Dark Witch

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  Copyright

  Also by Katerina Martinez

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  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

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  What's next?

  Shadow Witch - Chapter 1

  Also by Katerina Martinez

  DARK WITCH

  Amber Lee Series

  Book 2

  By Katerina Martinez

  *ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED AS THE RULE OF THREE*

  An ancient evil reborn. An old friend in trouble. One witch stands between them.

  The strangest thing about near-death experiences is they put the world into perspective, and when your world stopped making sense some time ago, moments of clarity become precious commodities. But perspective alone isn’t enough to prepare me against the kind of terror I’m about to face.

  Something evil has wormed its way into my town, maybe even into my house. It's already started affecting me, and it may be affecting my friends. I don’t know what it is, who woke it up, or what it wants, but whatever it is, it’s destroying what little stability I've been able to create in the wake of the attempt on my life. The worst part isn't that my life is falling apart, or the awful truth I learn about Damien; the worst part is when I see Aaron. I thought I had it bad, but Aaron has it worse. In fact, he could be the reason why all of this is happening to me.

  This Yuletide, there's going to be blood in the snow.

  Note that this book was once called The Rule of Three, and was the second book Katerina Martinez ever wrote and published. It has been remastered and re-branded in order to bring it up to speed, but it is the same book; the story has only changed in minor ways. Do not buy this book if you have already bought and read The Rule of Three.

  DARK WITCH

  Amber Lee Series

  Book 2

  Copyright © 2017 by Katerina Martinez & Lee Dignam. All rights reserved. Cover uses images © 2017 Depositphotos.

  Re-Published by Supernal Publishing in 2017

  Cover Art by Lee Dignam

  Visit: www.katerinamartinez.com

  ***

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or tell your friends about this serial to help spread the word!

  Thank you for supporting my work.

  Also by Lee Dignam & Katerina Martinez

  The Blood and Magick Series

  Book 1: Magick Reborn

  Book 2: Demon’s Kiss

  Book 3: Witch’s Wrath

  The Half-Lich Series

  Book 1: Dark Siren

  Book 2: The Void Weaver

  Book 3: Night and Chaos

  The Amber Lee Series

  Book 1: True Witch

  Book 2: Dark Witch

  Book 3: Shadow Witch

  Book 4: Red Witch

  Book 5: Devil’s Witch

  The Cursed and Damned Series

  Book 1: The Dead Wolves

  Sign up today to Katerina’s exclusive Reader’s Group and you’ll get a free copy of Forged in Darkfire, a prequel, companion novella to True Witch!

  SIGN UP HERE!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Damien, Frank and I were sitting around a cauldron on a cold December night. Between the three of us we had hoisted it all the way into my attic, jammed it through the opening as best we could, and were getting ready to call down a spirit known as the Dagda. So not only were there three witches sitting around a huge iron pot, but we were also flanked on all sides by candles, crystals, and bowls filled with herbs.

  Could the scene have been more cliché? Yes, it totally could have.

  For starters, we could have had a black cat running around in the attic with us. There could have been straw brooms floating along the floor, autonomously sweeping the dust that seemed to never to want to leave my attic. Or we could have all been wearing black hats—the tall pointy hats. But there was no cat, no brooms, and unfortunately no hats.

  At least, Damien and I weren’t wearing hats. But Frank was. It a little blue and white sailor’s hat he had chosen to wear along with a pair of colourful leggings and a plain black vest. The sight of him, with his square face, messy silver hair, and a hat clearly intended to be worn by a child, was pretty mortifying, like seeing a duck resting on the head of an alligator. But I had come to love his weirdness and embrace it much as I had my own.

  Damien crawled over to the side of the room and lit a stick of cinnamon incense while I lit the pine and cedar. In moments, the three scents intermingled and infused the room with a warm, woody smell; like cookies baking on a tray over a crackling fireplace. I leant into the aroma, closed my eyes, and smiled.

  "I love this time of year," I said, "There's a whole foot of snow outside and the three of us are in here, warm and cozy."

  "Don't get too comfortable," Frank said, "We're invoking the Dagda tonight so we’d better be at attention. He's a big deal."

  Frank wasn't kidding. I had learned a lot about the Spiritual side of Magick from him in the last few months since we met. It was one of his passions, he had told me, to learn about the invisible forces living in our universe and figure out how they may have informed the myths of yore. I soon learned that the strange witch was a veritable encyclopedia, if encyclopedias could go to clubs and wield Magick.

  "So, okay, how do we do this?" I asked.

  "Hands," Frank said, like a surgeon requesting a scalpel.

  The ritual was Frank's idea. I had a cursory knowledge of the Dagda, but it was Frank who decided to lead this ritual. Neither of us had ever attempted something like this before, but the sailor hat wearing witch seemed pretty confident he knew what he was doing. So Damien and I complied, and the three of us joined around the iron cauldron. It had to be made of iron "for authenticity's sake" Frank had said. But it meant the thing weighed a shit-ton.

