Witch's Hunger Read online

  The day the triplets were born the Elders of the Circle of Sisters seemed perplexed as to what to make of the unusual birth. It was the beginning of a new race within their tribe. From each set of triplets, one triplet would bear triplets of her own, and so it would be until triplets no longer existed, which probably meant until the end of time.

  Tenebrus had been right about them having special powers. All three girls had needed little training from a very young age. Most of the spells they conjured as children took many witches years to learn. Each triplet had special gifts in her own right, but he’d often wondered about what might happen if their powers were melded together. Well, he had to wonder no more. He had witnessed it firsthand the other evening.

  The night of the incident, the one that resulted in the trip to this cavern, happened at Lord Chermoine’s castle. A prenuptial gathering prepared for the intendeds of the triplets—the wedding scheduled for the following day—and Tenebrus had garnered an invitation, which came as no surprise. He’d cast a simple yearning spell to make certain his name appeared on the roster.

  An unfortunate delay, or fortunate depending on one’s point of view, caused Tenebrus to arrive at the castle late. Just in time to see the triplets standing outside the castle beside their intendeds, screaming about unfaithfulness. Women Tenebrus knew to be of ill repute ran out of the castle and scattered from the estate on foot, obviously not wanting any part of the tumult taking place outside.

  Tenebrus hid behind a tree and watched as each triplet pointed to her intended, railing him unabashedly with obscenities.

  Then the girls quickly gathered, joined hands and uttered words Tenebrus had never heard before. They swayed and chanted and from where he hid, Tenebrus felt the air thicken and begin to vibrate. Even with so much distance between him, he saw fear in the eyes of the men meant to marry these women.

  Suddenly, Esmee pointed to the man she was to marry the next day and proclaimed, “You blame the drink for your actions, for your unfaithfulness. So let it be. From this day forth, you will thirst from your very core. You shall thirst for that which does not come easily and you will never know satisfaction.”

  No sooner were those words uttered than the man’s face began to contort, widen and turn white. The hair on his head fell away as if someone with shears had been working behind the scenes, waiting for this very moment. His scalp was now white and bulbous with a large vein running up from the center of his forehead then branching out on top of his skull like tree branches. His mouth opened wide as he cried out in pain. His two front teeth became thin and sharp, incisor-like, and grew to unimaginable lengths. His eyes turned ruby red. The tips of his ears grew long and pointed. He stood frozen for only a moment, watching, feeling his own transformation, then ran for the woods behind the castle.

  The two other men looked on in bewilderment and fear. Lisette pointed to her intended and proclaimed, “If you want to act like a beast, then you shall be a beast for all eternity. Your nights will no longer be your own. You will crave flesh like an animal.”

  Her words caused an immediate transformation in the man. Her intended cried out in pain as fur covered his entire face, and his mouth and nose elongated, creating a snout. His body seemed to explode in width and height. His teeth were no longer those of a man but the fangs of a wolf.

  The sisters appeared unaffected by the transformations taking over the men.

  The man-wolf howled, confusion obvious in his eyes, and he, too, ran for the woods.

  Julianne’s intended had evidently seen enough for he, too, began to run. Even if he had gained twice the speed, it would not be fast enough to escape Julianne’s spell.

  She pointed at him, “You claim your excuse for unfaithfulness to the mindlessness that comes with drink, so you shall remain mindless. Always controlled by another. No longer will you have a mind of your own that allows free will, and you shall hunger for the bone marrow of the man you once were before engaging with that harlot.”

  Instinctively, Tenebrus knew the sisters had no idea about the seriousness of what they had just done.

  When Julianna completed her spell, the sisters joined hands. They raised them to the heavens and proclaimed that by the power of three and every element that made up the universe, no witch or sorcerer could break their spell, no matter how powerful he or she might be.

  The mutation of the third man did not appear as hideous as the former two. Oddly, he simply grew taller, thinner, but something in his eyes went empty, like the life within him had drained away. Not even fear registered in them.

