Gothic grove, p.1
Gothic Grove, page 1
GOTHIC GROVE
JA GEORGE
CONTENTS
Title
Warnings
Character Guide
Playlist
Prologue
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
EPILOGUE
Thank You
JA George
Translations
Acknowledgements
Gothic Grove
A dark paranormal romance
By JA George
Copyright @2023 JA George
First Printing: 2023
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial use permitted by copyright law.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Paperback and Ebook Formatting: Mads at Breathless Lit (@breathlesslitpa)
Editing by: Paisley Prophit
Cover Design By: Sam (damnfinesam.com)
WARNINGS
Content Warnings and Triggers Warnings
This is a dark paranormal romance with both MF and MFM with multiple POV’s. If you are at all disturbed or triggered by spice, dark content or the paranormal do not read. For real, turn back now this book isn’t for you. This book contains adult content and is intended for readers 18+. Many of my characters suffer from a variety of mental health issues. Everyone has their own perspectives and experiences with mental health issues, please keep that in mind as you read. Everyone heals from trauma differently, particularly assault. I worked hard to be authentic in how my characters dealt with their traumas and life in general.
General TW/CW: dub-con, torture, kidnapping, possession, family death, house fires, biting (vampires, duh), Voyeurism, restraints, use of magic during spice, edging, dom/sub relationship briefly shown, violence, mild-ish gore, revenge plots, abuse (including physical and emotion), SA (off page and very light on page), drugging for purposes of torture, drug abuse and misuse, alcohol use, self-harming behaviors (cutting), suicidal ideation/attempts (off page attempts referenced), PTSD, trauma triggers w/ flashbacks, anxiety/panic attacks, depression, death of mythical creatures (but I promise everything is okay with them in the end so please don’t DNF it because of that).
If you encounter errors in the book OR have other triggers you feel should be added please reach out to me and not the Zon. Author email: authorjageorge@gmail.com
It is important to note I use some language that is not translated until the very end of the story, this is purposeful.
This is a dark romance if you do not like darkness do not proceed. This is the last warning.
To my husband for always giving me good material.
To my wonderful postpartum doula, Jordan, who allowed me to write this whole series.
To Jenna. I will always have a paperback on my shelf for you. We miss you greatly.
And to my dear sweet Shadow baby, thank you for allowing me to heal with you.
CHARACTER GUIDE
Five Founding Witch Families:
Mori Family (Head witch family):
Arthur Mori the 10th
Katherine Mori
Hansley Mori (eldest; seer)
Reem Mori (middle; glamor)
Astrea Mori (youngest; no magic)
Carmine Family:
Kara Carmine (now Helvig)
Cosark Family:
Andrew Cosark
Mary Cosark
Anita Cosark (eldest; telekinetic)
Justine Cosark (youngest; conjurer)
Fairemore Family
Cordelia Fairemore
Robert Fairemore
Florence Fairemore (eldest; grower)
Annabell Fairemore (yougest; glamor)
Hoar Family:
Marianna Hoar
Francis Hoar
Katlyn Hoar (eldest; water worker)
Feather Hoar (middle; healer)
Patricia Hoar (youngest; conjurer)
Other Families:
Helvig Family:
Alexi Helvig (Lord Vampire)
Kara Helvig (witch)
Ciaran Helvig (son of Kara and Alexi)
Other Characters:
Ava (owner of The Playground)
Poppy: Astrea’s familiar, fox
Shadow (best friends to Ciaran)
Samhain: Ava’s familiar, raven
Drago (dealer of Eufori)
Hellbeast: half bear half wolf creature
PLAYLIST
Blood//Water- Grandson
The Lighthouse- Halsey
Thousand Eyes- Of Monsters and Men
The Devils Backbone- The Civil Wars
The World We Made- Ruelle
You Put a Spell on Me- Austin Gioridino
So Cold- Finger Eleven
No Light, No Light- Florence + The Machine
Lights- Ellie Goulding (Bassnectar Version)
Lilith- Halsey
This Is Me Trying- Taylor Swift
Walk Through The Fire- Zayde Wolf and Ruelle
Revolution- Ruelle
Ease My Pain- Solr and Cece Mix
I’m Seeing Red- Tommee Profit
Revenant- Izzy Reign
Deep End- Ruelle
Snakes- Halflives
Playground- Bae Miller
Purple Lamborgine- Skrillex, Rick Ross
Bad Dream- Ruelle
Seven Devils- Florence + The Machine
Tourniquet- Evanescence
Haunting- Halsey
Cry Me a River- Tommee Profit and Nicole Serreno
Lying From You- Linkin Park
Control- Halsey
Tragic Endings- Eminem feat Skylar Grey
Go To War- Nothing More
Darkside- Neoni
Carry on Wayward Son- Neoni
Machine- Neoni
I’m not a woman, I’m a god- Halsey
Gods and Monsters- Lana Del Rey
Madness- Ruelle
Bones- MR MS
PROLOGUE
Long ago . . .
