Crimson Bite (Hillcrest Supernaturals Book 1)

by Ben Alderson

  Hands over ears, I scream as the air around me targets anything supernatural. The noise is so loud I'm sure my head will burst. Steady streams of blood cascade down the curves of my frame as my skin is torn open over and over again. My full meal last night has amplified my healing powers, but this only means I am torn open, healed, and then slashed once again.

  And I cannot stop it, because I’ll never hurt George. If I must, I’ll withstand the strength of his fury until my final moments. If this were any other witch, I could easily snap his neck with a flick of my wrist—that is, if I were within reaching distance.

  Suddenly, the pain stops. With his release of the elements, the world seems to fall silent. No longer are my senses pelted with his power. Slowly, the soft whimpers of crying humans echo in my head. But their pleas fall mute on my ears, for my fangs are deafening.

  Blood.

  It’s everywhere.

  My nose twitches in response. My throat is dry, my lips chapped. I’m weakening as what little energy I have left finishes healing wounds inflicted only moments ago. My reactions are involuntary now. The hunger is all around me, enveloping, encompassing, and I cannot stop myself.

  I open my eyes and see a red sea slowly creeping toward me. I bend down and swipe my tongue along the crimson blades of grass. I moan as I swallow it down. I crawl to the nearest body, and in a final attempt to save her life, the dying human screams. I jerk back, falling on my bottom.

  I glance around. Patches of moonlight shine on dismembered humans and the beasts feeding on them. I shake away the hunger, disgusted that I nearly fed. What if George saw me?

  Gasping, I think, George.

  I drop my arms to my sides and dig my fingers into the ground, pulling up fistfulls of grass as I stand. Wobbly at first, I regain my composure and find George. No closer to me than before, he's staring out into the distance. I feel only slightly guilty when a wave of relief washes over me, knowing he didn’t see me in my weaker moment.

  Just beyond him is the edge of the cliff, where jagged rocks meet the waves of Raven Cry Lake. What is he doing?

  “George?” I say far too quietly.

  Something catches my eye. Distracted, he doesn't see the wolf charging him.

  I scream his name, but he doesn't respond. Slamming my feet against the ground, I put all of my waning energy into strengthening my legs. I watch as the wolf dashes toward him at speeds too fast for human eyes. As it pounces, drool spilling from its open snout, I leap, nearly spinning in the air until I crash into the wolf’s torso. Thickly muscled yet supremely soft, I wrap my arms around the beast and squeeze, flinging it through the air until it smacks against the bass of a nearby tree.

  I embrace George and squeeze him tightly. "Are you okay?"

  He nods against me and quickly pulls away. His eyes are glossy, pained, and I know there's something he's not telling me. He runs a finger along the curve of my cheek. I glance down. My blood is dripping down his hand.

  "The magic..." I wipe away what remains and insist I'm okay. His magic targeted all supernaturals, and unfortunately, that included me.

  Shaking his head, he stumbles over his words of apology. I didn't want him to see what his magic had done to me. I didn’t want him to know if he didn't release me when he did, I may not have survived.

  A scream erupts from the other side of the field. Echoing through the air, it vibrates off my skin, shaking to my core.

  I know that voice. I've heard it before. In her memory.

  I turn on my heel, facing the aftermath of the full moon's destruction. My eyes adjust to the distance, and I watch as the human boy battles a werewolf. I stand in awe as he strikes the beast with a broken tree limb. He may have outsmarted the wolf, but this is a battle he cannot win.

  “I have to help him,” I say. I turn back to receive a sharp nod from George. In the silence between us, I know he’ll be okay, and I know he’ll use his magic to protect me as I reach the human. I know he doesn’t understand why this human is important to me, but I can’t let him die. Not while her memories, her love, are flooding my veins.

  I run toward the boy, her boy, and watch as the werewolves charging me are flung away. Even though I don’t watch him, I know George is using his magic to target those threatening me. I’m grateful and almost confident I’ll be able to actually save the human.

