Possession of Souls

By Lacey Weatherford

In a world where the lines between good and evil blur, how much would you risk to save the ones you love?

As shadows lengthen and darkness deepens, Portia and Vance find themselves ensnared in a web of fear and desperation. Life becomes a treacherous game of give and take, while unseen forces driven by insatiable bloodlust and a yearning to possess push them to the brink. The rising malevolence seeks dominion, hurtling them and their coven towards an epic clash. But as the battle lines are drawn, a heart-wrenching choice awaits—one of them must make a sacrifice that will change their world forever. In this climactic showdown, who will emerge unbroken, and who will be consumed by the hungering abyss?

Joining a series with over half a million entranced readers, Possession of Souls is the gripping fifth installment in the “Of Witches and Warlocks” saga. Delve deeper into a realm where loyalty is tested, courage is found, and love may demand the ultimate price.

Embark on a journey where every choice has consequences, and destiny awaits its claim. Dive into Possession of Souls and experience the enthralling next chapter!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lacey Weatherford
• Release date: Jan 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465778864

Lacey Weatherford

Lacey Weatherford was born in Ft. Meade Maryland while her father was serving in the military. She has been a life long resident of Arizona, spending most of her time growing up in the small rural town of Clay Springs.It was while she was attending the small country school in Clay Springs, that she read her first "big" book at the age of eight. It was a Nancy Drew novel and Lacey was instantly hooked. She read every book that she could find in the series and decided that she wanted to write stories too.Lacey spent a lot of time at the library from that time forward, even volunteering in her later teen years and early twenties. She would don a crazy clown outfit for the Friends of the Library fundraisers in an effort to help get the new town library built.When she and her husband moved away from the area, Lacey took the opportunity to take some creative writing classes at the local college to help further along her interests. Several years later, they were blessed with the opportunity to move back to Clay Springs with their family. The town had finally succeeded in building their library and Lacey had the opportunity to be President of the Friends of the Library for a very short time, before relocating.Lacey and her family still live in the White Mountains of Arizona, where she continues to write young adult novels that have a fantasy/fairytale or paranormal bent to them, as well as being sure to include a great romantic storyline

Book preview

Prologue

H appy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Portia! Happy birthday to you!

Attempting to focus through the haze of my mind on the light source in front of me, I couldn't zero in because it kept flickering and moving. It took a minute for my brain to register what I saw—a massive cake, all lit up with candles.

Wait. Was it my birthday? I looked beyond the dessert to the person holding it, seeing Vance smiling.

What's going on? I asked groggily, blinking several times while trying to collect my confused thoughts.

Turning, Vance set the cake down. It's your birthday, love. Time to wake up and celebrate. Smiling, he leaned in and kissed me on the neck, then slowly licked the tip of his tongue seductively up the side of it.

Something wasn't right, but I had difficulty pinpointing it. I swallowed thickly, struggling to latch onto the niggling thought, swimming just out of reach.

Wait. Love. That was it! Vance never called me love. He called me baby. Memories from the night of the fire suddenly came rushing back, crashing over me in flashes of terror.

Pushing at the chest above me, I struggled to get away, but I was too weak. Calling on my jinn powers to evaporate, I found myself unable to even muster a shimmer.

Soft sounds of laughter tickled against my ear, followed by a sickening voice. What's the matter, Portia? You don't like it when I look like Vance? Damien Cummings's voice whispered, his lips brushing against my skin as he spoke. He gave a flick of his tongue against my earlobe.

Get off me, you sick pig! I rasped hoarsely, shoving him harder.

Leaning back for a moment, he showed himself in his pure form and grabbed both of my hands, pinning them to the table beside my head.

I'm not finished yet! he said with a sneer, and horror swept through me as he morphed into his demon features. It's time for the birthday dinner! Ramming his face into the crook of my neck, he bit me hard. I screamed as he drank my blood, feeding in giant gulps.

I passed out once again.

1

Dreams haunted me—showing images from my life. One moment I was back in high school, seeing Vance for the first time, the next I was wrapped in his arms, and he was kissing me passionately. I clung to him desperately, never wanting him to let go, these intimate flashes together seeming so real.

