Invoked Read online

  ‘Awake just in time, sweeting.’ Drew brandished a knife, the ceremonial blade. Blood caked the edge. It was the one he’d used to slay the other warlock. Earl was in despair.

  Drew parted Nea’s robe, and cut the bra she was wearing so that her pale breasts were exposed. ‘All the better to see you with,’ he said as he licked along her sternum. ‘All the better to take your life.’

  Nea struggled, thumping her legs, trying to push off the straps that tied her. ‘Let me go, you freak.’

  ‘Shut up or I’ll cut your tongue out. Maybe I’ll take what you didn’t give me before.’ He tugged the robe farther apart. She had underpants on. He lifted the elastic and stabbed his fingers between her legs.

  ‘No,’ she cried. ‘You’ll not touch me, you creep.’

  She let loose her power. Drew was shoved back, his head jerking sideways from the virtual slap. But his eyes flashed. ‘Luke liked to fuck. He begged me for a fuck while you lay there, unconscious. I thought maybe I’d try the ritual out on him first. It worked. You like to fuck. Don’t you?’ he said knowingly.

  ‘Fuck off, you creep,’ Nea hissed at him, arching her body as she fought against the restraints.

  ‘That’s not nice. I’m offering you a bit of satisfaction before you die.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m thinking the ritual will work if I’m fucking you or not. I can always fuck you while I’m draining you. Sex brings your power to the surface—did you know that? The greater the desire, the more heated your talent becomes.’

  He lashed out with his power, holding her immobile while his hand went to her throat. ‘I can strangle you right here and now.’ He squeezed tighter. ‘I can fuck you while you look on and can do nothing. Let your family try to save you. Let them watch while I savour their despair as the one they came to save dies.’

  Nea threw her head from side to side. ‘Gregor!’

  ‘You think Granddaddy is going to come for you?’ he whispered harshly into her face. ‘Gregor was like a piece of soft cheese. Pris told me what his weakness was, where the kink in his defences were. He’s down and out, little Nea. He’s not coming. He’s probably dead. No one is going to save you.’

  ‘They will. They will find me and kill you.’ She spat at him.

  ‘Pris didn’t think I’d use that information. It was a silly boast, done to impress me. I told her that Gregor was trying to be “nice” to me. She doesn’t really know that you exist really.’

  ‘No …’ Nea tugged harder against the restraints. The straps cut into her skin. Drew licked the blood there.

  ‘Keep it up and I won’t have to use the knife. I’ll just chant the words and suck the life ever so slowly out of you.’

  ‘No …’ This time, Nea cried in despair. She was giving up. Earl wanted to let her know he was there. Not that he was any use. Not that he could help, but she would know she wasn’t alone. Yet, if Drew detected him, the dark warlock would extinguish Earl for sure.

  ‘I fuck Pris, and I flatter her, and she’s grateful for my cock, and she tells me things and I pretend to be ignorant. That witch has no imagination. Even less than you have, I think.’

  There was a shift in power, a dark ripple that left a familiar taste in Earl’s mouth.

  Earl turned and fell back in surprise. It was Pris on the stairs. A dark lace robe barely covered her nakedness. She was still as beautiful and young as she’d been when she’d drained him. Earl knew fear and rage. His gaze shifted, and Drew stiffened.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Drew Penderton?’

  Drew whirled, his hand withdrawing from Nea. ‘My dark lady.’ He bowed his head, his hand still holding the knife hidden behind his back.

  Pris’s eyes blazed as she took in the dead body with the cut throat in the corner. Her robe swirled as she swung towards him. ‘You killed in my house? How dare you! That is my privilege.’ She kicked the dead body out of her way. Sniffed around it. Took in the naked form, the dried blood. Her shoulders straightened as she tasted the remnants of the spent energy around the body. Then she turned to Drew, mouth agape. Then, pursing her lips, she said, ‘You could not have done this.’

  Drew kept his head bowed, pretending meekness. Earl banked himself back so he was barely there.

  Pris’s gaze then settled on Nea. ‘The Royston girl. What is the meaning of this? You have broken the agreement I have with Royston. She is his.’ She walked forward and Drew stepped back, away from Nea, leaving her there for the dark witch to inspect. Her gaze was searching, her nostrils flaring. She ran a hand along Nea’s mid line, her gaze assessing the girl’s nakedness. She licked her lips. Earl suspected she was calculating how she could turn this situation to her advantage.

