Hunting for Witches
The Ludus
Book One
Lana Pecherczyk
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Creative Cartel Publishing
Date of Publication: April 25th 2015
ISBN: 978-0994313911
ASIN: B00V2IBYYA
Number of pages: 424
Word Count: 106,124
Cover Artist: Lana Pecherczyk
Book Description:
Witches have been obliterated - or so the world hopes. At 24, Roo struggles to keep her DNA-changing abilities secret. She doesn't feel like a witch, but if she isn't, how can she manipulate the physical world? Why does she feel the energy of all living things?
On tenuous ground, Roo keeps her skills hidden with the help of her sexy songstress BFF and her barmaid job at The Cauldron. Hiding in plain sight seems to be working until a mysterious witch hunter comes to town. Roo's powers are growing and, when a witch possesses the body of her sister, she defends her using any means possible.
Roo is exposed and attacked from all sides. She must learn to trust others while she discovers her identity and masters her powers to save the lives of her loved ones. She needs to convince herself and her town that she's more than a witch.
Inspired by mythology, science and fantasy, this fascinating debut novel is set in a brilliantly envisioned world where life is a secret game played by gods and witches until death ...
Available at Amazon
CHAPTER ONE The
Key
It wasn’t a key.
Well, it looked like a key to the ordinary person, but I wasn’t an ordinary
girl. Instead of a key, I saw a chance and my lifeline to the universe.
‘So, what’s it
gonna be, key?’ I blew on it, like it was lucky dice about to be cast in a game
of craps. Only, I wasn’t going to win money, just my independence. I held my
breath and chewed my lip. Well, here goes. Up in the air it went, rotating in
slow motion across the blurred backdrop of my hallway. Rows of black photo
frames begged for attention, but I kept my gaze on the key. The cold metal hit
my shaky right palm and I closed my eyes. Here goes, I can do this. One eye
opened, then the other.
Smooth side up.
Fuck. My bottom lip trembled. I had to stay. A surge of defiance raced through
my body. No, screw that, I hadn’t survived three years of persecution and
prejudice to chicken out now.
I inspected my
mauve nail polish chipped from a hard day’s work in the vineyard. That wouldn’t
do, I had to look presentable for work at the Cauldron. I imagined a beautiful
new set of nails, strong, healthy and a glossy aubergine. As the vision formed,
neurons fired in my brain, signals travelled down my spine, my arms and hit my
nails, reshaping them before my eyes. The tips grew to perfect curves, the
colour darkened and spread to cover the entire nail bed. I smiled, that was
more like it. Witchcraft wasn’t so bad, if you ignore the part where being
caught would mean a death sentence. I touched the probation collar at my neck.
I wasn’t out of the woods, yet.
I curled my
fingers into fists and punched the air, ready to take my future into my own
hands. Now or never. I rounded the corner to the kitchen and planted my feet
squarely in front of Aunt Lucy.
‘I’m moving
out,’ I said, the tone of my voice higher than usual. We lived just outside the
country town of Margaret River, and the scenery surrounding the Manor was
picturesque, but I was over living at the Urser Estate Winery.
She turned, eyes
blinking and pulled her arms out of the sudsy sink to tap her gloved fingers on
the porcelain bowl. She removed her second skin, one finger at a time, and
grabbed a tea towel to dab her hands. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said through
gritted teeth.
It took me three
attempts to swallow and that’s how long it took for her to throw the tea towel
over a shoulder and place her hands on her hips. She wore colourless clothing,
never used makeup or dyed her grey hair and she never argued. She wanted to go
unnoticed – in public. Here with me, she liked to cause waves. I seethed at her
hypocrisy. Despite her careful charade, thoughts collided behind her steely
eyes.
I took a step
back, held my breath, and darted a glance at my sister as she sat at the grand
table reading the newspaper. The ghost of a smile danced across Leila’s
delicate features but she covered it with a sip of coffee. Her eyebrows quirked
as she flicked her dark hair over a shoulder and turned the page. ‘Oh, look at
this one.’ She picked up a pair of scissors with her left hand and snipped
awkwardly, with her right she drank coffee.
‘I’m not being
ridiculous.’ I held up my key. ‘Kitty’s leasing one of her apartments and I can
move in tomorrow. I’m all packed.’
Leila spat
coffee everywhere and grimaced at her accident. ‘Now, look what you’ve made me
do,’ she whined, slamming her mug down. ‘I wish I had a normal sister.’
‘Yeah, well I
wish my sister didn’t hate my guts for something I can’t control—’
‘Uh, uh.’ Aunt
Lucy cut me off. She raised a finger, then turned her back on me to help Leila
mop off her precious clippings. ‘What did you find today, Darl?’