Reliving our life, I watched our relationship grow as our coven continued to hide him from his scheming father, but then the dreams shifted and became darker. Evil began to make its presence known and found a way to insinuate itself into the vessel of the very person I loved. Although we thought we had destroyed his dad—despite thinking Vance had made it unscathed through an experience with death—fate seemed to be always working against us. I continued to fight for him, but there was still something pulling him in deeper until he finally made the change we all feared.

He was a hunter, a demon, and he craved the fresh, uncontaminated witch blood I carried—mine specifically, which was laden with power. I didn't know what to do—I only knew I had to give him a chance and try to reach the real man lying dormant inside him.

It was difficult, and he proved to be a worthy adversary, but I could feel a slight change in him when we were together. I believed his feelings would win out in the end. While it wasn't a perfect situation, often fraught with danger for me, I refused to give up. We had bound ourselves together, both by magic and marriage, and I took those vows seriously. I would fight for him until there was no fight left inside.

I thought I had finally received my miracle, that he had made a breakthrough and was trying to redeem himself when he showed up to rescue me from Mayla's demon coven. Only I found out a switch had happened, and the person who saved me wasn't Vance at all.

I didn't know how long I had been lost in my dreams before I found myself becoming consciously aware of my surroundings. My mind was clearer this time though, and images from the past continued to run through it. Remembering the night of the fire, I thought I was safe in Vance's arms, only to discover it was Damien, and he was a shapeshifter.

I would've gagged on the thought if I weren't entirely sure of when the switch happened. Vance and I shared a mental link, a connection that had been firmly intact until Mayla tried to perform her ritual. I was unable to reach Vance through it during repeated attempts that night. That's because it wasn't Vance with me. It was Damien who'd come to my rescue—if one could call it that.

Vance's father was alive. How, I didn't know. It seemed impossible since I'd seen Vance destroy him. All his powers were restored too, despite a demon kiss that had sucked his magic away. The only thing I was sure of now was that Damien was holding me prisoner. What I didn't know was where Vance was.

Afraid of what I might find after my last resurfacing, I chose to keep my eyes closed and my breathing deep and even, wanting to appear asleep to anyone who might be watching.

Since it seemed reasonably dark, I concluded I must be in a dimly lit space, so I tried focusing on my other senses—hearing, smelling, and what I could feel around me.

Gently, I inhaled, the air heavily perfumed with a waxy type scent I quickly deduced to be candles.

Curling my fingers ever so slightly, I tried to feel where I was laying. It appeared to be some luxurious material and judging from my comfort level; I would say I was on a bed. Slowly, I moved my hand, brushing my clothing, and discovered I was still wearing my shorts and tank top I last dressed myself in. Feeling grimy, I wondered how long I had been this way. After listening carefully for any sound and hearing nothing at all, I decided to risk opening my eyes.

A dim glow flickered overhead, against a rough-hewn rock ceiling. I shifted my gaze slightly, finding myself on a massive wooden bed covered in purple silk fabrics, in a large, cave-like room. Groups of candles were clumped together in random locations throughout the dark space, dancing and flickering in a cold draft that circulated from somewhere.

Amazing little place, isn't it? Damien's voice permeated the air, and though I couldn't see him, I stiffened.

Searching in the low light, I found him standing in the shadows in a far corner. He was leaning against the rocky wall, wearing dark dress pants and a black button-up shirt that was rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned at the top. It was the most casual I'd ever seen him. Holding a chalice in his hands, he sniffed at it, and I didn't have to let my imagination stretch very far to figure out what kind of liquid it contained.

Flicking my gaze away, I saw Vance spread out on an altar across the cavern. Candles were grouped around him on one side, illuminating the length of his body.

What have you done to him? I called out in concern, jumping from the plush bed and hurrying in his direction. I only took a few steps when it felt like I hit a brick wall, my momentum causing me to fall backward abruptly. Glancing at the space in front of me, I detected little magical sparks dancing over what had been a previously unseen force field. What's this? I shot an angry glance at Damien.

Sorry, he replied with a shrug. I guess I neglected to mention that, didn't I? He moved toward me, and I hurried to my feet, ready to attack if needed. It took a few moments for him to reach me, coming to stand right in front of the shield. He raised his glass, taking another swallow, but never took his eyes off me.

