by Shay Cabe
Hesitantly, I reach over and rub his arm. This is painful for him and I can’t imagine being in his position. I’m not fortunate enough to have siblings.
“I’m guessing you two were close before?”
“Yeah, we did everything together. Then he went to that camp and now he’s always going off on strange trips or locking me out of his room.” That does sound strange, actually. Twins are typically close and witch twins even more so. However, things that happen in life can change a person completely; they changed me.
“Maybe he’s going through some,” I struggle for the right word and then settle on the first one that pops into my head, “hormonal thing and will share when he’s worked through it,” I say as comfortingly as I can.
“Maybe. All I know is that I lost my brother to that bullshit.” He rubs a hand down his face and looks up at me, his smile back in place. “Oh em gee, our first day as friends and I’m in depression-mode. How about some ice cream?” He really is my kind of friend. I love ice cream.
“There’s a witch run place in town called Calling Cone that has the best ice cream in the world,” I offer. I haven’t had it for years but I saw that it was still open when I drove around town.
“Uh, do you have some wheels?”
“Well, yeah. Let’s go, I’ll even treat you,” Smiling at my offer, he stands and grabs my hand and once again I’m getting dragged behind him. I have a feeling this will be a relatively common thing and I discover that I’m okay with that. I pull him to a stop and say, “Aren’t you supposed to go straight home though?”
He shrugs and I let him start pulling me along again.
Unsurprisingly, he goes to the wrong car, I can understand though. It’s a cute little feminine looking car with pink dice hanging on the rear-view mirror. An almost duplicate copy of ninety percent of the other female drivers that go to this school. However, it's not mine and I pull him towards mine with a headshake.
“One thing you’ll learn about me, Teddy, is that I don’t wear labels well.”
“Nice whip!” he compliments letting go of my hand to walk around it with looks of appreciation. “It’s tight, that’s true. Can I drive it?” he asks looking like a hopeful puppy.
I’m about to ruin his momentary dream. “No.” I unlock it and climb in the driver’s seat. He looks disappointed for all of five-seconds before jogging around to climb in. “Seatbelt.”
“But we’re witches.”
“Yep. We also bleed like everyone else and I don’t want that shit on my seats.”
We talk about other places he’s lived and coincidentally he’s moved as much as I have. It’s another point we relate on. By the time I pull into Calling Cone I know a lot more about him, even what he isn’t saying out loud. Teddy doesn’t have it easy. He’s dealt with prejudice from all sides and now feels persecuted by his own family. He also feels like he’s lost his best friend, Abraham. He’s lonely.
“Okay, foods you hate?” I ask the fiftieth question. We’ve been taking turns fact-checking each other the entire trip.
“Sausage,” he smiles like a well-fed cat as he says it.
“There are a lot of different directions I can take that right now…” The fact is twenty different dick jokes popped into my head at the same time but we’re not quite there yet. Getting there. “But, since I hate sausage too, I’ll roll with it.”
“I bet there are four guys who’d be disappointed to know that.”
Oh my god, he totally went there.
“I live to disappoint.” I say instead of admitting that, oh by the way, I’m a virgin who only knows about sex from a clinical perspective and one embarrassing porno that involved a woman and some kind of tentacle. I fell down the internet rabbit hole and haven't gone back down it since. It’s scary there.
“You’re a virgin!” he says as I open my door. Of course the middle-aged woman pulling two red faced crying children hears it. The utter look of disapproval on her face is enough to make me sigh and shut the door on his continuing teasing. I walk towards the shop and ignore him laughing behind me.
There’s no shame in being a virgin.
“I’m sorry, Nora. I’m teasing. I’ve still got my v-card too.” I stop and look at him and simply shake my head. That is a surprise but not one I want to talk about in front of all the soccer mom’s in Singe. Everyone tends to believe the stereotypes that all teens are humping like happy hamsters twenty-four-seven. While it's true that some are, there are just as many that choose to wait.
I hate stereotypes almost as much as I hate knowing some of them are true.
Chapter Nine
I have to admit that Teddy’s house is super creepy. Not even in the cool way. There’s this aura of sinister power about it that gives me a bad feeling. They’re doing something there, calling something they shouldn’t be. Looking at it without knowing about magic, it looks like a normal two-story, white house with green shutters and two massive columns holding up a porch that looks like it's covered in gold.
Honestly, I’d think they were just wealthy people trying to look wealthy. The grounds are perfectly manicured with shrubs in the shape of various animals dotting the long driveway to the house. A driveway that has a brick road instead of concrete and a large imposing gate at the front with a guard in a stand.
Teddy is right about bad stuff happening here. I’m not even sure he realizes how bad.
“See? Told you,” he says before getting out of the car. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” With a small wave he shuts the door and goes into the house. I get a glimpse of a woman in a classic black and white maid uniform at the door and then it shuts with a solid thump.
I genuinely feel like this is the beginning of a made for TV horror movie.
