When Witches Wake Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Imprint Page

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  When Witches Wake

  The Bancroft Coven Series

  Book One

  HILARY FOXHILL

  Copyright 2019 © by Hilary Foxhill

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Cover Photo by Joe Therasakdhi via Shutterstock

  Cover design by Hilary Foxhill

  To stay up to date with future books and other news, you can follow Hilary on social media.

  www.hilaryfoxhill.com

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  @hilaryiswriting

  CHAPTER ONE

  SHE WATCHED THE candle flicker and the light bounce off the walls. The room was warm, and seemed to get warmer by the minute. Naked, she sat on a pillow in the middle of the small room. She looked around, trying to remember where she was and why she was there. Thick shades were drawn on two small windows. No light shined through from the outside world. The walls were full of bookshelves that overflowed with books. It was too dark for her to read any of the titles. There was a desk with a stereo on it, and drumming sounds pounded out of its speakers. She felt sweat drip down her back and she changed position on the pillow. There was a break in the drumming, and she heard loud chanting and screaming from outside of the door. She quickly turned her head to look and noticed smoke beginning to seep under the large wooden door and into the room. She smelled flowers and swallowed hard. Her hands tightened on her knees, and her heart beat faster. The drumming from the radio continued. Just outside the door, a floorboard creaked and two loud knocks rattled the old door. She jumped and a small cry came out of her mouth. Staring at the door, she heard only her heart beating in her head. Every other sound seemed to have stopped. Two knocks again at the door. She blinked and realized she knew what that meant. She stood up and her knees throbbed with pain from sitting for so long. She walked over to the desk and picked up the cloth hanging on the back of the desk chair. Carrying the cloth, she walked over to the door. Her lips were dry and she licked them, hoping they wouldn’t crack open. Without thinking, her hand was at the door, and she knocked twice. A soft metal clink broke the silence in the room as the doorknob slowly turned. The door opened and she saw the outline of a naked woman standing before her.

  “Are you ready?” the woman asked.

  Emily opened her eyes and gasped for breath. She rubbed her face and strained to see. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she looked around and recognized her bedroom. Her shirt was wet and soaked in sweat. Again. Just like the last time and the time before that. She leaned over and turned the switch on her small bedside lamp, groaning and shielding her eyes from the light. A soft pink glow filled the room. She reached for the leather bound notebook on her nightstand, grabbing it without looking. She reached back again for the pencil and her hand stumbled over the nightstand, finding nothing. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Emily blinked at the empty nightstand. Damn cat.

  “God dammit Eli! Leave my pencils alone!” her voice cracked. She leaned over the edge of her bed and pulled herself down to peer underneath.

  “There you are,” she whispered. She reached as far as she could without tumbling out of bed, barely reaching it. She groaned as she pulled herself back up, and sat up against her headboard. She flipped open her small black book and wrote the time and date on a new page.

  4:10 am. Friday, September 8th, 2017.

  She wrote down her latest dream without thinking. She had this one before, she knew how it went.

  Emily placed her book and pencil back on the nightstand and turned off the light. Lying on her side, she stared at the glowing alarm clock. 4:32am. She closed her eyes and all she could see were her dreams. Dancing inside of her head flashes of light, and skin, and smoke. She opened her eyes.

  “Screw this,” she said. She sat up and tossed her feet over the edge of the bed, lightly stepping onto the soft rug that covered the worn hardwood floor. She walked across the bedroom and pulled her robe from the hook on the back of the door. It was soft and warm as she wrapped it around her. She walked out of her bedroom and across her living room into the quaint and tidy kitchen. She turned on the coffee machine, and the red light glowed in the dark kitchen. She walked back through her bedroom and into the bathroom, turning on the light and staring into the mirror. Her dark brown hair was messy and fell across her face. She looked into her tired blue eyes and rubbed them again.

  “You need more sleep,” she said. She turned around and got undressed.

  “Well maybe I’d get more sleep if I wasn’t having these crazy dreams.” She walked past her small pile of clothes on the checkered tile floor and hung her robe back on the hook. She leaned into the tub, turned the faucet on, and pulled the water transfer up to turn the shower head on. She adjusted the water temperature, making it as warm as possible. She carefully stepped into the claw foot tub and pulled the plastic curtain closed around her. She put her face under the shower head. The water was so hot that her face quickly turned red, and she changed position to let the water run down her back. After washing her hair, she shaved her legs and under her arms. She slowly lathered soap over her entire body, and let the suds slowly run down her skin. She closed her eyes and her mind drifted off to h
er dream from that morning. The memory of her warm skin, naked and glowing in the candlelight. The feeling of sweat on her skin, and her stomach full of nervous excitement. She could almost hear the drumming. Suddenly the water was cold, and she opened her eyes.

