by Ben Alderson
“This makes us even,” he says. “Besides, I didn’t bring you here to be tortured.”
“You just wanted answers,” I say slowly.
He nods. “And you gave them to me. Whether I like them or not.”
“What happens now?” I ask.
“I’m no longer in your debt.”
He turns to walk away, but just before he’s out of sight, he hesitates ever so slightly. Nearly turning to face me once again, he throws me a quick glance over his shoulder before leaving me alone to relish in the taste of his blood on my lips.
George
I halt walking a fair way down the street. Finally, the dark presence allows me enough control to command my legs to stop.
“You need to wait outside,” I tell Chad. “Hide.”
“Why the secrecy? Don’t you want me to meet your mother?” His question is more of a joke, but I can’t see past my panic.
Instead, my throat tightens. “Not today.”
Perhaps he can hear something in my tone, because he seems to be taking me seriously.
“All right, I will wait outside and melt into the shadows, like a true vampire.” He winks. “I promise, no one will know I am near… besides you.”
Though he jokes, Chad’s words relax me. Finally, I feel that I can breathe.
I cannot tell Chad about my mother’s intense hate for vampires, not without telling him what she does—what I have done.
Chad waits where I leave him, and I feel his gaze on me as I take the path toward my front door. By the time I reach it, I no longer feel his stare tingling the back of neck. But I do sense his presence, so I know he’s close.
For confidence, I take a deep breath before I grasp the door handle and push open the solid wood barrier.
Our house can sense the Alcott bloodline. Just as my ancestors did before me, I spelled it to forbid entrants who don’t share my blood or who don’t receive a personal invitation to enter. The house has had magic in its walls for centuries, and now, it’s almost as if the house itself is alive.
As if these very walls wish to help me, they whisper as I enter. Of course, they don’t actually speak to me; it’s more of a feeling I get the moment I close the front door. The house warns me with each step I take, sending shivers up my spine. It tells me Mother is here.
But Mother is not alone.
By the time their voices reach my ears, I’m already expecting them. Countless women and men loiter in the living room, which is to the left of the foyer. Everyone falls mute as I peer inside the room.
“My George…” Mother rushes to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me inside the room so everyone gets a full look at me. “I have been wondering where you have been.”
My blood almost freezes entirely as Mother plants a kiss on my cheek—something she has not done for… well, as long as I can remember.
“I told you this morning that my coven is meeting here this week,” she says.
I want to say no, because she didn’t tell me. She never tells me anything. In fact, the last I had heard from her was the text she sent me two nights ago, but with the many watching stares of her coven, I too fall mute. Instead, I smile and study the group as Mother introduces me.
I shake hands and spread thanks as the many compliment me on looking so much like Father. They never cease the compliment. With each new witch I meet, I grow more and more queasy. I don’t want to look like him.
But the darkness flips inside me. The coiled snake stretches as if it enjoys the compliments.
I want to pull away from the hands and run for my room. But I can’t show them how their words frustrate me. As Mother says, frustration is weakness. Any emotion can be considered weakness.
“Are you here to join us, George?” someone asks me. She’s a short, round lady with red-veined cheeks and a neat, black bun of hair. I’ve already forgotten her name. I’ve already forgotten all of their names.
“Oh, yes, we do hope you can.”
The rest of the witches agree in unison. Some even urge me to take a seat on the chair in the corner of the room.
“Um, no.” I try to explain, but my effort is wasted as I’m guided to the leather one-seater and made to sit and watch them.”
Movement of a shadow out the window catches my attention. Is it Chad? Knowing he is close seems to calm me. Although, he’s probably wondering what I’m doing lounging about when I’m supposed to be getting ready to meet the supreme.
“Shall we begin?” Mother asks.
“I really must—”
The look she gives me snatches my words from my mouth. Her brows are sharp and furrowed, her eyes full of tension and disdain.
“Is there a problem?” she asks me. “What is more important than our coven meeting?”
“I apologize, Mother,” I stand and face the rest of the coven, “but I need to get ready and leave for—”
“For what?” Mother questions.
The coven does not react to her anger. They still smile, hands clasped serenely before them. It is their calm natures that fill me with fear.
As she questions me, her coven mates wrap cloaks around their shoulders, which had been strewn across the coffee table in the middle of the room. Sewn onto the breast of the dark material is a white symbol I’ve never seen before. Even so, I know I should fear it. The hairs on my arm raise as I assess the upside down placement of the pentagram.
Someone conjures a flame in their palm. The heat warms me even from a distance. The orange light reflects off the sheen material of the cloaks and distracts my attention.
Finally, I answer Mother’s question. “I promised a witch at school I would attend his coven meeting. I thought it might be time I choose my own coven…”
Lying is easy, especially when I use Samuel as my scapegoat. Mother’s expression morphs from surprise to disbelief. A few of Mother’s coven members whisper to each other, looking at me as they do so.
Another conjures his element, reaching for the water in a glass and lifting it into a crystalized orb that hovers before him.
“I should leave—” I say, backing for the door.
