Awaken (Northern Witch #2)

By K.S. Marsden

Mark has everything he ever wanted. He is training to be a fully-fledged witch; and he is dating the hottest guy at school.
But events from last winter have set things into motion that he is not prepared for.

Witches, demons, and danger come together to prove that this... this is only the beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.S. Marsden
• Release date: Aug 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463327432

K.S. Marsden

Kelly S. Marsden grew up in Yorkshire, and there were two constants in her life - books and horses. Graduating with an equine degree from Aberystwyth University, she has spent most of her life since trying to experience everything the horse world has to offer. She is currently settled into a Sales and Marketing role for a horse feed company in Doncaster, South Yorkshire.Her first book, The Shadow Rises, was published in January 2013.

Book preview

Awaken

Northern Witch #2

By K.S. Marsden

Copyright © K.S. Marsden 2018

Edited by: Lesley Anne Neale

Cover by: Shazin Arefin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted be any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 9780463327432

Chapter One

Mark spent most of his first class looking at the back of Damian’s head. Damian was still the mysterious ‘New Guy’, after moving up from London a few weeks ago. He was certainly the odd-one-out at their school in the little Yorkshire town of Tealford.

It wasn’t Mark’s fault, that Damian was conveniently sitting two rows in front of him. So, every time Mark zoned out of what Mr Black was telling them about the proper formation of rhyming couplets, Mark’s eyes drifted back to Damian.

His hair was a dirty shade of blond, with highlights. And, Mark knew from their rare make-out session that it was also really soft to touch.

… Mark?

Wha? Mark panicked as the teacher called his name.

Mr Black looked less than impressed. How many lines in a sonnet?

Mark racked his brain for a moment. Fourteen.

Correct, and you will all be writing your own sonnets… Mr Black turned back to the class and continued to summarise their next piece of coursework.

Mark had learned some new rhymes recently, from his witch-of-a-grandmother and her coven. He idly wondered if spells had the same rules as English class.

At the end of last term, Mark had embraced being a witch, started his training, and even faced a demon that had been fighting to possess Damian.

Mark hadn’t won against the demon, but it had still been one hell of an adventure. And it wasn’t over; the demon had claimed a place in Damian’s soul, but its presence was immature. It was weak, a ghost unable to hurt anyone for now.

Mark and Nanna just had to wait until it was substantial enough to expel.

Until then, Mark was tasked with keeping an eye on Damian. With which, he had no problem at all.

His gaze automatically shifted towards his ward. Taking in the lightly-muscled shoulders and arms, and the chiselled cheekbones as Damian turned his head to follow their teacher’s movements.

No, watching him was no problem at all.

*****

After class, Mark headed to the bus, when he was stopped by his best friend, Harry.

Hey, I’ve hardly seen you all day, Harry said, falling into step beside him. D’you want to come ‘round tonight? My Mum’s cooking her infamous stew, and I need witnesses in case I’m poisoned.

Mark chuckled at the thought of Mrs Johnson’s bad cooking, which they’d all experienced at one time or another.

Usual deal, we’ll stop for pizza when we take you home.

Sorry, can’t. I’ve gotta work on my magic with Nanna tonight. Mark replied, And tell her how today went, of course.

Cos that won’t take five minutes. Harry muttered, almost too low for Mark to hear.

What?

Ne’ermind. Have fun with your witchy-voodoo thing. See you tomorrow?

Unless they miraculously cancel school. Mark replied, thinking of the snow day they’d had last term. Looking out at the grey torrential rain, he sighed. Fat chance that’ll happen again.

Right, see ya. Harry said pulling his hood up, before he hurried to the bus that circled the villages to the south.

Mark jogged through the rain, as his west-bound bus pulled up. The rest of the students crowded around it, keen to alight the bus and into the warmth. Mark fidgeted at the back of the group, waiting to be able to get on too.

Filing onto the already-crowded bus, he saw a familiar figure sitting alone.

