Witch and Moan

By Val St. Crowe

Petra Brightshade gets captured and then wakes up on a circus train in a car with some elephants, with a dampener on her wrist that keeps her from using her primal magic.

It’s not exactly her favorite day ever.

When she finds out she’s been captured because her blood is the only thing that can reopen the breaches she just closed, she knows she’s got to escape, find the others, and figure out some way to stop her captors once and for all.

No way is she reopening the breaches. No effing way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: V. J. Chambers
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463723333

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I was lying on a bed in the healing wing at Ravenridge College, recovering from nearly bleeding to death. One of those scribbly creatures had just appeared, solidified into a human shape, called me sis, said I was going to fix some mess and then wrapped his squirmy little black threads around my wrists and ankles.

Let’s just say it was not shaping up to be the best day ever.

Especially since I had been in the middle of a conversation with Logan that I really wanted to have, because I had it kind of bad for the very attractive gargoyle.

He—Logan—had shot to his feet at the sight of the scribbly thing, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He usually used a gun with tricked-out interdimensional bullets against creatures from the other side of the breaches. But bullets were pointless against the scribbly things. They simply dodged them. Since they were made up of tons of wriggling threads, it was impossible to kill them.

Let me go! I screamed at the thing. Why I did that, I don’t know. Asking him to let me go had less than zero percent chances of working, but I couldn’t help it. I struggled against the strings that were tightening around my limbs.

Logan grabbed at the strings above my wrists. He yanked on them, but they didn’t break. Instead they cut painfully into my skin.

I screamed.

The scribbly thing laughed.

Logan let go of the strings, flinching. Sorry, Petra.

The scribbly thing smiled at me, and suddenly I was levitating off the bed.

Oh, hell, no, this was not happening. I’d watched that other scribbly thing, the one claiming to be Reid’s father, levitate the two of them, and I wasn’t the least bit interested in floating around. I closed my eyes and reached out into the ether and summoned a knife. Logan! I said, shaking the hand holding the knife at him.

He seized the weapon and slashed through the strands holding me.

The strings recoiled, hissing, as if electricity was coursing through them or as if they were alive. The cut-off pieces uncoiled from my wrists and dissolved into green sludge, the way anything from beyond the breach did when it was destroyed.

I fell back on the bed.

Logan ran for the man who looked like me and began slashing at him with the knife.

I conjured myself another blade, this one a bit longer, and I scrambled to my feet.

We hacked at the thing together.

Our blades went right through him, cutting his clothes. Ribbons of cloth fluttered to the floor. But beneath the fabric, his exposed skin knitted itself back together smoothly. He laughed. He reached out one hand and dozens of squirming black lines flew from his fingers. The strings wrapped around Logan’s head. They pushed in through his eyelids and nostrils.

Logan cut at the strings.

I cut at the strings.

The man sent more. He cocked his head to one side. Afraid I’m going to get inside your head like he did?

Logan paled. He was already gray, the color of stone, but the gray drained out of his face, and he faltered.

The worst thing about it wasn’t what he forced you to do, was it? said the man. "It was how much of it that you liked doing?"

Logan roared. He dropped the knife and grabbed handfuls of the black strings, trying to pull them out of his head.

The man cackled. Suddenly, the strings picked Logan up and slammed him into the ceiling and then let go of him.

Logan dropped to the floor, stunned.

The man turned to me. He put his hands on my face. You must realize it’s stupid to fight, sis.

Stop calling me that. I stabbed him in the stomach.

His fingers crawled down my cheeks like spiders.

I punched my knife up. My whole hand was inside his stomach, but there was no blood.

He wrapped his hands around my neck and his fingers moved expertly against my skin.

The world went white.

CHAPTER TWO

When I woke up, the light was shadowy and orange, the beginning of twilight. I’d been out for a long time. When the scribbly thing had taken me, it had been the middle of the night. I must have slept through an entire day.

I was in some kind of moving vehicle. I didn’t know what vehicle, but I was being jostled back and forth and there was a rhythmic sound clacking away beneath me. It vibrated through the floor into my bones and teeth.

