WARLOCK_His Coven. His Magick. His Soulmate. Read online

  For all those who dare to look beyond the obvious...

  Warlock

  His Coven. His Magick. His Soulmate.

  Maggie Carpenter

  Copyright © 2018 by Dark Secrets Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Dark Secrets Press LLC.

  http://www.MaggieCarpenter.com

  Cover Design by Shanoff Designs

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  PROLOGUE

  Eons Past

  Limner, the mighty sorcerer who followed the light, stared into the red eyes of his nemesis. Though the demonic warlock looked almost human, it was a facade. Unmasked, his skin was grey and deeply carved, his eyes sunken, his nose wide and hooked, and his thin lips were set in a perpetual downward curl. But his human-like camouflage was foiled by the evil oozing from his dark heart.

  It created a foul stench, making it easy for a human to recognize the diabolic warlocks with whom they shared the Earth. It offered them a chance to protect themselves with charms and incantations taught them by the sorcerer's followers. This day, however, the mighty sorcerer did not feel mighty. Backed into a corner, he was about to make an agreement with evil. An agreement signed in blood. An agreement that would break his heart.

  "Speak, Limner! Do you agree or do you not?" the warlock demanded. "If my coven can no longer couple with humans, neither can yours."

  "You will no longer attempt to harass and attack my followers?"

  "If you no longer attempt to bring mine into the light."

  Rising from the table, Limner moved to the arched window that overlooked the grounds of his castle, and the mountains beyond. He could see the pink and white carriage moving down the lane. The woman he loved, the women with whom he wished to spend eternity, would be in his home in minutes.

  "Very well, Barabas," he said solemnly, his heart breaking. "I agree."

  He heard the rustling of the parchment being unrolled, and turning away from the window he started towards the table, but feeling his courage start to wane, he paused. Closing his eyes he prayed for the strength to slice his thumb, dip the feather's tip into the cut, and sign his name. The golden light filled his soul, and opening his eyes he walked forward.

  "Generations living in peace, and time for the new evil to die out," he murmured. "That's what this pact ensures."

  The reminder gave him the fortitude to continue, but as he watched Barabas execute the agreement, Limner felt the flame of loss burn the back of his throat.

  "Do your incantation," Barabas growled, "then I will do mine."

  Limner extended his hand, and as Barabas clasped it, the two enemies locked eyes, and Limner began to speak.

  "No longer will your kind attempt to couple with a mortal.

  Break this vow, I curse you to the flaming portal.

  No longer will your kind hunt the warlocks of the light.

  Break this vow, I curse you to a deadly plight.

  So be it now, so be it when the sun sets, so be it when the sun rises, and into the beyond."

  Taking a deep breath, fighting the pain in his heart and the tears threatening to fall, Limner nodded, signaling Barabas to begin.

  "No longer will your kind attempt to couple with a mortal," Barabas repeated.

  "Break this vow, I curse you to the flaming portal.

  No longer will your kind preach to the warlocks of the dark.

  Break this vow, to a deadly plight you will embark.

  So be it now, so be it when the sun sets, so be it when the sun rises, and into the beyond."

  "It is done," Limner said gravely. "You may take your leave."

  Each had signed identical parchments, and rolling his, Barabas tucked it under his arm and wordlessly strode from the room.

  Waiting until he no longer felt the warlock's dark energy, Limner sank into his chair, and surrendered to the dull ache that filled his soul. Though he feared the pact came too late, he could not let the demonic warlocks continue their contamination of the human race. He could only hope and pray, over time, the mutants the evil warlocks had created would die out.

  "Limner?"

  Raising his eyes, he gazed upon his beautiful bride as she moved towards him.

  "Valeria, my heart bleeds," he murmured, rising to his feet and taking her hands.

  "You made the pact," she whispered. "You sacrificed us."

  "My precious," he said, his voice cracking, "it does not, it cannot, stop our love."

  "I shall die from the sadness."

  The water was springing from her eyes, and bringing her into his arms, Limner was unable to stop his own droplets of pain spilling down his cheeks.

  "All is not lost, I swear it," he managed. "I saw this moment, and I am prepared. Come with me."

  Taking her hand he led her across the room, through a door, and up a winding staircase. Reaching the top she found herself in a windowless circular room, decorated in burgundy and gold, the only light an amber glow from a gently burning fireplace.

  "You've never brought me here," she said softly, gazing around the opulent room. "It's beautiful, and it feels so serene."

  "It's my sacred space. It's where we will make a pact of our own. Sit with me in front of the flames."

  Dropping on to the soft fur set in front of the hearth, she curled into his arms.

  "You know I am a warlock just like Barabas."

  "You're nothing like him. You're filled with love and light."

  "There is balance in all things. Good and evil, darkness and light, it is universal. A malevolent force still lives inside me. I can feel anger and hatred, I am capable of inflicting pain and seeking revenge."

  "What are you trying to say?"

