Blood Witch, page 1
BLOOD WITCH
WITCHES OF WESTWOOD ACADEMY
BOOK FIVE
GINA KINCADE
C.D GORRI
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
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Blood Witch
Witches of Westwood Academy
Book Five
Copyright © 2023
Gina Kincade & C.D. Gorri
ISBN: 978-1-77357-597-1
978-1-77357-598-8
Published by Naughty Nights Press LLC
Cover Art By King Cover Designs
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
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BLOOD WITCH
Appetites increase when there’s blood on the moon over Westwood Academy. Will the hunted become the hunter before it’s over?
Everyone thinks Mabe Marlow is a total freak when she is forced to skip classes due to her special condition. Making friends for the first time in her life is rough, but being alone is so much worse for the blood witch—not to mention everyone else. Her thirst for blood is growing, and Mabe is caught between wanting to run away and learning to accept help.
When the Council of Covens sends an Enforcer to track down rumors of a witch using blood magic, Mabe is forced to decide between a rock and a hard place. She doesn’t want to leave Westwood Academy, but what choice does she have? She can either go, give herself up, or risk the only friends she has ever had.
Can she prove she’s not a threat to magic and get the rune-marked Enforcer to back off? Maybe. But there’s a catch—Mabe might be more dangerous than any of them think.
Scars run deep for this solitary witch who’s seen more than a woman her age ought to. She’s come too far to back down now, but learning to trust others with her truth just might be the toughest lesson of all.
Welcome to Westwood Academy. Forget what you know and let your magic run wild.
PROLOGUE
Twenty years ago…
“There must be something you can do! Dammit, Helga, the Council is supposed to protect witches,” Gabriel Marlow hissed.
He cut a striking figure in the long, gray coat he wore over a custom-tailored suit. The fit seemed to emphasize the innate power in his tall, lean body. Gabe Marlow might seem thin compared to other supernaturals, but there was no mistaking the strength flowing in his veins.
He was rakishly handsome, but that was part of his design. Her attraction to him would vanish the second she left his company, and wasn’t that another strike against his kind? In fact, it was the very reason they stood there quibbling.
“They don’t see her kind as witches, Gabriel—”
“That is ludicrous. Her mother was a witch. Your sister, for fuck’s sake, Helga. Mabe is innocent!”
“I know, Gabriel, but try to understand. The Council of Covens has been reconvened, and yes, I hold the title as Head Witch, but I have very little say—”
“This is outrageous,” he snarled, eyes blazing red as he snapped his head toward her.
Helga’s eyes widened, but she stood her ground. Her magic came to her, as always, ready to serve, and at full strength. Magic was draining from their world, but Helga Armstrong, Headmistress of the Westwood Academy for Witches, and leader of the Council of Covens, had a large and powerful store of power at her disposal.
“Damn it, I am sorry,” the rogue Vampire said, releasing a shaky breath as he tried to regain his composure.
Helga’s heart squeezed in her chest as she watched him regain control over his emotions. Vampires were so secretive, so rare, and yet her sister, the ever-beautiful Madeleine, had caught the attention of this one.
Helga had caught the two of them in their clandestine meetings, and she had kept their secret for the love of her sister. Then Madeleine changed. The bright light that had always shone within her began to dim even as her belly grew. Pregnant and sick at heart, her sister had run away from the safety of the Armstrong home and into the arms of the revenant who destroyed her.
“It’s all right, Gabe. Take a moment,” Helga consoled the male she’d once considered her enemy.
The alley where he had begged her to meet him in secret was dank and cold, smelling of sewer and filth, the likes of which Helga would rather not imagine. It wasn’t that she was sheltered from the cold and sometimes ugly reality of the world. It was that she’d seen far too much of it during the latest Witch Wars and the resulting reestablishment of the Council of Covens.
Oh, it had been a long, hard fight to right the wrongs of their kind, and all she could do was try. Patience was key, even if most witches were sorely lacking. Helga had learned what the cost of being foolhardy and reckless meant to their world.
Magic was dying. But there had to be a way to save it. The sound of an infant crying brought her head up, and she gasped in shock, watching as Gabriel quickened to a basket hidden amongst the shadows in the alley. He reached inside, lifting the small bundle swaddled in a familiar blanket. Not blanket—a shawl.
Madeleine’s shawl.
“You brought her here?” Helga asked.
“What else could I do with her?” Gabriel replied sadly, lifting a tiny bottle to the child’s seeking mouth.
Propelled as if by magic, Helga walked over to look at the tiny baby. Her heart stuttered inside her chest as she noted the similarities between child and mother. Madeleine had been her junior by five years, and Helga had often enjoyed her position as older sister.
