by Ben Alderson
Savi pulls me into another hug. “Sleep well, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, losing myself in her embrace.
As we leave her room, I glance to Chad’s bedroom door. Many times, I used to sneak inside to spend time with him. She could never know. I look away, burying the longing I have grown so used to living with.
Savi guides me to the front door and waves to me down the street. I don’t need to see her to know she is watching me until I turn onto a different street. The kiss of her vampire gaze tickles the back of my neck all the way. But I sense another. I glance up to Chad’s window. By the time I scan the height of the looming manor, no one is there. I see nothing but the sway of his curtains as they are closed.
My home is only a few blocks away, on the sloped street that leads into the heart of Hillcrest. Like Savi’s house, it’s old, an original build in Hillcrest. Our houses were some of the first built when our ancestors crossed the waters and settled here.
Hillcrest is deserted this time of day. Not a single soul passes me as I walk home. Witches would have left their coven meetings, and the vampires would still be soaking up blood at the nearest bag banks. I try not to think about the wolves. Would they be looking for me? My charm should prevent them from getting close to us again. That gives me a slither of comfort as I walk through the gate to my house.
All the lights are off inside. Mother is probably still asleep. I don’t need a key to unlock the door; it is linked to my blood. The house recognizes Alcott witches as if it were alive. To anyone else, it would stay closed, but to me, it opens willingly. It would seem the years of magic practiced within the walls of this house allowed it to absorb the very power my family has. It feels as alive to me as any other living thing. It breathes. It speaks through the many creaks and groans of the hollowed walls.
When I was younger, Father told me the sounds I heard at night were the ghosts of our ancestors, who were trapped in this house for eternity. They were forced to watch us in everything we did. But that was not the only warped lie Father fed me. There were too many to count.
I know Mother will not wake, but I still move through the dark house silently. I worry if I see her, I’ll spill what I’ve done the second my gaze finds hers. She has a way of breaking down my walls and seeing into the secrets I keep buried from everyone else.
Closing the door to my room, I finally let the tears fall. I drown further into my guilt and let the fear of not knowing overtake all my senses. In truth, I know the werewolf is not the only life I’ve taken—not after the tasks Mother forces me to complete.
Normally, I’d block out the vampires I tortured. Keeping my distance, emotionally, makes it easier for me to forget what I’ve done. But this is different. Savi has seen that monstrous side to me. But even though she’s seen what I’ve done, she still fights for me. And maybe she is right. Maybe there is a chance I could get out of this mess.
Like the Danvers vampires, the Alcott bloodline extends back to the original settlers of this town. Our ancestors helped create the treaty we follow today. Maybe Mother could manipulate what I’d done like she manipulates everyone around her.
But the dead wolf is not the only problem we face. The humans witnessed my magic and Savi’s strength and speed. The wolves can be passed off as mundane creatures, hungry and wild. But we… we are different. Savi said they were lost to the wolves, but what if she was wrong? What if someone survived to tell the story of a day when a witch and a vampire saved humans from werewolves?
I bury my many worries and climb into bed. No matter how hard I try, sleep is hard to find. I stare at the ceiling, occasionally glancing out my bedroom window, until I can no longer ignore my problems..
Savi
I’m stalling. I know this, but right now, there’s nothing worse than what’s to come. I fear his reaction. I fear his questions. I fear he may already know what George and I did…
I sulk down the stairs that spill into the first floor sitting room. To my right, the manor’s front double doors. Straight ahead, one of the many entrances to the manor’s wraparound conservatory. Both are viable options. I can slip out undetected, never having to listen to Chad’s unwanted words of wisdom.
I exhale slowly and glance to my left. The dining room, with attached butler pantry that leads to the kitchen, looks somber this morning. We never redecorated the manor after our parents passed. And Mother never redecorated after inheriting it from her parents. As I look around, I find nothing but faded wallpaper and rooms cluttered with antiques. I suppose we Danvers vampires have been too busy living our lives (or secretly breaking the treaty) to worry about the mundane, like light fixtures and paint swatches. This house has been in our family for generations, and it certainly looks like it.
I tiptoe toward the kitchen. Maybe I lucked out? Maybe Chad’s still fast asleep. I can snag a few blood bags and dash out of the house before he even knows I’ve gone.
As I enter the dining room, my eyes are drawn to the large stained-glass window that faces the back garden. I can’t see them now, through the glass stained by blended autumnal colors, but I’m sure even the trees are screaming at me to run the other way.
As I pass through the corner butler’s pantry, I come to a halt. A thin piece of wood carved into a formfitting door is all that sits between me and whatever may be in the kitchen. I close my eyes and listen for any muffled sounds.
Nothing. I hear nothing.
Maybe I did luck out.
I push open the door, my heart sinking when my gaze lands on Chad. He’s sitting at the corner table where we rarely eat family meals. Arms folded, newspaper spread across the table top in disarray, as if he were searching for the answers to my whereabouts last night but finding nothing.
I turn away from him and yank open the refrigerator door. Stocked full of a few of George’s favorite snacks and Chad’s favorite type of blood, there’s not much else. I sigh and grab a blood bag. I empty the thick, cold liquid into a mug and nuke my breakfast in the microwave—all while conveniently missing Chad’s glares.