How are you even here? I asked, still wishing this were simply a horrible nightmare. I saw everything happen with my own eyes. You were dead. Vance killed you. I swallowed hard. And where is the rest of my family? I added thinking back to the night of the fire, which was the last thing I could remember before being here.

Take it easy, Damien said, and to my surprise, he walked right through the barrier between us, crossing the space and sitting on the bed I just vacated. He patted the space next to him. Why don't you come sit by me, and we can have a nice little chat together? I'm more than happy to answer any of your questions.

You know, I'd rather gouge out my own eyes than look at you, I replied sarcastically, not wanting to be one inch closer to him than I had to. I think I'll be fine.

Oh, Portia, he said, a grin spreading across his face. I always did love your tendency toward theatrics; they're so amusing. How I've missed you. His gaze traveled over my figure, and I had to fight the urge to suddenly fold my arms over myself, trying to protect my body from his perusal. Suit yourself. But if you want answers, it might behoove you to behave more accordingly toward me. He lifted an eyebrow, downing another large mouthful from the chalice, before gesturing to the seat next to him again.

Fine, I grumbled like a distraught child being forced to do some horrible chore. I sat as far away as I could get.

See. Now that wasn't so bad, was it? he replied with a chuckle. You and I are going to get along famously. I can tell.

Answer the question, Damien! I bit back, my frustration at the whole situation getting the better of me. How did you get here? And what's the matter with Vance?

Throwing his head back, he laughed. There's the aggressive spitfire I remember, he said, delighted glee passing over his features. I knew she was in there somewhere.

Taking a deep breath, I was determined not to play his mind games. Schooling my face into a mask of disinterest, I couldn't hold the expression as I stared at Vance with concern.

What's the matter with him? I said, softer this time, afraid to try and use the mental connection Vance and I shared in case Damien could detect it somehow.

Vance? Damien looked across the vast space to where he was laying. Well, he's dead. Shrugging slightly, he lifted his drink to his mouth again.

A loud buzzing sound filled my head, and my heart leaped in tempo dramatically. Stop toying with me. This isn't funny.

I'm not toying with you. I would never do that. Damien stared at me in mock horror, as if I had suggested the most ludicrous thing. If you don't believe me, then go check for yourself. There was a popping sound as he waved his arm in an arc, the containment system around the room deactivating.

I stood abruptly and willed myself to evaporate over to him, but nothing happened.

Yeah—about your jinn powers—they won't work in here. I made sure to take care of that. I can't have you leaving without permission, now can I?

I wasn't sure what he'd done to me, but right now I didn't care. Vance was my primary focus, and I hurried across the room, my bare feet slapping against the smooth stone until I got to the few steps that led up to the massive altar. Climbing them quickly, I reached his side, leaning over to caress his jaw.

Cold . . . He was so cold. It was then I noticed the bluish hue of his lips, as well as the pallor of his skin.

Vance? I called, my voice trembling, and I ran my fingers shakily through his hair. Honey, wake up. Gently, I skimmed down the sides of his face, pausing before pushing his eyelids open with my thumbs. Cloudy, unseeing, blue eyes stared back.

A small sound of hysteria bubbled up from my throat, and suddenly, the room seemed to tilt sideways. Clutching the edge of the altar, I sank into a crouch, hanging on with one hand and covering my mouth with the other, as I tried to keep from screaming or vomiting. I wasn't sure which.

I struggled for control, not wanting to weep because it would be a sign of weakness to Damien, but I couldn't help myself. Sobs wracked my body in silent shudders as hot tears flooded over the rims of my eyes. And then I realized I didn't care anymore. What was I fighting for anyway? I didn't care one whit what Damien thought of me.

My hands slid down the rock altar, my cheek rubbing against its hard surface, and I collapsed the rest of the way to the step beneath. The horrible realization of what transpired flooded my mind, flashing back to the night of the fire when I thought Vance had come to rescue me from Mayla's clutches.

Damien had been the one to receive The Awakening, not Vance. Damien was the immortal—I was immortal—but Vance was not, and now Damien had finally killed him.

