A Lying Witch

by Odette C. Bell

  I had no idea how terrified my expression was. From the exact feel of my cheeks and lips, I imagined I looked like Detective Coulson had just suggested the impossible. Because hey, he had just suggested the impossible. “Um, look I don't really know—” I began.

  “She will do fine,” Max said through a stiff smile as he leaned forward and clamped a hand on my shoulder. It absolutely was not for support. The exact way his fingers weighed down into my muscles was kind of like an anchor locking me in place.

  Though my fright had been on the simmer until now, suddenly it hit the boil. “Look, Detective Coulson, I really don't think I have time to—” I began.

  Max’s fingers weighed down all the harder until it felt like he was going to push me through the very floor.

  “Show us those photos,” he suggested, his thick brogue echoing right by my ear.

  Now, I was no expert when it came to these things, but I was the one Detective Coulson had invited to help in this case, not Max. So why did Coulson compliantly leaf through the file, grab some photos and hand them to Max?

  Max looked at the photos, his expression grim.

  Then he handed them to me.

  I screwed my eyes shut, thank you very much. Because there was no way in hell I was going to stare at some photos of a real murder. I didn’t need fresh blood and body bags kicking around in my subconscious.

  Still, before I managed to close my eyes and jerk my head to the side, I caught a glimpse of the photo on the top of the pile. I saw a thick grove of pine trees, trampled grass and dirt, and, off amongst the broken branches on a bed of pine needles, a body….

  I clenched my teeth and hissed as if I’d just been struck.

  “Um, look, Detective Coulson,” I stuttered through my words, but at least I was pushing them out, “I'm really… ah, thankful for your offer,” I tried, “but—” I didn't even get the chance to finish my sentence.

  Max leaned forward and clamped a rather heavy, rather pointed hand on my shoulder again. “What Chi is trying to say,” he said as he cleared his throat with all the resonant power of someone blasting on a horn, “is that she’ll look over these files and have an answer for you by the morning.”

  With that, Max leaned forward, gathered the contents of the file, popped them back in the Manila folder, tucked them neatly under his arm, and rose to leave.

  Detective Coulson looked mildly confused, but rather than take a stand and point out to the brutish Scottish fairy that he wasn't the one being employed here, Coulson shrugged his shoulders. Then he turned a smile on me. “That would be great. Because this murderer,” he shook his head as he trailed off, obviously too overcome by the brutality of the killing to string a sentence together.

  I felt cold. Okay, cold was an understatement. I felt like some prick had dragged me into the Arctic, dug a tomb for me, and shoved me under the ice forever more. And which prick had it been? Oh, I only had to swivel my gaze to the left to see him.

  In between feeling completely terrified over what was happening, I somehow managed to shoot Max a sneer. He simply smiled back.

  Then he gestured to me with a rather rude and dismissive flick of his hand. “Come on, Chi – it's rude to keep the detective waiting,” he said pointedly.

  Rude, ha? I’d give him rude. There was absolutely no way under the sun that I was ever going to help out with this murder. It wasn't just that the idea of violent crime made me squeamish. It was that, hello, I was a completely fake fortune teller. Okay… there'd been that weird incident with Max when he’d tried to attack me, but I had no idea how to replicate that experience, nor did I wish to. It had been the most frightening episode of my life. And yet, even though I knew in my heart there was absolutely no way I was going to help out with this murder, I didn't suddenly point that out. If I mentioned that, dear old Max would probably take me home and tie me to a chair again. Because, hey, it wasn't like he had any problems tying women to chairs. Nope, if I wanted out of this situation – and I desperately, desperately did – I would have to be smart.

  In other words, it was time to run away from Max, run away from Detective Coulson, and run away from dear old grandmother McLane’s house. I'd had enough of this life already.

  I let Max lead me out of the door and back to the waiting car. I didn't say a word to him as he drove me home. Instead, I planned my escape.

  Chapter 5

  He’d told me not to run. So what was I doing? Of course I was running.

  Hello, what choice did I have?

  There was no way in hell I was going to help with that murder. Because there was no way in hell I was a real clairvoyant. I didn't care what Max said, I didn't care what that book said – I was just an ordinary fortuneteller. And by ordinary, I meant fake.

  I won't deny that there was a slight shake to my hand as I ran down the street. I’d decided to ditch my car. Though it would have been quicker than running away on foot, the car was parked right outside of the house, and though Max wasn't technically in, somehow I just knew the fairy would have attached some kind of magical locator to it.

  No, it was safer on foot.

  Safer.

  That word kept echoing through my mind like a drum beat. And every time it repeated, I felt heavier and heavier.

  Because this was the right decision, right?

  God, I was covered in sweat. It was early evening, and for some reason, it was goddamn dark already. Point was, though, it was cool, with a brisk breeze whistling down the street. I should not be covered in sweat. But I felt like I was drowning in the stuff. And my heart? Oh, god, I won't even bother describing that to you. It felt like I was seconds away from a cardiac arrest.

  With one hand squeezed against my chest, fingers hooking over my collar for support, I continued to run down the road.