With one last look at the house I head back up the long winding driveway to leave. Halfway there I see someone standing off to the side in the shade of the trees, watching. I can tell that it’s Abraham by the way he holds himself. I don’t wave, neither does he and I focus back on driving out of the horror house lane. I fight the urge to look back, I can feel him still watching but I don’t. No way am I feeding that weirdness.
The desire to shake the chills has me turning the music up and smiling when Cookie pops in the passenger seat.
“I wish you could talk,” I say rolling the window down for her to stick her face out like a typical canine. She does so with her tongue lolling and turns slightly to look at me. The wind catches her mouth and stretches her lips out exposing her large, white teeth. She looks like that alien from the movie.
Laughing, I head towards Ms. Hazard’s house and hope that the guys are busy with other things. I also have to admit that despite everything if I had stayed at home alone I’d be in whatever hole the council sent that lady to throw me in. I also realize that as much as she can sometimes be intimidating, she’s also one of the best people I know.
However, Ms. Hazard and I need to talk.
She’s in the kitchen when I get to the house. The guys are doing their sports stuff and it's a perfect chance for me to talk to her and maybe get an incognito workout before they all get back. Instead of doing anything I stand there in the doorway and watch her.
She’s got her back to me, dancing to the country music playing in the background. As she works, she’s humming along with it as her talented baking hands shape pie crusts. She’s even wearing a white apron with bright red strawberries on it. The sun is highlighting her blonde hair that’s put up in a perfect bun on her head. In my memory I’ve seen this a dozen times except back then my mom was beside her.
“Is there something I can help you with, Nora?” she says without turning around or pausing in what she’s doing.
I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms. “You going to tell me the truth about what’s going on?” No reason not to get right to the point. I love Ms. Hazard and I respect the crap out of her but I hate how I’m being left in the dark. Not knowing leaves me ill prepared if they decide to send someone to kil
l me like they did with my mom.
This time though, I’m prepared.
“I’ve found something linking the council to your mother’s death,” she says after a few minutes of silence broken only by the sound of the rolling pin flattening the dough.
I genuinely didn’t expect her to give me a truthful answer; I didn’t expect it to be that she was still looking for my mom's killer either.
“Your dad has been the council’s lackey most of his life and while looking into what he’s been up to, I discovered a link to your mom. After that, I called my attorney and your dad. I told him it would be best if you stayed here because he's so busy with his work.” She turns to me, wiping her hands on her apron and leans against the counter. Her smile is somewhat sad with an edge of sympathy to it.
“Did his job for the council cause my mom’s death?” She sighs.
“Inadvertently, probably, but your mom knew the risks when she married him.” She chews on her bottom lip and then says, “Your mother was a target from the beginning. She was powerful, independent and stubbornly refused to obey the archaic rules the council insists upon. She couldn’t be bribed or threatened and it's what made them kill her. Your dad is just an idiot who opened his mouth at the wrong time, to the right person.”
“You blame him too, don’t you?” She was Mom’s best friend.
“Of course. I asked him to leave you here with me after the attack but he refused. I know what’s going on with you, have known since you survived the attack. Only a handful of people know it bit you. Everyone else believes you were merely struck several times and scarred.”
I keep my silence—this is the first time I’m getting the actual truth and I don’t want to ruin it. The things she’s saying about dad I’ve always suspected and those suspicions have already shaped my opinion of him, so hearing them doesn’t change the way I feel at all.
“I want to tell you he loves you, in his own way, but I think it’d be a lie and you deserve the truth in that. I don’t feel like he ever loved your mom either, but she would never listen to me.” She sighs again. “You would’ve done better here with me and the boys instead of living half a life with a man who’s more concerned with his own.” The anger in her voice surprises me although it shouldn't. Ms. Hazard keeps her cool under pressure but she was mom’s best friend, they were as close as sisters.
She’s probably right about my staying with her too. I’d have had someone who understood guiding me, loving me. I’d probably be happier and driving the girl car Teddy went to in the parking lot. But I’m not.
“I look at you now and I see her in you but I see something more too. I see something she wasn’t, a warrior. She was a lover—badass in her own way, but she always wanted to do the right thing, even though it cost her life. A life that was precious and all because she tried to walk the moral high ground and stayed with that idiot who helped create you.” Her eyes water as she speaks and her voice lowers, deepening with the dislike that’s evident for my father.
“You really dislike my dad, huh?” She laughs and wipes at her eyes.
“Yeah, you can say that, but I don’t want my opinion to color yours. He’s your father.”
“I love him, I guess,” Although sometimes I’m not so sure and I keep that to myself, “but only because of that. Him and I aren’t close and never will be. I see him for what he is and never try to convince myself of anything different.” I stopped doing that a long time ago.
“You sound so old for a sixteen-year-old girl. I wish that I could tell you not to grow up too soon. That you should enjoy your childhood and be free of the darkness tainting the memories of your mother, but,” she crosses the room to me and pulls me into a hug. “You and I both know that that girl wouldn’t be as strong as you are now and I’m so sorry that things are this way, Nora,” she says into my hair.
I let the tears fall into the thick material of her shirt and say nothing about the ones I feel soak into my own shirt. Both of us stand there and let ourselves have that moment of sadness for what was, what is and what will be.
