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  Darkest Night

  Book of Shadows 4

  Lacey Weatherford

  Darkest Night

  Book of Shadows Series

  Book Four

  Copyright 2019 Lacey Weatherford

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Published by Moonstruck Media, LLC.

  Edited by Weathergirls Editing and Proofreading

  Smashwords Edition

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is available in both print and ebook formats.

  Untitled

  He's the bad boy partier with a really BIG secret. She's the talented girl with BIG dreams for the future. Neither of them wants a relationship. But sometimes fate has a different plan.

  Full of teen angst, love, humor, drama, jealousy, drug dealers, even a murder . . . a lot more is going on in the halls of this high school than meets the eye.

  * * *

  The Crush series is a #1 International and USA Today bestseller, published in multiple languages. Join our mailing list to get your FREE copies of the first two books in the series today!

  Author’s Note

  Book of Shadows is a companion series to the #1 Bestselling Paranormal series, Of Witches and Warlocks series. It's the same storyline of events but told from the main character perspective, and reader favorite character nominee, Vance Mangum. While this follows the same line of events in the previous series, there will also be unique new chapters, scenes, situations, and dialogue, that the reader hasn't seen in Of Witches and Warlocks, making both series a distinctive and exciting look into this magical world. You can continue the Of Witches and Warlocks and Book of Shadows storyline in the sequel series, Of Witches and Demons, book one, Craft. Both Of Witches and Warlocks and Book of Shadows can stand completely on their own. You do not have to be familiar with one to read the other.

  To all those who’ve fought their own personal darkness to try and find the light.

  Never Give Up!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  ###

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  About the Author

  Books by Lacey Weatherford

  1

  “What do you mean, who am I?”

  I stared into the unfamiliar face of the indignant girl standing before me, trying desperately to remember if I should know her. The fact that I couldn’t place her wasn’t the only disturbing thing going on here. I couldn’t seem to remember anyone, my life coming up as basically an empty slate. What the hell was happening?

  “Who are you?” I asked, continuing to hold her at arm’s length as I studied her.

  “I'm your wife!” she said, clearly shocked, but no more than I was.

  “You're . . . what?” I released her and stepped back into the shadows, wondering what kind of crazy game she was at. I didn’t have a wife. At least I didn’t think I did. What the hell was going on?

  “Vance, what's going on?” the girl said, her words almost mirroring my own. She gestured to the grave we stood by and then back to me, but my attention was focused on what she’d called me.

  “Vance? Is that my name?” It couldn’t be mine. I didn’t recognize it, but if it wasn’t my name, what was? I couldn’t remember what I was called. Panic welled inside me.

  “You honestly don't remember anything?” She stepped closer, staring into my eyes curiously. “What's the last memory you have?”

  Well, that was an easy answer at least, the list of my memories was short. “I woke up, and it was dark. I felt like I couldn't breathe because the air was so thin. Feeling around, I realized I was in a casket and needed to get out. I pushed hard against the lid, but it didn't budge.” I lifted my hands and stared at them, remembering what happened next. “It seems weird now. Somehow, I managed to heat up the surface, and it melted. Dirt started falling in on me, and I thought I was going to suffocate. I started clawing my way through it until I reached the top and was able to climb out. Then I saw you.” I sounded like a total idiot. That couldn’t have been what happened, could it? Ironically, the girl before me didn’t seem fazed by the strangeness of my description.

  “So, you don't remember anything about your life prior to your death?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  I shook my head, wanting more answers. “I was dead? You're sure?” Was it normal for people to suddenly come back to life? I didn’t think so, but then again, what did I know? Swallowing thickly, I glanced to the grave I’d recently occupied. “It doesn't make sense. I mean, I know how to speak and what things are. I just don't know who I am.”

  She just stood there, staring at me like she didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say either. It was obvious something was off, but I was useless to make sense of it.

  “Do you think you can trust me? I know some things about you which might help you out.”

  Glancing around the cemetery, there was no one else in sight. It wasn’t like I had a whole lot of choices. “Well, you're the only one here, so I suppose I can give you a shot.”

  She placed her hand over her heart. “My name is Portia Mangum.” She paused, like that was supposed to mean something to me, but it didn’t. “Yours is Vance Mangum. The two of us were married about seven months ago.”

