Enduring The Flames

By Sarah Doughty

Zoe Kavanaugh never thought she’d have her chance at redemption, but she never stopped trying to find it.

For a witch, Zoe Kavanaugh was a sorry excuse for one. She should have died years ago. Instead, she became a dark witch, died only to be resurrected — not once, but twice — before being restored as a light witch by the first and most powerful Earthen witch to emerge in centuries.

After devoting her new life to help the Earthen and her friends end the chaos ruling the world’s supernatural community, she’s sent to Austria with the notorious Vlad Țepeș on an important fact-finding mission. Her job is simple: help Dracula interview a prisoner. She thinks the mystery of how a weak light witch can assist the most infamous and intimidating vampire the world has ever known and navigating her growing attraction to him are her biggest problems. But she should’ve known better. For Zoe, nothing is ever easy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarah Doughty
• Release date: Oct 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781370521142

Sarah Doughty

The night calls to me in moonlit whispers and my daydreams answer.Conjuring words from the ether is like breathing — my weapon — my therapy. It allows me to weed through all the pain, in an effort to find myself again.My name is Sarah Doughty and I suffer from complex PTSD, depression, and debilitating anxiety. And if I don’t have a migraine, I have a headache. Every. Single. Day. Though I am terrified of the night, crowds, and much more, this darkness has become my home.If writing is my breath, then my books are my life. While my poetry focuses on singular events meant to evoke feeling or spur memories, fiction is where my heart lies. Though my books are a way for me to escape my mind and experience a magical world, deep down the problems are very real. And in many ways, my characters are vivid and alive, which in turn helps me see the world in a better light.I've shared them online for anyone who wants to read them — for free, to offer someone else hope, or the same, temporary escape as they did for me.

Book preview

Warnings

Triggers: Please note this book is meant for adult audiences. It contains sexual content, kidnapping, murder, graphic violence, torture, and references to rape.

Spoilers: This is the seventh novel in a larger series universe, following one overarching timeline. I’ve done my best to include appropriate backstory when necessary, but it is advised to follow the reading order as indicated below.

The Earthen Witch Chronicles

by Sarah Doughty

Just Breathe

Focus

Home

Listen

Safe

Stronger Than Blood

Enduring The Flames

Zoe*

Dream Spell**

*a prequel novella

**a standalone novella

For my husband, for enduring my darkness and remaining, steadfast by my side.

And for Tamara Harzevoort, for providing light with your encouragement and kinship. It means more to me than you know.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

– Edgar Allan Poe

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.

– Carl Jung

I've always said I was born in the storm. I just had to find a way out of it, find the clearing, and believe the clouds would blow away and the darkness would become something else.

– Aaron Pedersen

Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the happiness of some of us since is, we think, well worth the pain we endured.

– Bram Stoker

Part I

A WITCH’S WORK

The Inquisition never stopped. Should a witch be captured by the Malleus Dei Maleficarum hunters, death is her only outcome. With dangers lurking around every corner, she must remain cautious and prepared, but she must remember magic is meant to maintain the balance of nature. Any misuse of power by a moon-blessed witch will infect her like a dark sickness. As within, so without.

~ the Kavanaugh coven grimoire

Prologue

Do you mind if I ask how you darkened? Marcy blurted from her seat at the table across from me.

I wasn’t surprised at her question. It was obvious she wasn’t the only one curious to know the story of how my magic went from light to dark. My surprise was how fast the various conversations in the room fell into silence as everyone’s attention shifted to me.

Forcing back the sigh that threatened, I decided it was time. Not only were many of the home’s supernatural residents in the kitchen with us, but the rest, due to their advanced hearing, were close enough to hear what we were saying.

I don’t mind, I replied as I met my friend’s deep brown gaze. Since most of you are here, it’ll save me from telling this story more than necessary.

Taking a deep breath, I began. I was born into a big family of witches. Following the tradition, I planned to do my binding ritual when I turned eighteen. Over the years, one by one, they started disappearing. Those of us that remained moved around a lot. But our numbers kept dropping. Just before I graduated high school, all I had was my sister, Emily.

