by Shay Cabe
“Who is this?” Bitch-Face number two demands. Phoenix ignores her and tries to steer us around her, but she steps in front of us, blocking our path.
“This is my girl, Nora.” I roll my eyes at his claim.
Way to give her my name, you ass. Knowing the chaos that will ensue because of it. He tossed me under the bus.
“You hooked up with a guy on your first day of school?” Her voice is shrill, like the hurt your ears kind of shrill. I sigh, sensing a meltdown incoming. Maybe two, if we’re counting the one I’ll probably have later.
Because you see, I can’t just leave it be.
With a smile, I say, “Four of them, actually.” I squeeze Phoenix to me. “It’s been a busy day.” Phoenix snorts and wraps his other arm around me. I can feel him shaking with laughter, hear the guys around me trying to keep theirs under control.
“Four?” she asks stupidly.
“Yeah, all four of the Hazards—at the same time. We used to do it all the time as kids too.” She stands there with her mouth opening and closing, a myriad of emotions chasing themselves across her face. Among them, envy. “If you’ll excuse us.” I drag Phoenix around her, make sure the other three are following, and keep walking.
“You know by the end of the day the rumors will be saying all kinds of shit, Nora,” Phoenix says, but he doesn’t sound upset about it. He sounds rather pleased about it. He lives for messing with people.
“Wasn’t that the point? Keeps the stalkers off you and the bottom feeders off me. Works out for all of us, that way. Cos, I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of harpies flapping around you four man-whores.” He throws his head back and laughs, a full on belly laugh that echoes in the hallway.
Exasperated with him, and the fact that I like his arm where it is, I try to extricate myself from it. It only causes him to grip me tighter. I refuse to admit that there’s a secret part of me that’s glad.
The next class I’m handed off like a football. No kidding, Phoenix spins away from me and blows a loud kiss, while I find myself with another muscular arm tossed carelessly over my shoulders. Hez, this time. We’re all still in the same class, but it’s like they’re each taking turns hanging on me.
Maybe fueling the gossip?
It’s after P.E. class when Oz practically full-body rubs me that the real reason sinks in. I feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. Shifters are all about smells and touch, it’s more their language than anything spoken. Touching me in public shows a connection, touching me in the way they’re doing it—shows a deep one.
Rubbing themselves on me is something else entirely. The asshats are scent marking me.
How am I so dense that I didn’t pick up on that sooner? They used to do it when we were kids, to tell the other shifters to stay away from their ‘little witch’. Making a subtle claim before I understood what they were doing. We aren’t little kids anymore and scent marking me now, especially in such a touchy-feely way, sends a different message entirely.
We’re all in on the game now.
Hez gets so carried away with it after P.E. that he takes me into the boy’s locker room. It’s educational at least; boys scream like girls when caught naked, especially when the one screaming the loudest is wearing a charcoal face mask. Laughing, I manage to wiggle away from the laughing ass and head towards the correct room. I instantly regret it, not only is Bitch-Face one in there, so is number two and their respective little groups.
Two things I see instantly, they’re all dressed, and my locker is hanging open, noticeably empty. Really? This looks like that set up where they’re going to do the steal-the-clothes trick. First, it starts with my street clothes and then when I get in the shower, they’ll take my gym clothes. Their ultimate goal is for me to end up walking naked through the school, trying to use a trash can lid to awkwardly hide my nudity. In their incredibly flawed plan, I’d be ashamed and terrified. Crying big, salty tears of humiliation as I run home never to return.
They watch too much TV. No one freaking does that. In real life, they bully people online or trash their cars. They lie and steal and sleep with their boyfriends. They take innocent pictures and turn them into something sick and twisted.
Singe really is dated when it comes to how the real world works. Some of them are witches, they can do any of these things easily to me, or worse. Their ideas are predictable and incredibly boring. Maybe I’m too jaded for this crap anymore? The old me might have cared or cried or been bothered by their opinions of me. By their intentions for me.
