Sekhet Read online

  The Sekhet Saga, Book One

  SEKHET

  by

  K.K Weakley

  A Wild Wolf Publication

  Published by Wild Wolf Publishing in 2020

  Copyright © 2020 K. K Weakley

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales, or any other entity, is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  www.wildwolfpublishing.com

  COVER ART Photo by Nathaniel Weakley;

  Fingers courtesy of MADE BY PHOTO LAB

  Dedication

  To my Godfather, Uncle Danny

  With thanks to Jan and Barbara at Black Hawk Literary Agency. You saw the big picture!

  You have witchcraft in your lips.

  William Shakespeare, Henry V, Act 5, Scene 2

  Main Characters

  SekhetHell Demon

  Molly Patterson Black Witch

  Lucy PattersonWhite Witch; Molly’s Mother

  Dot PattersonWhite Witch; Molly’s Grandmother

  [Head of the Witches’ Council]

  Victor WrightSeattle Homicide Detective

  Joe SavageVictor’s Homicide Partner

  Chief BudrowChief of Police of Twisp

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1 Left Hand Path

  CHAPTER 2 Fingers in the Holy Water

  CHAPTER 3 Whispered Conversations

  CHAPTER 4 Costly Mistakes

  CHAPTER 5 Resolution

  CHAPTER 6 Silver Café

  CHAPTER 7 Smartly Dressed Lawyers

  CHAPTER 8 Secrecy

  CHAPTER 9 Not Interested

  CHAPTER 10 Collateral Damage

  CHAPTER 11 Sekhet

  CHAPTER 12 A Seer in Hiding

  CHAPTER 13 Allies or Enemies

  CHAPTER 14 A Gift amongst Friends

  CHAPTER 15 Voices in My Head

  CHAPTER 16 To Catch a Rat

  CHAPTER 17 An Interesting Character

  CHAPTER 18 Choice of the Heart

  CHAPTER 19 Shattered

  CHAPTER 20 Chief Budrow

  CHAPTER 21 A Woman Scorned

  CHAPTER 22 Loose Ends

  CHAPTER 23 You were Beautiful Once

  CHAPTER 24 Return to Hell

  CHAPTER 25 Turning Point

  CHAPTER 26 Done Deal

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Left Hand Path

  Sekhet, one of Lucifer’s most loyal servants and one Lilith loathed with a vengeance, was outraged at being summoned by an unappealing, plain-featured mortal barely past childhood.

  Sekhet’s dark skin glowed under a head of blond ringlets, while her long black wings, striped with blood, were expanding out around her. Her voice boomed in echoed vibrations, rattling Molly’s insides. Sekhet towered over the trembling teenager. Domineeringly powerful.

  Blinded from all sense, Molly, experimenting in the church, had unknowingly pushed her own powers to exceed all limitations, regardless of consequence. Her driving desire, just coming into her darker side, was to establish a close and strong relationship with a demon who was willing to work with her, guide her along the Left-Hand Path.

  The intensity she felt in Sekhet’s fearsome presence was rapidly branching out into electrifying numbness, leaving Molly with a feeling of coexisting completely engulfed by the demon’s aura.

  Molly, the only grandchild of Dot Patterson, Head of the Witches’ Council, the Sisterhood in the Pacific Northwest – much to the horror of Dot and every witch within the Five State radius – had set her sights on developing her talents in Left Handed Magic, prohibited in the Glossary of Traditional Witchcraft, from which the Coven trained and educated their new coming-of-age, undeveloped witches. But Molly had never imagined this!

  What had happened was that Molly had performed the ritual textbook actuate, and drawn the sigil of Sekhet carefully; she had made sure no one was going to disturb her, then closed her eyes and said the prayer, loud and confident. Though expecting something, anything to prove she had succeeded, to come through the smoke of her burning incense, or for an energy to touch her, she had never expected Sekhet to show herself, demanding to know why Molly assumed herself worthy of such an audience.

  Tripping over her words, Molly apologized for her hastiness, begging Sekhet for forgiveness. Sekhet laughed hideously at Molly’s downfall, roaring that a mortal being should not have been blessed with such skill.

  For Sekhet, as Molly was well aware, blood spurting from her victims’ veins was a joyous thing. To tear into flesh, to scream, to destroy. Molly all but fainted when she heard Sekhet’s request – to provide Sekhet with a body, a living, breathing human, in her place.

  Molly, all alone with the demon, had no other choice; to save herself, she had to agree.

  CHAPTER 2

  Fingers in the Holy Water

  The church reeked of long-standing forgotten candles, burnt to their wicks. The residual wax coated the base of the statue’s heavy solidness. Toes peeked out from underneath a material of stone cloaks, swathing the figure that was looking down.

  Always with one hand upon His bleeding heart and one out toward nothing. Stone carved into a face neither sad nor content; one that seemed, in that particular moment to Frankie to be one of judgment.