Marcy lifted a hand, covering her mouth to hide her surprise. I wasn’t sure what she was surprised about, but it didn’t matter. When I met Graham, I continued, he made me feel like my life wasn’t a tragedy in the making. I didn’t know he was the dark witch picking off my family for the better part of a decade. After taking my sister, he forced me to bind to the moon, and left me under compulsion to grow my power to get her back — without any memory of why.

As Connor’s gaze dropped, a sad dark blue overpowered the otherworldly glow around him — his aura. Though they weren’t always visible for various reasons, anything supernatural emitted them. The colors were fluid, constantly shifting in hues as emotions changed. Spelled objects emitted them, reflecting the type of magic used on them — light or dark. And supernatural creatures, or others like me, could see them.

Due to our brief history, he knew what was to come in my story, with one small exception. As much as I didn’t want to tell it, I needed to. I wasn’t going to hold back the truth from any of them — no matter how much it hurt me in the process.

Steeling myself, I went on. Not long after, Connor found me and offered to help because I was clueless. Graham came back to restore my memory and give me an ultimatum. If I couldn’t convince him otherwise, he’d kill Connor and Shadow. Since I was at fault for painting a target on their backs, I agreed to his terms. As much as I didn’t like it when my Australian accent betrayed my swelling emotions, I couldn’t help it as sadness and fear from those memories began to overwhelm me.

Out of the corner of my eye, Connor’s aura blazed with dark blue and gray — reflecting my emotions back at me. As he reached out and took his wife’s hand, his long brown hair curtained around his face. With a brief squeeze of his fingers, Aisling’s shoulders stiffened.

The silence was deafening and while I tried to fight against the sting of tears, I continued. I don’t know how long he was there, but it felt like hours. And after multiple— I stopped, sucking in a deep breath. After he was, um, finished for the last time, I was in pretty bad shape, both physically and emotionally. He left, promising to return and finish what he started — including killing Connor and Shadow.

My eyes closed and I felt warm tears slide down my cheeks, dripping down to the table’s surface beneath. Connor helped me recover and move past it. Though the reminders were always there. The memories. The scars. And the pull that told me Graham was never far away— as my voice cracked, I stopped.

They knew what I meant. Graham was my mate — my supernatural soulmate, the one person who should’ve loved and cared for me more than anyone else as I should have for him, as fate intended. Instead, he was a dark witch, infected by it like a sickness, leaving him uncaring and capable of inflicting unimaginable pain if it meant he’d gain more power. Not everyone in the room around me knew what it was like to have a mate like Connor and Aisling did, but they could fathom the devastation it could cause.

You never told me, Connor breathed as he looked up.

My eyes snapped up to meet his brown gaze. Would it have made a difference in the end, if you knew?

My question hit him hard and that deep blue in his aura intensified as he considered it. I suppose not, but I would have tried to be more understanding of what he put you through as your mate. Holding on to that secret only made your suffering worse.

It’s okay, I said, low, as more tears splashed to the table beneath me.

No, it’s not alright, Zoe. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you from that.

Connor, I began, none of that was your fault, don’t take the blame for something he did and how I reacted to it.

Before he could say anything else, I went on. Pieces of my sister’s body started to arrive, reminding me that only I could save her. Deep down, I knew better. My family was gone and if I couldn’t stop him, Connor and Shadow would die. Even though Connor warned me it wasn’t right, I siphoned elements, not realizing what it would lead me to do.

That was the truth. I thought inconsequential things, like pulling electricity from the ground after a lightning strike to boost my weak magic wouldn’t come with consequence. Those actions weren’t considered dark magic, but if I did the same thing to a living creature, it was a different story.

Ignoring the silent tears spilling from Aisling’s blue eyes and Marcy’s efforts to hide hers, I took another breath. Graham found me first in New Orleans. He pinned me against a bookshelf in the library’s vault to drain me and I couldn’t reach the knife in my boot. I wasn’t strong enough to stop him and there were only moments left. It didn’t matter what happened to me, what mattered was protecting them— Connor and Shadow. So I did the only thing I could.

A breathy chuckle escaped me, but there was no humor behind it. Graham died as Connor arrived and I darkened in front of him. Even with all the power I absorbed, I didn’t feel any different. I still felt like me. But, that was my penance for failing to save anyone in my family. Afterward, I traveled alone, growing my power without killing anyone, hoping I could figure out a way to remove my darkness.