She’s been gone a long time.
“Tabitha tells me you’re whoring with all of them,” number one demands, snapping me out of my thoughts. She’s awful mouthy for someone who eats hay.
Are the popular girls ever more interesting than this? And why is there a little sting in my soul because this doesn’t bother me at all?
“Sure. They gave me a proper welcome back party.” Number one’s hand shoots out to slap me. I catch it before it connects. From habit, I turn her wrist back until she cries out in pain. I ease off her hand but continue holding it.
Training, remember?
I’ll be damned if I will let a high school Bambi-bully slap me, this isn’t an after school special, and I’m definitely not the weak one in this scenario. I lean towards her, putting my face close to hers. Letting my otherness scent her out, she’s on the bottom of the shifter spectrum. No physical magic, and no protections. Lightning fast I turn to number two, ‘Tabitha,’ and look at what she is inside.
She’s a witch and mid-range in ability, but not strong enough. Basically, she’s a Tadpole and in our world means she’s still a novice with her magic.
“Never touch me,” I say to number one, releasing her, then shoulder past two whose face is as white as the towels on the floor beside her. “I’m going to shower. If my clothes aren’t back in my locker—intact—when I’m finished, I will turn you both into something slimy and feed you to a bird,” I warn over my shoulder.
It’s a promise too. They might not be sure of their abilities, but I am.
At least there are clean towels and washing stuff. As rich as most of the people of this town are, shampoo is the least they can provide. Showering quickly, I keep half an ear out to make sure they don’t do something stupid like attacking me in the shower.
That won’t work out well for them.
People tried to bully me at other schools too. Some magical, some not. There were even a few who hurt me a bit, in the beginning. When I was still fresh in the hell of my mother’s death, I was their victim, but then something inside of me changed. I let the anger out. I don’t play well with others, anymore. The bullies kept coming, but I stopped laying down and letting them walk all over me. That doesn’t mean that I’ll always win, it means that I’m not a dog for them anymore.
Wrapping myself in a towel, I slip on the provided flip-flops and go back to the locker. Honestly, I expect my clothes to be torn to shreds or have something gross poured all over them. Instead, they’re folded neatly and put back where I left them. Maybe they’re not complete idiots. I’m not big on making idle threats and will do exactly what I said.
Dressing quickly, I leave off the pullover I’ve been wearing all day. The shower heated me up and I don’t want to get all sweaty again. I’m wearing a purple short-sleeve shirt underneath it. The sleeves are shorter than I like, but they’ll work for now. Both Bitch-Faces are outside of the locker room, staring at the two guys smiling at me.
Oz and Hezekiah both have wet hair and matching white t-shirts on. Smiling, I lift a hand in greeting, and in tandem they both look at the tattoo that I momentarily forgot about. Uh-oh.
“There’s more to it? I didn’t realize it went all the way up your arm.” Hezekiah says, crossing the distance between us in two steps. Without breaking his momentum, he traces his finger from wrist to shoulder. A shiver chases his touch on my skin.
Wtf is up with these guys and my shivering? This is a reaction that I've never e
xperienced before. I have no idea what to do with it.
“Go big or go home,” I respond, not feeling like explaining—too many emotions wrapped around it. He rolls his eyes at me. “So, what are we doing?” I ask.
“We’re going to play some dodgeball.” Huh? “We get to vote on after-school activities once a week, dodgeball is this week’s winner.” Hez laughs as he answers my unspoken question. Following them outside, I question taking a shower when I’m going to end up all sweaty again.
“Hezekiah, you’re team captain for blue side.” The coach calls across the field the minute we step onto it. I raise my eyebrows at Hez. He must be good to be chosen that quickly.
“Dodgeball gangsta, huh?” I tease.
“I own this shit,” he pokes me in the upper arm as his face grows solemn. Then he replies, “Are you sure you’re up to the challenge? You look a little weak in the muscles department.”
