Spirit Witch: Witches of Mountain Shadow Book Three Read online

  Spirit Witch

  Witches Of Mountain Shadow Book Three

  Tarah Benner

  Contents

  Also by Tarah Benner

  Get Behind-the-Scenes Extras

  1. Bombshells Over Breakfast

  2. Positive Thinking and Lots of Drinking

  3. Rumpus on Main Street

  4. Possessed Before the Press

  5. A Bargain Unfulfilled

  6. Through the Veil

  7. An Enemy in the Astral Realm

  8. Mortal Combat

  9. A Storm Brews Over Wind Chime Lane

  10. The Unwelcome Witch

  11. Spiritbound

  12. The Meeting of the Mothers

  13. Furies in the Walls

  14. Gentlemen Order Cake

  15. As Above, Snow Below

  16. The Demon Left Behind

  17. Aether Madness

  18. Mothers and Mimes

  19. Upstaged by the Afarit

  20. A Fire at Show Choir

  21. Wesley’s Secret

  22. Corpo Affamato

  23. Spirits at the Cemetery

  24. Death Magic

  25. Gabriel at the Gala

  26. A Freak-Out at the Festival

  27. Balor, King of the Hell Realms

  28. Battle Plans

  29. To Kill a Demon King

  30. Always a Hunter

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Feed Your Obsession

  Also by Tarah Benner

  Witches of Mountain Shadow (Books 1-2)

  Blood Ties

  The Elderon Chronicles (Books 1-5)

  The Lawless Saga (Books 1-4)

  Bound in Blood

  The Fringe (Books 1-5)

  The Defectors Trilogy (Books 1-3)

  Digital Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, please visit your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted.

  This book is a work of fiction, and any similarities to any person, living or dead, are coincidental and not intentional.

  * * *

  Published by Blue Sky Studio, LLC

  Copyright 2021 Tarah Benner

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  Sign up to get Blood Ties — the prequel to Aether Witch— and Gabriel’s backstory for free. You’ll also receive occasional new-release updates and sneak peeks.

  To my mentor, L.B.

  1

  Bombshells Over Breakfast

  The sun was hot on the back of Fiona’s neck as she fished the bloody T-shirt out of the garbage bag. The shirt belonged to her mortal neighbor, Wesley. There was a clean gash on the right side of the chest where his brother had stabbed him to exorcise a demon.

  Wesley sat numbly in a patio chair — part of a very nice set he’d just bought. The cushions were stowed away somewhere inside, so his posture was stiff and uncomfortable. Fiona was kneeling on the concrete slab, dressed in a pair of Gabriel’s sweats.

  The fireplace in Wesley’s house had been bricked over, so Fiona was burning their clothes outside. Using a pair of grill tongs, she pulled out the flannel pajama pants she’d been wearing and set them ablaze by magic.

  Gabriel thought they should burn the clothes they’d been wearing when they’d buried Alexios’s body. Wesley was a police officer who’d worked homicides in Denver, but he hadn’t said a word since he’d woken up, so they couldn’t consult him on forensics.

  Fiona could have used a match, of course, but she still wasn’t sure that her being a witch had completely sunk in for Wesley. For most people, seeing was believing, and she wanted him to understand.

  “All witches have some command of the elements,” Fiona explained in a quiet voice. “Wind, fire, earth, water. Our purpose is to work with the elements to maintain the natural balance.” She glanced up and cracked a grin. “We put out quite a few forest fires last year.”

  Wesley didn’t say anything.

  “It’s the aether in us that makes it possible — sort of like a person’s life force. Every living thing has aether in it. Witches just have more.”

  It seemed surreal to blurt all this out. Fiona had never told a mortal what she was.

  “E-Eleanor and I are a little different,” she continued. “We can interact with the aether in our environment. Eleanor can see spirits, and I can control the aether. That’s why I can kill a demon. Demons are made of aether.”

  At the mention of demons, Wesley’s face went ashen, so Fiona stopped talking.

  It was almost ten o’clock in the morning. Eleanor hadn’t been expecting Fiona to be back from her stakeout with Gabriel, so she would have opened the shop by then.

  It was just as well. Fiona had been up all night, and she had a splitting headache. Part of it was the result of wielding too much aether, but she’d also hit her head pretty hard during the fight with Alexios.

  Just then, the patio door slid open, and Gabriel came outside. He was dressed in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie with no shirt on underneath. Despite the chilly morning air, he left the sweatshirt hanging open. His dark hair was messy from running his hands through it, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

  He carried two cups of coffee in one hand and had another tucked in the crook of his arm. He handed one cup to Fiona and set another down in front of his brother. He moved slowly and deliberately, avoiding any sudden movements — as though he were placing a slab of raw meat in front of Wesley’s ferocious German shepherd.