“George,” Mother calls as my hand reaches for the door handle. “You are not still cross at me for the other evening, are you?”
“What?” I ask.
“Because really, I should be angry with you, but I have decided to put it behind me.”
I look to her. “I don’t understand.”
The instinctual burn of my gut is churning. Something is wrong here. The smile on her face is full of malice. Mother is leading me down a path that every other witch in this room seems to be clued into—except for me.
“I’m referring to the vampire you helped escape, of course. We should have killed it. That is why we are here. We must scry for the creature, so I can finish what I started.”
Not a single coven member seems shocked by her words. In fact, their expressions seem to melt into bared teeth and narrowed glares, as if the mention of a vampire irks them all. Could they be just as volatile as my mother?
“You need to stay and help us, since it is your mistake that caused us to lose the murdering beast,” Mother explains.
“I—I…” Words fail me. We can’t have this conversation. Not today and not with Chad so close. Can he hear this? Does he know what I’ve done?
“Speak up, child,” the short, round witch calls out. No longer does her nice demeanor reflect her expression. She seems as annoyed as my mother. “Do not stumble over your words.”
Mother raises a hand to stifle the witch’s comment. I watch her face turn from anger to a scorned dog. She lowers her gaze and fiddles with her fingers like a child.
“Go, George. Attend this other coven’s meeting, but remember, we are family. If you are going to join a coven, it should be this one.”
I try and keep my face void of expression as I leave them in the room. Closing the door behind me, I rush up the stairs, thankful to be away from the watching eyes of Mother’s
coven. Were they all in on Mother’s murderous ways? I always thought this was only her affliction, but their excitement suggests I was wrong.
When I get into my room, I shut the door and mark the spell for it to stay closed. Moving my hands, I wrap the threads of my power to ensure not a single member of the coven comes looking for me.
“Well, that is a change in events…” Chad’s voice greets me.
The strange encounter with the coven diluted my senses. I didn’t notice the open window and the boy who stands before it.
“How in hell’s name did you get in?” I ask, rushing forward and closing the window, but not before I look around to see if anyone saw him enter.
“The window was open. I took a chance,” Chad says.
But the house would never let a vampire in. Unless… unless it felt my desire to keep Chad a secret. I’m sure I didn’t leave my window open. Did the house open it for him? Has the magic used within these walls over the years given it more power than we realized?
“It is not safe for you here.” I push him to leave, trying to keep my voice a whisper.
“Why? Because of the coven of witches who seem to think that killing vampires is as normal as making a cup of English tea?” His one brow raises as he stands his ground.
“You don’t understand—”
“Nor do I want to, George. Do you know how serious this is? If they are killing vampires…” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.
“Mother only kills those who break the trea—” I stop myself from defending my mother. “You heard her. I helped that vampire escape.” I pray he doesn’t ask if there were any others I didn’t let live, because I’m not sure I can keep lying to him anymore.
Chad pulls a face, his lips tight with stress.
“You need to leave, Chad. I will meet you outside, but please, go.”
Having him in my room exhilarates me. Knowing Mother is below us thrills me even more. But the sane part of my mind, the part untouched by the darkness within, knows it is too dangerous. I can’t have Chad on Mother’s radar.
“Be quick,” Chad says as he reaches for the window, lifts it open, and climbs out into the night.
I fear he’s angry with me, but before he jumps down, he leans forward and kisses me. Maybe I’ve gotten away with the sins of my past…
“I will,” I reply, eyes still closed. By the time I open them, he is gone, lost to the shadows beneath the window.
No one stops me when I leave my room, walk down the stairs, and exit the house. I hear music, a type of chatting that floats beneath the slip of the door. The coven meeting is underway, and they’re lost to a ritual of some kind.
I only stop briefly by the door to listen, but it’s hard to make out what they are saying. They sing in a language I’ve never heard before.
Putting it in the back of my mind, I leave for Chad. I find him waiting for me at the end of my street. Illuminated by its yellow glow, he is leaning against a light pole. When he looks up, he takes a long moment to trail his gaze all over me.
“Perfect,” he purrs and wraps his arm around my waist. Although we are in the fringes of night, I still worry about people watching from the protection of their home. But Chad sweeps me off in the direction of main town before anyone can get a good look.
The nightly chill tickles my neck, and Chad’s earlier comments come flooding back.
“Will this do?” I ask, gesturing to my ripped jeans and V-neck maroon t-shirt that hugs my thin frame.
There is something hungry in the look Chad gives me as we walk. The red of his tongue flashes between his teeth. “Unfortunately, it will.”
“Why unfortunately?”
“You look irresistible. The cold brings out the veins in your neck, but the moment they catch whiff of your witchy scent, I think we will be in more trouble than this is worth.”
His threat intensifies the cold of the night. I want to wrap my arms around my waist as we walk for the location of the supreme. In that moment, I remember I never asked Chad where we were heading. Only when I see the flashing lights of a club ahead do I piece it all together.