I feel the bond break, my chest heaving and splintering, the wine glass slipping from my hands. It shatters beneath me. I gasp out, clutching the kitchen counter as lightning flashes and thunder shakes the house violently. Screams of agony rip out of my throat as my knees buckle, dropping me to the old tile floor. Crack. My chest heaves again, taking my breath with it.
No, no, no, no. The mantra plays in my mind. Maybe I’m screaming it, because I can see Agnes’s blurred feet come into view, her long skirts soaking up the wine now staining the tile. She’s saying something, but all I can think is, He’s gone. My mate is gone. My mate is gone.
1 week later. . .
Agnes's lifeless body lies at the base of the alter, and her blood coats my hands as I say the final incantation for the ritual. I use the blood on my fingers to paint runes across my body.The coven was foolish to think killing my mate would weaken me. That I wouldn’t seek retribution from the families. Agnes was the first step, paying a steep price for involvement. They feared me before, but now, I’ll be their reckoning. Now, I’ll be their harbinger of death. A wicked smile spreads over my face as the power slams into me.
3 years later . . .
I whirl around, looking to all the deceivers who have tried to trap me. Their spell can’t hold my power or soul. It can only kill this body. I laugh wickedly. My long black hair hangs down in my face as I crouch low to the ground like the feral animal I have become. Those twin snakes pulse on my skin, aching to be released.
They are all hypocrites, each coveting the power I hold but all saying they are containing me for the greater good. My eyes search out the only one who is not a witch, the vampire. He looks at me with hunger, and I know he’ll serve my purpose just fine when I return.
Arthur Mori comes forward, holding a ceremonial blade, followed by two of the youngest daughters, one of his own coven and one of the Fairmore coven. “We offer these bodies: one to hold the soul, one to hold the power. Neither shall be aware what resides within, passed through the generations. They will be the keepers.”
One by one, the people in the circle begin to chant, and soon, magic swirls around the circle I’m caged in. After a few moments, I can feel it. My soul. My power. Both being tugged in opposite directions. I scream out in pain and rage at their audacity. They believe they can contain me. Believe this will save their futures. My last thought as I’m pulled from my body is, I will burn these covens to the ground someday.
ONE
A witch is only as good as her coven. Power should always be shared in order to ensure the coven's survival. Any witch found to be keeping power to herself that could benefit the whole will be punished to the fullest extent of the law.
– Mori Family grimoire
Astrea
I wake dripping with sweat. My nightmare is still so vivid, I can taste the magic on my tongue. Feel the rage simmering under my skin. Feel the agony of the one I love being ripped from me. The dreams are always a rotation between nightmares that aren’t my own, the death of my family, and my time spent in captivity. It makes sleeping less than enjoyable most nights.
I kick my sweat-drenched covers off my body and pad into the bathroom, where I turn on the shower before stripping off my shorts and T-shirt. I don’t bother looking in the mirror. I don’t need to see the haunted look that has taken up residence in my emerald eyes. Stepping under the cool mist, I let the vision of the nightmare wash away, something my middle sister, Reem, taught me before she was killed. Imagine they are drifting out of you, Astrea. Let the water take them away. The singsong melody of her voice is still clear as day. The thought of her sours my stomach, grief edging in like a sharpened blade.
The intrusive images of their dead bodies in our home invade my brain, and the smell of my parents’ burning flesh comes back in a rush. I lean my head against the shower tiles, shaking, as I try to keep the guilt from eating me alive. Guilt that I couldn’t save them. Guilt that I was, and still am, useless.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth in a poor attempt not to vomit I turn the water off, jump out, and wrap myself in the threadbare towel from the rack. I wring out the excess water from my long, deep-red and blonde hair before pushing it up into a bun. Please don’t puke, please don’t puke. I brace myself over the sink until I feel my stomach settle. When I finally look up, catching my reflection in the mirror, I wince at how sickly pale I am. The dark circles that have sunken under my eyes are a stark contrast. It’s not a good look on me.
