Rune Witch Mysteries- The Complete Series Read online

  The Rune Witch Mysteries

  The Complete Series

  Published in 2017 by

  Deryn Publishing

  United Kingdom

  © Victoria DeLuis

  www.victoriadeluis.com

  All characters and events are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored or distributed in any form, without prior permission of the publisher.

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  A Note on Language

  Please be advised that the author of this book is from the UK. As such, some turns of phrase and spellings will be in British English.

  Table of Contents

  Taken: Rune Witch Mysteries Book One

  Hidden: Rune Witch Mysteries Book Two

  Forgotten: Rune Witch Mysteries Book Three

  Unbroken: Rune Witch Mysteries Book Four

  Author’s Notes

  Other Books by Victoria DeLuis

  Taken: Rune Witch Mysteries Book One

  .

  Prologue

  Damn it!

  An alarm sounded in my head. I froze, although every instinct screamed at me to run. I glanced around.

  No one.

  The desolate streets rested in the silence of the night. Clouds seeped around the moon like black ink swirling in water. No-one was around, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. For a second, I felt a little foolish, walking alone through the dark streets at four in the morning. Everyone knows, the worst crimes in a city happen at night, and Cardiff was no exception.

  The wind cut through my clothes, sent a shiver down my spine, and whipped my hair around my head. The gwyllgi’s baleful breath carried from the east. I called the magic in my Coll tattoo, sending forth its seeking power to be sure the creature followed and not some human up to mischief. The faint pulse of the supernatural greeted me, malevolent and dangerous.

  For hours, I’d walked the streets. My feet hurt, my legs were tired, and, despite the magical wards giving me energy, I was long overdue for a sleep. Not quite the way I planned to welcome my twenty-fifth birthday.

  I stepped from the pavement and crossed the road, struggling to keep my speed down. Legend told that the gwyllgi followed lone travellers at night, stalking them; slowly, silently. I didn’t want to run and give him cause to attack. Although, it was only a matter of time before he would.

  I paced along the main road. My footsteps echoing in the empty space. A dog barked. The light from a nearby house flickered on. I cursed.

  For a time, I carried on through the shadowed streets, measured and paced, despite the cold fingers of dread that inched along my spine. The gwyllgi’s stealthy approach continued at the edge of my senses. I turned off the main road and into Roath Pleasure Gardens.

  Despite their name, the gardens were a dark place, and tonight, dark things moved within them. My pupils gathered in the light that seeped between the trees. I strained to see in the darkness. The wind hissed through the leaves, and sent those already turned autumnal orange to the ground.

  A thump to the left.

  The rustle of leaves.

  A bloodcurdling howl pierced the air, too close for comfort.

  My heart thundered in my chest.

  The howl of the gwyllgi is said to paralyse people with fear, and I admit, my heart nearly exploded at the sound. But paralysed? Not me. Not now.

  I gathered the magic of the birch trees, allowed it to refresh my mind and bless my adventure. The strength and power of the oaks soaked into my soul. I smiled. The Dog of Darkness might have thought he was hunting me, but in truth, it was the other way around.

  A low growl built behind me. At last! I turned to face the beast. Blazing eyes shone through the darkness; so fiery and red in their intensity, they looked as though they could set the trees ablaze.

  The monstrous creature emerged. At first, beyond the eyes, I saw little more than a silhouette. Then, as he grew nearer, his true form became clear: a large shaggy dog, with the bulk of a mastiff and the fierceness of a wolf. He padded towards me on his long limbs. Slather seeped from his powerful jaws, and dripped from his dagger like teeth.

  “Nice doggy,” I said, as I edged backwards. The gwyllgi stopped. His ears cocked up, intent and listening.

  “You’re a long way from home. Wouldn’t you like to go back? Feel the grass beneath your paws?”

  The creature lifted its head and howled. The sound ripped through me, as his menace rose higher and higher.

  He charged.

  I breathed out, cleared my mind, and called the full force of my magic. The runic tattoos on my arms flared to life. Power flooded into me, and filled me with energy.

  I thrust both hands forwards, and blasted the gwyllgi with the controlling power of the Blackthorn tree. He flew backwards, landing on his haunches, and then rose to his paws and snarled. I blasted him again, but this time, he pounced sideways, avoiding the blow. I tried again, volley after volley of power, but each time he was too fast and agile for me to strike him.

  After a few moments, I stopped and stared at the beast. He stared at me, curious. He tilted his head to the side, as though assessing me for the first time. I wasn’t like the other humans he’d met, running and screaming in terror. I didn’t look like much, but his nose twitched. No doubt, he tasted my magic in the air.

  The Dog of Darkness, the Black Hound of Destiny, the gwyllgi, whatever name you wished to call him by, at heart, he was a predator, and the one thing I know about predators, if you run, they chase.

  I looked down and smiled at my foresight to wear running shoes, even though I hated the way they felt on my feet. After one last glance at the gwyllgi, I spun on my heels and ran.