  "I am not foolish enough to believe the pact is eternal, but our love, Valeria, you and I, we are. A future generation of demonic warlocks will see Barabas reborn, and he will break the agreement. That's when you and I will be reunited."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "I have been gifted with many talents."

  "I know, but—"

  "Valeria, you must marry and have a daughter, who must have a daughter, and so on."

  "How can I love another? There is room in my heart only for you."

  "You can offer affection, and receive affection in return. If we are to be together, you must allow this to happen," he said softly. "I'm going to give you a gift that you must make sure is passed down. As long as it is keep it close, no warlock can cause harm, no warlock can enter the energy field of the one in possession, or know their innermost thoughts and feelings. Ultimately, when the time comes, this gift will see us reunited."

  "And my ring?" she said sadly. "My beautiful purple sapphire?"

  "I will explain about that in a moment, but take comfort, my love, I promise, one day, I will return it to your finger. Now you must write a letter."

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present Day

  Rounding the corner and entering the sparsely lit, desolate street, Laszio Grigore glanced at the young woman by his side. She'd been prepared to walk home by herself, but he couldn't allow her to take such a risk. Her name was Mary Cavalier, and she often stopped into his restaurant for a meal. She was studying to be a chef, and she claimed Grigore's offered the best Italian food in the city. They'd developed a comfortable friendship, and he'd thought she had a sensible head on her shoulders, but walking home alone on a dark night h
e didn't view as sensible.

  "Mary, you must take a taxi from now on. It's not safe."

  "You're probably right. I guess I just don't think about it. My brain's too busy. I'm always preoccupied with something."

  "Don't you mean you're preoccupied with the med student who lives across the hall from you?"

  "Uh, yeah," she admitted with a soft smile. "I guess he does rattle around in my head quite a bit."

  "Have you seen him recently? What's his name again?"

  "Angelo Golden, and the more I see him the more I think it suits him. He has incredible blue eyes and blonde hair, and he's so sweet, but he's not a pushover. Kind of like you."

  "Thanks, I think," Laszio grinned, "and this is it, right?" he asked, stopping in front of a modest two-story apartment building.

  "Yes, this is it," she repeated, then wrapping her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly. "Thanks so much for walking me home. It does feel a bit creepy tonight."

  "Any time, and I'm going to see you to your door," he insisted, knowing an evil force was lurking in the shadows.

  She'd felt it too, though not as he did. Her instincts had told her something was creepy, but he knew it was a demonic warlock. He'd sensed its presence the moment they'd left the restaurant.

  "I'd appreciate that," she said gratefully. "The hall light went out a couple of days ago, and the bulb hasn't been replaced yet. I think I'll just buy one and do it myself. Even in the daylight it's dark going up the stairs. At night it's terrible."

  "We can use my phone flashlight."

  As she walked through the front door, he pulled his phone from his pocket and touched the icon, but before following her inside he glanced over his shoulder. The malevolent creature was still skulking, and protectively taking her hand, he walked with her up the stairs.

  "Be safe," he said warmly as they reached her door, "and remember, from now on take a taxi."

  "I'll remember. By the way, I'm experimenting with garlic soup. When I think it's perfect I'll bring you a container. You can tell me what you think."

  "I'm looking forward to it. Goodnight, Mary."

  "Goodnight, Laszio."

  Trotting back down the stairs, he stepped outside and paused. The source of the energy was gone, but the vapor was still lingering. Being the leader of the warlocks who followed the light, he was used to scrutiny from the warlocks who followed the dark side. The opposing forces lived in a fragile, uneasy peace, and his voice was telling him this had been more than routine surveillance. Breaking into a jog he headed back to his restaurant, but he was unable to shake the feeling something was brewing.

  Something big.

  TWO NIGHTS LATER

  In the quiet of the VIP lounge, staring down at the dancing, bustling crowd, Laszio's eye was drawn to a woman standing alone at the bar. A mass of curly blond hair cascaded around her shoulders, she was dressed in skin-tight leather, and wearing glossy red lipstick and thick eyeliner. Everything about her was silently screaming, Laszio Grigore, notice me. He grinned. He'd be happy to oblige, and as he turned from the one-way mirror and moved through the intimate room, he felt the covert stares, and heard a few shadowy thoughts from the witches as he passed.

  Laszio's on the move.

  I wonder where he's going.

  He's so sexy.

  Walking into the hall he could hear the muffled music and the voices of the crowd rising up from the floor below. Standing guard at the door at the end of the passageway, Tannen, Laszio's trusted right-hand, nodded as he approached. To get past Tannen and reach the VIP lounge, a guest had to be in good standing. If they'd misbehaved, they didn't get past him.

  "Did something catch your eye," Tannen asked, "or is it someone?"

  "A lone blonde."

  "Sounds intriguing."

  "It is, but I need to know why she's here and so desperate to meet me."

  "Then you'd better."

  "Yep, I'd better."