A train.

I was on a train.

Sitting up, I looked around at my surroundings. My face itched. I touched it, and straw fell off to the floor. The whole floor was covered with straw. There was a smell in the air, like a stable or a farm. I was in a small enclosure. The walls didn’t go up entirely to the ceiling.

It was a stall. I was in a place where animals were kept.

I turned my head. That was when I saw the elephant.

Shit, I muttered, scrambling backwards.

Okay, I’ve seen elephants before, but mostly in pictures. I think once, I was at this zoo, and we went out on this big fake safari ride through this area they had all set up for the animals, and we saw tigers and lions and stuff. And there was an elephant too, but it was pretty far away.

Elephants are really freaking big.

Just saying.

You’re awake.

The voice came from in front of me, at the door to my stall. I looked to see the man from before peering it at me. He was smiling.

Where am I? I said, pushing my way to my feet.

You’re in the elephant car, he said. On the circus train.

What? I was with a circus? What the hell was going on here?

I’m sorry about this, said the man. I wouldn’t have done it this way if I could help it, but you’ve been pretty unfriendly thus far towards creatures from back home, and I just can’t quite trust you. I want to trust you, though, I really do, sis.

"Why are you calling me that?" I balled my hands into fists.

You’re my sister, he said.

No, I said. No, I’m not.

Half sister, he said. We have the same dad.

Oh, yuck. I didn’t like thinking about the idea that I was only half human. My mother had been impregnated by weird spores from another dimension, and I was the result. It was kind of okay, because I had nifty magical powers—

Okay, speaking of which, why was I having a conversation with this guy again? I should be fighting him.

I stretched out my hand to conjure something.

Nothing happened.

And there was a tight band around my wrist, except it was under my skin, kind of like the bracelet that Tatum had. Hers gave her power, though, and—

Sorry about that, said my so-called half brother. I can’t have you conjuring things and fighting me all the time. It’s a pain in the ass, and besides, I can’t afford to have all my clothes cut to smithereens. That dampener around your wrist blocks your abilities.

My nostrils flared. What do you want?

What anyone wants, he said. To live a happy life. To have children and watch them grow up and know that they’ll also be able to have children of their own, and that there is a future.

I furrowed my brow. What are you talking about?

Maybe I should introduce myself.

I rolled my eyes.

Call me Malachi, he said. You’re Petra, right? He reached over the stall to shake my hand.

I sauntered forward, pretending that I was going to shake his hand. Instead, I spat in his face.

He flinched when my wad of spit hit his forehead. Then he reached up and wiped it away. That wasn’t really necessary, was it?

Fuck you, I said. I launched myself at the door to the stall and reached over to grab at whatever I could. I scratched at his skin, I pulled on his hair.

He let out a hiss of frustration, and then sent out hundreds of wriggling black lines. They wrapped themselves around my face and my nose.

I couldn’t breathe.

I tried to tug them free, tried to grab them and break them, but they held fast.

The world began to seem very small, as if it was a circle of color in a sea of darkness.

And the circle was getting smaller and smaller and further and further away.

I couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, I couldn’t fight either.

And then the circle was so small, it disappeared into the blackness.

* * *

When I woke up again, I had a massive headache and I was tied up. I was in a tiny, tiny space, my hands lashed together and feet tied as well. The rhythmic sound of the train clacking on the tracks was still happening, so I knew that I must still be on board, but I didn’t know where. I couldn’t see anything, but the small room smelled strongly of some kind of laundry detergent. I struggled, throwing myself up against the walls, banging against every available surface.

And then I found the doorknob.

I turned, because my hands were tied behind my back, and managed to turn the knob.

The door opened, and I tumbled out into bright light.

Geez, said a voice.

I was on my belly, flopping around on the floor like a fish. I couldn’t get up, because I couldn’t use my arms or legs for leverage. I rolled onto my back.