My jaw dropped.
I’d given her monumental news and she’d turned her back on me.
‘Look at this
one,’ Leila said, swiping a drop from a clipping. ‘The Church is recalling
their latest safeguard against witch possession. Ap- parently, there was a
faulty part in the device or something. It would be nice for them to finally
get one invention right, don’t you think? And this one, see?’ She held up
another clipping. ‘The DNA test used to identify maleficent victims isn’t
accurate because there haven’t been enough cases of witch possession over the
last four years – you know, since the Purge.’
‘Tsk, tsk, such
a shame.’ Aunt Lucy rubbed Leila’s shoulder. ‘Never mind, Darl, it could be a
good thing. Only a few possessions in four years isn’t bad. But just in case,
we’ll continue to go to church and take confession like they told us. It’s
worked so far, right? We’ve never seen a witch around here.’ Leila hummed in
agreement.
How dare they
ignore me? I waved the key in the air. ‘Um hello?
Did you hear
what I said? I’m moving out.’
A woman moving
out of home was not to be taken lightly these days. Witches only attacked
females – it had something to do with higher oestrogen levels. But like Leila
said, since they’d burned half the female population in the Purge, there hadn’t
been many cases of posses- sion. The world had relaxed and being a woman wasn’t
so bad anymore. ‘You stubborn, stubborn girl.’ Aunt Lucy shook her head. Her golden crucifix chinked against her necklace
of glass baubles. It was the only thing about her that stood out. She said it
was a gift from her late husband, so she wore it to remember him by. She wiped
her fore- head with her wrist, dislodging her grey headband and releasing flyaway
strands of shoulder length hair. ‘You’ll be labelled a whore, just like your
friend. I should never have let you get a job at that devil’s playground, it’s
caused nothing but problems.’ She pulled off her band and threw it on the
counter.
I raised my
eyebrows. Had she just called Kitty a whore?
Hang on had she called me a whore?
‘After all I’ve
done for you. I housed you when your father abandoned you, I put up with your
criminal ways, I even let you get a job when there’s so much to do here at the
vineyard. You’re going to throw it all in my face and leave a week before the
food festival?’ The tenacity of her words caused a coughing fit, she wheezed
and spluttered into a quickly grasped tissue. The sour stench of smoker’s
breath hit me moments before her pungent lavender perfume. I flinched and tried
not to screw up my face. Seriously, brush your teeth.
With shaky
hands, she reached for a glass of water and took a sip. Aunt Lucy ran her
boutique vineyard estate with an iron fist, but quit smoking? Impossible. She
downed the water in gulps, holding up a
solitary finger. The conversation wasn’t over. When she finished, she busied
herself with drying the dishes. The muscles in her shoulders and neck grew
rigid as she mulled over her next words. Finally, she picked up a spoon, and
waved it at me. ‘That sin-bin you work at is just a lawsuit waiting to happen.’
She opened the cutlery drawer and slammed the spoon in place. ‘I can’t believe
it was even allowed to open in the first place,’ she said. Leila snorted in
sympathy.
In an effort not
to roll my eyes, I stared at the sparkling black and white checked floor. There
she goes again, spouting her devil nonsense. ‘The Cauldron is not a “sin-bin,”
or a “devil’s playground.” It’s a legitimate establishment where people can
enjoy a drink or a meal, and learn about the history of witches,’ I said in
monotone, tired of defending my workplace.
Leila laughed.
‘You can’t be serious, Roo. It’s a mockery; they poke fun at the myth, not
teach the reality.’ Her last words came through a clenched jaw and she
shuddered.
It was true. The
Cauldron was a clichéd, witch-themed bar. It resembled something from
Halloween, and served cocktails like ‘The Holy Grail’ and ‘Brew to Forget.’
Taxidermy crows peered down at you as you ate, but it was harmless fun. I felt
at home there.
I shrugged. ‘If
it makes people feel safe and confident they have one up on witches, who cares?
I get paid, and all I have to do is serve drinks and look pretty with this
thing hanging around my neck.’ I flicked my slick collar. It made me special.
‘I’m accepted for who I am. Besides, it’s coming off in a few weeks and I’ll be
free to do what I want. Everyone with opinions can bite me.’ I added the last
bit in an awkward rush and, as if sensing my unease, the skin underneath my
probation collar itched. I slid my finger over the watery surface, tracing it
around to the clasp at my nape and scratched. Oh, that felt good. I’d be glad
to have it off in a few weeks when my sentence lifted. I smiled at the notion.
After one thousand and ninety-five days I’d finally be able to touch people
without risking an electric shock, annoying alarm, or being covered in an embarrassing
UV staining liquid. If I could keep my secret under wraps people might actually
look at me without suspicion.
