Witchfire

by Cyrese Covelli

  "Speaking of which; at least I'm not growing any. Wait. You don't think I'll start do you?” Gemma asked. Her green eyes grew wide and she patted her fingertips over her chin and mouth.

  The bass of the music grew louder, its beats pulsating through my shoes. Nodding to the beat, I sipped my Pepsi and pointed Gemma's attention towards one of the girls dancing on the platform. She moved sinuously to the music, raking her hands through her chin-length hair, the color of cherry cough syrup.

  She had been up there for less than a minute when most of the other girls filed down the shallow stairs casting angry glances at the newcomer. When one remaining girl continued to dance, Cherry Cough Syrup leaned forward, grabbing the other girl by the arm. Whatever exchange went on caused the lone dancing trooper to haul her stiletto-footed self in the same direction as the others.

  "That was pleasant,” I said. Gemma lifted the lemon wedge from her lemonade and pressed it to her lips, sucking the remainder of her beverage through its pulp.

  "A definite Midol-moment,” Gemma said. I choked on the soda I was drinking and laughed. "You know what I think we should do, Asch?” Gemma asked. Maybe it was intuition or maybe I just knew my sister well, but before she could even continue her thought, I was shaking my head no. There was no way I was going up there.

  Cherry Cough Syrup reached into the press of clubbers below her and pulled someone onto the stage, pressing her body tightly against his. It was Elliot, and I was so going up there. Gemma took my soda from me and smiled.

  "Go,” she said. "I'll be right there.” I squeezed her hand and turned towards the stage. After taking several steps, it occurred to me that I had no idea what I was doing. I had met Elliot less than an hour ago and I was acting jealous as if he had come to The Crimson as my date. Not that I would mind going on a date with him, or a date at all for that matter.

  Mere days away from turning fifteen and I was the only girl I knew who had never gone on a date. My spontaneous burst of confidence now leaking away, I thought about how I had almost gone onstage and felt the heat rise to my face. I felt Gemma at my back.

  "Want me to beat her up?” Gemma asked. I smiled knowing she was half-joking and half-serious. Gemma poked me with the tip of her purple nail.

  "You are going to go up there and show that Strawberry Shortcake dye-job what real dancing looks like,” she stage-whispered into my ear. "She's not even dancing. Look at her. She's just rubbing all over him- guys don't like girls like that.” I gave Gemma my "yeah, right" face. "Okay, some guys like that sort of thing. Creepy guys- guys I wouldn't let get within ten feet of you, but Elliot is not like that. Look."

  I followed her gaze to the stage and watched as Elliot politely tried to disentangle himself from Cherry Cough Syrup's grasp. "Ascher, I can tell he really likes you. Just go with it. Go up there and get him to dance. He'll be so stoked, I promise,” Gemma said.

  "Pinky promise?” I asked. We linked pinkies and she nodded. "I swear, Gem, if this backfires, I'm going to…” Gemma shoved me away before I could talk myself down from her pep talk. I found myself trudging up the steps of the platform with my heart in my throat, my eyes on Elliot, and my nerve at the ready.

  I was a few feet from the platform when someone grabbed me by the waist. I pivoted on my boot heels and just managed to keep my balance. A tall boy steadied me. He tightened his grip on my waist and smiled.

  "Better be more careful with those sprain-makers or you could hurt yourself, darlin'. Lucky for you, the Fiske was here to catch you,” he said. The Fiske? His eyes skimmed from the top of my head to my shoes, lingering on my chest. I pushed him away from me.

  "I was fine until you grabbed me. You should…” I stopped talking when I noticed his gaze was still on my chest. I flicked the back of my hand into his chest. "Hey. Person talking, here.” He turned his focus back to me, eyes laughing at some private joke. "You shouldn't grab someone like that.” In one quick movement, he pulled me towards him knocking the wind out of me.

  "Why not?” He asked. My adrenaline kicked in and so did I- my right heel slamming into his left foot.

  "Be careful with those sprain-makers. You could hurt yourself,” I said. Pushing through the cluster of people who had gathered to gawk at our spectacle, I hurried to the place where I had left Gemma. I did not see her, which was odd considering that fact that our height made it almost impossible to miss each other.