A finger hooked under my chin, and Damien lifted my face.

Don't touch me! I yelled, recoiling. Raising my arm, I willed my magic to shoot ice shards at him, but nothing happened.

What have you done? I asked, attempting to summon any sign of my powers, but to no avail. Did you perform a demon kiss on me? I gasped, looking up.

He laughed. No, no. Nothing like that, Portia. He waved his hand as if he were brushing the subject off. I've just given you an injection that's mixing in your blood right now. It's binding your abilities for the time being. For your safety, of course.

Numbly, I watched as he leaned past me to relight a couple of candles that had gone out. A small wick of flame danced on the end of his finger. Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes as I spoke, not wanting to hear the answer to the question I was about to ask.

But you performed a demon kiss on him, didn't you? Heart pounding, I could feel the horror pulsating through my veins. I knew fire wasn't Damien's natural magic—he'd stolen Vance's. I opened my eyes just in time to see him bring his flaming finger to his mouth, blowing it out as if it was a match.

Yes, I did as a matter of fact—after I drank a good amount from him as well. He wasn't thrilled with me. But what can you do when you are that weak from blood loss?

Why would you do that? Tears dripped down my face. He was already a demon, just like you always wanted. I thought your kind didn't care for demon blood.

Studying me for a moment, he spoke as if weighing his words. It's true we don't seek demon blood, but it can still do in a pinch. It's tainted after conversion, and though it still gives a small boost of power, a fresh witch with uncontaminated magic is always preferable. I would compare it to consuming water or eating. Demon blood can help quench your thirst, but fresh blood will feed you. Licking his lips, he looked at me, cocking his head slightly as he stared at my neck. Vance is special though, and of course, I felt like I owed him one. Drinking from him was a pleasure."

When did you do this? My questions were morbid, but I wanted to know what happened.

Damien made a clucking sound. He gently brushed a stray lock of my hair from my face with a small, an almost tender smile playing across his lips.

I flinched at his caress. You know what? I don't want to know. I don't want you to talk to me.

He dropped his hand back to his side. But I was going to answer your other question.

I don't want to hear anything you have to say anymore. I scowled.

On the contrary, I think you would probably be very interested in hearing the answer. Downing the remaining contents of his chalice, he set it near Vance's head on the altar, and squatted down to my level.

Why do you hate me so much? he asked with a bemused expression. I clenched my teeth, trying to keep all the filthy, vile words I wanted to spew at him inside.

Isn't it obvious? I rolled my eyes to where Vance's form lay stretched above me.

Damien lifted his finger, shaking it back and forth. No, no. You hated me long before this ever happened, and I want to know why. Lacing his hands together, he placed his elbows on his knees and lifted his index fingers to a point, brushing against his lips.

I'm not in the mood to play your games, Damien, I responded, with a sigh. Leave me alone, okay? You win. Is that what you want to hear? Then there, I said it. Will you go away now? Or better yet, just kill me, or whatever it is you're planning on doing. I'm done with all of this.

See there? That's exactly what I mean. You automatically assume the worst is inevitable. Why? He looked truly curious, and I wondered for a moment if he was that stupid.

Why? I asked, more forcefully than intended. Why? I repeated even louder. Because from the moment your name was breathed into my existence, my life—our lives, I amended, gesturing towards Vance, has been absolute hell! My family and I have struggled to protect Vance from you. Why, you ask? Because he came to us and said he didn't want to be like you. Even then, we didn't know the full extent of your depravity. You were willing to let your son be cannibalized to serve your purposes, to give you more power, never once thinking about his life or how it might affect someone other than yourself. Everything has always been about you, no matter how many innocent people fall in the wake of destruction you leave behind. So, forgive me if I don't care for you much! I glared, feeling like I could burn holes right through him.

Damien stood and offered a hand.

Leave me alone, I said, looking away.

Stepping closer, he placed his hand directly in front of my face.

I slapped it aside. Get lost! Shoving at his legs, I tried to push him off the stairs.

He grabbed both of my wrists, yanking me hard against him as I struggled.

Let go of me, you freak! I shouted, trying to pull away, but he backed me against the altar.