  “Jesus!” she cried as she quickly turned off the water. She opened the curtain and peeled at the small clock ticking on the wall. “Six thirty!? How did I fall asleep standing up?” After the cold water had jolted her back to reality, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped the plush towel around her, appreciating the warmth.

  She was dressed in an instant, throwing on some black pants and a red button up shirt. She went back into the bathroom and pulled her hair back onto a ponytail before clumsily brushing eyeshadow onto her eyelids. She attempted, unsuccessfully, to cover the circles under her eyes with some foundation before adding blush to her cheeks.

  In the kitchen she poured coffee into her brown travel mug and grabbed her keys and jacket.

  “Crap,” she said. “The cat.” She dropped her coat, put her mug on the counter, and rushed over to the small dish on the kitchen floor. She poured some dry food in.

  “Eli! Food!” Then she rushed out the door, leaving her coffee on the counter.

  CHAPTER TWO

  EMILY WALKED UP the stairs and down the long dark hallway to the mailroom. She wasn’t a morning person, but her favorite time of day at B & H was in the morning before the building was bustling. The lights were low, or turned off all together. The halls were quiet, and the building felt peaceful. In her three years working there she had not made many friends. Dave, who ran the copy room, was the closest friend she had made. And he wasn’t even very close. The large building was slowly waking up, and eventually the florescent lights would be on throughout the entire building. She walked into the mailroom and put her coffee down on the counter.

  “Starbucks today huh? Fancy,” Dave said with a smirk.

  “I forgot my coffee at home,” Emily said. “I made it. I had it in my hand, then I walked out the door without it.” And I wasn’t going to drink your old plastic bucket coffee that smells like feet, she thought.

  “One of those days I guess,” he said. “At least it’s Friday.”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Hey, can you go get the mail this morning? It hadn’t come yet when I got in and I have to get these orders printed out,” Dave said.

  “Sure thing, boss,” Emily said.

  Dave smiled at her and went back to the printer, walking past piles of binders and papers.

  “What time did you get in this morning?” she asked.

  “Early.” A smile formed below his thick mustache. He always came in early. He had been coming into work early for the last 15 years.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t in earlier to help you with these orders. I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Emily said.

  “It’s okay. I know you’ve been tired. Late nights?” Dave asked.

  “No, actually. I have just…” she hesitated. “I have been having weird dreams.”

  “Hmm,” Dave said. “Sorry to hear that.”

  That was as personal as Dave would let the conversation get, and Emily knew that. That was fine with her. She wouldn’t know what more to say anyway. Emily took a large sip of her coffee and rubbed her forehead. She walked passed the old rolling cabinets and pushed the button to call the elevator up. The elevator arrived, and she pulled the doors open and pushed a plastic cart inside. She grunted as she pulled the doors closed.

  “Another day in paradise,” she said.

  The sun was shining brightly when Emily walked to her car. Work had been as boring as usual, but it went by quickly that day. She was in a fog most of the day, distracted and just going through the motions. A lot of the time she didn’t have to put much thought into her work. Her job mostly consisted of mindless tasks, and on days like today that was a good thing. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. A picture of her mom smiled back at her from the screen.

  She took a deep breath. “Hey Mom.”

  “Hey Em. Are you at work?” Karen asked.

  “I’m off. Walking to my car.” She opened her car door and sat inside, starting the car with her free hand before switching hands and closing the door.

  “Oh good,” Karen said. “I was just calling to check in and see how you were doing. I have been thinking about you a lot lately, and I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m okay Mom. Why have you been worried?” Emily said flatly.

  “I don’t know, Honey. I just get these feelings sometimes. Motherly intuition, you know?” Karen said.

  Emily rolled her eyes. Motherly my ass . She thought to herself. “I’m okay Mom,” she said.

  “Are you really though? I really am worried about you,” Karen said.

  Emily sighed. “I’m just really tired Mom. I haven't been getting any sleep. I keep having these crazy dreams and they wake me up almost every night, and then when I’m awake they distract me all day,” she said.

