Alive & Hexing (Hexes & Hazards Series)

by Shay Cabe

  He’s also proudly displaying the vivid red hair that he used to hide as a kid. The sides are short, leaving the top to come together in a fohawk. He used to get teased about it quite a lot and hated the attention it garnered him. His hair is a real red, like fire engine kind of red, and it's one-hundred percent natural.

  One day, after a rather rough playground spat, I dragged him to the clothing store in town and bought him the only knit-hat they had. It was an ugly camo green and too big for him then. It often fell over his eyes, and he’d have to constantly push it up, but he wore it every single day. I don’t think he cares much for hiding anything anymore. Standing next to Oz, I see that he’s a smidge shorter than him, but those muscles of his, which are defined even through the shirt, are just a fuzz bigger.

  The tattoos are similar though, daggers up and down both arms.

  Knowing that those tattoos aren’t mundane any more than mine are, gives me a little insight. Weapons are a part of our lives in this life. There are things you’re expected to learn if you’re a witch or a shifter. I, personally, made sure to have double that training with the best, most expensive ones I could find. Because I don’t want to be like everyone else, at least, not in that way.

  Phoenix smiles and pulls me out of my thoughts, his eyes flicker in amusement. Perfectly white teeth, that hold a few extra sharp edges, flash behind lips that belong on one of Da Vinci’s statues.

  What the hell? Da Vinci’s statues? Oh my god, I’ve gone completely derp girl.

  A snort jerks my eyes to the next one in line. Hezekiah. His hair, still so blonde it’s white, is close shaven, with a little bit of length on the top, messy and spiky. The face of an angel, the teachers used to say. They’re not wrong. He has the face of an angel. But the soul of a devil.

  Hez is built like a linebacker and not afraid to show it off. His shirt is tight across the shoulders and leaves nothing of his upper body to the imagination.

  Those amber eyes, that used to be so soulful and sweet, capture mine. Needing to pull myself from that trap I look away and my mouth falls open in shock. There’s a small silver ball, right below his bottom lip peeking out as they spread into a smile. Needing to look elsewhere the flash of metal in his ears catches my attention. Both of them are pierced with what looks like little silver skulls. For some reason, I think there’s a good chance he has a piercing in his tongue and… other places. I have no idea where that thought comes from, and I squash it as quickly as it forms. My brain is too overloaded to think about the hotness of that possibility.

  And more tattoos. Christ. The feathered ends of arrows start at his elbow and trace down his arms to end in a point at his wrist. Like his brothers, the colors are bright. I swear it looks so realistic that I find myself wanting to touch it to see. I squash that thought too. I’m pretty sure he’s even taller than Oz.

  Finally, my eyes determined to throw me off the cliff, seek out the last Hazard boy. Eyes so dark they’re black, meet mine, and with genuine effort, I look away from them to study the man they belong to. Barrett.

  It’s obvious he has Native American blood in him, but I never asked him how much or what tribe. Seems rude to ask such things. But I can totally see the gifts of his heritage now because it’s evident in his lightly tanned skin and lean, but tight build. If I were to reach for a fancy word, I’d use the word, sinewy. Mostly because it’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone who pulls it off. His black hair is shoulder length, with a slight curl to the ends of it. It’s thick and soft looking and the urge to slide my fingers in it is almost enough to make me stand. And like his brothers, there are tattoos on his forearms. A whip, that has a strong resemblance to a snake, starts on each wrist and trails up to wrap around his elbows.

  Once again, what the hell?

  My eyes zip back and forth between all four of them. Seeing them brings back so many memories. Laughter. Innocence. Affection.

  Love.

  It also adds to it. The thought repeats itself, teenage boys shouldn’t look like them, but they’re not human or even witches.

  Forcefully, I break the spell and reach down to pick up my phone off the ground. When I straighten back up, I almost squeak again in surprise. They’re all sitting at my table staring at me with nearly identical smirks on their faces.

  “Well, Nora, what do you have to say for yourself?” Hezekiah asks, stealing the last bite of my granola bar from the wrapper on the table. Thankfully, my stomach is too busy flipping around to notice its loss.