There was a light overhead. Walls on either side of me. I seemed to be in a narrow hallway. A woman was standing over me. She was wearing a pair of khakis and a polo shirt. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail.

Help me, I said to her.

Malachi said you would stay in the closet, she said. I don’t suppose you could climb back in there?

Untie me, I said.

She wrinkled up her nose. I can’t do that.

Sure you can, I said.

Stop talking to me, she said. She turned on her heel and walked away from me, back down the tiny hallway.

I managed to sit up. Then I scooted over so that my back was against the wall and pushed up to my feet. Once standing, however, I realized there was no point in it, because my feet were tied together, and I couldn’t walk. I slid back down to the floor. I started to scoot myself down the hallway after her.

It was slow going.

As I inched my way along, I considered my options. I didn’t have conjuring magic, and my talisman had been taken from me, so I didn’t have dragon magic either. Still, that woman hadn’t looked very tough. If I could get my hands and legs free, I was pretty sure I could take her in a physical fight.

But I was on a moving train. What was I going to do, jump out, and hope I didn’t die?

Maybe I shouldn’t fight this woman, but try to turn her into an ally. She had said that she didn’t want me to talk to her, and that was probably because she felt guilty about keeping me here tied up. I needed to talk more.

Hey, what’s your name? I called.

No answer.

My name’s Petra, I said.

Nothing.

These ropes are really digging into my wrists, I said. It doesn’t feel good. It wasn’t a lie. If you could just help me out, I’d really appreciate it.

Still nothing.

By the time, I’d managed to scoot myself down to the end of the hallway. I emerged into a slightly bigger room which had a table attached to one wall. It looked as if the table could be folded up against the wall to make more space. The room was pretty narrow. There was a tiny stove and sink on the other side of the room. All along the walls were tons of cabinets.

The woman was sitting at the table, staring at her laptop. She glanced at me, and then she went back to her screen.

Do you work for the circus? I said.

Stop it, she said.

Do you live on this train? Is this your house? I looked around. It was a pretty small little place, but it was cozy enough, I guess.

I’m the production coordinator for the circus, she said. And this is my apartment while we’re on the road, yes.

I’m a college student, I said. I remember thinking about running away and joining the circus, though, when I was a kid. Did you always want to work for the circus?

No, she said. I used to work in professional theater, but I was having trouble finding a job, and I ended up here instead. But I’m not talking to you. And I’m not untying you, so stop asking.

Please? I said. It’s really uncomfortable. It hurts. You seem like a nice person. Help me out here.

I can’t, she said.

Why not?

I told Malachi I would keep an eye on you. He moved you out of the other car, because he was afraid you might hurt the elephants.

What? I said. How could I hurt an elephant?

Elephants are gentle, sensitive creatures, she said.

Okay, whatever, I said. You’re keeping an eye on me, then. But maybe you could keep an eye on me without my hands being tied?

No, she said.

Or my feet? I said. Maybe just my feet.

No. She shook her head. Shut up, seriously. I don’t want to talk to you.

I scooted closer to her.

She stood up. Stay back. There was fear in her eyes.

Oh, wait. Maybe I’d misinterpreted this. She wasn’t feeling guilty, she was worried for her safety. I’m not going to hurt you.

Not as long as you’re tied up. She peered down at me fiercely.

I have nothing against you, I said. Malachi kidnapped me. I just want to go home. I don’t even want to be here. Help me, and you’ll never see me again.

"Stop talking to me,"

Reviews for Witch and Moan

[Camilla Patzelt · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Good but too short. I liked it a lot though. Some series are hard to read even if you like the subject and storyline and that's confusing ? I really wish there were longer books. I don't have any funds to keep trying neew authors like this one, so I really need to say appreciate this opportunity to read your like a library!! But even if I really like an want to buy I can't justify full price for less than 200pages, I have to have a line in my limited ways. I'm still fully aware of the work behind the book but I'm afraid I don't have any funds to be able to be responsible for all my authors economy.
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The shortness of this part is the only reason why the stars are low ❤️❤️
Thank you for the entertaining late at night....