Studying his face, I try to gauge if he’s serious or not. I’m fully aware that I have muscle tone there, more than enough to prove anything to him. Is he asking about my magic? That’s the only thing I can guess. Out of habit, I keep it locked down. It prevents people from snooping and keeps attention off me. Strength equals attention that I don’t want.
Looking around the field at the faces of our competitors—because Hez better pick me for his team—I see a mix of dislike and curiosity, there’s even some pity in there. It’s also not hard to pick out the Bitch-Faces’ groups either. There’s only two that catch my interest. They look like older copies of one and two. Relatives for sure and they’re both strong enough to do a bit of damage to the average person.
“I’m guessing that anyone can play dodgeball?” I ask Hez.
“Yeah, it encourages families to take part. You must have really pissed them off for them to bring in their sisters.”
I cut him a dirty look, it’s his fault, and I tell him so.
“They hate me because y’all want to pretend like I’m your new hole. So, I can blame you guys for this entire mess.”
He chuckles and pulls me in for a hug before I can smack him. Kissing my cheek, he whispers, “I think you’re getting off easy, for leaving us. You’re going to work for it, and you will hurt a little.” He kisses my forehead again then makes a show of hugging me and staring deeply into my eyes.
The world feels like it's closing in on me as I truly understand the retribution comment. This is part of my penance. Sonofabitch. I knew they would not let me slide into their lives so easily. This also means it’ll get worse before it gets better. There are four of them and right now, only two Bitch-Faces. Turning he jogs to the center of the field, leaving me with Oz.
Oz laughs, a rough sound that doesn’t have any of the softness of his earlier ones. I know he has been listening to our conversation, and I can see the truth of it when he leans down to look into my eyes. They’re swirling with anger, hurt and darkness. But all an outsider will see is the facade of ‘deep and meaningful’.
He says, “Not a letter, not an email. Not even a text.” When Hez calls his name, he plants a soft kiss on my frowning forehead and runs over to him.
My stomach rumbles with nausea. Yeah, I don’t know these guys anymore, because this is cruel, and they were never cruel to me before. I can see trying to dissuade the other girls, maybe get some heat off them or fix the annoyance factor their ex’s represent. But to set me up to deal with this shit as some kind of payback isn’t something the old Hazard boys would’ve done.
I’m not sure how it makes me feel. The fog of happiness that I’ve floated in all day is gone, and I feel like an idiot for being optimistic enough to fall for their open armed welcome.
When Hez calls my name, I ignore him. My biggest worry about coming back here, is them. The only thing that matters about this place, is them. And although they’re going to make it hard and hurtful, they want me back in their lives. Every touch, every soft look—despite the anger that’s simmering underneath it like a boiling pot—has been real.
They’re not saints. They want their pound of flesh because in their eyes I already have mine. At some point I’m sure, they’ll consider payment made. That somehow, we’re even for the hurt I have caused them. Eventually, probably the minute they have me alone, they’re all going to ask questions. Today’s behavior explains a lot and warns me about things too. Everything comes with conditions, especially with the Hazard boys. They’re not simple, shallow people. Not in the least.
And this is one of their conditions.
“Nora!” Hez yells my name this time. I meet his eyes and calmly raise my middle finger. They’re not the only ones who has changed. Yeah, I might play their emotional warfare, to allow them to feel vindicated about things, we’ll see, but I’m not going to do it with some idiotic smile on my face.
Turning, I head straight for the parking lot. It’s easy to ignore my name being called. It’s easy to throw up a Do Not Disturb-Field too. The bubble of quivering red energy locks around me and protects me from view. They can’t see me or smell me anymore.
Testified to when I walk by Barrett who looks around like he senses something, but then turns and heads towards the football field. Flat out running now, I get to my Jeep and yank open my backpack, tearing it in the process. Finding the keys with the large fox keychain on them, I grip them tightly, so I don’t drop them. With a trembling hand, I push the button to unlock the door and climb into the driver’s seat.