  For courage I stare at my—thank the sticks—not broken phone.

  “I have a doctor’s note,” I blurt out, hoping that the wobble in my voice isn’t as noticeable as I think it is. For a second there’s this awful, tension filled, silence then all four of them break out into laughter.

  Hez, always the spokesman for the group, continues, “We should ignore you like you aren’t here but we all talked about it, and we get why you hid like a chicken-shit.” My eyes snap up, a touch of anger flaring inside of me, chasing away the nervousness. “However,” he says, with softness and understanding in his tone, “we voted, you’re not allowed to disappear again, and there will be some kind of retribution.”

  “That’s not your decision to make,” I argue, biting my lip to keep from getting mad at them in the first few minutes we’re together after so long. I hate being told what to do. If you want to piss me off, that’s the quickest way to do it.

  “It’s not just yours either,” he whispers as he stands, but before I can head him off, he pulls me off the seat and into his arms for a hug.

  Standing there, with my arms pointing out like weird toothpicks, I’m frozen in shock. The feel of his warm arms wrapped around me, of the smell that has always been his—a mix of wild grass and blooming flowers, teasing me with its comfort makes me gradually relax. Slowly, I slide my arms around his waist and bury my head against his chest. Taking a deep breath of his essence, I hug the hell out of him.

  When he releases me, in a way that feels reluctant, another strong set of arms pull me into them. Barrett, the scent of rain forest and dark places curls around me. Then he’s gone too. Another set, as strong and warm, pulls me in even tighter. The smell of a hickory campfire and warm sand tickles my nose, and I know that it’s Phoenix. Warm lips brush my forehead, and then a new set of arms take his place. The smell of hot, dark nights in the desert captures me as his arms pull me in tighter. Oz.

  “We can put the puzzle together now,” he whispers into my hair. The heat of his breath teases the top of my ear. The tears I can’t fight anymore find their way down my face and onto his shirt. For several minutes, he stands there holding me while I wrestle with the emotional overload, then somehow knowing I’m coming out of the weepy stage, he sets me back from him and guides me back to my seat.

  Taking a tissue that appears in front of me, I mop at my snotty face. I’m so glad I don’t have makeup on today.

  “Mom had us bring you some tuna sandwiches and homemade chips,” Hez says with a smile on his face, setting a brown paper bag on the table. I almost start crying again. I’m more emotional today than I have been in a long time and it feels strange to me. My stomach saves me by growling loud enough to incite a few chuckles.

  I used to love Ms. Hazard’s sandwiches.

  Opening the bag, I stare at its contents in awe. Just as I remember, the bread is fresh baked and the smell of it wafts up through the opening. Closing my eyes, I breathe it in and remember holidays spent at her house with the smell of freshly baked bread permeating the air. The plates of fresh cookies on the kitchen island, the laughter while we have contests to see who could sneak one without getting caught. Those were some of the happiest moments of my life, and the smell of bread let me relive them.

  Opening my eyes, my mouth waters while I stare into the bag.

  The contents of everything she makes are homegrown or witch style organic. Any meat is bought at a witch run butcher shop, that doesn’t believe in selling meat from mistreated an
imals. There’s no comparing a store-bought sandwich to one of hers.

  Happily, I dig through the bag of goodies. At the bottom, I discover a treasure hiding under the small plastic bag of fresh potato chips, two fresh-baked cookies: peanut butter, my favorite. A perfect, almost forgotten dessert.

  Pulling the sandwich out and unwrapping it with reverence I take the first big bite, and with my mouth full, rudely ask, “So, how did you talk her into letting you get tattoos?”

  After they stop laughing, Hez leans towards me and says, “We’ll tell you when we take you to see Mom after school.”

  Before I can even begin to process this, “What’s this, Nora?” Barrett’s question, and soft touch on my hand pulls my eyes to him and where he’s touching. The animal prints on my fingers. My hands are full of yummy sandwich so I can’t hide my hand in a pocket or under my arm. I refuse to set down my food. Apprehensive, but still chewing, I watch as he pushes my sleeve up, achingly slow, to my elbow.