  Tenebrus wanted that kind of power. Absolute control over the elements of fire, water, earth and air. Over all who existed on this planet.

  He had studied the triplets for years and for the past ten years, Tenebrus had become obsessed with finding a way to combine their power with his own. A sorcerer could not drain the power from this special breed of witch. But if he studied them, then took what he learned and joined that with his own superior power, he’d be ruler over every being on earth. His power would be supreme. Ultimate.

  * * *

  Sensing Tenebrus’s presence even stronger caused Magda’s anger to boil in her veins. If for nothing else but spite, she would stop this event immediately. But she couldn’t. As head Elder, she had to set an example for the fifteen-hundred plus witches she, Bayonne and Palmae were responsible for.

  Magda cleared her throat. “Should you or your siblings, including the generations to come, shirk their responsibilities, that Triad shall lose her powers. And the creatures they are responsible for will be freed upon the earth to kill and destroy at will.”

  “But you are condemning us to be alone for the rest of our lives,” Lisette cried. “If we cannot marry nor live in intimacy with a human, nothing remains. Our lineage will die. Who will we marry? Who will father our children?”

  Bayonne nodded in agreement and looked over at Magda. “Who?”

  Magda pointed the staff of judgment at Lisette, giving her a stern look. “You will have at your disposal what remains. Fae. Sorcerers who have transcended, or one of the creatures you have created.”

  Palmae gasped so loudly it sounded like she’d nearly swallowed her tongue. “Magda, no! This is far too harsh and—”

  “Enough!” Magda proclaimed. “It is done.” She struck the stone table once more with the staff of judgment. “Isonno, funjusa, orlato—so it is said, so shall it be done and so shall it ever be!” Then under her breath, Magda recited another incantation, only this one was for that nosy, good-for-nothing Tenebrus, who dared to eavesdrop on such a sacred meeting. After slamming the shaft of judgment on the table for the last time, the bloodstone atop it shattered. Everyone in the cave gasped in shock, and the collective sound reverberated throughout the hollow space.

  The shattered bloodstone came as no surprise to Magda. In fact, she’d half expected it—for she had just done the very thing to Tenebrus that she had placed judgment for on the triplets who stood before her.

  Only this time no one but she would ever know.

  Chapter 1

  Vivienne François stood behind a forty-foot gate that was topped with silver-tipped barbwire, watching blood, fur and some chunks of flesh fly in every direction, and wondered where she’d gone wrong. The air smelled of dirt, blood, urine and musk.

  It was mid-October in Algiers, Louisiana, but witnessing this much brutality made her break into a sweat like it was high-noon in August.

  Wearing jeans, boots and a light blue pullover work shirt, Viv took a fighting stance. Feet spread apart, fists at her sides. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, then said loudly, “I bind thee now, powerless until released by my word. So shall it be. So it is by my command!”

  She opened one eye slowly and groaned. The blood and fur still flew.

  “I don’t understand what the hell is going on,” sh
e said to Socrates, who sat beside her right foot. “That’s the fifth damn binding spell I’ve tried and it’s like everyone has gone deaf, including the universe. Either that or I have turned into a frigging toasted marshmallow.” She kicked angrily at the ground with the toe of her boot.

  “Do you always have to be so abrasive and surly when you’re upset?” Socrates asked. He was a pompous Bombay with gold eyes and had been Viv’s familiar since her birth. He yawned and gave a swish of his tail. “Truly, Viv, can you not see why your spell isn’t working?”

  “No.” She huffed. “The way it works is I do a spell and the recipient responds immediately. This isn’t a show-and-tell game or three-card monte. I’ll be damned if they’re not going to listen.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Socrates said with an exasperated sigh. “Must I point out every detail to you?”