  What if she had seen me fight with that boy and had started to shift? Panic emboldened me and I stomped up the small staircase and onto the platform, hoping it would be easier to spot Gemma from there.

  I shaded my eyes with my hands, shielding them from the flicker of the lights. Gemma waved at me from the bar. The longhaired boy who was sitting on the next barstool peeked over his shoulder and tilted his head up in way of greeting. Gemma said something to him and he laughed, his attention returning to me as if I was the topic of discussion.

  Was Gemma telling him why I'd come up here? A wave of warmth rushed over me and I blushed.

  "Ascher,” Elliot said. "I was just about to ask you if you'd join me for a drink."

  "Uh, sure. As long as it's juice or pop,” I said. Cherry Cough Syrup sauntered over, her hips swaying to the beat of the music. She ran her fingernails over the fabric of his blazer, shooting me a superior smile.

  "Aww, no alcohol? How adorable!” She said. "Where do you think you are, sweetie? Sunnybrook Farm?” The heat radiated to the top of my head, blurring my vision. For a terrifying moment, I thought I was going to faint. My vision cleared and I rubbed my temples.

  "Just moved out, actually,” I said. I met her eyes and my head began to throb. What is wrong with me? Elliot grasped my hand and led me towards the steep staircase.

  He glanced over his shoulder and I followed his gaze to Cherry Cough Syrup who was right behind us, brow knitted in a frown.

  "What the hell do you think you’re doing, witch?” She snatched at my arm, scratching a rhinestone off the heart shaped decal.

  "What's your problem?” I asked. Cherry Cough Syrup's nostrils flared and she muttered an epitaph under her breath.

  "My problem is you and your kind.” She spat the last word at me, her face contorted in a look of pure hate. "Look around. This is not your scene, princess. You don't belong here.” A stocky bouncer in dark slacks and a black tee lifted himself onto the stage and started arguing with Cherry Cough Syrup in muted tones. Elliot gently tugged on my arm and I followed him, still reeling from my strange encounter. Gemma greeted us with a wave and I slid onto the barstool next to her that the long-haired boy had vacated.

  "I'm afraid that you've met one of our more troublesome patrons, Emily,” Elliot said. "She tends to be somewhat aggressive. She is harmless, or has been until now.” He smoothed his thumb over the heart decal, stopping where a red scratch was beginning to sting. “I assure you she'll be dealt with for her actions.” Elliot cocked his head to the side as if listening to someone. "My apologies, ladies. Our accommodations should be nearing completion.” Gemma lifted an eyebrow.

  "Huh?” She asked. Elliot cleared his throat.

  "Our table is being set up,” he said. "I won't be but a moment.” Elliot hurried through the thrashing bodies of dancers.

  "You were gone for a long time,” Gemma said. I opened my mouth to tell her about Emily and the boy who grabbed me, but I did not want to make her worry.

  "Did something or someone distract you?” Gemma asked, wiggling her eyebrows at me. I rolled my eyes and smiled. She was so goofy sometimes.

  "Something like that,” I said.

  Chapter Five

  Something Wicked This Way Comes

  We sat in a huge booth faced outward, giving us an open view of the club below through the opened red drapes. Gemma reclined comfortably on the booth seat, its red leather matching her pants and making her look like a suspended sawed-in-half magician's assistant.

  "Remember whatever it is you said to get us into the VIP section, Asch. I could get used to thi
s,” Gemma said. She stretched her legs out beside her, enjoying the roominess of our big booth.

  "Alright, the next time we go out, I'll mumble awkwardly to unknown hotties until you swoop in for the rescue,” I said. Gemma rolled her eyes.

  "Oh, please, Asch. You act like you don't know how beautiful you are,” she said. The truth is that I had always thought Gemma was the beautiful sister. I was the funny one, yes. The shy one, too, but I had never really considered myself beautiful.

  "You look beautiful,” I said. Gemma reached towards me, her hands curled inward.

  "No. You!” She said in the little-girl voice we only used with each other. She moved her hands to my sides and tickled me until my eyes teared up from laughing.

  "Say it,” Gemma said.

  "Oh, okay. Okay!” Gemma relaxed her grip on me and I slipped away from her grasp, smiling. "I don't look frighteningly hideous,” I said. I felt the corners of my lips curl back as Gemma dove forward.