  The feeling of all four sets of eyes are like ants on my skin. It doesn’t take a genius to get the reference, and all the Hazard boys are smart enough to get it—especially since it’s related to them.

  “Hez, are you and the guys still coming to the party this weekend?” Cringing at the familiar voice, I’m pulled from the weird moment and look up at the girl standing next to our table. She’s the one from first period who made a comment about my Mom.

  My attention shifts to Hezekiah. I wonder if he still hates people calling him Hez. I started doing it specifically to annoy him, but he never corrected me on it. He even bitched at his brothers for it. Secretly, I always felt a little special that he let me get away with it. Years have passed, so it’s entirely possible that’s changed.

  For all I know, this is his girlfriend. Now, why does that thought make me want to kick him in the shin?

  Instead of paying attention to the girl, he’s still looking at my tattoo, completely ignoring her. Yeah, not his girlfriend, but I have a feeling she wants to be.

  Not your business, Nora.

  “We’ll come if Nora is invited,” he drawls, lifting his gaze to mine. Damn, his pretty eyes are doing funky things to me. I blink and break the spell, turning to look at the girl who intruded upon a sandwich-work-of-art. If looks could kill, I’d be dead as rotary phones, but this girl isn’t a witch or a threat. Taking the last bite of the sandwich, I try to determine what kind of shifter she is, because she’s not human. My nose is too saturated with tuna and the guys to get a good scent of her.

  Prey animal, that much I know. Possibly a deer of some kind. She has that doe-eyed look to her and a perky nose. Herbivores like her bluff well, but run away quickly when you call them out for it. Unfortunately, ones with mean spirits like hers will stab you in the back too. The predator sleeping inside of me stretches and lazily looks out from my eyes.

  This girl is most definitely not a threat. Seeing that, it curls back up and once again goes to sleep. Swallowing, I grab the water that’s on the table in front of me and chug half of it in one go. Turning to the guys, who are all staring at me with their mouths hanging open, I ask, “What?”

  Phoenix chuckles and leans forward to wipe something off my face. The skin on his thumb is slightly calloused, something I’ll have to ask him about. Natural born shifters don’t scar, and a callous is a scar. I can’t help but be curious why he kept it.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I say, breaking the stand off between Bambi and Hez. Well, her stand-off, he’s blatantly ignoring her. “Honestly, I don’t want to go to a party. Booze and the bad decisions made because of it, have never been my idea of fun-time. I think I’d rather go fishing.”

  Hezekiah says nothing as his eyes go back to the tattoo with a strange smile playing about his mouth. He’s not the only one still staring at it either. I wonder what that’s about?

  “Sorry guys, all full,” the intruder says, with the fake confidence that the decision of me not going is all hers. Grabbing my composure, that the guys keep stealing from me, I pretend to look at my phone while studying them through my lashes.

  They’re healthy, supernaturally attractive guys. Nowadays, no male, as good looking as all of them are—remain virgins. I wouldn’t be too surprised if her confidence in approaching him stems from a physical encounter. Girls like her are egotistical outwardly, but I watch TV, and I Google—it’s usually a sham. True confidence comes from knowledge, and the way she’s staring at Hez—she has knowledge in it.

  “Have fun at your party. We’re doing something else,” Hezekiah finally answers without looking up at her.

  “How do you even know them?” she sneers at me which I answer with a shrug. That’s not her concern. After standing there for several seconds, glaring at me hatefully, she walks away, her little gaggle of friends in tow. I’m only a little surprised when I see the girl, Ruby, standing towards the outskirts of their little group. I don’t miss the look of apology she shoots me either.

  Some folks will do whatever it takes to belong.

  As far as Hez goes, it’s none of my business what he’s done—or who, but it’s not nice of him to ignore her. Narrowing my eyes, I look at him and tilt my head to the side. Letting him see my thoughts in them. Smell them coming from me. He shrugs, and his cheeks turn a little pink.