Once dressed, I walk to the front door and step out onto the porch, clutching my favorite coffee mug. This time of year, the forest looks desolate. The trees are old skeletons, and when the wind blows through them, you can hear their bones clicking. My sister and I would come here in the summer, when the trees were full of leaves and the grass was lush. The greens were so vibrant, it had to be magic. I would lie in the fields while Hansley reinforced the wards around the property that kept this place invisible. I never asked her why she only took me here, why Reem was never invited. Looking back, Hansley spent a lot of time with me one on one after I turned sixteen. I never thought to ask why.
And now I’ll never know.
Anxiety and regret press at my chest. A heavy weight trying to drag me down. I take a deep breath, the cold air practically freezing my lungs, and know without a doubt that the wards will fail soon. I try to reach for my magic, but I come up empty. It won't be long before I'm exposed to those who might be hunting me. Won’t be long before I’ll need to run again. I make a mental note to check the protection jars. They lie tucked away along the property line, a last measure of defense once the magical ones fail.While my magic is nowhere to be found, at least I can still make those.
Another breath is dragged from my chest as I attempt to control the panic that is hedging it’s way into my thoughts. It's difficult knowing you have magic you can’t access. I can feel it trapped in that hole in my chest. It’s behind that occasional burning that ripples through me, through my heart center, and that deafening silence. I feel as though I have a vast pit of emptiness residing within me, begging to be filled again.
I assumed it would come back once that damn collar that kept my power contained was off. But it's still silent. My hand strokes the light scars left by that collar, an action I barely register doing anymore.
Maybe my mistake was binding myself to him to get the cursed thing off me, but what choice did I have? I needed out. If I had known this is where I would end up, I wouldn't have made the deal. But I was desperate, and he seemed so confident that the bargain would just be a way to get me out of his father’s prison, so I trusted him. And I was a fool to do so.
The cool wind blows through the trees, snow floating down around the cabin like I’m in a snow globe. I move off the old porch, the worn wood pulling on my socks, and back into the warm cabin. Moving to the moth-eaten couch in front of the fireplace, I curl up and slowly continue to sip, staring into the flames and praying they’ll provide some answers . . . they don't. My older sister, Hansley, was the seer in the family, strongest in a generation, yet even she hadn't seen it coming. Or maybe it was my family assuming they were untouchable, like so many of the families during that time. Only one was truly untouchable, and they decimated the rest of us. When I fled captivity, I was the last of the founding families still alive. One by one, the daughters they had kept died in the experiments they were doing on us, searching for an ancient power. I only escaped because I made a deal with the devil.
My brain involuntarily flashes to Ciaran Helvig, the devil himself, and my body shivers with both fear and need. The Helvig family took everything from me, but it hasn't escaped me that I'm alive because of him. I let out a long breath, the familiar panic trying to crawl up my chest as I think back to my life before this. Before my soul was sold off to him.
For centuries, we had been at war with the vampire community, and had formed an uneasy peace only after far too many casualties on both sides: the Helvig’s and our own founding families decided joining would be ideal. And so, a witch was married to Alexi Helvig, with the guarantee that his vampires would be able to feed and the promise that they wouldn’t kill any of our own by overfeeding. It was a pathetic deal, and we should have known the piper would eventually come calling and it would all come crashing down. One by one, they stole us, torturing the daughters and slaughtering the rest.
As I set my mug down, wisps of hair escape the bun atop my head, falling in front of my face. I hastily shove them back up and tuck them into the elastic, as though pushing the hair out of my face will push the memories away, but the red and blonde locks only dredge up other memories.
Something of an oddity even in our culture, my hair is a perfect split of my two sisters’, Hansley with her deep burgundy and Reem with her white hair. While both my sisters were tall and willowy, I used to be soft and curvy, much to my mother’s dismay. “If you only looked more like your sisters, Astrea, we could find you a suitable match that wouldn’t care that you have no magical potential,” she would say in her high-pitched, nasally voice. Since my time in that prison, however, I can’t seem to keep weight on. You must be so happy, Mother, to see your daughter wasting away. Okay, that was dramatic, but compared to my previous body, I feel like I have been shrinking. I have done everything to get my figure back, but my appetite just isn’t there. No matter how many hours a day I run or train, I’m very rarely hungry.
"Poppy," I call out into my house as I get up. I move into the small kitchen, if you can call it that, and open up the yellowing fridge. Pulling out some cold chicken, I hear the chittering of the tiny fox before she comes into view.
"Hello, beautiful girl," I coo and bend down to scratch her soft red fur before putting the chicken on a plate for her. Her fur sends a jolt of comfort through me, a sense of calm that pushes against the memories of the past that are threatening to drown me right now. That always seem to want to drag me under.