This seat taken? Mark asked.

Damian looked up, a slow smile creeping across his lips. His bright blue eyes gleamed with good humour. Dunno, mate. I was saving it for someone special. He chuckled at his own joke, and moved his rucksack out of the way, so Mark could sit down.

I guess you’ll have t’settle for me. Mark countered. How was your first day at school with… y’know…

My new friend? Damian snorted. I can’t even tell he’s there, most of the time. I think I was more concerned when I forgot where my tutor room was, and walked right into the girl’s changing room.

You didn’t?

Yeah, I don’t think the girls minded. Damian grinned, as he remembered the scene.

Mark could just imagine it, the hot ‘New Guy’ bursting in, when everyone was in a state of undress. The thought brought a flush of warmth, creeping up his neck, and Mark changed the subject.

Do you want’a come up to mine? I’m practising magic tonight with Nanna, I know she’d want to see how you’re doin’. Mark offered. Then you could always stay for dinner.

Damian shrugged, I wish I could. I promised my aunt I’d go straight home. I spent so much time with you over Christmas and New Year, she thinks I’m avoiding her.

Mark sighed, he wanted to feel sorry for Damian’s aunt, but he couldn’t. He’d enjoyed every minute he got to spend with Damian, even if the majority of the time was spent under the watchful eyes of Mark’s parents and Nanna.

Have you told her yet? Mark asked.

What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Aunt Maggie, I’m possessed by the demon that killed my parents. What’s for dinner?’ Damian rolled his eyes. She’d have me locked up or seeing a therapist in a blink.

We could get Nanna to tell-

No, that’d be even worse!

How? Mark asked, wondering how on earth it could be worse than being considered crazy.

Dunno, but it would. Damian admitted. It’s just best coming from me.

Fine. Mark fell into silence, staring down the aisle of the school bus, the worn carpet a revolting brown colour from all the wet feet.

I’ll see you tomorrow. Damian said, as he pushed past Mark. His bright blue eyes filled with an ever-questioning doubt.

Sure. Mark replied.

Mark’s weren’t the only eyes to follow Damian as he left the bus. He was still the mysterious new guy, and good-looking to boot; it was only natural that Damian stirred the curiosity of the other students.

Mark sighed and waited for his stop, the windows already darkening as the familiar Yorkshire countryside rolled along. After years of taking this route home, it was all like clockwork. Left turn as the old bus chugged up the hill. And then home.

Once outside, Mark sprinted through the freezing cold rain, up to the old farmhouse. Out of habit, he headed to the right-hand side of the house, where the warm light of his Nanna’s kitchen drew him in.

Get that bloody coat off, you’re getting water everywhere!

Mark had barely stepped into the kitchen, when his Nanna barked at him. He huffed and shrugged off his heavy coat, hanging it up on the wooden coatrack.

Nanna was pouring hot water into the teapot, and preparing the tea-tray - like clockwork.

Mark heard a rumble and a crash coming from further inside the house, and he glanced suspiciously at the closed door. What’s that?

Nuthin’ to bother yourself with. Nanna replied curtly. How was your first day back at school?

Mark shrugged. Same old boring things. Every teacher thinks they’re the first ones to tell us about the importance of our exams. I mean, they don’t really start for another four months, and I’m already fed up with GCSEs.

Nanna tutted and poured the tea. And how’s your boyfriend, Damian?

Nanna! Mark nearly choked on a biscuit, feeling a flush of red creeping up his neck.

Too soon? Nanna asked airily. "Don’t know what’s wrong with you boys. Fine, how’s your friend?"

Mark felt a smile tug at his lips as he thought of Damian. Damn, he’d only known him a couple of weeks, and he was already hung up on him. He took a sip of scalding hot tea, as he tried to feign a neutral expression. He’s fine. No sign of the demon, yet. How long is it supposed to take?