  “Anything?” Gabriel muttered, taking a sip from his cup. Fiona felt a small ripple of satisfaction that he was using the cat mug she’d leant him.

  “Nope.” She didn’t say it, but Fiona was beginning to worry that Wesley had suffered some kind of mental break. The past twenty-four hours had certainly been traumatic.

  Wesley had been possessed by a devourion — a powerful higher demon named Kahkar. Acting under the demon’s influence, he’d kidnapped Fiona and Gabriel. He’d been forced to stab his own brother, and he’d nearly taken his own life. He’d shot Alexios in the struggle, and he’d just found out that Gabriel was a hunter and Fiona was a witch.

  Fiona set down her coffee and continued incinerating the clothes. “I still don’t understand why you couldn’t make him forget.”

  Apparently, hunters could do that through the power of suggestion — at least that’s what Gabriel said. Fiona had seen him in action earlier, and the results had been . . . underwhelming.

  Gabriel didn’t say anything, but Fiona saw his jaw tighten.

  It wasn’t that she liked hiding her powers from Wesley. She might have told him what she was eventually, but she wouldn’t have done it like this. People were afraid of things they didn’t understand, and fearful mortals could be dangerous.

  “He needs to take that book back to evidence before someone realizes it’s missing,” she said.

  Wesley had stolen La Ruota Oscura from police evidence when he’d been possessed. Now that Alexios was dead, they couldn’t afford to attract unwanted attention.

  “You want to send him to work like this?” said Gabriel. “He might as well be rocking back and forth in a corner muttering to himself.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Fiona snapped.

  “Are you implying that it’s mine?”

  “You didn’t have to dump it on him all at
once.”

  “I thought it best to just rip off the Band-Aid. He was bound to put it together eventually.”

  Fiona scowled and shook her head. She’d been a witch her entire life, and she’d had more than her fair share of slip-ups. One time in junior high, she’d gotten caught passing notes in science class. She’d been gushing to Bea about a boy she liked, and their teacher had the unkind habit of reading students’ notes out loud.

  Panicked, Fiona had incinerated it on the spot. The teacher and several students had seen the note burst into flames, but they’d written it off as a mortal magic trick. Fiona had been sent to the principal’s office. No one had run down the hall crying “witch.”

  Mortals never just “put it together.” Their hyperlogical minds would contort themselves into a series of incredible gymnastics rather than accept a reality that didn’t fit their worldview.

  “They’ll find out about the cabin sooner or later,” said a voice out of nowhere.

  Fiona looked up. It was Wesley who’d spoken. He was leaning forward on the edge of his seat, his pale face set in a frown. He was talking about the cabin that had belonged to one of the demon’s mortal victims — the cabin where he’d killed Alexios.

  “When they go to investigate and see all the blood . . .”

  Gabriel just stared at his brother.

  “We did a thorough cleanup,” said Fiona gently. “The police won’t find anything at the cabin to link us to the scene.”

  Wesley drew in a deep breath through his nose, clearly struggling to keep it together. Wordlessly, he reached into his shirt and touched his knife wound, which already resembled a weeks-old scar. His brows knitted together in confusion, and he swallowed again before looking at Gabriel. “You hungry?”

  “Starving,” Gabriel choked.

  Wesley got to his feet and nodded slowly, as though he’d just worked something out. “I could go for some pancakes.”

  The Rusty Spoon was mostly empty by the time they sat down at their table. Normally, Fiona would have picked the Fireside Café for breakfast, but Daphne’s restaurant was always crowded, and they didn’t need anyone overhearing their conversation.

  The Rusty Spoon usually cleared out by ten. A few old-timers at the counter were arguing over coffee, but tucked into a back corner booth with Elvis being piped in through the speakers, they were unlikely to be overheard.

  Fiona winced as she lowered herself onto the squishy red vinyl bench. She had several cracked ribs from her fight with Alexios. Normally Fiona healed with supernatural speed, but since she’d expended so much energy saving Wesley, her body hadn’t begun to heal.

  She and Gabriel sat on one side facing Wesley, and a waitress came over to take their drink order. Bea must not have been working that morning, or she would have taken their table herself.

  When the three of them had ordered coffees, Gabriel picked up one of the oversized menus. He perused the gingham-bordered columns of food with intense interest, though Fiona suspected he was just looking for a distraction so he could delay the conversation with Wesley.

  The waitress returned with three black coffees and pulled out a notepad to take their order. “Have we decided?”

  There was a long pause.

  “I’d like the blueberry waffles,” said Fiona, “with extra whipped cream.” She was still wearing Gabriel’s roomy pants, so she could eat as much as she liked.

  The waitress turned to Wesley.

  “I’ll have the pancakes with a side of bacon and eggs.”