  Tearing his eyes away from the face he had known as Jesus, the Savior, the leader of the church he had walked into every Sunday since childhood, Frankie Davis, big-shot Marketing Director for none other than Pike Industries, stood in the stained-glass splendor, demanding answers. Right now, all Frankie wanted was to curse Him – He had done this. It was His fault, not Frankie’s.

  Changing his mind about screaming his animosity and drawing unwelcomed attention,

  Frankie settled on lighting a candle at the foot of the statue. Hands shaking, fighting to get back in control of his emotions, he slowly drifted toward the last pew in the back row.

  Frankie sat quietly, eyes closed, but as tears began to sting his eyes and wet his cheeks, he threw his head back, toward the decorated ceiling, and called her name between sobs.

  Memories of long-ago images of the funerals she had sung for in this church came to him in waves of hurt and bitterness. The tears of loved ones looking for the same answer to the same question: Why? On any other day, the fact that the acoustics were so powerful would have impressed him, but today, it was different. It irritated him to hear himself cry, but to hear it being echoed with such depth and potency more than doubled the disturbing quality of the noise.

  Taking a breath, Frankie commanding himself to get a grip. This had started months ago, but today was a bad day, one of the worst yet, and being in here was not helping. Again, he wanted to march up to the statue that stood with His hands forever in that same position, point his finger at Him, and tell Him what he really thought of this so-called life-plan He had for him.

  Nodding his head in determination, wiping the tears from his face with trembling hands, Frankie pointed his finger in the statue’s direction, which could, if it were to tumble from its height, kill him, or at least break a few bones.


  He glared up at the statue’s frozen expression, and yelled, “You had better come up with something worse than this to beat me. Lily would expect more!” Lily, the woman who was to be his lifelong companion, his one true love, the woman he would grow old with, would die with.

  Frankie tried to deny those horrifying images – the terrible lurking memory of her almost dead body, lying motionless. He was in a horrible, morbid mood today – even the walls within the church appeared to closing in around him, screaming their disgust.

  Frankie turned on his heel and stomped through the heavy wooden side door and out into the entrance area. Of course, he did not exit before splashing two fingers into the holy water font and blessing himself. To tell Jesus what he really thought was one thing, but to ignore the holy water font was another.

  CHAPTER 3

  Whispered Conversations

  What were they doing here? What were they looking for? Lily Davis watched them from a distance, following a last-minute decision not to advance any closer, just in case they might see her. Well, not so much them – it was him in particular she was focused on – Victor Wright, the one with the orange glow, the hum that sent chills down her spine, if that could still happen to her, considering the position she now found herself in.

  She was tracking Victor, a Seattle detective, the savior whose name she had heard whispered from beyond the grave. He could release her, so they insisted, but how could he? He looked too young, barely out of his teens. And he was stubborn, foolish and arrogant, so the stagnant spirits trapped between worlds had told her. Lily was determined to make him hear her, to get him to set her free from the nightmare of semi-existence that had now become her eternity.

  All the way from Seattle, she had followed them. Now, she found herself within the passes of Snow Lake. Off the beaten track of what the locals called Snoqualmie Pass, Snow Lake was – to those who enjoyed sweating – a great, six-plus-mile jaunt of gradual elevation and descent, into one of the most picturesque lakes within the Alpine Lake Wilderness. It was definitely not a place she had ever wished to go, since she loathed the cold. It carved into her bones, with them protesting the whole time. Well, it had, anyway, before her…accident.

  Could she call what had happened to her an accident? Accident meant an unexpected and undesirable event. An unforeseen incident. For Lily, it had definitely been unforeseen, but why? She wasn’t sure. That’s what she had to know. She could recall being dragged behind a couch. She had fought tooth and nail, screaming for help.

  By now, Lily had come to the realization that, whatever was happening, this was not going to end any time soon. She was alone. She felt nothing but confusion. Confusion about what she was meant to be doing, and confusion as to why things had halted as they had. She should have passed over by now.

  Instead, she was walking into the bright light of sun reflected off snow. Now, the cold she had always so dreaded meant nothing to her.

  Her blood-streaked face, the bullet hole in the middle of her chest, ruining, to her utter disgust, her favorite blouse; the blouse she had waited in line for an hour to purchase during the mid-winter sales. It was now in tatters, and that was not even mentioning the pencil skirt that looked like it had been ripped and dragged up over her hips, displaying milk-white thighs, darkened by bruises.

  Lily focused on holding back just enough, keeping her distance from Victor and the two people he was with, so that they would not detect her. Molly and Joe – so Lily knew they were called, from hearing these names float through the air on numerous occasions during the passing hours – were Victor’s companions. To Lily, Joe looked more like he was the one who could help her – older, tougher, more sure of himself. Maybe she had the names wrong; maybe Joe was the one she was supposed to approach.

  She followed silently as the three of them walked. Victor had, on occasion, spun around swiftly, as if sensing Lily’s presence, but he waved off Molly and Joe, when they questioned him, asking, “What’s your problem?”