Turbulence
gathered in Aunt Lucy’s face when she saw my smile. ‘Who’s going to want you
after what happened to your last boyfriend?’ She flung a china plate down, it
whirled on the bench top. ‘You told him to take a long walk off a short cliff,
and then he disappeared. You were only
cleared because of a lack of evidence. Nobody trusts you, even your workplace
won’t want you then. You’re an asset while you have that freak show happening
around your neck but what value will you bring to the show when that’s gone?
Will you whore yourself out, too?’ Her hands shook and she clicked her tongue
as she picked up another utensil.
Like Kitty? I
was sure she wanted to add.
‘We need you
here Roo. The grapes won’t pick themselves and there is so much work to be done
before the food and wine festival, it’s simply not possible. Your father left
you in my care, and that’s where you will stay.’
My hands balled
into fists. He left me in her care. Her words cut to the core, they stung every
time I heard them. I knew he left because he couldn’t stand the sight of me,
but did she have to remind me? It’s one thing to call me and my friend a whore,
it’s another to bring my useless father into it. I clenched my teeth. ‘My
father lost any say in my future when he disappeared after my trial.’
‘You know very
well he’s classed as AWOL by his military unit. He left your guardianship to me
in his will, and since then I’ve been running myself ragged to help you out.
Not that it’s done any good, mind you. You’re as ungrateful as the day you
arrived.’
My eyes flared.
Every day off from The Cauldron, I worked the fields, picking relentlessly. I
worked hard, damn it, she had no right to say those things. Besides, my father
hadn’t been on a tour of duty at the time of his disappearance, in fact, I was
pretty sure he’d been on personal leave. How convenient for him to blame work
for his substandard parenting. But I knew the truth. His daughter had been
declared one step above the enemy, and he was embarrassed and ashamed. Well,
ha! Joke’s on them. I’d fooled them all. I could do everything a witch could
do, except hop from one body to another. The thought gave me a sobering dose of
reality. I was bad news for anyone close to me. If they knew I could do the
same thing as the enemy ... I shuddered, not wanting to finish the thought.
Sometimes, I dreamt I’d be able to help people with my skills and be praised
for my uniqueness. I could cure sickness, or remodel fractured bones just by
willing it so, but it was a dream. In reality they’d burn me.
‘Well, my mind
is made up. I’m leaving,’ I said. ‘I’ll come back to help serve at the
festival, but I won’t live here.’
Leila made a
derogatory sound and feigned interest in another article. I narrowed my eyes at
her. Our matching eye colour was the only thing that marked us as sisters.
Actually hers were the brown of a deer and mine were more like honey, so maybe
I clutched at straws. The similarity stopped there. I stood tall, tanned and
athletic with sun kissed brown hair; she was short, pale and curvy with almost
black hair. Sometimes I thought I was adopted, but since Leila had witnessed
the death of our mother during my birth, I didn’t think so.
Maybe she was
adopted. The snide thought tiptoed into my mind.
Leila stood
suddenly, dragging her chair across the floor. The scent of daisies filled the
air as she left the room in a flurry, skirt billowing behind. I sighed and
pinched the bridge between my eyes. I had to get to work. A black mark across
my name was the last thing I wanted the day before my performance review. What
if Aunt Lucy had been right and they didn’t want me after my collar was
removed? I couldn’t exactly show off my witch-like abilities. Guess I’d cross
that rickety bridge when I got to it.
‘See what you’ve
done?’ Aunt Lucy turned on the guilt trip. ‘You can’t leave her, Roo, she needs
you. I’m not going to be around forever and who will look after her then?’ She
aged ten years in an instant and forced a cough to prove her point. Her grey
hair looked limp, her skin sagged, and her wrinkles turned into deep canyons.
Maybe the stress of having two girls dumped in your care after a war wasn’t
good for your health – especially when one suffered from post-traumatic stress,
and the other was in trouble with the law.
‘You’ll be
better off without me,’ I said. My shoulders slumped as I backed out of the
kitchen and walked down the hallway to the front living room.
Twenty-four was
a good age to move out – almost twenty-four. Back in the old days, before the
War-of-Witches, women were allowed to move out whenever they wanted. But since
the WOW, women could only move out if they were conviction free and over
twenty-one. Three years with no incidents would cement my independence. I just
had a few more weeks to wait.
‘This isn’t
over, Roo,’ Aunt Lucy called from the kitchen. ‘Don’t expect to be welcome back
here if you decide to move out.’