That was the strange part. I never felt the sickness of the darkness — the loss of inherent goodness. The disregard for life. The urge to take a witch’s magic and essence, or soul, killing them as Graham did to my family.

I let people think it did, nonetheless.

With a small, humorless smile, I added, All the while, I kept track of Connor, hoping that if he needed help, I could keep him safe. Over the years, I managed to stop a few dark witches. But it wasn’t until I arrived at this town and found Aisling that I lost my way from compulsion. And, well. You know the rest.

The rest was as much of a nightmare to me as it was to them. That compulsion played me like a pawn for someone else’s gain. It was all an effort to hurt Aisling and everyone she cared about. I couldn’t fight against it — because I didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late.

It was as if my identity was stolen and in my place was someone as terrible as Graham.

I gave my life to stop it, once and for all.

But I was resurrected and given another chance thanks to Aisling and Connor’s unique abilities with magic and their willingness to forgive.

After everything that happened, I felt death was what I deserved.

For a long moment, the memories flashed through my mind as I kept my gaze on the surface of the mahogany table, unwilling to look at anyone. The shock and pain filling the air was stifling. A breath hitched in my throat as I lost my composure.

Mumbling, Excuse me, I fled from the room.

The tears flowed as I moved, but before I reached the end of the long, empty main hallway leading to my rooms, something cold gripped my wrist and stopped me. I knew who it was based on the faint, strange scent registering to my nose. A combination of honey and something burning. Like smoldering charcoal.

A slight tug on my wrist registered to my senses before he released me. I turned around, unable to question what he was doing and unwilling to meet his gaze. With a slow step forward, he raised his hands to rest on top of my shoulders.

None of what happened was your fault, the vampire’s baritone, melodic voice said. You are so much more than what happened to you.

Though I wasn’t sure why, his words hit me like a truck traveling at highway speed. Before I realized what was happening, my knees gave out and I covered my face with my hands.

The vampire caught me, pulling me into his arms and holding me against him while I sobbed. After a long moment, he spoke in a low, steady voice. I am no stranger to sacrifice, Zoe. You gave up everything that was not taken from you, including your life. You may have lost yourself, but you found your way back again. You, Little Red, paid the price for redemption in advance. For that, you have my forgiveness and my trust. Soon enough, everyone will feel the same.

While he spoke, my hands moved away from my face and held onto his pressed white shirt like it was my lifeline.

And … maybe it was.

His words resonated with me — comforted me in a way I didn’t feel I deserved. But I was grateful, nonetheless.

Thank you, Vlad, I breathed against him.

Chapter 1

Morbid fascination gripped me as I watched the melee in front of me. A group of eight people were huddled in close confines on a mat, brawling. They were moving faster than my human-like eyes could follow, but I could see the blur of arms swinging, legs flying, the occasional flash of color. Heard the impact of those hits along with different variations of oomph noises.

Sure, it was fascinating, spellbinding even, watching the fray of others — those supernatural creatures — vampires, ghouls, werewolf, and a special type of witch, called an Earthen.

As the centuries-old master vampire and leader of the massive group home where we all lived, called a nest, Liam was right to insist on daily training. Because the world was a dangerous place for others. Our society was broken — at war — but it wasn’t beyond repair. With the hope offered by Earthen witches, that was what we were trying to do. Fighting various enemies — each with their own motives — who didn’t want us to reestablish peace in our world.

By practicing in various combat situations, his people would be able to adapt in order to survive. That was why the jumble of fighters were limited to one, ten-foot square mat, instead of spreading themselves out around the open expanse. If they were caught in close confines, they needed to know how to handle themselves — whether with allies or alone. But their blurred speeds reminded me of how useless I was to them.

I wasn’t a stranger to fighting, but I was no warrior. Though I was trying to learn, I couldn’t fight what I couldn’t see, no matter how many times I tried.

It didn’t matter what little amount of magic I could wield. Or what Liam’s Olympic-sized training room could offer me. Like ranged and hand-to-hand combat stations — with their respective targets, bullseyes, dummies and punching bags for practice at its corners. Like the weightlifting sections and an arsenal of weaponry lining the walls between them.