It’s still early days. There’s no set rule, but it could be anything from a few weeks to a few months. Some weak demons never get strong enough to possess their victims.

Mark gave a low whistle. Please tell me the demon we faced at Christmas wasn’t weak. He still had nightmares about the monster in the flames, towering over him, threatening to kill him. If that was considered weak, he didn’t want to cross a strong demon.

Trust me, he’s got enough clout about ‘im. Nanna replied. "He’s definitely powerful; but until we know which demon we’re dealing with, we won’t know how strong the bugger is."

Well, I promise to continue keeping a very close eye on Damian, whilst we wait. Mark said, almost keeping a straight face.

I’m sure you will. Nanna chuckled and hit him with the back of her hand as she passed. She walked over to her bookshelf and pulled out a particularly thick volume. Right, let’s crack on with your training.

I read about some really cool spells, where you can invoke elements and spirits... Mark stopped as Nanna set the book in front of him, his early enthusiasm quickly fading. Healing? Mum’s a nurse, why would I ever need this?

In my experience, sixteen-year-old boys attract injuries like flies on s-

Nanna!

"On top of which, your boyfriend – sorry, friend – is possessed by a demon. I imagine a few healing spells will come in handy. Nanna rummaged through her draws, Denise brought me a lovely batch of camomile; I think I’ve left it upstairs. Get started with the healing paste."

Mark watched as Nanna disappeared, then dutifully got up and gathered the listed materials. The door to the living room rattled, and there was another clatter behind it. Mark jumped at the noise and looked at the door suspiciously.

Glancing, to make sure Nanna hadn’t come back downstairs, Mark slowly pushed on the door handle...

The door was suddenly wrenched out of his hand, as a wild wind bashed it back against its hinges. Cold, heavy rain battered against his bare face and arms, as the gale howled.

Mark was faintly aware of a ginger streak darting through his legs. It took all his effort to lean into the wind, and pull back the door, fighting to get it back into its frame. Once it clicked back in place, everything went very quiet and very still. Mark gasped for breath, his pulse racing.

Mark, why haven’t you started the healing spell? Nanna’s voice came from behind him.

Mark turned, suddenly aware of his soaking school uniform, that clung to his frame. Nanna, why’s there a storm raging in the living room?

No reason. Nanna said dismissively. Now Denise grew this camomile in her garden this spring, she always produces good qual-

Nanna, Tigger was in there. Mark said sharply, pointing to the poor, distressed house cat, who stood by the Aga. His ginger coat was drenched and he looked a bedraggled mess.

Nanna’s smile dropped, and she sighed. It’s nothing, just a spell that got out of hand. It’ll blow itself out eventually. Proof that even the best of us lose concentration sometimes.

Mark waited to see if Nanna had anything else to say on the matter; or at least suggested something they could magically do to stop the storm; but she didn’t.

He muttered to himself and, trying to ignore his damp clothes, Mark pulled the heavy book towards him, and started following the instructions.

It was all fairly easy, no more difficult than when he helped his Dad with homemade soup. After half an hour, Mark had produced a very dull-looking paste.

Finished. I think. He announced. It doesn’t look like much.

Nanna closed her latest edition of Cosmopolitan. Setting the magazine on the kitchen table, she came to inspect her grandson’s handiwork. She dipped her finger in the grey-green paste and smiled. It looks as it should. You’ve done a good job.

But it’s just herbs, Mark protested, It’s not really magical.

Just because herbs are natural and normal, doesn’t mean they don’t have healing properties. Most medicines and drugs are derived from naturally occurring substances. Nanna replied. You should take this book home and read about the different herbs. Knowledge will always be useful.

Nanna proceeded to scoop the paste out and put it in one of her many spare jars. Freshly-made stuff works best, but it’s always wise to keep some pre-made healing paste ready, just in case of emergencies. She said, as she screwed the lid on tightly, before picking up a marker pen and labelling it clearly. "Don’t want