“I know what you’ve done,” he says. His voice is strong, angry.
He speaks only after the microwave’s timer has sounded and I’m holding the mug midway to my lips. I freeze. I assume only seconds have ticked by, but it’s more than enough time for him to see me falter at his words. But most importantly, I choose not to misinterpret his accusation.
“What do you mean?” I choke out. My voice is squeaky, and I groan internally. Is it possible to look guiltier?
The swift grinding of the chair legs scratching against the tile floor rings in my ears. Before I can react, he’s beside me. He turns on the television Mother installed so we could enjoy family dinners in the kitchen rather than in the formal dining room. I still remember the day Mom brought it home…
“When do we ever have time to eat as a family?” I asked as Chad was installing the mini television set.
“Mom thought we could watch the cooking channel together.”
I arched a brow. “We don’t eat.”
He chuckled. “She has this insane idea to add blood to human food. She’s already working on a recipe for spaghetti and blood balls.”
I sniffle as Chad’s voice brings me back to reality. “Hm? What?”
“Look,” he says, pointing the remote toward the television screen.
Time slows as I watch the newscaster report that local police have found a body. They are investigating, with formal updates coming every hour. Should any tourists be watching the program, it would seem as though Hillcrest were like any other town. But I know. I can spot the differences. The “police chief” making statements to the press is actually the elder witch in charge of finding the girl’s killer.
“Please tell me this wasn’t you,” Chad says.
But I can’t. I’d lie to protect him, but lying, at this point, would only hurt him. I can’t tell him the truth either. So I remain silent.
“Christ, Savi! Have you any idea what they’ll
do to us?”
How did they find her? I dumped her body deep within Wolfsbane Forest, knowing the full moon would bring out the beasts, who’d take advantage of my leftovers. Had the party drawn them away from my offering? Are the only marks on her body those from my fangs? I have so many questions and not a lot of time to find answers.
Wincing, I quickly drink the mug of blood, which has now cooled to room temperature. Blood bags taste old. I don’t understand how the others survive on this alone. I drop my mug into the sink a little harder than intended, listening as the slightest of fractures carve their way into the ceramic cup. Great. That was my favorite blood mug.
“Better get used to that taste, Savannah, because you’re on a tight leash after this mess.”
I roll my eyes and push past him. I force open the door to the pantry and dash toward the front door.
“Savi!” Chad calls after me, but it’s no use. I’m already gone.
I run through the woods, listening for any sounds of patrolling wolves. I hear nothing but the sounds of nature: the trees swaying in the cool autumn wind and the distant crash of the sea’s waves against the cliff, where yet another one of my problems remain. The animals are buzzing as they prepare for winter.
The forest borders Hillcrest’s sole cemetery, which is where I find myself since I can’t just barge into Elder Jane’s investigation of the girl’s death. I may be guilty, but I’m not stupid. Only an idiot would show up at her own crime scene.
Twigs snap under my feet as I make my way into the cemetery. From here, I can eavesdrop. Maybe they forgot to spell the area. Maybe they have no leads... I was careful, after all. I didn’t leave any evidence behind—aside from the glaring marks on her neck that scream “a vampire killed me.”
I curse inwardly as I struggle to focus on the investigation. I hear nothing save for the sounds of a semi-busy cemetery. Nearby, supernaturals mourn their loved ones. I kneel beside a tombstone with the hopes of looking less obvious. If I didn’t come here to pay my respects, why else would I be hanging out in a cemetery? Cliché much…
Just as I’m about to give up on listening for clues, someone approaches me from behind. I spin until I face the intruder, ready to fight for my escape if necessary, and I’m staring into the dark brown irises of one pissed off human.
“It’s you,” I whisper.
“What are you doing here?” I can tell by his tone that he’s angry, but underneath it all, I can practically feel his pain.
“I’m… looking f—”
“For what?” he interrupts me. “What are you looking for?”
“Answers,” I say quickly, instantly regretting my honesty. Chad chastises me for my lies, but the truth is the only thing getting me in trouble lately.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I saw you at the party. I’ve never seen you before that. Who invited you? How’d you know about it?”
“I go to Hillcrest College,” I mutter. It’s not an answer to his question, but it’s not necessarily a lie either. I did enroll after graduation. I just haven’t given it much thought since then. After my parents’ death, I didn’t want to think about my future with only Chad by my side. So I gave into the darkness, and I haven’t looked back.
“Then who invited you to the party?”
He leans in, towering over me. As I stare into his eyes, I struggle to convince him that I am not the enemy. I’m sure his next question will be about the party’s aftermath, and I have no story in place. What am I supposed to say? He survived because I saved him. Had he seen George and I escape? Had he seen George use his magic or my vampire speed? Did he—
—I gasp as the world stills.
Oh my god.
My eyes! My crimson irises staring back at him… How could I have been so stupid?
I break his gaze and stumble backward, desperately needing the safety space provides. Think! What can I do? If the girl’s death doesn’t end my life, exposing magic to a human will.