  My gaze traveled over her, skeptically. She was gorgeous, but she hardly seemed old enough to be married. “You seem awfully young for that.” Again, I wondered if this was some kind of prank gone horribly wrong.

  “I am,” she replied. “I'll be seventeen next month.”

  “How old am I?” It was such a stupid sounding question, but I really had no idea.

  “You turned nineteen in April.”

  Nineteen. And we were married? Shit! Did I get her pregnant? “Why would we get married so young?” I asked, my eyes going straight to her stomach, but the clothes she was wearing were much too large for her. I couldn’t tell if she was hiding a baby bump. That would be just my luck, knocking some chick up and not even being able to remember having sex.

  “Well, that's where the story gets more complicated,” she continued.

  “Just tell it to me straight. I don't need you to sugar coat things for me.” I wanted to get to the bottom of this mess.

  “All right. You remember how
you told me you melted the lid off the casket?” she asked, and I nodded. “Well, you're magical. Actually, you're a warlock, and I'm a witch.”

  Great, I’m alone in a graveyard with a chick who’s bat shit crazy. “You're joking, right?” This girl was in need of a straitjacket. Of course, I did just tell her my hands turned red and I melted a casket, so maybe we both needed a padded cell.

  “I'm not, and I'll prove it to you.” She stepped closer, and I could feel the warmth of her body. She really was beautiful. I could see why I might have been attracted to her. “May I touch your hand?” She held her hand out in the small space between us.

  Reluctantly, I laid my dirt streaked hand on top of hers, almost jerking at the spark that shot up my arm at the contact. It was all I could do to keep my features schooled in a calm expression. For some reason, I didn’t want her to know my reaction to her.

  She wrapped both of her hands around mine, forcing my fingers closed, so I was making a fist. “Okay, I need you to concentrate,” she instructed. “Take a moment and listen to all the emotions you've got running through your body right now and try to center them together. When you feel like you have control over them, start to focus those energies into your palm, while you're thinking of the word fire. Whenever you're ready, open your hand.”

  Holding my tongue, I wanted to argue with her. I felt idiotic standing here with her, listening to her tell me how to call on some secret magic power I held, but the easiest way to disprove what she was saying was to diligently try to do what she was asking. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused my energies into the center of my palm, thinking of fire. A strange rushing sensation filled me as I flung my fingers open and incredible whoosh of flame erupted from me.

  I vaguely noticed when the girl fell to the ground, but I was too mesmerized by the towering inferno I was creating.

  Ho. Ly. Shit!

  I couldn’t help smiling. This was so effin’ cool! I thought of more fire, and flames burst forward even harder, and while the heat of it was incredible, it didn’t seem to bother me at all. It wasn’t painful or overwhelming, it was simply part of me.

  I tried bouncing the flame back and forth between my palms and was surprised how easily it responded. I could even shoot fire from both of my hands at the same time. I tried letting it run up my arms, and it did so, not even burning the suit I was wearing.

  Weird.

  Okay, so this chick wasn’t lying to me about this. Damn, I’d completely forgotten about her. Instantly, I extinguished the flames, throwing everything into darkness. I searched for her, but all I could see was spots from staring into the intense ball of fire. I needed light.

  Holding a finger up, I thought of a tiny flame, and a single one burst into existence like I’d lit a candle wick. I held the light out between us so I could see where she rested on the ground. “I believe you,” I said, watching the flame dance at the end of my digit. This was so surreal. “Was I always this way?”

  Shaking her head, she got up. “Not at this level of expertise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you've always been powerful,” she said, staring at the flame. “But right before you died, you received a special power called The Awakening. Apparently, it's strengthened your powers far beyond what they were previously.”

  I had no idea what that meant. “So, what's this Awakening thing and why'd I get it?”

  She sighed heavily. I wondered if all my questions were irritating her. “Well, it's hard for me to tell you without starting from the beginning. Suffice it to say, it's a paranormal gift that you and I are both the recipients of. It's responsible for the significant strengthening of our powers, as well as making us immortal.”

  “Immortal? As in, neither of us can die?” This story kept getting crazier as she went on.

  “Basically, that's the case, at least not for several hundred years anyway if you take the prophecy at face value. We haven't exactly had time to test things out.”

  “But didn't you just say I was dead?” I had been in a grave, after all. Of course, I was now out of that plot and standing before her, so her comment could make sense.

