If I was anybody else, they likely would have looked the other way, slapped me on the wrist, and sent me back to patrol the night streets of Stamwick. But I wasn’t anybody else. I was the daughter of Beatrix Stonewall, the biggest damn criminal
witch the High Coven faced. Unlike my mother though, I wouldn’t dare be so arrogant as to fight against the high priestesses for violating the number one rule of the coven—no magic around humans. For the love of the Goddess, Beatrix, couldn’t you just do as you’re told for once? She couldn’t, so it served her right to be locked away in the High Coven’s magical prison for the rest of her days.

  I haven’t seen my mother in over ten years, not since she got caught in her wild dealings and dragged away by the high priestesses. Which was fine by me; good riddance. Not like she was ever around before that. In my sixteen years on this earth, I could not remember one day where I felt like a kid, where I felt like her kid.

  We stopped at a stop sign and the cheerful sound of children laughing jarred me back to the car ride. If this is what I had to put up with to make sure I never cross the High Coven as my mother had then so be it. There was no way I would end up like her.

  I unzipped my jacket to let the sweat-soaked band tee underneath dry out in the air-conditioned air. “How much longer, Damien?”

  “Almost there, Miss Stonewall,” the driver responded in his thick, Eastern European accent. “Three more blocks and we’re there.”