  I still knew absolutely nothing about this town. Hello, I'd only arrived here several days ago. And for most of those days, I'd been trying to desperately hide from the fact my grandmother had been a true clairvoyant who had a fairy for a bodyguard.

  Now I found myself wholeheartedly wishing that I'd planned this escape better. My phone wasn’t even properly charged. The damn thing barely had enough battery to send texts these days, let alone access Google Maps.

  I swore to myself under my breath over and over again, sounding like a seriously pissed off puttering engine.

  The plan was to find some nice out-of-the-way bus stop, get on said nice out-of-the-way bus, then head back to the airport. From there, I'd scrape together my meager savings and hightail it out of this town, never to return again. I’d put grandma’s house on the market remotely, and I'd slam the door in Max’s face if he ever tracked me down.

  I tried to smile at that thought, because it was a pretty good plan, right?

  Well, as long as you forgot his dire warning about monsters. I could still see how stretched his face had been when he’d leaned in, that tight frown pressing hard across his face. “They’ll track you down and tear you apart, Chi,” he’d promised.

  Tear me apart. God, did that bring up pretty images.

  I suddenly shook my head in such a frantic move, I almost gave myself whiplash. I did not, however, stop throwing myself down the street.

  Seriously, though, it was freaking dark. For some reason, it felt as if even the streetlights I passed were dimmed. As I flitted past them, I realized their light barely penetrated the shadows. In fact, if I had a paranoid mind – and let's face it, right now I did – I'd say that the shadows were somehow growing. Billowing like storm clouds.

  I gritted my teeth so hard I could have fractured them into shards.

  I suddenly came to a fork in the road. One option led down a narrow, tightly pressed, winding alley. The other along what appeared to be a wide main street.

  I snorted as I took one look at the creepy alley and pushed along the main road instead. I wasn’t an idiot. Run down an alleyway on a night as dark as this, and I sure would be attacked. Not by monsters, mind you, but by the thrifty who
prefer to steal other's fortunes than make their own.

  I sped forward and reached the main road.

  It took me about 10 meters down the wider avenue until I realized one seriously important fact: there were no cars. Heck, as I swiveled my head from left-to-right and I looked at the various houses and buildings that lined the street, I realized they were all dark. No lights on, anywhere. What made it worse – what made it far worse – was that the streetlights dotted along the road were all starting to dim. One to my left suddenly flickered and turned off completely. One across the road turned off with a pop as the globe shattered, sending a fine dusting of glass all over the pavement beneath it.

  I ground to a stop. Seriously, it was like I was trying to dig my shoes into the pavement.

  My heart sped up to a million miles an hour, my breath lodged in my throat as if it were two hands trying to choke me.

  I took a staggering step back, turned hard on my heel, and sprang back towards the mouth of the street.

  No, I didn't honestly believe that monsters were about to pop out of the darkness and attack me. But I was an ordinary girl, and any ordinary girl would be seriously freaked out about this suddenly dark and deserted street.

  There was a problem. Though I threw myself towards the mouth of the alley, I never reached it. The last streetlight above me exploded. It didn't turn off with a flick, didn't dim with a light hum. Oh no, it exploded like someone had shot it with a Gatling gun.

  I screamed, jerking to the side, throwing my hands over my head, and bumping into the lamppost. My shoulder slammed against the metal, sending even more glass showering down from above and covering my hair, exposed hands, and cheeks.

  The smell of burnt metal and heated glass filled the air. A second later, it was replaced with something else. Something so strong, it scoured the inside of my nostrils.

  It smelt like sulfur. The only reason I knew this, was because I'd visited a volcano in New Zealand once. The smell was unmistakable. It was as if a hole down to the center of the Earth had just opened up behind me.

  I kept my shaking, jittering shoulders pressed against the lamppost, because it was the only landmark I had left in this pitch-black street.

  The sanity I'd been desperately trying to hold onto violently gave way. With a crash, I realized this wasn’t normal. Normal? Hell no. This was magical. It had to be.

  My eyes pulsed as wide as they could, so wide I was terrified my eyeballs would drop out of my skull and fall onto the ground by my feet.

  They didn't.

  But that wasn't because I calmed down. I heard footsteps. If you could call them footsteps. They were methodical, rhythmic, one thump after another that grew louder as if something were moving closer. I couldn’t say they belonged to an ordinary human. It sounded 10 times heavier than that. To make matters worse, between the stifling beat of my heart, I swore I heard the sound of a metal chain being dragged across the street.

  I did not do well in scary situations. Okay, I was pretty good at confrontation – you had to be if you were from my family. I was good at faking it and lying, too. I was not, however, good when I was this shit scared. And I was completely and utterly terrified. My entire body had seized up, my shoulders felt like metal rods, my back like an immovable tree trunk, and my cheeks were so stiff I was certain they'd been replaced by plaster.

  Thump, thump, thump. Rattle, rattle, rattle. Whoever was behind me, they were getting closer.

  I still couldn't see a damn thing. But then I remembered my phone.