  The sound of cracking ice, crunching beneath their feet, in great contrast to its fluffy, light appearance, bounced off the rock walls. For Lily, who had never taken to the outdoors even on occasion, it was a strange sensation to watch Victor and his friends sweat while tramping through such icy surroundings. For her, it was surprising to see snow on the ground when the early April sun burned hot overhead. The remnants of winter had yet to give up the fight, to release the icy fingers which dug so deeply into the crevasses. They would at some stage melt, giving the waiting rivers the boost they needed before salmon season would begin. On bare patches, back soil, displaying itself in dark splotches, disrupted the white backdrop, proving life was continuing.

  All this left Lily contemplating whether she would even have to worry about snowfall again. Surely, it would just flitter through her, as if she were nothing at all. Winter had been nothing but an inconvenience for Lily, trying to get to work on time, or just getting out her front door without breaking a leg. Today, the snow and ice brought her the utmost serenity. She could sense things she hadn’t been able to, before…the accident. About that, she couldn’t quite remember what had happened to her.

  Now, she couldn’t help but noticing Victor’s and Joe’s attention to the young woman accompanying them. Wearing yoga warm-ups, a pink hoodie she had taken off and tied around her waist, and a white tank top – clothing that fully displayed all her assets – Molly was allowing herself to bask in the sun overhead. Chilled just enough, with sunburnt shoulders. The perfect combination.

  Molly was beautiful in her own way – dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, glowing skin, a warming smile that appeared to always make its way to her eyes (from this distance, Lily couldn’t tell what color they were), and a laugh, which was, under the circumstances even for Lily, contagious. If Lily had been in the mood to laugh. Which she wasn’t.

  Lily picked up on that fact that Joe, Victor’s partner, the man who had his back day and night, was there for one reason and one reason alone – Molly. Understanding that Joe had feelings for Molly, the fact he had not moved in for the kill – so to speak – was puzzling to Lily.

  Victor, tramping along in his own world, was thinking about Molly, too. Even though he had already made a name for himself as someone who could solve crimes with astounding accuracy and speed – an unheard of accomplishment for someone who had only been in the department less than three years – Victor was glad Joe’s interest in Molly had never materialized into anything more than kidding around. Why he was glad, Victor didn’t quite understand, because he and Molly were practically sister and brother. Victor was secretly jealous of Molly. Her abilities were so unlike his own; intense, deadly gifts, which left him feeling insecure, in more ways than one. Clearing his head with a shake, Victor laughed at himself, his enjoyment of escaping the city flashing across his face.

  Joe, too, was lost in his own thoughts about Molly, quite different from Victor’s.

  Suddenly, not far away, a woman’s scream echoed eerily, making Lily cringe at the image that flooded her mind: a wall of snow crushing them, the beauty morphed into an avalanche brought on by this careless woman. A mountain of snow it was not. It was a wall of granite, comprised of boulders layered with snow.

  “Run!” Molly shouted, panicking that the scream had come from a cougar.

  Joe laughed, declaring that a cougar would be miles from people, not to mention it would never just explode out into an open area and attack with no reason. Lily was relieved to hear this, but in her state, surely she could be in no danger. A cougar would probably run from her!

  Up until now, there had been clear paths, with no chance of slipping or stumbling. Now, the ground was littered with rocks, which seemed to move on their own accord. Lily gritted her teeth. Why hadn’t she mastered the art of just floating? She had assumed it would be a benefit of coexisting, or more specifically, of being dead.

  To Lily, it should have seemed like an absolutely implausible idea to hike in such circumstances, but to
her amazement, it was genius. It was fun. Lily cursed herself for never doing this while she still in the land of the living. Lily’s career had come first, as did most women’s in her field, leaving fun to come a low fourth or fifth, or never, when climbing the steps to success.

  Out of Lily’s sight up ahead, the trio took the next switchback. Lily could hear their labored breaths as they were hauling themselves along, lengthening their strides just enough to ensure stability. Coming around a bend, Lily caught sight of Molly looking out over the mountain.

  “How much farther?” Molly asked, the growing need for coffee increasing at an alarming rate in her veins. Every step was turning into digging, kicking, and tugging herself sideways to avoid trees whose roots had minds of their own, taking all the room they needed.

  “The cabin’s right over the peak, down in the valley,” Joe answered, clearly enjoying every minute.

  Victor was more than holding his own. Molly wondered if Victor had informed his partner of his abilities. Or hers. When the three were together, conversations had never ventured into the realm of incantations, curses, or dead people, so she assumed Joe had never witnessed Victor perform a séance. Or if he had, he had chosen to remain quiet about it.

  Molly was enjoying Joe’s company. She had known of him since Victor had joined the force, but they had never spent any time together. He seemed to be intelligent. And open-minded to the world and its messed-up realities. And he seemed interested in her. Of course, that may not have remained the case, if he learned of her ability to draw demons from Hell. It had only happened once, and the memory of it made her cringe.