  My arms hadn't yet stopped aching from the effort it took to hoist it up.

  I wanted to use Magick and just wish it into the attic, but Frank and Damien had scolded me for being reckless. I didn't think I was being unreasonable, though. What good was telekinesis if you weren’t allowed to move things around with your mind whenever you wanted to? Unreachable itches would be a thing of the past, for one. As would be getting up and walking over to bookshelf to pick up, or put back, a book.

  But no. No telekinesis for Amber Lee.

  "Close your eyes," Frank said. "Clear your heads. Let the incense fill your nose…. and… all that bullshit."

  I did as
Frank said and closed my eyes. I had meditated a thousand times, so this part wasn't difficult for me. It would always start the same way. All around me was water, and I was a little ship. The waves would lick at my hull, and I would listen to the gentle lapping sound until my mind began to float. Once I had started to float, I would be able to tell my invisible body where to go; higher into the astral Nether--that place where invisible things live--or lower into the self, into the deepest reaches of my psyche.

  I never went lower.

  Frank cleared his throat and started to speak. "We call to you, Dagda, father of Brigid. High King of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Hear us."

  "Hear us," Damien and I repeated.

  "Dagda," Frank continued, "Oh great Earth-God, we ask you to lend us your Undry so that we might be satisfied on this night. Hear us."

  Once again, Damien and I repeated "Hear us."

  Silence.

  Besides the tingle of excitement I couldn't feel anything else happening. I had learned to identify when the Power flowed through me. It was like an electric current--no, a surge of electricity—and it surrounded and filled me. It didn't make my hairs stand on end, but it touched my insides, snaked in and out of every pore in my body, and left me feeling giddy and high after.

  The Power hadn’t come.

  "I don't feel anything," I said, opening my eyes.

  "Fuck," Frank said. "I knew I should have brought a harp."

  "A harp," Damien said, cocking an eyebrow. "You wanted to get a harp in here too?"

  "The Dagda played a harp. We could have done with a harp."

  "And where were we supposed to get a harp from?"

  "I don't know... we could have broken into a school?"

  "A school..."

  "Absolutely. We would have brought it back, of course."

  "Sure."

  I knew Frank was joking, but Damien hadn't yet adjusted to Frank's brand of sarcasm. I stifled a giggle at the thought of a gaunt man like Frank sneaking around a school wearing his sailor's hat and lugging around a huge harp. They wouldn't know what to make of him! I didn’t think anyone in Raven’s Glen was quite as flamboyant as he.

  "Okay, we aren't getting a harp," I said, closing the discussion. "What do you think we did wrong?"

  "Maybe the Dagda isn't home?" Damien offered.

  "Oh, now he cracks a joke," Frank said, scoffing.

  "How about a rhyme?" I asked.

  "Actually, that could work," Frank said.

  "A rhyme?" Damien asked.

  To answer Damien's question, I recited a part of the Wiccan Rede. "To bind the spell well every time, let the spell be said in rhyme."

  "I hadn't thought about that," Frank said, "I'm not used to using Magick with other people. It's like sharing a needle. I just don't do it... unless I'm out of needles or the guy is really, really cute."

  I rolled my eyes. "Well, yeah, that's why witches rhyme," I said, "Because it just works."

  "Any of you know any good rhymes we can use?" Damien asked Frank.

  Frank cocked his head and raised both eyebrows. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I know how to rhyme. Or sing. Or even dance."

  "Okay," I said, after a moment, "Let's try this. Hands again, please."

  We joined again, closed our eyes, and allowed a moment for our minds to float again. Then, as though the words had been living in the back of my mind the whole time, I said: "We call upon a God so great, amidst a very sacred date, to bless us with a mighty feast of wine and bread and beast. To Dagda of the Irish Isle, God of Earth with charming smile, we gently do invoke thy power; be with us on the witching hour."

  At the edge of my aura a trickle of energy poked at my own. It was a curious energy, like a cat deciding whether or not to let me pet it. I wondered if my incantation took hold but didn't dare open my eyes; just in case. I had learned a thing or two about how to react to Magick phenomenon and knew well enough to remain still and not spook it.

  Spook it. As if Magick could be spooked.

  "Nothing's happened," Damien said.

  "What time is it?" I said.

  "Eleven fifty eight."

  Wow.

  "Creepy," Frank said. "Uncanny, even. The girl's a natural."

  I wasn't aware of the time before Damien had mentioned it. Using the witching hour in the rhyme just felt… natural. Somehow. Or maybe I was good at rhyming? Regardless, I still wouldn't open my eyes. The energy was there, tip-toeing around me, invisible, and I allowed it to continue undisturbed.

  "Can you guys feel that?" I asked.