I lifted my
brows at the photographs lining the walls, daring them to taunt me, but the
ancestors of my mother remained silent. I gazed at the interior of the stale
living room, a staircase situated on each side and an uncomfortable antique
settee occupied the middle. Each wall served as gallery space for our family
photographs. It was supposed to be historical, but it haunted me to stare at
dead people. It was more like Death Row.
Shivering, I
grabbed my belongings from the settee and moved to the door. I smoothed down my
black uniform shirt and slipped my yellow motorcycle jacket on. After stowing
my precious key in the side pocket of my backpack, I slung it over my arms.
With a deep breath and a forced smile, I opened the stately front door. I’d
actually done it. My smile became genuine as the late spring sunshine warmed my
face.
‘Roo, wait.’
Leila crashed down the stairs on the far side of the room. ‘I have something
for you.’ She reached my side with a big glass jar. It was filled with curious
little plastic squares that chinked as she moved. ‘I can’t let you leave with
this hanging over my head,’ she said, ‘So, here goes.’ Her voice cracked out
and she swallowed.
Whoa, this
seemed like a big deal. Her face was seriously drawn and paler than usual. She
pulled out a green computer chip, and turned it over, lost in thought as she
gazed at it. The look on her face made me think it hurt to touch, but I knew it
didn’t. How could it?
‘I made some
memory bytes for you. Actually, I haven’t made them for you but they are about
you, so you should have them, they’re pretty much all the same,’ she babbled.
‘You should take them with you, then maybe I’ll finally be able to sleep.’
‘Right,’ I said
slowly, chewing my cheek. What was I supposed to say to that? Um, thanks. Sure,
no problems, I’m happy to take your jar of nightmares. I opened my hand and
caught the microchip in my palm. The little thing was almost weightless but
felt as heavy as an elephant – the big one that sat in her room my entire life.
Leila refused to
speak about her nightmares, so her therapist had asked her to record them.
She’d been doing that for as long as I could remember. I’d often heard her
screams at night, followed by shuffling as she gathered the tools needed to
make the recording. If I went to her door, I’d see a faint blue glow shining
through the cracks. Nobody had seen the recordings yet, so I knew this was a
pretty big step, but that’s as far as my insight went.
‘I don’t mean to
look at you the way I do, and talk to you the way I do …’ Her voice softened as
it trailed off. Her eyes narrowed, the heat coming off her gaze was unnatural
in someone so delicate. ‘My brain says you’re my sister, and a little baby couldn’t
possibly be held responsible. But my heart hates you for killing our mother to
get a place in this world. I’m sorry; it’s something I can’t help.’ She shook
her head and looked away with her shoulders hunched. ‘You have to believe me. I
don’t mean to feel that way. I just do.’
My eyeballs
stung. It wasn’t going to get any better than
this. For whatever the truth of that fateful night, she had her own
version running through her head, and I didn’t need a psychology degree to see
it was painful. I wanted to go to her, squeeze her tight, but held back.
Something had happened during my birth to make her think I was evil, and after
I was accused of bewitching my ex, my name had been put in the same sentence as
the enemy. Considering my secret abilities, I knew I was linked to them. Shame
washed over me. If she knew my secret, she’d never speak to me again. I
resisted the urge to touch her. My collar would beep at the proximity and she
would flinch.
She lifted her
lashes to peer at me, eyes liquid. ‘Maybe things will be different with some
distance between us.’
Maybe she can
relax when the monster is gone.
‘I hope so,’ I
said. ‘Goodbye, Leila, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Here take these
with you, p-please, you’d be doing me a favour, I can’t do it myself. You’re
the strong one in this family.’ She stuttered the words, but hope shone through
her eyes, at least that’s what I told myself. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. It’ll be
a new day and we can start fresh.’ She handed me the jar. Dumbfounded, I
watched her walk away. That was probably the longest conversation I’d ever had
with her.
In a daze, I
left the house and detoured passed the garage. The lid to the garbage bin was
heavy, but I managed to drop the jar inside, the putrid smell matched my mood.
I certainly didn’t want a jar of night- mares and, as Leila didn’t have the
guts, I got rid of them for her. Except for the one in my pocket next to my
phone. That one I kept for later.
About the Author:
As an author, marketer, and artist, Lana is a triple threat! She also makes a mean chocolate cake, and has Level 46 Creative Mojo. A fan of ‘pro-caffeinating’, Lana loves writing mash-ups of the fantasy, sci-fi, romance, and horror genres.
An author in her own right, with her urban fantasy novel Hunting for Witches recently released, Lana creates all of her own cover work and illustrations, and infuses websites with her unique stylistic talent and quirky graphic design.
She loves Sailor Moon. No judgement.
Book Series Website: http://www.ludusbooks.com
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