Chad’s grip gets tighter as we pass the bouncers and enter the dark, bass-booming corridor of the club’s entrance. Once we enter the main room, I can’t help but notice the overwhelming number of crimson eyes on me. No longer am I cold within the night. I am cold beneath the icy gazes of uncountable vampires.
My body is alight as my magic stirs to life in response, but its Chad’s silent distress that scares me the most.
Savi
His memories haunt me as I lie on the cement floor. Everything he wished to keep secret is now replayed over and over again in my mind. I see his most intimate moments when he tells the girl I killed how much he cares for her. I see his childhood, how he watched his mother sacrifice herself to save him. He escaped from that vampire attack. She didn’t.
His memories flash before my eyes in bits and pieces like a movie reel. I experience his love, his pain, his hatred. His soul is angry with supernaturals for everything they’ve done. They stole his childhood, his mother, his freedom. Now, he walks a destined path by his father’s side. His father, an unrighteous man preaching morals to his people, forces Will into servitude of the cause. I watch as he tells Will it is his responsibility to someday dethrone him.
I close my eyes and struggle to focus on just one memory, for the reel of flashbacks is making me queasy. Never before have I drunk from a human to experience such vivid images of his darkest secrets.
Suddenly, I am no longer in my cage. I am in Will’s memory. I am Will.
I stand in line, waiting among others. The room is large, the walls cushioned by a dark blue padding. The floor is soft and squishy under my feet. I focus on that, wiggling my toes, trying to burrow them into the padding.
Across the room, there are tables lined side by side. The tops are full of various weapons. I am interested in one of the daggers. Its black handle houses a sparkling jewel. For some reason, it calls to me. I ache to run over and hold it in my hand, but I know I cannot. Father would not allow that. I must wait my turn.
My attention is taken by the two men beside me. They playfully wrestle. I can tell they’re as eager as I am, but I do not show it. I hide my emotions, just like Father taught me.
“One day, you will lead our people, young William. You must remain strong, steady. Show no weakness,” he once told me.
I nod at a man standing beside me. He grumbles something inaudible and turns away from me. I know I’m not liked. I can tell because no one will be my friend. I am my father’s son. I am next in line to lead our people. They don’t like that.
Suddenly, I’m remembering a time I entered the cafeteria. I thought I’d sit by all the others. I needed them to see that we can be friends. My birthright to rule didn’t matter. As soon as I set my tray down and took a seat, the room fell silent. Quickly and in unison, every one stood, leaving behind half-eaten food. I ate alone.
“Hunters!” The game maker’s voice is loud. I blink away the memory of that awful day. “Ready yourself!”
Before us, several experienced hunters stand, weapons drawn as they wait for the order to attack. I prepare my body for the physical assault I’m about to endure as I face my fellow hunters.
I always hated training…
A slamming door jolts me back to reality. Hunters. These people call themselves hunters? I wonder if I should keep this information to myself or use it to bargain for my freedom.
I roll onto my side and struggle to stand as I brace myself for the attack.
Except it doesn’t come.
The slamming door was not to my cage, but to another. I watch as a girl, younger than me, is dragged by two hunters. I know from experience that the only thing down that hall is the room of the executioner.
The girl, a vampire, struggles to break free from their grasp. She fights, kicking and screaming, begging not to be brought back to him. They ignore her pleas.
&n
bsp; Shoeless, she slams her feet against the ground, using the balls of her feet to stop their ascent. They push against her, and her feet burrow beneath the concrete floor. When they lift her small frame, her feet are yanked free from the floor, returning as bloody stubs. Concrete is embedded beneath her toenails, and some of her toes are broken at awkward angles.
“Stop!” I yell. I run toward the cage door but come to an abrupt stop just before gripping the deadly electric bars. “Leave her alone!”
The men ignore me, but her gaze flashes to mine. Her eyes, flooded with tears, plea with me to save her. But I can’t. I can only pray she remains strong for the executioner’s questioning.
I’m sorry, I mouth to her before she’s out of sight.
A door slams shut, and moments later, the two hunters who brought her into the room walk past my cage. They smile and chat about meaningless nonsense, giving no care to the life they just sentenced to pain and torture.
“How can you do this to us?” I yell, but they pay me no attention.
The seconds tick by as I stand in my cage, waiting for the girl’s return. By the time the door opens, I’ve gnawed my lip so thoroughly it bleeds.
Slowly, the executioner steps into my view, dragging behind him the corpse of the vampire he just murdered. I watch as he takes each slow step. He pulls her by her ankles. Her frame much smaller than his, he easily holds both her feet in one of his hands. Her pale skin now a lifeless gray, she is covered in dark black veins. No longer crimson red, her eyes are murky and white. The color of her dark brown hair has faded as life left her mortal coil. Now, it is splayed behind her, sweeping the dirty concrete floor as she is dragged across it. The executioner’s knife, which I have come to know intimately, is protruding from the girl’s chest, planted squarely in her heart. He’s smart. He’s waiting until he is sure she perished before he removes the weapon, for if he withdraws it too quickly, she could heal and recover from the injury, like I have each night he plunged the weapon into my chest.