  "I'll show you frighteningly hideous,” Gemma said. She lunged forward, her hip grazing the corner of the table and knocking a white candle over. It rolled towards the edge of the table and I reached to grab it before it fell. Gemma mirrored my movements and we missed bumping heads by a fraction of an inch.

  Gemma caught the candle by its glass base just as another hand gripped it. The longhaired boy I recognized from the bar smiled down at us. I could see him more clearly now. He was older, nineteen or twenty. His blue-gray eyes turned towards Gemma.

  "Nice reflexes,” he said taking the glass jar and holding it like a bottle of iced tea. I saw Gemma's cheeks flush and was surprised when she cast a shy smile his way. A slight girl appeared to his right and Gemma's smile faltered a bit before returning with the forced curve of what I call her "polite smile" usually reserved for lame jokes. As if sensing my discomfort, the girl turned her blue eyes to me, a smirk playing across her pale lips.

  The expression on her face reminded me of a line from the play Macbeth, my accelerated-English class had read last semester: Something Wicked This Way Comes. I thought. I returned her smile.

  She was a tiny wisp of a thing. Her small form accentuated by the tailored gray suit she wore over a wine colored blouse. Gemma and I were definitely not the only girls who were not old enough to be here. This girl was fifteen at most.

  A long, heavy pause wafted over us, interrupted by a waitress who placed several drinks along the circumference of the polished cherry wood table.

  "Savian, hi,” Gemma said. "Who's your friend?” Her question was innocent enough, but I could hear the flirty, hopeful lilt in her voice and it made me want to smack the both of them. Savian slid beside Gemma and the girl sat down next to me.

  "That's Cadence. She works for me,” Savian said.

  Doing what? Selling Girl Scout Cookies?

  Gemma seemed happy with his explanation, her rigid posture replaced by a relaxed slouch. Savian put his arm around Gemma's shoulders and my heart jumped from a sudden surge of anger. I felt a tight feeling enter my chest. Something about him just did not seem right. There was the fact that he was way too old to be flirting with Gemma, but it was more than that. I lifted a glass of water to my lips and gulped it down.

  "Thirsty?” Savian asked. I cast him and evil look and felt Gemma kick me under the table.

  "This…” Gemma said, "…is my baby sister Ascher."

  "Hey, baby…” Savian said. "I own the Crimson.” Still glowering, I reached forward to shake his hand, my manners taking precedence over my feelings. (Although, I did grip his hand harder than necessary.)

  "You've quite a grip there,” Savian said.

  And you have quite a talent for stating the obvious.

  "Yep.” My eyes drifted over the faces of the people below. There were noticeably fewer dancers crowding the floor. It must be getting late. I opened my mouth to tell Gemma we had better get going when I saw Elliot making his way up the staircase.

  My heart beat against my rib cage as he jogged over to our table. Cadence got out of the booth to let Elliot slide next to me and it occurred to me that I had not given her a fair chance. Her eyes met mine and I was struck with the feeling that she knew what I was thinking.

  Cadence turned to Savian who was twirling his fingers in Gemma's hair, his face close to hers.

  Where was a fly swatter when you need one? Savian climbed out of the booth and held his hand out to Gemma who hopped up like a happy puppy.

  “Savian," Cadence said. Savian's jaw clenched.

  "What is it?”

  "If you don't have any objections, I'd like to be dismissed for the evening," Cadence said.

  "No. I think you should stay,” Savian said, his eyes never leaving Gemma's.

  "We'll be right back, Asch,” Gemma said. Savian grabbed her hand and Gemma smiled and followed him towards the staircase. Cadence shadowed them until I lost sight of all three.

  Standing up, I leaned over the balcony to keep an eye on Gemma. I did not like the idea of her being alone with Savian. There was just something wrong about him. A song with a slow rhythm vibrated through the speakers.

  "May I have this dance?” I startled, remembering Elliot. His arm extended towards me and I took his hand. He walked us to a dark corner of the balcony, his strong hands grasping my waist and pulling me close.

  He draped my arms around his shoulders, the wool of his jacket tickling the insides of my wrists. My heart was pounding so hard, I thought Elliot would feel it beating.