  “With that attitude, buddy, you’re lucky if I don’t ship you off to Siberia.” Not that Viv would really ship Socrates anywhere, but she was so frustrated she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  She stood out here alone, behind a gate that served as the compound entrance to a fenced-in, five-hundred acre lair. The compound held the North End pack of Loup Garou, whom she watched over herself, since she didn’t live far. Just north of the compound was another three hundred acres that served to feed and grow livestock she and her sisters used to feed the breeds they were responsible for.

  Viv was one in a set of triplets, the oldest by ten minutes and responsible for the Loup Garou. The middle triplet, Evette, took care of the Nosferatu, and the youngest, Abigail, dealt with the Chenilles. All breeds were netherworld creatures that she’d had to work hard not to resent over the years. For Viv, it was like babysitting a gigantic pack of prepubescent teens.

  To feed their factions, they raised cows, goats, pigs and mules specifically for that purpose. Fortunately, Viv had three humans whom she trusted to handle the cattle in the farm area. One of them was Charlie Zerangue, a fifty-two-year-old cowboy who’d worked with her for the past ten years buying cattle. He made sure his two hands sent that cattle through the feeding shoot that led them directly to an area south of the Loup Garou compound. This was the feeding territory.

  Once the cattle were sent through the shoot to the feeding area, the Nosferatu were ferried from New Orleans near the river bank to Algiers. There they were loosed upon the cattle to gorge on as much blood as they wanted. The idea was to have each so satiated that they would be easier to manage around humans during their daily or nightly chores.

  Once the Nosferatu were ferried back across the river, the Loup Garou from the North, West and East packs were allowed into the feeding area to rip through as much meat as their stomachs could handle for the exact same reason.

  And lastly, the Chenilles, Abigail’s brood, were ferried across the river to the compound and allowed to feast on the marrow of all the bones that remained.

  This maniacal ritual occurred every day without fail between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m., when most of New Orleans was either asleep or too drunk to understand or care about what was going on. They used a family-owned ferry for the transports, something not easily obtained in New Orleans. But it was nothing that a little magic and a lot of money greasing the right political palms couldn’t manage.

  Aside from tending the feeding shoot, Charlie was also responsible for a thirty-one-year-old, hard working farmhand named Bootstrap from Ville Platte, Louisiana, and Kale Martin, a forty-six-year-old wrangler from East Texas.

  The men were paid well and had free housing in a two-story ranch house near the front of the property. The one thing Viv appreciated most about Charlie, Bootstrap and Kale was that they never asked questions. They worked hard and kept their mouths shut. Not once had any of the men asked about the cattle sent through the shoot. Their job was to keep the livestock area full, the cattle healthy and fat, then send whatever was ordered through the shoot each morning.

  The North End pack of Loup Garou that lived beyond the gate where Viv stood now clocked over three hundred strong, all of them Originals. Not the watered-down version of werewolves that existed in other areas. Viv was responsible for all of them, but she had worked hard at putting together a strong team of leaders to manage different territories.

  Viv let out a heavy sigh. Some job she had. People thought that just because you were a witch, a real witch, not a Wiccan wannabe, all you had to do was snap your fingers and everything became beautiful. You got exactly what you wanted when you wanted it and how you wanted it. Nothing was further from the truth.

  “Miss Viv,” called Whiskers, a small female Loup Garou with blond fur. She peeked out from her den, a bramble of bent tree branches that wasn’t far from the fight taking place center court. “Please make it stop. Warden and Milan I mean. They’re going to kill each other!”

  “Aw, let them have at it,” said Moose, another Loup Garou hiding fifty feet away. “It’s healthy to see a good fight every now and again. Puts a little spark in you, you know?” Moose was one of the largest Loups in the Northern pack, but not the brightest bulb in the lamp.

  Yazdee, a female Loup who denned with Whiskers, gave Moose a little growl. “You’re sick, you know that? Leave it to a guy to watch two other males fight to the death over a little tail. I mean, I don’t get it. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of females to go around.”