A loud thump on my window jerks my attention around and also the hammer I have on the passenger seat. I hold it beside the window, poised to bust through it if I need to. Phoenix stares into the window, right at me. The DND-Field is still up, so I shouldn’t be visible to him—but then I remember what he can do that the others can’t . Those fathomless eyes of his are contemplating me with thoughts I can’t read in them.
“I told him it was a bad idea,” he says, flattening his palm against the window. “But I can’t completely disagree with him, Nora. You were all we had, and you left us here with these people who don’t understand us.”
Anger hits me so hard I gasp.
“Sorry for hurting your feelings, fuck-head!” I yell, unshed tears burning my eyes and making the world distorted. My Mom was murdered in front of me… I was almost killed with her. Staying here wasn’t an option.
“Every day we’re in pain without you. It felt like glass cutting my insides and you had no idea what you were causing us because witches don’t feel that part of the bond. Every single day, Nora. That kind of pain gets to someone after a while.” He clears his throat and rests his forehead against the window. “Don’t you get it, Nora? You’re not the only one who had something shitty happen to them as a kid.”
I sob and stare at his face, oh my creator—I’m their bonded witch.
“You didn’t even say goodbye,” this is said in a whisper, his breath fogs the window, and I can feel his energy licking at my shield.
“I had to leave, Phoenix… he infected me, and if I’d have stayed, they’d have put me in prison.” The truth of why my Dad stole me out of the hospital while I was still unconscious. It wasn’t just me running. “I didn’t know about the bond.”
The staying away? That’s a different story entirely.
A witch infected with a shifter virus—they’re called bitten—is considered an abomination. It’s against the law for a child to be infected and they hide away any that are. Witches aren’t supposed to survive it, less than two percent do, and the results are usually catastrophic.
They go mad.
The ones who fall into madness crave the flesh of witches and once they eat it, there’s no turning back. They become a vile, fully evil creature that can never be cured, never be saved and the only peace they’ll ever find is death.
I guess I’ve got good luck hitting those statistics because I didn’t even touch madness and I survived without the flesh craving pieces. The look of shock on his face is genuine. He had no idea. I watch his clenching jaw as he digests
it, watch the moment his eyes light up with the realization of what I’m saying.
If a bitten survives the change, they can become part of a pack, legitimately. Something denied to a normal witch.
“You realize you won’t be able to get rid of us this time, right?” he breathes. “But you still have to pay the piper, Nora.”
Lifting my hand, I mirror it against his. I drop my shield and his eyes drill into mine. Without a word, I turn and start the car, putting it into gear I drive away without looking back.
Chapter Four
Dad isn’t home when I get there. He’s probably on some trip to an artifact site. This time, like many other times before—I’m glad he isn’t her. I head straight to my room; the tears started in the Jeep and they didn’t stop until I got to my driveway and sat there for twenty minutes. Now my face feels all puffy and gross. I want a warm bath and my bed. I don’t even care about food right now.
They’ll forgive me, eventually. I’m just not sure if I want to play their game. A howl startles the hell out of me, and I’ve already got a fireball in my hand when I turn to the bed. A big, shaggy, black wolf stares at me with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.
Dropping the backpack, I practically leap the distance between us to wrap my arms around her neck in jubilation. The tears start again, except this time they’re happy ones. Burying my face in the thick fur at her neck, I let the smell of warm cookies and Christmas soothe the sick feeling of grief inside of me.
I thought she was lost to me forever. When I was infected, it cut me off from my magic for a time—a time when I was still bonding with my new familiar. Cookie, so eloquently named by a child, is that familiar. When she didn’t manifest after we left, I thought for sure I’d lost her.
And you only get one familiar.
“Are you mine to keep now, Cookie?”
A growl is my answer, and as her head turns to rest on my shoulder, the bond that was so tentative and new as a child cements into place. For the first time in years, I’m starting to feel whole again, and it hinged on coming back to this town.