  Within seconds, I reach the human and offer a silent thank you to George. Cornered by three wolves, with more likely coming, he doesn't even notice me. I yank one back by the scruff, and the wolf slides across the field, the ground burrowing in its wake. I backhand the second, sending him catapulting through the air until it slams into a group of wolves that are feasting on the remains of several victims.

  I turn back to find the human pinned down by the wolf. Without thinking, I reach for it and slam my forehead into the back of its head. Unconscious, it falls to a slump. He’ll wake up with a nasty headache, but at least he’ll wake up. He can thank the treaty for that.

  As the boy shimmies out from beneath the slumbering wolf, I panic. How am I going to explain my survival? How am I going to explain these beasts? If I break the treaty’s number one rule—don’t expose magic to humans—I’ll be sentenced to death. Humans are good at rationalizing what they see. If he doesn’t see me, he’ll convince himself these were real wolves on the prowl, not shapeshifters under the full moon’s sway. Without options, I dash toward George and grab his hand. In a flash, we’re hidden behind the base of Old Oak.

  “There are more!” George is frantic, desperate to save the remaining humans.

  “We can’t do anything for them,” I say. George may not like it, but we can’t let them see us. If any were to survive, they’d know our faces. How would we explain this to the council and not look guilty? Fraternizing with humans may not be against the rules, but it’s certainly frowned upon.

  “But we have to!” George argues.

  “They’re already gone,” I whisper.

  George is a powerful witch, but his senses are no match for mine. What he sees are humans screaming, begging for help. What I hear are the slowing beats of each dying heart. They’re lost. All save for one. I watch as the sole human I saved runs, abandoning his friends. Maybe he sees what I see: death. Lost causes. Even if they were to survive the blood loss, they’d transition—bitten by werewolves and forced to join the seclusion of Bane’s Forest. Only the wolves can help them now.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t leave them…”

  We don’t speak. Hours pass as we wait, listening to the wolves clean up their mess in sloppy smacks that make my stomach twist. We listen as bones break until the sun begins to rise and the wolves retreat to their dens.

  Stepping out of the shadows, we walk toward the cliff. Though the ground is stained in blood, the bodies of those sacrificed are hidden in the bellies of the beasts.

  George faces the lake and calls upon his magic. Pulling water from Raven Cry, he washes away any evidence of a crime. The water cascades over the earth until it returns back to the lake, a red tide of truth familiar to no one but us.

  “The good news?” I say.

  “Oh, I dare you,” George responds.

  “At least we didn’t kill any wolves. We don’t have to worry. The council will never know.”

  “Savi,” George says, his voice low, soft. I follow his gaze down the side of the cliff, where the water crashes against rock, and gasp as I take in the corpse of a lone wolf.

  George

  Savi slams the door behind us. The entire house seems to shake. Dust floats down from the high vaulted ceilings, covering us like a fresh layering of winter snow. The ancient-looking foyer dwarfs me with its dark wood floor and towering walls. I’ve always admired Savi’s home and the way it makes me feel like I’ve just walked onto the set of an old film.

  The hallway is dark and ominous. Not a single light is on in any of the many rooms on the first floor. The parlor is
empty. I can hardly see into the adjacent sitting room.

  Savi looks to the shadows as if something will come rushing out, but then turns to me and points to the stairs.

  “Meet me in my—”

  “Savi!” a deep voice calls from the landing. “Is that you?”

  “Who else would it be?” she calls back.

  Savi spares me a look, eyes wide and finger to lips as she pushes me into the shadow of the staircase.

  “I got back later than planned,” she continues.

  The rest of her apology drowns out.

  Chad.

  My heart picks up, enough that I am sure he can sense it. He used to comment on my racing heart, but that was when we spoke. It’s been months… He’s no more than a memory to me now, and I’m just a bad dream to him, I am sure. I gnaw on my lower lip as he approaches Savi.

  “I know you are hiding a witch,” Chad replies, and shivers run down my back. “I am not going to miss that… stench.”