  “I was drunk, she crawled into bed with me naked and I passed out on her,” he says while his cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink. The confession makes his brothers laugh. My lips twitch, but I manage to hold the laugh back. Probably because underlying the amusement is a little annoyance. I’m not judging him for the act if there was one, but it still doesn’t excuse him treating her like a castoff.

  I say as much.

  His cheeks turn an even darker shade and he looks sheepish, as he says, “She won’t leave me alone. She follows me around school, shows up at the house, leaves notes on my car and locker. I’ve had to change my phone number twice, because in one day she called me over a hundred times.” His eyes narrow and the blush completely fades. I can taste his frustration with her because he feels it so potently. “I’ve tried talking to her, and it got me nowhere,” he finishes, absently playing with a leaf that fell on the table.

  Oh, that’s slightly different. No means no, doesn’t matter whether it’s towards a guy or a girl. I hope he had more sense than most guys his age and told her the flat out truth and didn’t play the nice game.

  There’s another solution. “Get a new girlfriend, that might get rid of her,” I suggest without thinking about it. The smile he gives me now is all teeth and promises. Oh, no, what did he just twist that into?

  “We were best friends as kids, still are. Right, Nora?” Hez asks. The transparent plot to use me to be his fake girlfriend, to chase off his stalker, is swirling in his eyes.

  My brain has already latched onto something else. Did he say still? My heart flutters around like a trapped butterfly in my chest.

  I clear my dry throat, nervous, but still somehow excited. “Yes,” I manage to say, hoping that I’m the only one that catches the breathy tone in it. I’m not used to being nervous and being around them is making me run the emotional gauntlet. I’m sure there’s a better way to handle it but I haven’t figured it out yet.

  Something in me settles hearing they still think of me as their friend. Part of the reason I didn’t contact them was that I was afraid—another emotion I’m not proud of feeling. How can they care about someone like me? Scarred and a freak of nature. Something that feels like small splinters scraping against the walls of my soul fades away, and for the first time in years, I let a little of that self doubt go. Shoving a handful of chips in my mouth and loudly chewing is the only thing keeping me from crying again.

  Stupid tears. Stupid girl feelings. Stupid Hazard boys getting me right in the feels.

  “I bet you’re calling everything stupid in your head, aren't you?” Barrett leans forward and whispers. I choke on the mouthful of pasty chewed chips and chug more water. After so long, how d
oes he know that?

  Breathing heavily, I say, “Of course not. Why would I do that?” His dark eyes dance with laughter.

  “Jerk.” But I don’t mean it, mostly.

  Oz, breaking his silent study of me asks, “Do you remember when you duct taped fake hair on Phoenix’s head?” The round of chuckles makes me smile again. I do indeed remember it. Ms. Hazard had gotten his hair cut, and I was mad because I felt that it was too pretty to cut. Figuring that the best solution—in my infinite child wisdom—was to buy a doll with red hair, cut off all the hair and tape it to his head. So, I persuaded him to let me do it.

  There wasn’t much the boys denied me back then.

  “It was too pretty to cut off,” I defend a bit sheepishly, picturing the bright pink duct tape I used to stick it on his head. It kept falling off, so I had the brilliant idea of wrapping the tape all the way around his head. It took them two days to get it all off, and in the process ripped out more of his already short hair.

  I cried the entire time.

  “You guys will miss the biggest party of the year to hang out with this clout chaser?” Looking over at yet another girl insulting me for no reason, I sigh. This one is a brunette who was a member of the group of girls hanging out with the stalker gal, I don’t have to talk to her to dismiss her. Instead, I choose to focus on the last treat in the bag. Cookies. It’s not my place to answer that question from one of their many adoring fans, it wasn’t me who was asked. Although, it gives me some awesome insight on the dynamics in this place.

  The guys are incredibly popular with the girls. My eyes flit over the four of them, shocker.

  I wonder when Ms. Hazard sent the boys to public school? When I left she was firmly against them attending public school. When I left we were all still in it and because of that, I didn’t meet many of the other kids in town. Which means I’ll get the lovely pleasure of meeting them now. Awkwardly and probably riddled with insults. That’s how the first half day has gone so far.