Like the gigantic obstacle course, standing sentry at the room’s center, ending inches from the four-story ceiling. Though it could be rearranged to keep everyone sufficiently challenged over time, it wouldn’t matter if I could run its course. If I was being chased by something capable of moving faster than I could see, I would be caught and killed before I knew what was happening.

There was one big problem about the war and Liam’s attempts to prepare for it that wasn’t being addressed. We were facing numerous threats — both new and old — and they needed to be addressed. Before I joined the group, they weren’t doing much beyond reacting to the immediate threats and not much had changed since.

But it wasn’t my place to question them. I wasn’t the one in charge.

Even though I couldn’t learn anything by the blurred spectacle, I stood there, outside the sparring mat’s boundary, entranced. And I wasn’t the only one.

I don’t know what I’m seeing, Ethan muttered beside me, but it’s still pretty awesome. The human teenager stood a few inches taller than my five-foot-eight height, dressed for training — matching black pants and form-fitting tank top — with his hazel eyes transfixed on the blurred brawl in front of us.

Under … statement. The sudden freeze frame that forced my throat to hitch in the middle of the word was because a vampire came into focus for an instant. I caught his devilish, fanged grin. Caught his intense, dark blue gaze meeting mine and how they flashed against the overhead fluorescent lights like a cat’s eyes. And then he was gone, leaving behind nothing but a blur in his wake.

My pulse’s sudden jump and the rush of heat running down my whole body was nothing more than a startle reflex at the vampire’s sudden stop to look at me.

But that was a lie and I knew it.

It wasn’t the smooth auburn hair falling past his bare shoulders. It wasn’t the peaks and valleys of muscles or the scars crisscrossing his pale flesh, each casting shadows in stark relief.

It was all of him.

The man of darkness himself. The one who inspired humanity’s fascination with vampires — Vlad the Impaler, better known as Dracula. And his grin held a hint of wickedness churning beneath his cool skin like an electrical current with promises I wouldn’t dare to define.

The problem wasn’t who he was, which was intimidating enough. The problem was in his thoughts. Because they were about me.

I couldn’t fathom why he fixated on me at times. He was gorgeous with his well-defined, six-and-a-half-foot warrior’s frame, the rugged, auburn-colored goatee darkening his chin, and those vivid, dark blue irises. Anyone attracted to a man would find their knees weak in his presence, even if they didn’t know who he was. And he could have anyone he wanted. Yet, I never saw him shooting those devastating grins at anyone else.

It didn’t make sense to me.

I was no one.

With a literal darkness in her past following her like a shroud. I was struggling to understand why everyone was so accepting of me after what happened. If it wasn’t for me, most of the horrendous occurrences over the previous two months wouldn’t have come to pass.

But there I was, Zoe Kavanaugh, former dark witch, restored to light and offered a chance she didn’t deserve.

A woman who killed in order to protect the ones she cared about. A woman who was pulled deeper into that oblivion and lost herself in the process, costing more lives. A woman who should’ve been dead and six feet under the frozen ground several times over.

If it wasn’t for Aisling and her mate, Connor, the two ultra-powerful Earthen witches who were trying to fix the broken, warring world of supernatural creatures, I would be. At least, I’d no longer be other — I’d be human again, stripped of all my magic.

When they spared my life, I was prepared for it. But instead, they fixed me, let me keep what little power I could wield without the boost of stolen magic. It was even more confusing when I had offered to help them. They accepted and invited me to stay with them, despite having no reason to trust me.

In the thirteen days since, I’d maintained a brutally honest approach, to help prove my trustworthiness. I even risked my life — and spent a few minutes without a heartbeat as a result — to save the beautiful woman standing on Ethan’s other side. His elder cousin, Marcy.

Through it all, I was making friends with several of the nest’s residents even before I saved her life. I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

Any of it. Not their acceptance. Not my new friendships. And not the heated glances Vlad shot my way.

Forcing back the threatening sigh, I glanced at Marcy. Her fitted black tank top and stretchy flared jeans clung to her thin frame. Combined with her long, chestnut hair falling in loose waves to the middle of her back, flawless olive skin, and all her physical assets, it was no wonder Liam found her irresistible.

