Chapter 9
“You’re that Gemma Abbott,” someone said behind me as I walked down the street.
The pub was just a few footsteps away, but the sarcastic tone was too much of a pull to ignore. Spinning, I faced whoever had spoken. Two witches, one male, one female. The man had spoken.
“I’ve heard she’s lost it,” the female spoke to him conversationally.
They were staring at me, their eyes watching my every move, even though I stayed completely still.
I’d been on my way to the karaoke night at the pub. Brianna had invited me, although I was extremely unfashionably late. She probably would’ve gone home by now.
“What do you want?” I instantly regretted my decision to join my friend.
My book was waiting on my bedside table at home, the pages perfectly neat where I never folded them. People who did that were monsters worse than vampires. Not that all vampires were terrible, that was a pretty big statement, but still, it was a bad thing to do.
“We know what you are, who you are...”
As the man lifted his arms to tug his denim jacket closer to his body, I spotted a tiny tattoo on his outer wrist. When the woman’s arm lifted to flick her hair back, the same tattoo glinted in the overhead streetlamp.
“I can’t be bothered with this,” I muttered, turning to leave.
Before I could take a step, the concrete in front of me cracked, forming a small sinkhole. Managing to keep my balance, I dragged on the ley line, feeling the magic pour through my feet and up my legs. My swift movement had me facing them, my arms outstretched, an agony spell chanting from my lips.
“Leave me alone!”
Dropping to their knees, my apparent enemies clutched their skulls. Their screwed up faces didn’t make me feel guilty as I advanced on them. Wind whipped around us, sending my ponytail flying behind me. My eyes were almost closed as it attacked my face, the power of my spell kicking old dead leaves up into the air.
About to intensify my magic, I paused when the wind dropped and the magic drained from my feet. The ley line’s power slacked as I stared at my hand, unsure why the surge of energy that had come through me had died.
“See? You’re not quite as powerful as you thought you were,” the woman said as she rose to her feet.
Her companion stood beside her, shaking his head clear of the pain I had inflicted. My weakness made my palms line with sweat as I glanced behind to check if there was anyone within distance. The dark street was empty which was unusual in London.
Coming closer, the pair suddenly threw a fire spell at me, the ball of flames aimed towards my head. Throwing myself to the left, I rolled into the road, grunting from the impact of my shoulder against the concrete.
“Haven’t you got the memo, Gemma?” the man said, smiling down at me as they got closer. “No one wants the Essex witches to protect the lines anymore. We’re forming a democracy. Time you were taken out of power.”
Getting to my hands and knees, I dragged in a breath as my heartbeat resounded in my head. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time to share the protection of the lines. My mother’s voice rang in my mind, her words loud and clear. If an ordinary witch was allowed access to the magic, the power would go to their heads. They would never take care, always tempted to use the power for their own good. Greed in the magic world was a vile disease. That’s why humans had it easy. There was no magic to cloud their judgement.
Springing to my feet, I accessed the ley line again. The tingling sensation of magic entering my body grew as I pulled as hard as possible. Yes, the magic was still weak, but I wasn’t going to allow anyone to step all over me. I was the protector of the ley line. It had been my job since I was born, something that I had no choice in. And, I would never allow anyone else to take that away from me.
Raising my hands palms upwards, I invoked deep dark green roots to break through the concrete on the ground. The witches saw them too late, their eyes widening as the plant grew and wrapped around their ankles.
“No matter how many times you threaten me,” I said, moving closer to them. “I will always protect the lines, it’s in my blood. Only Essex witches can connect to the ley line, which means that whoever...”
My mind snapped into place instantly, the enemies in front of me forgotten. Essex witch blood was the only DNA that could connect to the ley line. Which meant that the killer, or whoever was helping him, had to be an Essex witch. Whoever was draining the ley line had to have the DNA, otherwise it wouldn’t have been possible. Shit, why had I not made that connection before? It was such a simple one.
“Your time is up.” The female struggled against her bonds, almost falling over when she reached out a hand to try and cast a spell. Waving my hand, I laughed when the roots grabbed her wrists and held them firmly together.
Going closer, I took hold of her wrist and looked at the tattoo. “So,” I muttered, almost laughing to myself when I studied the little intricate design. “The PFF are branding their members? That’s handy for me.”
It was blatantly obvious that the design had the letters embedded in it. Why had the terrorist group made such a fatal mistake? Surely, the small mark would be too much of a giveaway to people like me? What was their game?
“The leaders know nothing about these. We decided to get them for ourselves, not for them.” The man glared at me, his struggling ceased now that he was securely tied by my plant.
Unable