  A hopeful look sprung into Nea’s eyes. It broke his heart to see it. ‘Please,’ Nea begged. ‘Let me go.’

  Pris’s pale hand lifted to Nea’s chin, and she inspected her face. ‘Not beautiful.’ She drew her hand down to Nea’s vulva, cupping her. ‘But young. Full of life.’

  The dark witch turned to face Drew. Pris would take her life just as Drew would. If anything, Pris was calculating how she could drain Nea and blame it on Drew. ‘How did you steal it?’

  ‘What?’ Drew said, shrugging, his face expressionless.

  ‘Don’t,’ she hissed, seeming to grow taller and more menacing. Drew cowered before her but Earl sensed there was something not right about it. He tried to get a measure of their power. Drew’s throbbed. Pris’s was hidden. Earl didn’t like it. ‘Lie. To. Me. You stole it.’

  ‘What?’ he said again, this time not quite able to hide his amusement. There was a dangerous twinkle in his eye.

  Pris strode forward but Drew stepped sideways, keeping the distance between them as they circled one another. She pointed to Nea, who still desperately struggled against her bindings. ‘Do you think I’m stupid? I can taste it in the air. You have her ready for sacrifice. You have stolen the spell. Give it back.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  It was then Pris made a decision. He saw it in how her expression closed down, her eyes hooded, her mouth drawn in tight. Her power was hidden but she couldn’t hide her intention. She was readying to strike Drew down, and he let her. Drew fell and sprawled on the ground, the knife falling a bare inch or two from his hand. He was stunned and unmoving. Earl could hardly think. What would Pris do? Would she let Nea go? He thought not. Not when the prey was set before her like that, no matter what agreement she had with the old warlock. She could blame it all on Drew.

  She stepped up to the chair and smiled down on Nea. ‘There, there. Did that nasty warlock scare you?’ She smoothed Nea’s hair and Nea grew still. ‘Silly boy. He doesn’t realise that the ritual works better when the victim is at peace, sated, surrendering.’

  Earl knew there was a problem now. Pris was singing to Nea, casting a net of calmness over her, fudging her brain so that she didn’t know her danger and thought Pris was rescuing her, but Pris was getting ready to take her life. One dark one had been replaced by another.

  Pris sucked on one of Nea’s breasts. ‘Do you like that?’ she crooned, as if to a child. ‘I can promise you ecstasy. Fulfilment. You want me to fuck you, don’t you?’

  Nea whimpered. Earl sensed she was fighting the dark witch’s spell. Pris’s voice rose in pitch, the words swimming through the air. Nea sighed.

  ‘There, there, rest now, my sweet,’ Pris said and kissed Nea, first a peck on the forehead and then her tongue speared into Nea’s mouth. Nea’s body arched, but Pris held her chin so she couldn’t fight. Stupor relaxed Nea’s muscles. ‘That’s right, relax. Give yourself to me, Gregor’s little grandchild. How tasty you will be. Although you’re tainted by human blood your energy will taste nice. Strong warlock, with strong magic. His power runs through your veins.’ She twisted Nea’s nipple, drawing it to a bud. ‘Yes. So full of desire.’ Her fingers dove into Nea’s cleft and began stroking. ‘Come for me, sweet thing. It’s been so long since I’ve had a woman.’

  Pris lathed Nea
’s breasts with her tongue, then lifted her head to fill the air with her chanting. This went on for a minute, maybe two, until as if just remembering something, Pris stilled. Lifting her head, she noticed something was different in the room and turned suddenly, her gaze sweeping the floor. Drew wasn’t there; neither was the knife.

  Earl had been so caught up with what Pris was doing to Nea that he had missed the fact that Drew had moved.

  There was a change in the shadows and Pris tensed. ‘What?’ Pris’s head jerked up and she scanned the ground where Drew had lain. ‘Where are you, you little snake? Don’t think you can escape from me.’

  She clawed the air, commanding Drew forward. Earl was nearly caught in the summoning.