Stop it! he yelled as I thrashed against him, trying to get free from the way he had pinned me. Though I worked with all of my might to call my magic, nothing happened.

Damien released one of my arms and grabbed my neck, thrusting me backward until I was lying across Vance. I tried to scream, but he was cutting off my air.

Flailing at his face, I ripped his skin with my nails, only to watch The Awakening heal it almost immediately. My vision started spinning, and blackness crept in from the edges.

Lifting my captured wrist to his mouth, I watched him shift features. His fangs plowed into my artery with excruciating pain, and I could feel the unheard cry bubbling in my throat, begging for release under his tightening hand.

Suddenly he let go, slapping me hard. Stop it! he growled. After one stunned moment, I remembered I could breathe, dragging the air loudly into my lungs.

Damien lunged past me and grabbed Vance's mouth, forcing it open, letting my blood flow freely into it before The Awakening healed my wound.

What are you doing? I shrieked, still trying to shove him away. He yanked me against him brusquely and turned me around, so my back was flush with his chest. Bending me over the altar, he shoved my face next to Vance's.

I said stop it, Portia! he bellowed again. He grabbed my head, holding it in place as I tried to push away. Look! His laughter echoed in my ears, and I saw my tears falling onto Vance.

I'm sorry, I whispered to him, still struggling against Damien.

Look at what you see! Damien's voice boomed, and suddenly, I was frozen by his magic.

Unable to move, I was forced to watch in awe as Vance's face began to transform in front of mine. Blood-covered lips suddenly regained their color, and a pink flush spread across his skin.

Releasing me, Damien stepped back, letting the spell he was using to hold me go too.

This is what I was trying to show you, he said, somewhat breathlessly, and I glanced at him.

What's happening? I asked in wonder, turning to watch as the color continued to spread through Vance's flesh, heating beneath my touch.

He regenerates—in every way possible, Damien said as if it were obvious. I've read lore about this happening in some of my archeological studies but have never had any true evidence of it until now.

You knew this? I turned, beating my fists against his chest. And still you let me suffer?

Grabbing my hands, he pulled them away, staring hard. You wouldn't let me answer your question, he said roughly. I would've explained it to you. This is how I'm still here. He regenerates, and apparently, it's hereditary—from me—his father.

He let go, and I stared at him numbly, trying to understand the possible implications of this statement, when suddenly I heard Vance gasp.

Before I could turn, Vance jerked me to him, sinking his elongated teeth into my neck.

2

Ididn't fight him. I knew he needed my blood to repair himself, and I tried not to wince as his fingers dug into the tender flesh of my upper arms. Drinking from me in huge, uncontained gulps, he sucked the skin of my neck roughly into his mouth.

He bit harder, trying to get more, and I closed my eyes, a gurgling cry escaped my throat. Head spinning, my limbs grew weaker until I was unable to hold myself up. My knees buckled, and I collapsed back against the stone altar.

Releasing a growl of frustration, Vance gripped me around the waist, pulling me onto the altar and into his lap without breaking the seal of his mouth against my neck. He continued to drink heavily from me for several long moments.

Arms flopping uncontrollably, the blackness rose to meet me when suddenly he stopped, tearing away from me in frustration. He was trembling slightly, cradling me before something akin to the sound of a strangled moan came from him.

You received The Awakening again, he choked out, his voice hoarse with emotion. I can taste it in your blood. You have it. You and him, he added with a snarl.

His head dropped, and he buried his face in my hair.

I couldn't respond. I wanted

Reviews for Possession of Souls

[dragonlibrary8 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

My thoughts:Damien is back, Shelly is psychic, Brad is still human, Vance is still a demon, and Portia is still trying to save him. The tables turn and now it's Vance's turn to save Portia. Can he make the biggest sacrifice of all? Do NOT miss out on this thrilling, action-packed finale.Lacey Weatherford has outdone herself on this one! This is the ultimate love story. The depth of Portia and Vance's love is incredible to witness. Lacey Weatherford is truly a Wordsmith, a story teller at heart. Hold on tight when you sit down with this last installment of the Of Witches and Warlocks series because it will twist you around, raise you up and throw you down! This is a one-of-a-kind emotional roller coaster that knows no mercy.