Cursed
A Book Bite
H. D. Gordon
Copyright © 2021 H. D. Gordon
Published by H. D. Gordon Books
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations in a book review.
For my two favorite little witches.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Exposed
Moon Burned
About the Author
Also by H. D. Gordon
Review, please ;)
1 12:03 a.m.
I should know better than to be out this late alone in the city.
I don’t make a habit of putting myself in compromising positions, unless I absolutely cannot help it.
Tonight, people had needed my help, and I could not have turned my back on them.
Not even if it meant possibly getting in trouble with the Coven superiors.
I slip through the shadows. All I want is to make it back to my apartment in Old City, Philadelphia. Just crawl into my bed and sleep the rest of this night away. I glance around, eyes sweeping. I can still smell her blood on me.
That means others can smell it, too.
Like sharks in the water. I wish I did not have to pass through this area, where the bloodsuckers slink through the sewers and stalk the sidewalks. I pick up my pace, willing my heart to steady its speed.
When it does not, I know I am being followed.
If growing up as a witch hidden among humans has taught me one thing, it is to always trust my instincts.
I should have taken the long way home and rode the train around vamp territory, even if it would’ve added an extra forty minutes to my trip.
Better to arrive late than never at all, my mother used to say. Goddess rest her soul.
The speed of my heartbeat increases along with my step. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
That is when I see them.
The only part that’s visible is their eyes, duel red orbs reflecting the moonlight, like predators in a dense forest; only the trees are rundown buildings, the earth paved over with concrete, the creatures more cunning and deadly.
I quickly cast a spell to make me invisible, though I know it will only help so much. The vamps do not need to see me. They can smell me.
They can sense me.
No doubt they can sense the magic in my blood, too. But they are not perturbed. I am more difficult prey than a human—especially with my command of the magic—but vamps run in packs. And if the racing of my pulse is any indication, there are more than a few of them following me right now.
I count the glowing red orbs.
One, two, three, four… There are at least four of them.
Welp, shit on a stick.
This is what I get for trying to do the right thing. I guess the old saying was true; no good deed did go unpunished.
I cross the street, trying my best to stay within the boundaries of the streetlights. The dilapidated row homes and abandoned lots stand silent on either side of me. I skirt the litter lining the sidewalks, keeping my head down, magic waiting at my fingertips.
Just a little further, and I’ll be within the boundaries of Old City, where the Coven’s hold on the territory is strong, where the vamps had to be suicidal to cross, where the magic barrier keeps us firmly away from other supernaturals. Our own perfect little bubble, within which we suffer our own kind of hell.
A hell, that I, nonetheless, want to get back to.
There are a couple of little witches waiting on me.
I summon fire magic, cradling flames in my palm at the same moment the vamps make themselves known to me.
They appear on four sides of me, having moved in perfect coordination.
Sharks, I think.
This does not calm my nerves. The flames in my palm grow brighter.
The vamps hiss, the sound snake-like and hair-raising.
I strike, knowing it is this, or death.
Fire shoots from my palm and explodes upon the chest of the vamp blocking the path before me. She screeches, an ear-shattering sound too high to be picked up by human ears, but nearly debilitating to those of a supernatural. Thank the Goddess I am not wolf or fae, or the sound would be downright painful.
And I am ready for it. As soon as I release the flames I cast a barrier spell around me. The remaining three vamps collide against it as their comrade rolls and screeches, trying to put herself out.
Then, I run.
And let me tell you something; I freakin’ hate running. I do that shit because it’s good for me and the world we are living in has become increasingly dangerous as of late.
But let me be clear: I. Hate. Running.
Adrenaline serves its purpose, however, and while I know the air is tearing in and out of my lungs, I can only hear the life-or-death internal alarm blaring in my head, in my bones.
I chance a glance over my shoulder.
I should not have done that.
Crap on a cracker!
They are nearly on top of me.
I take a single, slow breath, just as my mother used to tell me. The magic is hard to control as is, but when nervous, it becomes that much harder to wield.
There is always time for a single, slow breath, Mira, my mother would say. And if there isn’t… Well, then…
She’d then toss her hands up, as if to say, You’re screwed.
Old row homes and streetlights flash