Despite our equal height and our similar builds, she wore it much better.

Even wearing all black — a stretchy t-shirt and leggings — with my waist-length, fiery red hair pushed behind my shoulders, I felt like a homeless person in comparison.

I tried to block out the intrusive thoughts. Despite being a powerful Voodoo practitioner, light witch, and something more than any of us could have imagined, I reminded myself that her vision was as limited as mine.

Except it wasn’t.

Astral projection, as she called it, wasn’t something many knew about. But with the right knowledge, even humans could access a part of themselves that would allow them to both see and move as fast as the blurred forms in front of us.

Based on the glowing aura swirling with red and little tendrils of gray around her — indicating her low-level desire and a hint of fear — she knew what she was seeing. Because she was using astral projection.

I wasn’t sure what she saw, but I knew her emotions were a reaction to her mate, Liam.

With Marcy’s help, I could learn astral projection. Because that was the only way I’d be able to help the group and protect Aisling and Connor in the ongoing war. It could be the difference between their life or death.

Perhaps then I wouldn’t feel useless among them.

I looked to my left and saw Aisling and her not-so-human best friend, Angela were equally as entranced as Marcy, watching their mates in the fight.

Even with Ethan’s presence beside me, I didn’t belong there. Not in the company of three incredibly unique and powerful women, watching how their men fared in the fight. Yet again, it was a reminder of my inadequacies. I was with them, but I didn’t belong. Attempting to suppress another sigh, I dropped my eyes and turned toward the bench behind me.

As I picked up my water bottle, removed the cap, and took a swig to hide my discomfort, Liam’s voice rang out from the mat, STOP! In the next instant, silence descended over the training room.

Steeling myself, I screwed the cap back into place and set the half-empty bottle back on the bench’s shellacked surface. The last thing I wanted to do was to see the trio of couples greeting each other. To see the women checking for superficial wounds that would be gone within seconds. Or the men’s satisfied grins after a successful bout of sparring.

I couldn’t bring myself to return to my place beside the mat, but I did force myself to turn around.

And smacked right into a brick wall.

Flinching from the unexpected impact, fear set my nerves ablaze for an instant before evaporating. I inhaled on reflex and smelled honey mixed with smoldering charcoal. It was both intoxicating and made my mouth water.

Oh, my god, get a grip, Zoe.

Vlad stood there, filling my vision and crowding my senses. Standing at nearly a foot taller than me, his mouth was just above my eye-level. And before I could stop myself, my gaze fixated there, making me forget how to breathe. After a brief pause, one dark eyebrow ticked up by a fraction before he leaned forward, inches from my face, forcing my eyes up.

Despite my body telling me to back away, I forced my feet to stay planted on the floor and met those deep blue eyes. His pupils flashed like a cat’s eyes against the overhead lights, marking him as one of the undead, and I froze.

Not because of the flash — I saw it before from others like him.

Contrary to mainstream undead lore, he was a vampire, but he wasn’t dead. Blood flowed through his veins by the force of his slow-beating heart. The widening of his pupils and resulting flash meant something excited him.

Me.

But I didn’t know why.

Then, as his baritone voice flowed over me, I forgot what I was thinking. What are you doing, Little Red?

Little Red.

That was what Vlad called me.

Not Zoe.

Little Red.

He rarely used my name and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know if it was the way my moniker rolled off his Romanian-accented tongue, or the nickname itself, but it sounded better to my ears than I thought possible.

My attraction to him went beyond logic and reason. Because it was one-sided. I was a woman and he found my body attractive at times. There was nothing more to it. And yet, everything he did drew me to him like oxygen to a wildfire.

Not even his brutal reputation from his human and vampire life played a factor in what I felt when I was in his regal and commanding presence.

What does that say about me?

I didn’t want to know the answer.

Vlad’s darkness amplified the burn I felt rushing through my veins when he was near. Maybe it had something to do with the darkness of my own past haunting me. After all, he said he understood the heavy price I paid to stay alive. Understood what took me down that path and brought me back again.