  “Short stack, full stack, or double stack?”

  “Short stack.” He looked pointedly at Gabriel. “I’m not very hungry.”

  “If you just want a short stack, it’s cheaper to get Granny’s Special,” said the waitress helpfully. “It comes with bacon, eggs, and a side of grits.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Gabriel looked up, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “Why wouldn’t you get that if it’s cheaper?”

  “I don’t want grits.”

  “You can get Granpappy’s Special for fifty cents more,” the waitress piped in nervously. “It comes with a full stack. Or the Lumberjack Special . . . It comes with a double stack of pancakes and double bacon. That’s an extra dollar fifty.”

  “No, thank you,” said Wesley stiffly.

  “That makes no sense,” Gabriel snapped, thrusting down his menu. “Get the special. I’ll eat your damned grits.”

  “You don’t even like grits.”

  “I like them fine.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since always.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Clearly,” said Wesley through gritted teeth, shoving his menu at the waitress. “Granny’s Special it is, then.”

  The poor waitress looked as though she wanted to flee, but Gabriel hadn’t ordered yet. He was still staring at Wesley with the hint of a challenge, but he turned to the waitress with a sweet smile and asked, “How’s your corned beef hash?”

  The waitress looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “I-I’ve never tried it. I only just started here.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  Wesley rolled his eyes, and Gabriel looked back at his menu with exaggerated slowness.

  “I just can’t decide between the breakfast burrito and the biscuits and gravy . . .”

  “We make our chorizo in house,” said the waitress.

  “Spicy?”

  “It’s kind of spicy.”

  Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. “It says the biscuits are made fresh every morning. Is that true?”

  “Y-yes. I think so.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath and let it out heavily, chewing on the inside of his lip as though he were in the middle of a high-stakes negotiation. “What the hell! Let’s do both. And on the burrito, I’d like to add green chili.”

  “On the side or smothered?”

  “Smothered.” He pronounced the word with relish, casting a dark look at his brother.

  The waitress took Gabriel’s menu and scurried off, leaving Fiona and the brothers in a heavy cloud of silence.

  “So you like grits,” Wesley grumbled. “You’re practically a different species . . . What else have you been lying about?”

  Gabriel sighed. “Here we go . . .”

  “I’m sorry! Am I supposed to just accept all this and not care that you’ve been lying to me our entire lives?”

  “Not our entire lives,” Gabriel mumbled. “I didn’t even know what I was until I was nineteen — about a year after the hunter gene took over.”

  “The hunter gene?” said Wesley dubiously.

  “Well, I suppose it started coming out when I was a kid, but it wasn’t until I’d left home that it became too hard to fight.”

  “And what is this hunter gene?” asked Wesley in a derisive tone. “Should I be worried? Am I going to start hulking out of my clothes and slaying vampires sometime next week?”

  “No.”

  “Well, we are twins, and apparently I’m the only one at the table who doesn’t have magical powers, so . . .” He cast an angry glance at Fiona.

  Gabriel grimaced. Fiona knew he’d been hoping to avoid this conversation. But since all the cards were on the table . . .

  “You don’t have to worry about the hunter gene.”

  “Why not?”

  “You don’t have it.”

  “And how’s that?”

  Gabriel took a fortifying breath and looked Wesley dead in the eye. “The hunter gene is nearly always passed down from father to son, and your father was a mortal.”

  There was a long ugly pause while Wesley worked out what Gabriel had said. “My father?”

  Gabriel nodded.

  “But that . . . That’s impossible!” Wesley let out a humorless scoff. “We were born on the same day, three minutes apart. I’ve seen your birth certificate as well as mine. You can’t have been adopted.”

  “I
wasn’t.”

  Wesley’s face blanched. Fiona felt suddenly as though she were intruding on their conversation and wished she could melt into the booth.

  “Are you saying . . .” Wesley nearly choked on the words. “Are you implying that I was adopted?”

  “What? No.” Gabriel let out a groan of frustration and ran a hand through his hair. “We had the same biological mother. But we had to have been sired by two different men.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Gabriel went on to explain the specifics of superfecundation that Fiona had already heard. It sounded even more like science fiction the second time around.

  “We are twins,” he finished lamely. “We’re just . . . half brothers.”

  Wesley gaped back at him, a thousand expressions flitting across his face. First he looked angry — then hurt and confused. Once the indignation had passed, he seemed to settle on stunned disbelief. “You’re saying our mother was impregnated by two men at the same time?”

  At that moment, Fiona looked up to see their waitress standing wide-eyed at the edge of their table. She’d clearly caught Wesley’s last few words, and she looked utterly mortified.

  “I’m sorry,” the waitress whispered. “I forgot to ask how you’d like your eggs.”

  2

  Positive Thinking and Lots of Drinking