  I feel the boiling anger bubbling as Chad disses me. He is trying to prove a point. Ever since we stopped seeing each other, he tried everything in his power to make me feel most uncomfortable. Savi doesn’t know how much his words hurt; she never knew of our secret relationship. I bite down on my lip to hide my discomfort at his remark.

  “Chad, it’s George. Calm down.”

  “I live here as well, you know. It would be grand if you’d warn me before inviting someone over,” Chad replies.

  “Get a grip.” Savi rolls her crimson eyes. She takes my hand and pulls me toward the bottom step. Sheepishly, I peer up at him. It’s been a while since my gaze has found his. It used to warm me from the inside out. Now, it only pulls on the deep string of regret within me.

  His hair, like Savi’s, is dark, almost so nightly black that it reflects the light from the glass chandelier behind him. It’s shorter at the sides and longer on the top, with slight curls spilling over his crown. I once ran my fingers through those curls. It seems like a lifetime ago now.

  His skin is stark white, his eyes the classic red which had inspired so many stories. His jawline is sharp enough to slice the softest of fingers. But never mine. He never hurt me. Not physically, anyway.

  Handsome.

  It’s the only word that could pull together the many thoughts rushing through my mind.

  Chad Danvers is a handsome devil.

  He considers me with an expression I cannot place. The lines around his eyes soften a touch, and his mouth relaxes, morphing into the face I once knew. Then he shakes his head and looks to Savi, his tone changing instantly.

  “I want him out of here within the hour.”

  Savi groans, “Your wish is my command, Chad.”

  He spares me a final glance and walks out of view, disappearing through the dining room and into the manor’s kitchen.

  “We can do this another time,” I say, gaze glued to the spot which Chad stood in. I expect him to return, but he doesn’t.

  “Ignore him, George. I’ve no idea what’s gotten into him.”

  I nod, not wanting to give her an explanation as to why he acts that way toward me.

  “Top of the stairs and first door on the right?” I ask, changing the subject. My throat is coarse as I ask for some water.

  “Sure. I’ll get you something. Just wait in my room,” she tells me.

  I take two stairs at a time before Savi can say anything else. Skipping the final one, I land on the wooden landing. Most of the furnishings on this floor look even older than the house itself. Everything in this house seems to be made from a dark wood. Ornate mirrors hang above decorated dressers. The walls are covered in a cherry paper, the occasional piece of art breaking up the dark color.

  I repeat the instructions and move for the closed door. It too is made from dark wood, the handle a brass knob that feels cold under my touch. I turn it and push it open, getting a glimpse inside Savi’s hideaway. Her sanctuary.

  I walk to the bed, which is covered by a deep-red comforter, and sit on the edge, hands shaking in my lap. I still sense the lingering power at the tips of my fingers, a presence left over from my outburst. The rush of magic was dark, exhilarating, and… different. Even now, my blood sings for release. I could have stopped everything at the bonfire; it would have been so simple.

  In the silence of Savi’s big room, I hear the mocking comments made from the intoxicated boy, Michael. I see his face and want nothing more than to cause him pain.

  Blood. Just one drop.

  Then I see the werewolf and how its jaws so easily wrapped around the boy’s throat and ripped it out.

  Blood.

  I’d seen enough of it tonight. It pulled me back from the cold pits of my mind. That lack of control scares me.

  I can’t be like him. I can’t give into that forbidden part to me...

  But that is not the only haunting memory that fills my mind and body.

  The werewolf.

  Every time I close my eyes, I see the creature falling out of view. I hear the heavy thud that vibrated up my legs and into my core. The lack of life that I could no longer sense over the edge. And the body I spied as I peered over the cliff face and into the abyss before Savi yanked me away.

  I killed a supernatural. I should be used to it after what Mother has me do, yet I know this time was different. It was my own doing. No one moved my hand. I alone killed. I alone broke the treaty.

  Savi soon rushes into the room, glass in hand, and closes the door.

  “Here,” she says, passing the drink to me.