  From the shadows Drew surged forward and drove the knife in her chest. Taken by surprise, the dark witch didn’t even try to ward him off. Pris was flung back, her arms splayed as she lay over Nea, her naked breasts pointing to the ceiling. Pris’s hands reached up and pulled the knife out. Blood spurted from the wound as she stared at the blade and patted at the wound with her other hand as if to stop the blood leaking out of her. Her hand came away with more gore on it. Gaping, she stood up and shrieked. The blade fell from her fingers as she took a faltering step, another and then fell.

  The blood pouring from the wound had a life of its own. Energy wafted off it. Earl could taste it, was drawn to it. That was his life in that blood. It was what she had taken from him all those years ago, except then she had fucked him, confused his mind with sex so that he hadn’t seen it coming. That was why it was his own fault. This moment was happening because of a mistake he made so many years ago. He should have died, but he didn’t.

  Earl wasn’t sure why, but he was drawn to the blood, to the life force leaking out of Pris but calling to him at the same time. It was his life, his energy. He should take it back. The pulse of it throbbed, calling to him, reaching out.

  The dark warlock didn’t take any notice. Stepping over Pris, Drew chanted now as he hovered over Nea. He was going to do the same to Nea, take her life force, take it into himself, building his own power at her expense. She’d most likely die, or end up like Earl, neither dead nor alive.

  Earl gazed upon her, then at Drew’s rapturous expression. He was slavering over her, waiting impatiently to sup of her energy. He undid his fly.

  ‘I’ll do it her way then. I can see she has lowered your barriers.’ He rubbed at Nea’s clitoris and she moaned.

  Earl shuddered with rage. It could not be. It should not be. Yet, he could not do anything. Not like this, not a spectre.

  He had to save her.

  Blood still pumped out of Pris. It was if he could taste the salty tang of it. It curled into tendrils wending their way out into the air before her. He could feel them, reaching out. Drew was too intent on molesting Nea to notice the dark witch. He was letting all that dark magic go to waste, all of Pris’s life force trickle away.

  Drew’s chanting reached a peak. He lowered the chair and climbed on. He had one hand on the knife, the other on his cock, rubbing it to hardness. The blood-stained knife glistened in his hand.

  Earl had to act now. Instinctively, he plunged himself into the rich blood leaking from the downed dark witch, letting the tendrils of power connect with his essence.

  At contact, there was an immediate reaction. Her power surrounded him and then welcomed him. Without even thinking about it, Earl drew the power into himself. He remembered who he was and what he was made of and the powers wove together, taking the blood to remake the flesh.

  The verses of the ritual fell around his head, each word striking like a knife. He needed to use this power to drive off Drew, but it wouldn’t go where he wanted it. Some spell was at work, weaving the dark witch’s power around his essence, his body.

  Drew paused in his chanting, a natural break between stanzas as he parted Nea’s legs, his gaze totally intent on his victim. Then his voice rose as he began the last chorus to bring the ritual to the end.

  Earl’s heart beat frantically. His breaths came in loud huffs. He was breathing. He thought he was breathing. He shook his head to clear it. Nea didn’t put up a fight. Pris had calmed her, and now only whimpers leaked from her lips. Her eyelids were lowered over her lust-filled eyes.

  Power washed over Earl, making his knees buckle. The words falling from Drew’s mouth were winding themselves around Earl, around Pris’s blood. Earl’s memory engaged and he pictured himself how he was. His life ran into him as the old witch’s essence released its power. He was being remade as he watched the blade hover above Nea’s chest. He had to stop it. Had to.

  At last, a scream erupted from Nea’s lips. It cut into his soul. Drew was positioned, his stiff cock in his hand. Nea’s eyes were wide as she gaped at the blade held aloft, anticipating the killing blow.

  Earl would give his life for her. Intend on shielding her, he surged forward. He thrust his shoulder into Drew’s chest, knocking him off Nea to the floor. The blade glanced Nea’s upper arm. It was a shallow cut, no more.

  Drew yelled, rage dripping from his features as he hunched over, pulling his trousers up. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ He balled his fists now that he was rehoused. ‘And where the fuck did you come from?’

  Standing still, Earl blinked. ‘You can see me?’ Being alive was still a new sensation.

  Drew looked around him as if he needed confirmation that he was talking to an idiot. ‘Of course I bloody see you. Now get out of the way.’

  Earl stood firm, his shoulders back. ‘No, I won’t let you hurt her.’