  The creature gave chase. I zigzagged between the trees. On instinct, I dodged to the left, and rolled out the way as the gwyllgi leapt through the air, narrowly missing my head. It landed with a skid. Its great paws tore up the grass and created deep furrows in the soft mud.

  For a second, cold fear gripped my heart, and my head throbbed with worry, but there was no use thinking like that. Sure, I was in the city, away from the forest and cut off from the deepest well of my power, but in the park, I was surrounded by trees, and as long as I had their magic to call on, the gwglli wouldn’t best me.

  I ran to the tennis courts as fast as I could. The creature followed only a pace or two behind.

  “Now,” I yelled, as soon as I set foot past the centre mark.

  Thomas emerged from his hiding place in the small hut next to the courts.

  The gwyllgi turned towards him as he slammed the gate shut. With a new potential target to attack, he ground to a halt. The creature’s red eyes flashed from me to Thomas, and despite the fence between the two of them, the gwyllgi must have considered Thomas an easier target than me. He leapt forwards, snarling, but instead of passing through the chain link fence, as he’d expected to, he was hit by a pulse of energy and flung to the centre of the courts.

  “Warded,” I said, although the creature may not have understood the words. “There’s no point making a trap that you can escape.”

  The gwyllgi circled the court, before turning his attention back to me. A wolfish smile split his face and exposed his teeth. Then, a gurgling growl built in its chest, and I became sure he was laughing.

  “You got this?” Thomas asked, a note of concern in his voice.

  “I’d better have.”


  I lifted my hands and created a massive ball of energy between them. I filled it will the power of Beithe, Luis, Nion, and Straif, and focused the spell in my mind. When it was as big as the beast, I released its power. An indigo brilliance illuminated the court and encompassed the gwyllgi. The hound growled and strained against the spell, but he was trapped and powerless. Within the ball of light his presence faded, before disappearing completely. As the last vestige of him winked out, and his grumbles no longer sounded in the air, Thomas opened the gate and ran to my side.

  “You okay?” he asked, taking me in his arms.

  I smiled and rested my head on his chest. “I am now.”

  “Let’s go home. I’ll make you a big birthday breakfast, and we can get some rest.”

  I sighed. “Sounds great.”

  *

  I staggered out of the shower and into the bedroom.

  “Breakfast’s ready,” Thomas called from downstairs, “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving,” I called back.

  I quickly towel dried my hair, and was throwing on some comfy clothes when someone knocked. Thomas answered the front door, and muttered a few words, before closing it again.

  “Who was that,” I asked when I entered the kitchen a few moments later.

  “That was a package for you.” Thomas handed me a big box. “It looks like it’s from the states. Must be a birthday present from your mum.”

  “I doubt that,” I said, remembering the cheques I’d received for every other birthday.

  Thomas shrugged and placed a big plate of fry-up in front of me. My mouth watered and my tummy rumbled, at the delicious smell of sausages, but my curiosity got the better of me and I opened the parcel.

  Inside was a folder of papers. I ignored the card on top, addressed to me in Mam’s handwriting, and instead opened the folder.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to believe what I saw in front of me. Tears came unbidden to my eyes. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Summer.” Thomas rushed to my side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  A sudden dizziness swam in my head. “It’s the cottage,” I said. “Nana’s cottage.”

  Thomas took the papers from my shaky hand. “I thought you said it was—”

  “Sold. That’s what I thought.”

  Thomas smiled and clasped my hands in his. “This is good news, right? The cottage is yours. You can go home now.”

  Home. I could go home. A place I only dreamed I could visit again. So, why was every fibre of my being terrified at the thought?

  Chapter One

  We left the M4 at junction 28 and travelled along the old Chepstow Road. Houses soon gave way to open country, but I felt the pull of the forest from miles away.

  “Turn right... there,” I said to Thomas when I spotted the narrow country lane camouflaged between two hedgerows.

  “You sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  Thomas followed my instructions, turning when I told him, time and again. Tall hedges lined each side of the road, striking out at the car as it bounced along. Until, at last, we were in the forest. I soaked in the wonder of the trees. How long had it been since I last made this trip? Sixteen, seventeen years? Yet every twist in the road, every turn deeper into the forest was familiar.

  Despite the cold, I opened my window to take in the intoxicating scent of oak, birch, and pine that drifted on the air. The trees shimmered in the faint breeze; their magic enveloped me. Gravel crunched beneath the car tyres, an alien sound in an otherwise peaceful world.

  I’d missed this place.

  I was home.