  "You're shaking,” he whispered. I met his eyes and looked away, embarrassed.

  "I…I've never, um slow-danced before.”

  "It's easy. Just follow me,” he said. He counted steps and I stared at our feet, both excited that I was dancing with such a cute boy and humiliated that I did not know what I was doing. After a while, I got used to the steps and could actually look away from our feet, but I was still too scared to look at Elliot.

  Every time he caught my eye, I would blush and look away. A new, faster song began and I felt his fingers on my chin. He tilted my head up until my eyes met his. "You've never been this close to a boy before, have you?” He asked. I cast my gaze downwards.

  "No,” I said. He must think I am such a child.

  "Look at me.” My eyes returned to him just as he leaned forward to kiss me. I closed my eyes and felt his lips move against mine- a soft whisper like butterfly wings. He pushed his lips against mine, almost painfully and I pulled away. He opened his eyes and looked disappointed. "You should go,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair.

  Elliot clasped my hand and pulled me after him, I yanked my arm free.

  "Why?” I asked. He grabbed my wrist and wrenched me forward. I tried to jerk my arm away, but he held it in an iron grip and rushed me down the stairs. "Hey!” I said. Several faces turned to us as Elliot squeezed my wrist. "Let go of me.” Three college-age boys surrounded us.

  "It looks like she doesn't want your company,” the first one said.

  "She doesn't want yours either, Petrel,” Elliot said. A crowd began to swarm around us. Petrel moved forward and smiled. He was wearing the same fake porcelain vampire fangs I had worn to Denise's Halloween party last year.

  My focus fixed on those around me and I thought I could see the reflections of the strobe lights in their eyes. When the beat of the music changed a moment later, the lights stopped flashing, but their eyes remained iridescent.

  They looked evil, like monsters straight out of a Wes Craven flick.

  Halloween's not until next month I thought.

  A scream tore through the club, ripping my stare away. Elliot jerked away from me, his body pinned against the staircase railing by Petrel's friends. The club erupted into chaos and Petrel hooked his arm around my waist, steering us into a dark corner. I tried to push him away from me, but he was too strong. He ran his hands up and down my arms, his eyes filled with a strange yellow glow.

  "Stop fighting,” he whispered. His eyes locked on mine and my thoughts grew confu
sed. Why had I been so upset? I looked into Petrel's dark eyes and my lips parted in a sigh.

  Feeling his lips on my neck, I shivered. I felt dazed like I had been awakened from a dream and part of me just wanted to drift away- to go back to sleep. I closed my eyes and Petrel spun me against his chest. I smiled, dreamily as I felt his breath on my neck.

  He wrapped his arms around me and I felt his tongue dart against my neck. What the hell? My hands lifted to push him away but it felt like my arms were weighted with iron.

  I screamed, but the sound was cut-off as a sharp pain stabbed into my neck. I fought to open my eyes and saw Gemma standing about ten feet away. Her eyes were glowing in the darkness, her face twisted in rage.

  She growled loud enough that everyone around her turned to look. She ran towards us, her pretty face already rippling into the features of a panther. The crowd cleared a path, people running in every direction as Gemma neared us.

  She launched herself at Petrel's back and clawed at him with half-formed paws. Petrel let go of me and I staggered away, my hands pressing against my neck, which bled through my fingers and down the front of my body. I collapsed onto the floor, the room spinning.

  Gemma lifted Petrel into the air and threw him across the room. She slashed out at the crowd in warning and ran over to me, helping me sit up against her. She shuddered and her body rippled. Still growling, her body caved inward, her legs shortening.

  There was the newly familiar sound of her bones cracking and her tendons and muscles popping as her limbs reconstructed. Her shoes exploded and she fell forward on her half-formed paws, stepping closer to me. A tail emerged from her pants and her ears elongated and moved to the top of her head. Her clothing stretched, tearing into ragged pieces.

  "Run Ascher,” Gemma growled my name and then her face shifted into a panther's and the transformation was complete. She rubbed her sides against me and circled me, growling threats to all those around us. Her movements grew slow and she lay down beside me, hissing a final threat to anyone foolish enough to come near. She lost consciousness.