Four years had been a long time for Mum to mull over a decision, but I wouldn’t have expected anything different from her especially considering the serious nature of the decision’s outcome. However, I had to question what had really changed her mind in the end. Did Louis come to see her a final time? I just couldn’t seem to believe it was all her idea.
At the sight of some old, overgrown, stone steps coming up in front of me in the track, I slowed my gentle jogging into a walk. Even though the steps had clearly deteriorated from their original pristine state, they were still relatively intact. Yet for fear of them collapsing into a pile of rubble and taking my heavy feet with them, I couldn’t stop myself from tip-toeing. A couple of careful steps later and I was at the bottom, thanking the ancient steps for choosing to keep me alive.
Facing the path in front of me again, I noticed another dilemma. A fork in the track. I couldn’t remember seeing a separate trail leading off from the major one on the sign. Except of course, for the one I’d passed near the entrance, which would have been the returning path of the circular track I was on. Logically, I couldn’t distinguish either path from the other in terms of practicality or possible disaster. The only thing I could think to do was to pick one and follow it. If it started to get late in the day, I could always turn around and come back the way I had come, couldn’t I?
I did a quick ‘eenie, meanie, minie, moe’ and the path to the right won out. I headed off in that direction, picking up my pace until I was jogging once again, while I tried hard not to acknowledge a little voice in my head telling me that I’d picked the wrong road. I’d run a fair distance before noticing that there was something odd about the path and it wasn’t just that the track was becoming smaller and more overgrown. There was also the fact that somehow the forest had begun to feel denser and darker, and that all the bird calls I’d heard earlier, not to mention that all of the active little animals I’d seen had completely disappeared. Silence now filled the still air around me and a light chill wrapped itself around my body. I slowed down to a wary walk and refused to listen to my overactive imagination and all the scary possibilities it was suggesting might be at the end of the track.
After a few seconds of scolding myself for not taking my mum’s advice and sticking inside the city walls, I finally made my mind up to turn around. Just as I made a move to head back the way I’d come, an eardrum-shredding gunshot sliced through the silence, followed closely by an agonizing howl. I stood frozen in shock, while my body went coldly numb and I found it difficult to keep myself upright as I glared in surprise at the person standing on the path behind me.
Sam had already lowered the shotgun and now held it loosely by his side in his right hand. He smiled at me apologetically and then looked down at the lifeless and blood drenched figure lying across the path. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze. It was a shortish man with dark auburn hair, possibly even a teenager by the look of his blood-spattered, French soccer jersey and jeans.
“Y—you killed him,” I coughed out as I raised my eyes back up to Sam’s.
Sam shrugged and stepped over the body towards me, careful not to get any blood on his black sneakers or the bottom of his dark, denim jeans. “No,” he said, with a half-hearted frown. “Just injured him. He’s not going to be very happy with me when he comes to.”
Sam grabbed my right hand with his free one and led me round the body, then started dragging me back down the path. My mouth was still open in dumb shocked surprise and my mind hadn’t quite come to the realization of what had just happened. I looked back over my shoulder at the body and stumbled along beside Sam until it was too difficult for him to lead me and he stopped.
“Kitty,” he said, sternly, trying to get my attention. “He is going to be fine. But I can swear to you that if we stick around here waiting for him to wake up or for his friends to show up, we won’t be, okay? Now, come on.” Sam tightened his grip on my hand and started pulling me through the forest again.
Soon the body was out of sight and the majority of the shock had left my system. My attention returned back to the dangers of the path and to Sam. My head reeled with questions I needed to have answered and I wanted them answered now. Assumptions only got me so far.
“So,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “you shot him, because he was—a runaway werewolf from a zoo.”
Sam glanced back at me and rolled his dark violet eyes. “Something like that,” he said.
“So he was a werewolf,” I said, surprised that I’d got something right. “But not one of the Tiennans’?”
Sam brushed past another pesky, overhanging branch and I saw that we were back at the fork in the track near the old steps. Without the hesitation or caution that I’d shown them earlier, Sam marched up the steps, hard and fast, and dragged me hurriedly behind him.