  ‘You’ll regret his.’ He pushed Earl with his power.

  Earl rocked back but kept his feet. He looked down. He had substance. He had form. He breathed—his chest rose and fell. He was alive. The wonder of it distracted him. He had to focus. This was for Nea. He was alive for her. To save her.

  ‘I don’t care who you are. Just get out now and I’ll let you live.’ Drew gestured, but Earl anticipated him. He’d been a fair warlock in his youth; now, after years of contemplation and a new body, he was an easy match for Drew and all his posturing. He deflected the powerful blow from Drew, and with a quick flick of his hand sent it back into him.

  Drew’s dark eyes were wide with terror and he failed to defend himself. The blow hit, sending a rebounding shockwave over Earl. It rippled his hair. Earl touched his head, felt the strands. He had hair again. The wonder of his re-embodiment had him reeling.

  Drew lifted up and flew backwards. He landed on the warlock he had killed. Groaning, he tried to roll to his feet, shaking off the blow.

  Wasting no time, Earl tugged at the straps, trying to free Nea. He slapped her gently on the cheeks. ‘Nea? Get a grip. We have to get you out of here. Nea?’

  He used a spell, sending a spike into her brain. Her eyes snapped open and she gasped.

  ‘What? Who?’ She blinked a few times. ‘Earl?’ Her eyes were bright with tears. She reached out and touched his cheek. ‘You’re real?’

  ‘Yes. No time to explain.’ He continued undoing the straps. She started helping. A movement behind him—a ripple of power alerted him to Drew readying to attack. ‘I’ll free you in a minute,’ he said as he turned to confront Drew.

  The dark warlock sprang at him. Earl caught a fist to the chin. He went down but brought the warlock with him, hooking his hands so that he dragged him along. Tangled together, they rolled on the floor. Drew gouged at his eyes, kneed him and tried to bite. Earl was hard pressed to separate from his enemy so that he could grab hold of his talent and shove him away. He was unused to his own physical being. It had been so long since he’d had arms and legs and strength.

  Drew’s fingernail scraped down Earl’s face. It hurt. Instinctively, Earl lashed out with his power. Drew was thrust up into the air, straight through the ceiling to the floor above. Timber floorboards came crashing down. Earl covered his head, but a falling piece of timber dazed him.

  Vulnerable, he expected for Drew to come at him again. Those we
re anxious moments while he waited, but there was nothing.

  Pushing the fallen floorboards off, the sound of weeping reached him. His pale skin was bloody and raw in places. He had cuts, and a sizeable wood splinter sticking out of his thigh. He lay there, gaping. It hurt. The full realisation hit him. He had a body. He was alive.

  Nea tugged at the remaining straps. Now she was more alert, she used her talent to help her loosen them. Gingerly, Earl climbed to his feet, careful of the wound he’d garnered when the ceiling had exploded.

  Above, the sound of footsteps came rushing towards the gaping hole. Earl froze. Was that Drew coming back? His heart leapt. He positioned himself to protect Nea. Even with an injury he still had plenty of talent left. It rippled under his skin, a hot, cleansing sensation.

  Readying himself, he let out a breath when a head peeped down from the hole in the floor. It wasn’t Drew but a stranger. Still wary, he reached out with his talent. From the feel of the newcomer, he was a warlock and friendly. One of Gregor’s coven, he guessed.

  ‘Goddess! What the hell happened here? Looks like we missed the party.’ The head pulled up and the councillor called out to someone else. ‘Call the rest of the council. We’re going to need help to get them out.’

  Relief leaked out of Earl. It was going to be okay. Nea was safe. Pris was dead and Drew … he frowned. Where was Drew?

  Nea climbed out of the chair, holding her robe together over her breasts. After sending her gaze around the room, her eyes settled on Earl and widened. Her pink tongue moistened her parted lips, and there was wonder and questioning in her expression.

  The head came back. ‘Hello, Nea. What are you doing down there?’

  Nea broke eye contact and tilted her head up. ‘Hi, Humphrey,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, dear. Hilda sent us word that you were in trouble. Gregor is still out of it, but doing okay. With all the talent being expended around here, it didn’t take us too long to find you.’ He looked from one end of the basement to the other. ‘I make two dead. That sound about right?’