  Sure, I’d been to other forests and relished the feel of the trees as they replenished my power. As a rune witch, I was as reliant on their energy as I was on food and water. Not everyone can tap into the magic of the trees and use it as their own, but everyone feels the cleansing of their spirit as they stand beneath a canopy dappled with yellow, red, and orange. They can’t help but embrace the ancient song of the birds singing, the wind whistling, and the leaves rustling. The woody incense seeps into their soul and caresses them like the fine morning mist that entwines the thick underbrush and lichen-encrusted trunks in its ghostly veil. Everyone feels a tree’s longevity, its peace. But nothing, nothing compared to the feeling of an ancient woodland, and Wentwood was the largest of its kind in Wales. The sense of it reminded me of summer days spent with my nana, trekking through the trees, learning an oak from a hawthorn, and the different powers they provided. Is it strange that when I think of my childhood, I always think of summer days? Nana used to say, “Summer by name, summer by nature”. I missed her voice. I missed the sound of the nightjar hawking for food at dusk and dawn, and the dappled sunlight on the forest floor. I missed Mam scolding Nana for keeping me out all day.

  Only in my happiest dreams had I ever imagined coming home. I took a deep breath and allowed the brisk, cold air to caress my face as I held back tears.

  So many years wasted.

  We’d packed our bags and moved to Cardiff the day after we gave nana’s body back to the forest. Mam had been angry, angry that Nana had left us, angry that all our combined magic couldn’t save her. I got that, but to turn her back on who she was, to deny the magic within her and to tear us away from our home, that I couldn’t understand. I was eight when Nana died, and although she’d deny it, a part of my mother died that day, too.

  You can only imagine my surprise, when Mam sent a package all the way from America, containing the title deeds to Nana’s cottage. No explanation other than, “Happy Birthday, Summer. Your Nana wanted you to have this.”

  Nana’s living trust was in the package. Mam had been named as trustee of her estate. Everything was to be held as Mam saw fit until I turned twenty-five. Simply put, I had my home back and a truck load of money to go with it. Not that Mam had never been short of a bob or two when I was growing up. I’d always assumed she sold Nana’s house and was living off the proceeds. When I turned sixteen and she moved to the States, she’d given me the house in Cardiff and enough money “To see me through”. I’m fortunate to have never been poor, but now... now, I was stinking rich.

  I sighed. I’d give it all up for one more day with Nana, and for Mam to be the person she was before Nana died.

  A wave of apprehension washed over me as the track became steeper, narrower, and the surrounding forest dense and rugged despite the fact that many trees had begun to shed their leaves for winter.

  We were there.

  I was expecting a cottage overrun with vines that coursed and knotted around the building, gripping it like tentacles, reclaiming the land for nature. Instead, I stepped from the car, shielded my eyes from the morning sun, and strained to see Nana’s pristine cottage.

  The bright light and the calming surrounding woodland softened the symmetry of the traditional stone farmhouse. A simple doorway sat in the middle of the building. The last of the morning dew formed diamond sparkles on the two windows nestled on either side. Three more windows overlooked the small clearing from the first floor. Although the cottage seemed smaller than viewed in my childhood memories, it was just as beautiful.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?” Thomas asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I’d been putting off coming here long enough. Silly, when my first instinct had been to drop everything and rush over. We were less than an hour’s drive from our home in Cardiff, but somehow, I’d needed to wait and let everything sink in. I guess sometimes fear gets the best of us all. I had perfect memories of this cottage and my life here, but so much had changed.

  I glanced a short way into the forest to the spot where I knew Nana was buried before taking another deep breath, shaking myself out of my reverie, and turning back to the ancient house nestled amongst the tall trees.

  “You want to look inside?” I said, pulling the key from my pocket and smiling. “I’ve had the utilities connected.”

  “I’d love to.” Thomas put a comfortin
g arm around my shoulders. “You decided what you want to do with the place yet?”

  “Nope.”

  I called forth the power in my Coll tattoo and explored the energy of the cottage. I smiled at the faint trace of Nana’s blessings, faded but still intact. There was still a sense of love and protection about the place. No evil spirits or creatures of the supernatural had moved in and claimed it as their own.

  “Energy’s good,” I said, just as Thomas’ mobile rang.

  “It’s the Council,” he said before answering his phone with his usual good cheer.

  My ears pricked, but I resisted the urge to eavesdrop and waited for Thomas to finish the call. If it was the Council, then it was witch business. Unfortunately, as a rune witch, technology and I didn’t always get along. Sure, I can watch a DVD on occasion, and answer a landline connection, but mobile phones and computers have something against my nature. Maybe it’s because they work so much against nature themselves that our energies clash. Luckily, I had Thomas, who wasn’t a witch or supernatural of any kind, to take messages for me.

  The tone of Thomas’ voice and the look on his face told me the news wasn’t good. Not that it ever was when the Council called.

  “There’s been a murder,” he said as soon as the call ended. “The Council needs us to look into it.”

  I took a deep breath and turned away from the cottage, a little relieved. It would have to wait. “What do I need to know?” I asked.

  “A house fairy’s been found dead in Llanvaches. Joe’s going to text over the address.”

  Joe was a cewri, a giant, and a prominent figure in the world of magic. For him to call us directly was unusual. Thomas and I were private investigators — free agents — and although we occasionally worked for the Council, we were largely unaffiliated. We took on cases outside of the legal system, human or supernatural. Sure, the murder of any creature was a serious issue, but I couldn’t help but question why Joe was bringing us in and not some of the Council’s own agents.