Page 3 of To Hell and Back
Without her knowledge, they had begun to sell her blood using the supernatural black market. When she discovered what they were doing, she’d been furious. They had tried to reassure her that they had mixed her blood into magical pills they created so no one knew the real source, but that hadn’t been enough for her. She wanted them to stop, but they had gotten used to the benefits her luck had given them and had no intention of stopping.
The pills diluted the magical luck, so it only lasted for a few hours, but that was more than enough for the people who wanted to purchase them. They were in high demand, but her aunt and uncle needed her compliance to produce their product. At first, they tried to negotiate with her to help them since her blood had to be given willingly. They pleaded with her and offered a share of the money from the magical pills, but the whole concept disgusted her, so she refused.
Even when they accused her of being selfish for hoarding her luck, she hadn’t been swayed. It was her gift, which meant it was her right to determine how it was used. That didn’t matter to them, though.
Seneca found herself being held captive in the home she had once loved. Clara and Mark had even used her own blood against her in the magical wards that kept her locked inside the house.They had held her prisoner in a dark room and starved her until she had finally given in. She hated to admit it, but she’d wanted to give up. To let the grief and despair over what her life had become take over, but survival instinct was a tricky reflex to deny.
She wanted to live and had hung onto the hope that she could one day free herself from the hell she was living in.
That, and she hadn’t wanted to let them win.
In exchange for doing what they wanted, they had let her move back into her own bedroom. She was given small liberties like food she liked or access to streaming movies and TV shows to help pass the time, but those little perks weren’t enough to make her forgive them. Nor did it deter her from continuing to try to escape.
She tried to figure a way out, but her limited magical skills weren’t enough to break through the strong wards keeping her locked in.Because she had isolated herself from the world during her grief, she lost contact with all of her remaining friends, and she had no other family she could reach out to.
That meant she couldn’t count on anyone coming to save her.
Recently, her thoughts had started taking a much darker turn. She had never been a violent person or very vindictive. Even so, she understood that everyone had a breaking point under the right circumstances, and she’d definitely reached hers. Since they never gave her time to fully recover between transfusions, there was little she could do to fight back physically, but she could use stealth and strategy. She swore she would do whatever it took to stop them, even if it meant her death.
A few days ago, she’d gotten that strange feeling in her gut when her aunt and uncle had mentioned a new client they were trying to get close to. Always social climbers, they could never pass up the opportunity to kiss up to famous humans or supernaturals. They had often tagged along with Ethan and Claudia when they went to Hollywood parties and had even begged to go to a few award shows with them.
While Clara had more magical abilities than Seneca’s mother, she had always been envious of her sister’s success within the entertainment industry. To an outsider, it could have been considered nothing more than harmless sibling rivalry, but the reality was far more sinister than that.
There was no way Clara could do what she’d done if she truly loved her sister and, by extension, her niece.Her yearning for fame was an addiction that would never be sated, and Mark enabled her bad behavior with his own self-indulgence and desperate desire for wealth and adoration.
Now, on her twenty-second birthday, it seemed like Seneca was finally going to end up paying the ultimate price for their greed.
The sound of the door opening immediately caught her attention. She wasn’t able to move her head, but she did manage to glance toward the doorway to see a tall woman enter the room.
The woman was wearing a bright yellow sundress the color of cheerful daffodils and white heels that added a few inches to her already impressive height. Her short blonde bob was several shades darker than Seneca’s own long hair, and it was styled into curls that bounced as she moved. Her slick red lips were curved into a deceptively pleasant smile, and the color matched the tips of her pointed fingernails.
“Good, you’re awake.” The woman clapped her hands together like an excited child, her long nails clacking together in an awful sound. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but first, let me introduce myself since we will be spending a lot of time together from now on.”
It took a lot of effort, but Seneca managed to wheeze out two words that came straight from the depths of her soul. “Fuck…you.”
The woman tsked, and she wagged a finger as she came closer. “Now, now. Don’t be rude. My name is Whitley Dalkis, a witch of considerable spellcasting talent, and I will be hosting you for the foreseeable future. Of course, I already know who you are, Miss Lucky Charm. In fact, you’ve gotten to be quite famous within my circle of acquaintances.”
That sent a shiver of fear racing down Seneca’s spine.
“Well, at least your ability has,” Whitley amended with a chuckle. “Thankfully, I’m the only one who figured out the luck is coming from you. Trust me when I say you should be very glad about that.”
Whitley strolled over to the metal cart next to the medical bed and lifted a frilly white apron that had been hanging on the side. She put the apron on over her pretty dress, making her look like a perfectly styled housewife from a throwback era, ready to bake a pie, rather than a crazy witch intent on bleeding her dry.
She should have seemed out of place standing in the middle of the dungeon, but she seemed completely at ease in the dark, ominous space. The way she slipped on a pair of gloves before efficiently changing out the full blood bag for an empty one made it obvious it wasn’t her first time doing so. She had to have some medical training to be so proficient, or she’d had a lot of practice on other victims.
Either way, it was disturbing watching her work.
After removing her gloves, Whitley rolled a stool over and took a seat next to the bed. She smoothed her skirt down as she crossed her legs. “As you probably guessed, I previously purchased luck pills from your aunt. I was surprised by how well it worked, but it wasn’t difficult to decipher that magical blood was what actually made the pills so powerful. I am very good at mixing spellwork and chemistry. Much better than Clara, so I know I can make better pills if I tweak the formula using a stronger spell.”
Whitley reached out and stroked Seneca’s bangs back in an almost loving gesture. She wanted to cringe away but couldn’t move no matter how hard she tried.
“It’s useless to fight. There was a paralytic mixed in with the sedative you were given to get you here that hasn’t worn off yet. This room is also warded against magic, so there is no chance for you to escape. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay down here for long if you behave. All you have to do is cooperate with me, and you can take your rightful place along with my other…helpers.”
Fucking hell, that meant this crazy witch had done this to others.
“I run a very lucrative business dealing in the magical black market. While some people fear dark magic, certain forbidden spells, hexes, and charms are in high demand. You’ll see that I can make your life far more comfortable than what you previously had with your aunt and uncle.”
The mention of Clara and Mark had Seneca wondering what had happened to them. For all she knew, they had probably sold her to Whitley for an exorbitant fee and were now on a cruise sailing around the Mediterranean.