  I take a sip but instantly want to vomit it back up. I fight the urge and finish the glass. Looking back to Savi, I see she’s not got one for herself.

  “Not thirsty?” I ask.

  “It is not water I need, but I respect you enough not to drain a blood bag right in front of you.”

  “I don’t mind,” I said. Did I? I have never seen Savi feed, and I never truly thought about it. I know she has to drink blood to survive, but she has always kept that part of herself hidden from me.

  “Well, I do,” she replies, waving off the subject. I’m grateful, because it’s not blood bags and sour stomachs that interest me right now. If Chad wants me to leave in an hour, then we have to address the elephant in the room.

  “What am I going to do, Savi?” I drop my neck, chin to chest. “If someone finds out what I’ve done, I will be handed over to the wolves and killed.”

  “George, take a breath. I’m not going to let that happen to you, all right? No one is going to find out.”

  “You’re going to willingly help a murderer?”

  “No,” she says. She takes a seat beside me and squeezes my knee. “I’m going to willingly help a friend. The wolves attacked first. That stands for something, and they killed humans. The council won’t side with them after that. Besides, your status among the witches will help you if this gets ugly.”

  Savi’s gaze is lost to a spot on the wall.

  “If this gets ugly? All it takes for me to be discovered is for the body to be turned in. Magic leaves a residue. Elder Jane will read the remains and trace it back to me.”

  “They can’t link you to a body that doesn’t exist...” Savi says.

  “What do you mean?” I furrow my brows.

  “We go back and deal with the body. You’re a witch. Can’t you call upon fire and burn it until nothing is left? Or cast a charm or something?”

  I shake my head and rest my forehead against my palms. “I appreciate that you want to help, but even if we did hide it, it will end up getting out. These things always do.” My response is muffled yet clear enough for Savi to hear. She reaches out and cradles my hands in her own. She’s cool to the touch—a sensation I’m not unfamiliar with.

  “You’re not thinking clearly. Sleep on it. You’re too tired to make a decision right now anyway.”

  Savi’s gaze meets mine. Her face is masked with concern for me. Seeing it causes my eyes to prick with tears. My hands shake in hers, an
d my leg begins to twitch from my nervous energy.

  “I really don’t feel good about this.”

  “Trust me. I’ll take care of this, George. I’m going to take care of you. Elder Jane, the wolves, the entire council, they’ll have to go through me if they want to get to you.”

  I pull her into a hug, and we remain like that, locked in each other’s embrace, for a long while. When I finally pull away, I don’t feel any better about my situation, but I don’t admit my feelings to Savi.

  “Shall I walk you home?” she asks.

  We both peer outside the large bay windows lining the wall and stare at the sun, which hangs bright above Hillcrest.

  “No, stay here. I don’t want your brother wondering what is going on. Besides, I could do with some fresh air,” I say.

  I could do with some time alone, I think.

  “I want you to text me the moment you are home,” Savi says.

  “I will,” I reply.

  Savi wraps her arms around me and squeezes. Her embrace lasts only a brief moment before she holds me at arm’s length. “Just, please, sleep on it. Don’t say anything until we talk later, all right?”

  I nod, pulling from Savi’s grip and walking toward her door.

  “George, promise me. Say it aloud.”

  “I know you want to help me, Savi, but I killed someone today,” I say, ignoring her desire for a promise.

  “It was an accident,” she says firmly.

  “The treaty does not discriminate. Murder is murder; we know that.”

  Savi moves to my side in the blink of an eye. Her red eyes flashing. “Murder is not so black and white, George. It’s… complicated. If we’ve learned anything from the treaty, it’s that sometimes, murder can be justified. Why else would the council allow for that eye-for-an-eye clause?”

  I look at my own reflection in her worried eyes. I look tired. Dark circles hang proudly beneath my green stare; even the whites of my eyes are covered in red. Savi is right. No good would come from telling Mother now. In truth, she would most likely be on my side anyway. If I were to tell anyone, it would be Elder Jane.

  “All right,” I tell her. “I’ll call you in the morning.”