  Walking past him to the top of the stairs, Laszio paused to gaze out over the pulsing throng, then zeroed in on the bar. His milk-chocolate eyes grew dark, and calling upon his warlock vision, he zoomed in on the leather-clad beauty. Her discomfort was easy to read. Some females loved tight clothes, they enjoyed showing off their bodies, but that wasn't who she was. And her hair wasn't real.

  "You're baiting me," he murmured. "Let's find out why."

  Trotting down the steps, like the Red Sea the gaggle parted, pushed aside by his invisible energy field. Moving towards the bar, he stared at the patron occupying the stool next to her. The man frowned, then slipped from his seat, and trying to control an abrupt and urgent need to urinate, he hurried towards the men's room.

  Walking casually forward, Laszio took his place, and settling his elbow on the cushioned edge of the counter, he raised his forearm and rested his head in his palm. He knew she was aware of his presence, and he was curious to see if she'd turn around and acknowledge him. Though he could easily command her attention, he decided to wait. The bartender began to approach, and without looking up Laszio sent him the message to stay away. The seconds ticked past, and finally the woman turned around and smiled at him.

  "Hello," she said flirtatiously. "You look more interesting than the last guy on that barstool."

  "Thanks. May I buy you a drink?"

  "Sure, but something non-alcoholic. I'm driving."

  "That's a problem easily fixed."

  "Thanks anyway, but—"

  "What's your name?"

  "Emily."

  A knowing smile curled the edges of his lips.

  It was a lie.

  He always knew when a human lied. Witches and warlocks could be harder to read, but most of the time he knew about them too.

  "Your real name."

  His voice had turned cold, and her engaging grin faded, but she didn't drop her eyes. Abruptly taking hold of her hand, he saw the glint of alarm cross her eyes. His energy had sent a tingle up her arm, but a moment later her shoulders sank, her qualms dissolved, and she let out a relieved sigh.

  "Who are you and why are you here?"

  His question had been softly asked. Anyone watching would have seen nothing out of place.

  "My name is Katherine Rhodes. I'm a police officer. I'm here because Detective Wyatt thought I might be able to learn something."

  "Learn something about what?"

  "You, and your connection to the attempted murder of Mary Cavalier."

  "I've already been interviewed, and my whereabouts at the time are known. Explain."

  "He wanted me to meet you casually and get you talking because of what he's learned about you, and I have very good instincts about people."

  "What has he learned?"

  "That you can be scary. That people do what you want. That you're, uh, different."

  "Different, how?"

  "The way you dress, your hair, everything about you. People really like you, but they all describe you as different."

  "Hmm, interesting. Good girl."

  She beamed back at him. Like all warlocks Laszio was a dominant, and energy was touching her. The smile on her face had nothing to do with the trance. She was responding as a submissive wanting to please him.

  "Katherine, do you like wearing the clothes you're in?"

  "No. I hate them They're uncomfortable and tacky, but Detective Wyatt said it would get your attention."

  "Do you have a boyfriend?"

  "Yes."

  "What's his name?"

  "Greg."

  "Are you happy with Greg?"

  "Very. I want to marry him and have his babies."

  "Then why are you trying to get close to a man the detective thinks might be a murderer?"

  "I, uh…it's my job."

  "You need to be more self-protective."

  "Yes, I suppose I do."

  "If you want to get married and have babies, be straight with Greg. How is he going to know if you don't tell him?"

  "I've been afraid to."

&nbs
p; "But you're not afraid to dress like a dominatrix and talk to a potential suspect?"

  "There are other cops here, but you're right. I am going to talk to him. I need to."

  "Yes, you do. Now, Katherine, without looking at them, describe these other cops to me?"

  "Jake. Dark hair, black shirt, aqua tie. He looks ridiculous. He's in a booth near the door. Sam, he's blonde, in grey slacks, a white shirt, no tie, and a navy blazer. He looks like he should be having dinner in a nice restaurant. He's at the other end of the bar."

  "You're going to walk over to Sam and tell him being here is a waste of time, that I'm a nice guy, and you don't believe for a minute I had anything to do with the attempted murder."

  "Okay."

  "When I release your hand you're going to give me a friendly hug, and have nothing but warm feelings toward me. You'll be in a good mood for the rest of the night. The next time you see Greg you're going to give him an incredible blow job, then tell him what's in your heart."

  "Okay."

  Lifting her hand to his lips, he softly kissed it, then placing it on her lap, he uncurled his fingers. She blinked, frowned for a moment, then circling her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly.

  "You're such a nice person. How could anyone say bad things about you? Excuse me, I need to talk to Sam."

  "Sure, you go ahead."

  As he watched her walk away, his eyes fell on her curvaceous backside. The leather was like a second skin. Had she not been spoken for, he might have taken her into his private room, spanked her silly, and brought her to a spine-tingling climax with his finger. Not being able to couple with a human could be frustrating, but he never had trouble finding a willing witch to mercilessly ravage.

  "Sex," he muttered. "I need sex, but with who. Or is it whom?"

  "Talking to yourself again, Laszio?"