  “Yeah,” Moose said, “but we’re talking about Stratus here. Everybody wants a piece of that alpha female when she’s in heat. Hot stuff there, baby doll. Hot stuff.”

  “Pervert,” Whiskers barked.

  “Prude,” Moose shot back.

  Yazdee snorted. “Better a prude than pitiful. If you’re so hot for it, why aren’t you in the middle of that tangle?”

  Moose grunted and ducked back behind a thicket of trees.

  Amid the chaos, Stratus lay with her head resting on her paws at the door of her den, which sat on the opposite side of the compound in direct view of Whiskers and Yazdee. She watched the fight, her expression flickering from curiosity to boredom.

  A growl rumbled so close to Viv it made her jump. The mauling, biting and clawing were reaching a fevered pitch. She threw a quick glance around the compound. It seemed most, if not all, of the Loups in camp had gathered in a wide circle to watch the fight. Everyone kept a safe distance away.

  The two alphas in combat were Warden, the North End alpha, whom Viv had chosen to mate with Stratus; and Milan, who belonged in the East End pack. Evidently, Milan had found a way to sneak in, hoping to get a piece of Stratus’s action.

  Viv thought about having Socrates go fetch Jaco, who oversaw the East pack, but the last thing she needed right now, leader or not, was another alpha thrown into this mix.

  Finally, after attempting another binding then a freezing spell, both of which failed, Viv let out her own little growl. She ran her hands down her arms, mumbling words beneath her breath. Immediately, all that was visible of her was the vague silhouette of the tall, slender, black-haired woman who stood there seconds ago. Invisibility was a hard accomplishment for any witch, yet at thirty years old, she nearly had it down pat. Partial invisibility was better than none at all.

  “And just what do you think you’re doing?” Socrates asked, suddenly standing at attention. “Do you think you can simply walk in there and physically stop those two alphas from ripping each other apart?”

  Viv grabbed a two-by-four that leaned against the gate and said, “Watch and learn how simply, cat.”

  She reached for the huge latch that bound the gate to a silver pole but before she could pull it up and open, Socrates rammed into her shins and began to hiss. He darted in and around her legs, threatening to trip her if she took a step.

  He hissed again, loudly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Viv. Some things are stronger than magic. Put your anger aside for a moment and feel what’s coming from that lai
r. You’ll see and understand why your spells have been ineffective.”

  “Get out of my damn way or you’ll get a swift kick that’ll land you right in the middle of that mess.” She put a hand on her hip, knowing full well, as did he, that her threat was empty. For once, she gave in to his suggestion. She reined in her anger and allowed all of her senses to stretch to full alert.

  She knew what was going on and for all intents and purposes, there was only one way she could see to stop it. She couldn’t call Charlie, Bootstrap or Kale out to help. They had never even seen the Loup Garou. They had never been allowed on this end of the property. Her sisters would be useless, for their spells only worked for their own broods.

  Pondering all of it put Viv in an even crappier mood. It was eight o’clock in the morning, when normal people usually sat down for coffee and eggs, and here she was dealing with this. She just wished for a normal life. Often dreamed about what that might be like, feel like. Just as she often wondered why certain people were born a certain way. Some rich, some poor, some white, some Asian. Others Chenilles, another Nosferatu. Or as Socrates had so aptly put it moments ago—a Triad.

  It was hard enough having been born a triplet when life seemed to be about “finding” oneself. How did you find yourself when you were a tether of three? And an odd tether at that; a tomboy prone to wrangling cattle and sharing a beer with one of three cowboys. Her sisters carried themselves with grace and reeked of femininity. She, on the other hand, usually reeked of sweat.

  Even as children, Viv and her sisters never dressed alike, each seeking their own identity. Aside from the need for singularity, they had always remained very close. Oftentimes, if one of the sisters wasn’t feeling well or even experienced a startle, the other two felt it just as strongly. In fact, she was surprised with all she was going through right now that Abigail and Evette weren’t here standing beside her. Surely they had to know something was going on with her.