  “Yes. You were near death when you received The Awakening. I'm guessing after your body died The Awakening kept working to restore you—bringing you to immortal status. It apparently took a while to happen.”

  I pondered her words, sort of getting what she was saying. “Okay. I kind of get that. What I don't understand is how any of this stuff explains the marriage thing.”

  She seemed exasperated at this, and I wondered if she felt as awkward as I did with this discussion. “We were going on a trip to search for your missing mother, Krista Mangum.” Once more, she paused, like that name might mean something to me. Again, nothing. “My parents didn't want us to go away together for that long, being in a situation where we might be tempted to do things we shouldn't.”

  “So, they had us get married?” Seriously, her parents made me marry her just so we wouldn’t have premarital sex? That seemed extreme.

  “Well, we were actually already engaged and planning on getting married in September. It was a matter of moving up the date a few months.”

  We’d been engaged? But not having sex? “So, you're saying we'd never been intimate before then?”

  “No, we hadn't. And that was your idea, not mine.”

  “My idea?” I snorted, allowing my eyes to travel over her. Had I been living the life of a priest before this? She might be wearing baggy clothes, but I was pretty sure I would’ve been all over banging that body. “Now that is hard for me to believe.”

  She blushed hard enough that I could see it in the dim light. It was pretty damn hot. “Well, it's true.” Attempting to turn away from me, I reached out to stop her. I wanted to stare at her. Another spark shot through me at our contact.

  “And what about after this so-called marriage?” I asked, staring into her eyes. I needed more information.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” I replied. I wasn’t going to let her off that easy. “What was this physical relationship like after the marriage?”

  She moved closer, our bodies almost touching as she stared into my face, challenging me.

  “It was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced in my life.”

  Hot. Damn. It was nuts the things she was making me feel. I wasn’t sure I liked it. Stepping backward, I broke the intimate contact. “I'm not that person anymore.”

  “Yes, you are. You just don't remember.”

  Shit. She was gonna start crying. I didn’t want to feel responsible for her emotions, and anger at this absurd situation rose to the surface. It was idiotic to allow myself to be manipulated by a stranger. “Look—Portia, was it? I don't know you or your life, and I certainly don't care about it. Why should I? For all I know you could be some stupid girl out to take advantage of the situation, trying to fulfill some strange fantasy. What proof do you have that any of this is true?”

  “How about this?” Portia—if that was really her name—shoved her hand into my face and there was no missing the rock she wore on her finger. “If you check your hand, you'll see the mate to this set. If that isn't enough proof, then feel free to take it off and have a good look at where our names are inscribed together on the inside. And the tuxedo you're wearing? You wore it to our wedding. I have the pictures to prove it if you would care to see them.”

  I glanced at my hand, noticing the ring there for the first time. I slid it off, and using a flame, I checked for the words she said were written inside. Yep, there they were, plain as day. “Vance and Portia forever, huh?”

  “That's right,” she huffed, clearly upset with me for not believing her.

  “Well, apparently forever didn't last very long for you, did it?” It was a harsh thing to say, but I couldn’t wrap my head around any of this. I was tempted to chuck the ring into the trees, but couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I slipped it back on.


  Tears were flowing like a river down her face now. “You know what? You're right. You aren't my Vance. My Vance would never be so intentionally cruel.” She turned on her heel and started striding away.

  Wait. Where the hell was she going? Did she intend to just leave me here? I literally had nowhere else to go. I ran after her. “Listen, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on and I'm confused. I'm baiting you with my irritation.” I was being an ass to her, when she was clearly hurting. She didn’t reply, though. She just kept walking. “Hey. Are you deaf? I said I was sorry if I offended you.”

  Stopping, she spun to face me. “Sorry if you offended me? Really? Let me shed some light on the subject for you, Vance. I just spent the last few days watching my husband, who I love more than anything in this world, get murdered in front of me! Then, afterward, I held his dead body in my lap while we drove back to where we were staying. I got to sit with those remains while they were shipped back from Scotland on an airplane where I had tortured dreams of how he was calling to me for help. After that, I planned his funeral and watched him get buried under a mound of dirt. Being parted that way was excruciating! Even in death, I couldn't stand to be away, so I came here tonight and found you standing at the foot of his grave.” She stabbed her finger into my chest painfully. “Think what you want, but you are him! I've already been through hell because of you, and I don't need you or your pompous attitude to add to it!”