“Oh Madeleine, she looks just like you,” she whispered, as if her sister could hear her somehow from the ether.
“You must shield her, Helga. The Vampires are looking for me, and before you ask, no, I cannot divulge any information.”
“But you, you left them. You went rogue—”
“For Madeleine, I did. But it was always dangerous, and word is out that she is gone. I can’t let them get their claws on Mabe, Helga. She will be two powerful, and in the wrong hands, they will use her terribly.”
“But I can’t, I am not enough to protect her.”
“You are the only one who can!” Gabriel implored, his blood red eyes searching hers. “Hide her then, if you can’t raise her yourself. Just make sure she is safe. Please, I beg you. I will do what I can to make certain my kind thinks she died with her mother. It’s already too late to say she doesn’t exist. They know, Helga. They know—wait, shhh!” he whispered.
Gabriel’s head snapped from left to right as he searched the night with his preternatural senses. She heard the screeching of dozens of bats a millisecond after he did. The Vampires were out, and they were looking for him.
Gabriel hissed, then shoved the child at her. His eyes were wide with fear for one moment before resignation washed over him. Helga shook her head. This could not be happening.
She knew Vampire and Witch communications were strained, but this?
Why such hatred?
Such fear of the unknown?
But it was more than either of them could fix overnight. Helga could have screamed, but bit her tongue, for all the good it would have done her.
“Go Helga! You must. Protect Mabe,” he said, blood tears staining his face as he bent to place a kiss on the infant’s head. “Goodbye, my darling.”
“Gabriel, I can’t. Take her with you,” Helga began, tears streaming down her face.
“Do not ask me to doom my child to a terrible life enslaved by men who would use her magic to gain power. Helga, please, not you, do not ask this of me. You must take her. Protect her. Hide her with someone who will care. Just do it, Helga. Do it for Madeleine,” Gabriel begged before jumping straight into the air.
Helga Armstrong stood and watched, struck dumb as her sister’s lover’s body shattered into a million pieces before reshaping into a giant Vampire bat. The baby cooed in her arms, and her attention returned to the child with blood red eyes and hair blacker than the night.
“I will do all I can to ensure no one knows what you are, Mabe Marlow. I will hide you well, and someday, I will see you reach your potential,” she vowed.
Helga kissed her niece’s sweet-smelling forehead before disappearing down the alley with her precious cargo, using magic to cloak them.
Someday, we will be together again.
CHAPTER 1
Summer flew by, but I expe
cted that. Fall had started in the outside world, but that did not really matter at Westwood. Here, I could experience any season I wanted to within the confines of the magical campus. But the weather didn’t really hold any interest for me.
I had bigger things to focus my attention on. Change was coming. In fact, it was already happening. Inside of me, slow at first, barely noticeable, even. But with every second that passed, I could feel the change growing and growing. I felt it all the time, now.
In. Every. Single. Cell.
I felt like I’d been living in a two dimensional black and white TV version of the world, but now, everything was suddenly in 4D. Sounds, smells, sights, all of my senses had sharpened to where it was almost painful to be in mixed company. I was hyperaware of everything, and it was downright exhausting.
Hunger filled my every waking moment. My dreams too. Sometimes, I woke up shaking, drenched in sweat, and starving. Always starving.
Thank fuck for Arlo and Jade. The healer and the earth witch were the first to catch on to what I was, and to offer aid. It was difficult for me to accept help, but I had no other choice if I wanted to survive. Trusting people was hard, but I was learning to do just that.
Slowly. Ever so slowly.
My roommates were the only ones who knew the truth. Well, them and their mates. I had to admit, those females were a lovey bunch, hooking up with monsters and wizards left and right. I’d never been that lucky in love or that free to just go off willy-nilly with whomever took my fancy.
Sex was complicated for me. I couldn’t get close to someone without it sparking my hunger, and if that happened, well, look out, world! I had more important things on my mind than my non-existent sex life. Such as, getting all my shit moved out of the hidden space where I’d sequestered myself after I first came to Westwood.
Who knew I’d accumulated so much shit in just a few months?
But after I’d moved the last box, I had to admit, relocating to room 563W was the best decision ever. Not that I had made that decision on my own. Jade Montrose, an earth witch I used to call pigpen, was responsible for that.
She didn’t deserve that nickname any more than the others used to describe the witches and wizards of the acceptable covens here at Westwood. Acceptable only because the oh so great Council of Covens had decreed it so sometime after the second Witch Wars.
They were all a bunch of stuffy tightwads and bigots, in my not so humble opinion.
But what else was new?