  With a shaking gasp, I plunged a hand into my pocket, drew it out, and thumbed the screen on. The light it emitted was disappointingly small. In fact, the only things it could illuminate were my shaky, sweaty hands. I felt a few puffs of my breath shift across the screen, but that was it. Because, yeah, that was the other thing – suddenly it was cold. And I mean fricking freezing. While before a light breeze had been marching down the street, it was absolutely nothing to the almost arctic gale that now furiously chased its way down the road.

  I pushed myself even harder into the unyielding support of the lamppost. But what could it do?

  I heard something breathe. If, in fact, it was breathing. It was this strange, rattling, wheezing, heavy noise. Kind of like a giant trying to catch its breath through a straw.

  “What… what’s out there. What's out there?” I screamed. Maybe it would have been smarter to stay quiet, but I was no idiot – that thing knew exactly where I was because it was coming right towards me.

  “Whoever you are, stay back. I’m armed,” I lied. Sure, I had a phone that could barely project its light, but—

  I had a phone!

  Sure, I was almost out of credit, but emergency calls were free.

  Though I could barely control my sweaty hands, I clenched my teeth and used all my determination to control my fingers as I dialed the number.

  I drew my phone back and crammed it against my ear, trying to stifle the sound of my terrified breath.

  A second later, there was a click as the call went through. “Oh my god, help me,” I began.

  “I am sorry. Your call could not be connected. You have broken your contract and will be punished. Goodbye.”

  I froze.

  What the hell?

  I didn't get a chance to dial the number again.

  That thing behind me? It finally caught up.

  I heard something. It was kind of like a cross between a door creaking on its hinges and a bird of prey. It was categorically one of the most terrifying noises I had ever experienced, let alone imagined. It tore through me, shaking through that last reserve of my courage and turning me into jelly.

  It did do one good thing, though. It broke the spell holding me in place.

  Despite the fact I could not see the street and everything was pitch black, I threw myself forward. I stumbled as my foot twisted towards the gutter, and I fell down to one knee. Though pain slammed into my leg and up into my hip, I still threw myself to my feet and staggered away. “Help. Somebody help me. Please, help!”

  Even if there were any other people in this magically dark street, I doubted they could come to my aid. For, at that exact moment, the cross between the creaking door and the hawk moved. I felt a flutter of something past my shoulder then a massive resounding thump as something landed right in front of me.

  I screeched and pitched backward, stumbling and falling on my ass. I scooted along on my hands and butt, shifting to the side just in time.

  Something sliced past my cheek, whistling through the air before it slammed into the pavement a centimeter away from my right arm.

  Chunks of asphalt scattered over my jeans, arms, and face, plastering my hair against my neck.

  I brought an arm up, tried to hide behind it, but that wasted precious time.

  Because the creature attacked again.

  There was another whistle of air and something sliced towards me. This time, I didn't have the opportunity nor the luck to duck away. Something slammed against my wrist, wrapped around it, and yanked me forward. Pain shot up my arm, sliced into my shoulder, burnt through my wrist.

  I screamed, but there was nothing I could do to fight against the force as it dragged me forward.

  The unmistakable heavy metal loops of a chain were wrapped around my hand as the creature dragged me forward through the dark street.

  I was way beyond screaming for help now. In fact, my terrified mind realized there was only one thing I could do.

  I still somehow had my phone in my other hand.

  Calling the emergency services hadn't worked, but what about Max?

  I didn't have the mental energy to question the idea, didn't have the foresight to realize he’d be pretty pissed that I'd run away from him.

  None of that mattered. Only living did.

  Somehow… somehow I managed it. With the last of my energy, I dialed Max.

  I didn't even wait for him to pick up. I started screaming. Over and over again.

  A secon
d later, the creature dragged me over a particularly rough patch of street, and the phone – my only hope – jolted out of my hand. “No, god, no, please,” I choked as I desperately scraped a hand over the pavement beside me, trying to find it. It wasn't there. It was gone. And, likewise, I was a goner too.

  Chapter 6

  Everything became a blur. A blur of pain. A blur of pure fear. My mind felt cold. So cold it felt like my thoughts had turned into snowflakes whirling through my mind like a blizzard. I had no idea how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? I didn't know where the creature was dragging me to, either. Maybe it wasn’t dragging me anywhere. Maybe this was the monster version of drawing and quartering. Perhaps it would just drag me along until my arm was wrenched right out of my socket or my flesh was dragged from my bone.

  I was crying, of course I was crying. But it was erratic. Just hot messy tears streaming down my cheeks as I battled for breath.

  I had no hope. No hope at all. There was nothing that could save me now.

  Yet, even as I thought that defeated thought, something happened. A flash. Right at the edge of consciousness – right at the very edge of my mind. A bare flash of light. It was like looking up on a starless night to see a shooting star blaze across the sky.

  Just when I thought that flash of light was nothing but my imagination, I saw it again. Right there, right at the edge of my awareness. It brought with it that same sensation of splitting up. Suddenly, overlaying the scene, I saw another image. Just as had happened when Max had attacked me in the kitchen, I saw a flash of what was going to happen next. A crack opened up just a few feet in front of me. One that appeared to lead straight down to hell. That, or a place equally as foreboding and fiery.

  I watched as the creature dragged me towards that hole with nothing more than a light tug of the chain.