It’s an overcast day, and when the clouds clear, giving us the briefest of moments of reprieve, the sun is behind me, blinding him. I face the blazing ball of fire now. It’s hot on my skin. During the human’s inquisition, I watched as he squinted to see me more clearly. I glance up, looking to the sky directly above me for answers. I’m shaded by the trees in a dark corner of the cemetery that greets the forest. It’s possible he didn’t even notice my eyes. I mean, if he had, he would have said something, right?
Quickly, I pull out my pair of emergency sunglasses, which I keep in the inner pocket of my jacket. They’re always there just in case a tourist stumbles down the same sidewalk I’m walking on. I struggle to open them before sliding them onto my face.
Please let this work. I really can’t risk another kill right now—not with the council investigating the girl’s death.
I turn to face him and watch as he studies me curiously. He opens his mouth to speak, and I completely crumble. Before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself running. I can’t risk the forest, so I sprint through the cemetery at an agonizingly slow pace. Vampire speed is out of the question, so I run like a human. Sadly, he catches up to me with practiced ease.
I feel him grasp my arm and yank me backward. I stumble as I’m turned toward him. We crash to the ground in a sloppy heap. Whispers surround me as, I’m sure, onlookers pray I can maintain our secret. I brush off their obvious concerns as I try to push the human off me.
Everything within me is on edge. I’ve never been this close to a human when not hunting. I turn my head, and my gaze is parallel with the dark skin of his bared neck. I exhale slowly. I’m so close I could swipe his skin with my tongue. It would take little effort for me to end his life right here, right now. He has no idea how dangerous this situation has just become for him.
I find myself wrapping my arms around his muscular frame. It’s as if my limbs have minds of their own. While one hand works its way along the length of his back, the other grips the back of his neck, holding him in place.
I could taste him so easily right now. It would be quick, painless for him. My fangs ache, and my stomach growls. His heart beats against my chest, sending shockwaves down my spine and to my toes.
He isn’t moving, even without compulsion. He simply waits, allowing me to hold him in place. The only thing that betrays his courage is his heart. It beats faster even while his breath remains even.
“Please,” I whisper.
He shivers when my breath hits his skin, but he says nothing. And he doesn’t move.
Reluctantly, I release him. My arms fall to the ground in thuds. I dig my nails into the dirt, welcoming the pain as twigs embed themselves beneath my nails. I grind my teeth, clenching my jaw until he finally pulls away.
When he stands, he offers me his hand, but I turn to my side and jump to my feet on my own. The last thing I need is to rip off his arm and suck the marrow from his bones.
I’m not facing him, but I know he’s still there, watching me, waiting for a reaction or a reason as to why I suddenly ran away from him.
I face him, arms folded against my chest, nearly squeezing the life out of me as if I were him. I’m standing at a crossroads. I can’t outrun him without my vampire speed, and I can’t admit to what I’ve done with these damn mourning eavesdroppers nearby. I can’t kill him while the council investigate the girl’s death, because then covering my tracks all these years would have been for nothing. If he won’t let me leave and I can’t risk staying, what am I to do?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from George.
We need to talk.
Quickly, I respond. Can’t until later. Something’s come up, I text, ditching George for the boy who haunts my dreams.
George
I dream of fur and blood. It’s a howling agony, taunting me from the dark corners of my mind. The werewolf stays out of sight, no matter how many times I will it to show itself to me. But when it finally does, I find myself pinned to the unseen floor, frozen i
n sleep paralysis. Yellowed eyes of the dribbling beast hovering above me, his equally yellowed teeth are bared and ready to devour me. I try and scream, but no sound comes out. Reaching for my magic is pointless. I am weak. I am captured prey.
Although I know it is a dream, I am still filled with horror. Usually, being an Alcott witch, I can control my lucid dreams. But tonight is different.
In my dreamscape, no matter how hard I try to lift my arms and push the wolf from above me, I cannot. All I can hear is the voice that slips past the open, spit-linked jaws of the werewolf.
You did this. The wolf speaks to me. They’ll find my body, and they’ll turn you in. You will be theirs…
I close my eyes to the snarling face of the beast and will it to leave me. But when I open them again, another horror stares back at me.
Chad.
He dips his face in close to my neck and kisses it. His lips soft and welcoming as they once had been. Then he sits up, broad chest glistening against the dark shadows of the dream.
We can’t do this anymore. If they find out…
Just like the first time he said those words to me, I begin to cry.
Please, I beg. You promised you’d never hurt me. I love you…
Chad laughs, his face warping before my eyes into the werewolf I killed.
No one loves you, murderer. They all hate you. Every. Single. One.
My shoulders shake violently, causing the dream to shiver and lose focus.
“Wake up.” Mother’s voice cuts through the dream like ice cold water. “Get up now, child. I need you.”
I crash out of the dreamscape, gasping for breath. Without touching it, I know my head is covered in a fresh layer of sweat. Even the swan-feathered pillow is damp.
Mother stands above me, wild hair collected in her famous bun and pinned back by numerous hidden clips. Her eyes are creased with concern, but her lips are turned up into a smile.