Everyone at Westwood had a place, somewhere they belonged, and they all knew it too. Elemental witches and wizards were simply like that, flocking to their own kind without questioning why they couldn’t do something else. Something different. Something other.
Belonging to one thing had its benefits, I could not deny that. Knowing where they fit gave witches and wizards in those covens a confidence I had never known.
How could I when there was no real place for people like me?
Believe me, I looked. As it stood, water witches belonged to the Cumatilis Coven. Earth witches to the Tellus Coven. Fire to Incendo. Air to Caelum. And there was even something called the Somnior Coven that no one knew anything about. I even looked it up, but all I could find was yes, it once existed, but it had been an age since anyone had belonged to it.
I had my own ideas about that. Still, there was one more coven no one spoke about. At least, not any of the students. That was the Sanguine Coven. I only knew the name because I asked Enok and Maia to hunt down any information they could about anything having to do with blood magic.
We had to be careful with that phrase. It was worse than a dirty word in the supernatural world. Blood magic was the worst kind of magic. The kind everyone was afraid of. It was also the magic my own powers seemed acclimated to. Hence the whole secret life thing.
I roamed the halls of Westwood on my way to my job in the infirmary. I’d been invited to the work-study program by Headmistress Armstrong. The old witch creeped me out with her intense stares, but whatever.
I suppose I played the part of emo goth girl witch well with my too thin frame and my preference for black clothing. So far, I’d managed to convince most of the student body my red-rimmed eyes were the product of a glamour, a kind of spell used to alter one’s appearance.
Like I was that shallow.
Whatever.
My teeth chattered as I worked, cleaning patients’ rooms in the infirmary. Westwood Academy was so very generous, giving outcasts like me a chance to learn in its esteemed halls. I just had to play the servant.
I sneered as one of the nurses passed me by. Most of the staff loathed me, and that was fine. I didn’t give off the same peppy ‘look at me, I’m so special, I just wanna help everyone’ vibe the students who were studying to be healers gave.
Nope.
Not a chance.
I only worked there for practicality’s sake. Well, to pay for my tuition, and for other, more personal reasons.
I scratched the skin over my wrist, frowning when I noticed my runes beginning to glow.
Fuck.
Not now.
“Hello, Mabe,” a familiar voice said, and I turned around to see Arlo Glenn enter the otherwise empty room.
Jade’s mate was friendly, as always. The big, blond witch had been helping me ever since he caught me stealing from the infirmary’s supplies.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, indicating the door, and I went to close it with a pronounced huff.
What could I say?
I just could not accept help without being an ass.
Arms crossed over my slight chest, I waited as he said a quick spell to soundproof the room. My entire body was vibrating with hunger, and I was barely hanging on.
“Jade said you looked peaked this morning,” he murmured, reaching into his pocket. “This was all I could get for now, Mabe. Will it do?”
“Yeah, yeah, give it here,” I said, sounding like some junky in need of a fix instead of my normal snarky self.
I grabbed the polyvinyl chloride bag loaded with one pint of cleaned, whole witch blood and pierced it with my already descended fangs. Without bothering to look at Arlo’s reaction to my bloodlust, I took a long pull, waiting like the fiend I was for the first effects to take hold.
Finally, something inside of me, my magic maybe, growled. The sound reverberated through to my chest, but I did my best to ignore it. I sucked and swallowed the warm, copper-tasting fluid until the bag was dry.
“Here, let me take that,” Arlo murmured, a frown on his face as he took the bag from where I dropped it on my lap.
It took a moment for me to get my strength back after feeding. It was like I fell into the ultimate food coma. But only if I’d gone too long between feedings, and I knew I had.
Damn, but I felt good. My heart thudded in my chest. My pulse picked up its pace, and my breathing increased. Nevertheless, I sat on the floor and smiled lazily.
This was what I imagined it felt like to be high or drunk, neither of which I had ever experienced. Supernaturals had varying metabolic speeds for things like food and drugs. Witches were among the slowest, but for some reason I burned through regular food like mad.
The only other creatures I knew of that had that kind of metabolism were shifters, but I sure as fuck was not one of them. I knew what I was, and it was much worse than some poor sod who turned into an animal.
I was a monster. And the moment they found out. They were going to hunt me.
CHAPTER 2
“Why do you say things like that, Mabe?” Jade asked, and I wondered when she arrived.
The earth witch offered me her hand, and I took it, standing up slowly. Her concerned gaze struck me somewhere deep, and I glanced down to avoid her overflowing emotions. Releasing her hand, I nodded at her, closing my eyes at the familiar wave of dizziness that rushed over me. I usually got those after drinking so much blood so quickly.