Dracula knew, more than most, how devastating life could be. Right down to the simplest decisions and the butterfly effect that followed — good or bad.

I was being foolish.

My vain attempts at finding a connection that went deeper than the surface wasn’t going to help anything. Because there was no connection. Even though the infamous Dracula comforted me when I was suffocating on despair, as he did a few days before when I recounted the story of how I darkened, it didn’t mean that I meant anything to him.

That needed to stop.

I needed to stop.

Something in his gaze hardened. What are you doing, Little Red? he repeated.

Though I caught the undercurrent of disapproval in his tone from my lack of response, I squared my jaw and forced myself to answer him. I was getting a drink of water.

You were supposed to watch.

I huffed, "I was watching. My accent was sharper as anger crept up my neck and refused to back down. How am I supposed to learn if I can’t see what the hell is happening?"

My dear, Liam interjected, would you like us to spar again at a pace you can follow?

Don’t bother, I snapped, and regretted it. Fuck, I muttered and dropped my gaze, ignoring the long stretch of a pale, bare torso ending at the waistband of Vlad’s black, hand-tailored pants. Side-stepping around the vampire in front of me, he pivoted to give me space and I thought I saw a grin flash across his features as I passed.

Before I could define what caused his grin, I realized everyone’s attention was on me. I’m sorry, Liam, I began, meeting his green gaze. It’s not fair to ask you to slow down just because I’m the only one who can’t see. If you want, we can try that tomorrow. I just, I took a breath, need a break.

The tightness surrounding his eyes softened at my apology, and then he nodded. Very well. He paused for a moment and then called out, That is enough for today. Dismissed. As he finished, he clapped twice, and people began making their way toward the door that led to the rest of the massive house.

As I turned to make my way in the same direction, Marcy called out, Zoe?

I stopped and looked back at her.

Offering me a smile as she approached, she said, I’m going to give my first lesson on astral projection after dinner this evening, if you’d like to join in. The question beneath her statement was obvious.

Rather than trying to force a smile, I nodded. Count me in, I said and then left without another word, trying to shake the lingering jitters. Trying to forget the memory of Vlad’s pupillary response.

I berated myself for my body’s reaction to the vampire’s close proximity in those intense few moments. But I knew it wasn’t something I could control.

Chapter 2

After changing into comfortable jeans, white sneakers, and a sleeveless black blouse, I sat on the soft Persian rug in front of the blazing hearth in my rooms, holding a small knife in one hand and a block of wood in the other. I planned to spend the rest of the afternoon there, trying to settle my racing thoughts.

With the flickering orange light from the fire casting shadows throughout the room, my hand moved in a slow, methodical curve, taking care as the blade crossed through the cedar’s grain. As each shaving was freed from the block, I dropped them on top of the knife’s leather pouch next to my crossed legs.

As my lingering jitters dissipated with every passing second, I slipped into a calm, meditative flow, not paying attention to what I was doing. It was me, my hands working the blade into the wood of their own volition, and the sounds of the crackling fire.

After what felt like a few minutes, I finished to survey the final piece. And froze.

Oh, my god.

The cedar fit in my palm like a smooth river rock and the design etched into its surface flirted with the shadows cast by the flickering flames. Once again, I recognized the carving.

An eye looked back at me — one I recognized.

With impossibly long eyelashes, a rounded iris — complete with a glint of light along its surface, and even a trio of tiny laugh lines at the outside corner. Even though the cedar was a rich reddish-brown, my mind’s eye pictured the color of an infinite deep blue sea, surrounding an obsidian pupil, widened to absorb all the light and detail it could, and commit it all to memory.

In the palm of my hand was a perfect carving of Vlad’s right eye.

I heaved a sigh of exasperation. And glanced at the ornate, silver clock resting on the mahogany chest beside the door that led to the rest of the house.

Shit, I breathed and jumped to my feet.

Setting the eye on the mantle beside its left counterpart, I spun around, and picked everything up. Wood shavings fell into the wastebasket before I slipped the knife back inside the protective leather pouch and set it inside the chest’s top drawer.

I hurried down the long hallway, passing several vampires and one human resident along the way. They greeted me with warm smiles and I couldn’t help but return them as I continued toward the dining room.

The sounds