  “Dreams?” Karen asked. The line went silent for a moment. “What kind of dreams have you been having?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Mom,” she said. “They are just really weird.” She heard her mother start to say something then stop. “What Mom? What were you going to say?” Emily asked. She was losing her patience quickly, like she always did when she spoke to her mother.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Karen said. “I…” She paused as she considered what to say to her daughter. “I was just going to ask more about the dreams. They must be bad if they are keeping you awake so often. Can you tell me anything about them? Maybe I can help somehow.”

  Emily sat in her car and stared at the steering wheel. She pressed her lips together. Maybe I should just tell her, she thought. What can it hurt? I need to talk to someone about it.

  “Okay Mom,” she started. “I’ll tell you. But I can’t even tell you about all of them. There are too many.”

  “Sure,” Karen said. “Whatever you can remember.”

  “Well, I remember all of them. I have been writing them down in a journal for the last few months, but they have been happening longer than that,” Emily said. She pulled out of her parking spot and started driving. “I’m driving now so bear with me. I don’t even know what to say, Mom. I don’t know what you can do to help.”

  “Why don’t you just describe the last dream you had?” Karen said.

  “I was sitting naked in a room. I could hear drumming and I could smell smoke, and I heard chanting outside of the door. And I was waiting for something. I know that I was waiting for something. I know what happens next now that I am awake, because a lot of the dreams seem to fit together like puzzle pieces. And they repeat themselves. But in the dreams, sometimes I have no idea what’s coming next. Does that make sense?” she said.

  “Yeah I suppose,” her mother said. “What comes next?”

  “I should let you go, Mom. I’m sorry.” Emily felt embarrassed and awkward after opening up to her mother. She also felt guilty because she knew her mother was just trying to be there for her somehow. But neither of them knew what they were doing with each other. It had always been awkward like this. And every time Emily tried to push past it and try to get to a new place, she failed and they ended up in the same place they had always been.

  Karen ignored Emily’s suggestion to get off the phone. “You know, Em.” Karen said, “You could look up some information on dreams. Dream interpretations? Have you looked into that?”

  “A little bit. I mean, that’s why I started the journal. To try to make sense of them,” Emily said.

  “Why don’t you read up on dreams and dream interpretations and see what you can find,” Karen said. “Take what you have in your book and see what kind of stuff lines up with it.”

  “Okay Mom. I’ll do that,” Emily said. “I really should go now. Thanks for talking.”

  “Okay honey. I love you,” Karen said, sounding defeated. “I hope you sleep better
tonight.”

  “Yep. Okay, bye,” Emily said and ended the call. She threw the phone in the passenger’s seat. “Have you tried interpreting the dreams?” She repeated her mom, mockingly. She drove and tried to clear her mind. Her mom’s words repeated in her head and Emily realized she actually hadn’t tried interpreting any of her dreams. She meant to. She got the journal and she was doing really well recording all of her dreams for that specific purpose. But she hadn’t actually done anything with it yet.

  “Okay Mom, you win,” she said.

  Emily unlocked her apartment door and saw Eli sitting in the hallway to greet her.

  “There you are. How was your day?” she asked. Eli meowed at her and turned around, perking his tail and rear end up at her cheerfully. She pet him and put her things down. She sat at her desk in the small living room and Eli jumped up on her lap. She unlocked her computer and opened up an internet browser. She googled “dream interpretation” and scanned through the overwhelming amount of results. Feeling frustrated, she sat back in her chair and stared at the glowing computer screen. None of this was going to help. She googled “naked dancing” and was flooded with photos that did not look anything like her dreams.

  “That is NOT what I meant,” she said. And closed the tab. Her dreams had not been pornographic. They were sexy, maybe. But not pornographic. They were exciting. They were emotional. She still couldn’t put words to how they made her feel or why she couldn’t get them out of her head. She went into her bedroom and grabbed her black book from the nightstand. Sitting back at the desk, she opened the book and flipped through the pages, searching for something she could look up. Reading through the pages, she felt the dreams manifesting around her. She didn’t need the book. It was all in her head. She could put the snippets of each dream together and move around in-between them all, like a movie. She could smell the incense, feel the warmth, she could see the candlelit bodies moving around her. The glowing skin and flowing hair. She concentrated and was standing in front of a short square table in the middle of a room. On top of the table there were candles, statues, an ornate cup, a knife, a long wooden stick, a small bell, and two bowls. Underneath it all was a large five pointed star inside a circle carved and burned into the wooden table.