Chapter Ten
To say the Hazard’s house is nice, is an understatement. There are two pools, three or four guest houses, and that’s not counting all the surrounding property. I have no idea where Ms. Hazard works—if she works—but I know she has money. I’ve always assumed it was family money. Mom had some too, old witch families like the Hexes and Hazards typically have deep pockets.
I’m not entirely sure of the exact amount left to me. A lawyer has always taken care of it, but I know it's enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life. We never lived like this though; Mom was a bit of a penny pincher, she used her money for other people. If I were like her, I would too. Dad could’ve had something to do with that too, he had no idea how much money mom had. Otherwise it would all be gone. His share he received from her death was spent in a matter of weeks.
I finish my walk and head straight towards the workout room. Maybe beating the sandbag up will help me work through this hot mess inside my head. I peek inside the door and find the light off, the room empty. Creeping inside I hurriedly strip down to the shorts and sports bra I was wearing underneath and tape my hands and bare feet. The bags hanging in the center of the room beckon me.
As I walk towards them I look around, I haven’t been here since we were kids and back then we weren’t allowed to mess with anything. The ceiling is scarred from where the bags have been knocked or ripped down. There are repaired areas all over the walls and on the floor next to the brand new set of mats are four long lines of claw marks.
Without giving much thought to it I kneel down and trace them with my fingertips. There’s plenty of guilt inside of me for them going through pain, especially now that I know we’re bound. Yet, they seem to lack the ability to understand how afraid I was, how much I was going through too. It’s what stops me from playing their game.
I had no idea we were bound, there was no intent of pain from me. They—minus Phoenix now—want to purposely cause me pain. I guess I’ll never see that as right. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to mend the wound between us, though, it just means I won’t be doing it on their terms.
I’ll even accept if they meet me halfway. Well, three quarters of the way.
Then you have the mess with dad. That thought has me straightening up and turning to kick the bag with a solid hit that I feel in my hips. Another jars me and makes me change my stance. This becomes a steady staccato of muted thumps as I take out all the misery inside of me on the bag.
I ignore the tears rolling down my face. The turmoil in my heart. I hit and hit and hit until my body aches and continue hitting the bag until with one last hit I stumble back until I feel the coolness of the wall against my skin. Leaning my head against it, contemplate the ceiling above me.
There are plenty of moments in life where being right makes you feel justified in your beliefs. You feel vindicated for knowing the truth of things. There are also moments where facing the truth you knew or suspected crumbles any last hope you had about not being right.
I’m facing a moment like that and it hurts and I hate it and since it’s already done, there’s nothing I can do about it except ride out the tidal wave of fuckery. I’ve always known what he’s like, I’ve always known that he’d never change. I guess it hurts because I stupidly held onto some small hope that one day he’d be a real parent.
No one likes to face those kinds of demons.
“You’ve had some training, tossing my ass around up at the lake showed me that,” Oz’s voice chases away the last vestiges of sadness and I straighten to look at him. Wiping off my face I give him a semi-dirty look. Not in the mood to debate or even talk to another person I walk towards my clothes. I can carry them upstairs and shower in my bathroom. Wash my regrets down the drain.
“Other than those few tricks are you actually any good?” he asks, walking close behind me.
Knowing he won’t give up until I respond, I say, “Nope.” I
feel the intent and move my head to the left as his fist sails by it and keep walking.
“Wanna spar?”
“Nope,” I reply again. He drops quickly, trying to sweep my feet out from under me. I hop over his leg and keep walking.
“Come on Nora. You know I’ll just keep at you until you give in.”
“Nope,” I repeat for the third time. He’s starting to piss me off. I lean forward and grab my clothes. He comes at my back again, I dodge and turn, the crunch of my fist connecting with his throat gives me a small sliver of satisfaction. He drops to the floor wheezing. It won’t kill him, not as he is. A normal person, probably.
I head towards the door.
“No one can say…” He coughs then continues, “That you hit like a girl.” The door closes on anything else he has to say and I head straight towards my room, avoiding the other three brothers in the process. It takes more effort than I expected it would and makes me want to punch the other three in the throat too.
Doesn’t anyone understand personal space anymore?
Cookie is lounging on my bed when I get there and I give her a dirty look as I walk into the bathroom. Great guardian skills there, sleeping while I’m playing peekaboo with four asshats.
I should’ve kept hitting the bag. Cookie doesn’t deserve my pissy attitude.
I turn the shower on and climb in. It’s one of those luxury showers that has four shower heads and is big enough to hold five people. I love this shower and that’s why I stand there under the hot spray and let it beat the last of the sadness right out of me.
I can’t even follow my plans anymore. Being bound to those four changes everything. Me turning into whatever I will one day, changes it too. The neat, every-detail-laid-out-carefully plan I had for myself unravels. Regardless of the current status of my relationship with them, I know I can’t leave them behind again. And until the three who are still sticking to their own stupid revenge plan decide to either get over it or feel satisfied they’ve gotten their pound of flesh, I’m stuck playing along.