  "Feel what?" Frank asked.

  I guess that's a no.

  "I feel... something," Damien said. We were all still holding hands. Between us, a current was starting to pass. His fingers were starting to feel rubbery against my own, as if one of us were plugged into a wall socket.

  "Do you know the incantation?" I asked the other witches, "Can you repeat it?"

  "I think so," Frank said.

  Damien also agreed.

  "Alright, let's do it three times. I'll start, we'll do it row-your-boat style."

  A pause, a breath, and I started the rhyme again. Frank and Damien joined in on cue and our voices became a unified rhyme, echoing off the attic walls. This time, I knew, something would happen. I had no idea what exactly would happen–but it would be big.

  We call upon a God so great, amidst a very sacred date, to bless us with a mighty feast of wine and bread and beast. To Dagda of the Irish Isle, God of Earth with charming smile, we gently do invoke thy power; be with us on the witching hour.

  I had finished my first lap of the entire rhyme when it started. The reliable SS Amber Lee, floating along the vast ocean of my consciousness, never soared to the skies or sank to the depths unless I willed it to. She never ran aground, never veered off course, and her crew never mutinied against her captain.

  Until now.

  We call upon a God so great amidst a very sacred date…

  My meditation ship sighted land and raced toward it as if pulled by some kind of massive force. I tried to steer it back on course, but my will faltered. A trickle of exhilaration found its way to the base of my spine and was starting to creep, like a pair of warm hands—a lover's hands—around my abdomen.

  … to bless us with a mighty feast of wine and bread and beast.

  Every word that came out of my mouth sent a little vibration pulsing into the warm, wet space between my legs. I couldn't sit still! The vast ocean looked, now, more like a flat stomach—Damien's stomach—and the ship was a pair of fingers, a set of lips, and a tongue. Lapping, tasting.

  To Dagda of the Irish Isle, God of Earth with charming smile…

  Time began to grind to a halt. Each word I spoke felt like it had been spoken an hour apart from the last one. Days apart. Worlds apart. In the space between them there was only Damien and hunger, lust, want, need—close. Lips, tongue, breasts, groans, rhythms, heartbeats, desire—so close!

  …we gently do invoke thy power; be with us on the witching hour.

  My eyes snapped open. I bit my lip and turned my face away, though I was sure the others had seen the sudden flush to my cheeks. Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they had kept their eyes closed the whole time and hadn’t seen what had just happened to me. But I was a throbbing, aching mess, and I hadn't even been touched! What the hell was that about?

  Blood was racing to my cheeks, flushing them with a warm glow. Frank and Damien were staring, now, although Frank had a sneaky grin on his face as if he was in on my little secret. And maybe he was. Frank had a knack for knowing things he wasn't supposed to know, and I felt like an open book to him even when I was at my most composed.

  "Are you okay?" Damien asked.

  "Yeah," I said. Breathe deep and slow. "I'm fine, why?"

  "You trailed off at the end."

  "Did... we finish?"

  "One of us did," Frank said. Oh, Frank. He knew. Of course he did.

  "We finished," Damien said, nodding.

  "And.
.. what time is it?"

  Damien checked. 12:02am.

  "Now what?" I asked. I let my shoulders drop, bid my body to relax, and leaned back on the pillows beneath my butt. But boy if I wasn't looking at Damien like a dog eying a piece of meat. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so... so... turned on. I blew a kiss to Damien when caught me staring and he smiled.

  "Now," Frank said, "We do this."

  He grabbed a plastic cup, dipped it into the empty cauldron, and scraped around at the bottom. He looked determined, concentrated, like a miner digging into a hole he knew was full of riches if only he could reach deep enough. Of course, the cauldron had a bottom, but after a moment I couldn't hear the sound of his cup touching the iron, and Frank's hand was stuck in there all the way to the elbow!

  "Frank?" I asked.

  "Schh," he said, and when he pulled his hand back his cup was filled with a sloshy, cinnamon scented liquid.

  "Uhh... what is that?" Damien asked.

  Frank brought his nose to the rim of the cup, took a whiff. "Spiced cider," he said.

  "But… where...?" I didn't finish the question. It was a stupid question. Of course it came from inside the cauldron; I just didn't know how it was even possible for spiced cider to just manifest out of thin air.

  "What did we just do?" I asked.

  Frank took a sip of the drink and smiled, satisfied. "Just a little midnight Magick," he said.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "So, okay," I said. "What the fuck did we just do and how did we do it?"

  "You want me to explain the how to you?" Frank asked, a bemused eyebrow cocked.

  Of course, we had done Magick. No great mystery there. Well, Magick was a mystery, but wielding it in small bursts had become as easy as breathing or speaking. This kind of thing though, rituals, were a different sort of beast. I wasn’t ready for this. I kinda thought Frank was screwing around when he said we could make booze out of nothing.