“No,” he said finally, in answer to my question. “He was not one of the Tiennans’ wolves. There is a small colony of werewolves just north of that path you were following. Most of them are rogues from the southern French packs. The others are newly turned puppies. You’re lucky that your stalker was still a pup and hadn’t passed more than about three moons.” Sam stopped me for a second and held up the shot gun. “Otherwise, this,” he said, lifting the gun in acknowledgement, “might have not been enough to save you.”
Ignoring my pouty frown at being somewhat scolded by my guardian angel, Sam spun around again and continued to drag me briskly along the path. “What were you doing out here, anyway,” he asked, clearly angry at me.
“I should ask you the same thing,” I said disobediently. “How did you know where I was? Did you follow me?”
Sam glared at me over his shoulder, but caved in first. “Your Mum rang me shortly after you left, although I already knew where you were going,” Sam muttered, his eyes now focused back on the track.
I stared out plainly into the greenery of the forest and made a mental reminder to tell my mum to butt out of my business. Then I frowned back at Sam. “How could you possibly know where I had been heading,” I asked him, finding a flaw in his answer and getting irritated.
He ducked under a low hanging vine and dodged another unearthed tree root. I followed automatically, all the while glaring at the shaggy golden hair on the back of his head and the tight black t-shirt wrapped tightly around his back and shoulders.
“Well,” I asked.
Sam glanced back at me with a quizzically raised eyebrow, then sighed and went back to avoiding clingy branches. “I just know,” he said quietly. “I’ve always known where you are and where you’re going. I can just sense it.” He glanced over his shoulder at me again and I stared into his concerned and serious eyes. “I think our minds have always been linked,” he said. “It’s just that some of us are too stubborn or afraid to open up and let anyone else in.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at me again, almost in challenge, and I gave him a smirk.
I pushed his left shoulder gently with my free hand and smiled. “Okay, Obi Wan, I get the point,” I said. “And if I have to admit it, I’m glad you were there to help me. Now can we please get out of this forest? It’s starting to give me the creeps.”
Sam grinned at me and pulled me closer to him. “With pleasure,” he said.
I’d managed to stub my toes at least three more times on viciously, arching tree roots before we made it free of the forest and back out onto the road. But, even out there in broad daylight, Sam wasn’t convinced that we’d be safe. That was probably due to the fact that the guy he’d shot was most likely awake and hunting for us. Not until we were in the confined ‘safety’ of Saint Jean’s city walls was Sam happy to stop dragging me.
“Now, Kitty,” he said, as we stepped over the threshold and he dropped my hand to face me. “You’re not planning on going on anymore little adventures like that anytime soon, are you? Because if you are, maybe you could warn me first?”
I glared mockingly at him and put my hands on my hips. “If you mean am I planning to leave
Saint Jean with the promise of being eaten or turned by a pack of rogue werewolves, then I’d have to say no.”
“Good,” Sam said, with a hint of real relief. ‘I’ve already got enough problem people to deal with inside the city walls without you having to add a couple of extra outside enemies.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, not impressed at all by his tone and I pursed my lips. Then a thought hit me, something my mum had said earlier, something about Saint Jean. I dropped my hands from my hips and I felt my expression change with serious curiosity. I took a step towards Sam and looked into his face which now showed a little confusion. “When my mum called you,” I said, “she must have mentioned that we talked.”
Sam looked at me, still confused and narrowed his eyes. “Yes,” he said as he crossed his arms. “Why?”
“Well, she said something about the town, something about it being all—evil,” I said, biting my lip at how funny it sounded. “I just wanted to see if you thought it was true.”
Sam’s expression cleared and he smiled weakly at me. “Was that all,” he asked. “You had me worried.” He grabbed my hand again gently and started leading me slowly down a winding, pot-plant filled alleyway. “Let me ask you a question,” said Sam. “What does a normal town have that this one doesn’t?”
I glanced up at him and then screwed my face up in thought. I stared at the dark green vines and shrubs that outlined the buildings of the alley in front of us and I tried hard to find the answer. Saint Jean had houses, homes and buildings; it had water, electricity and food. I rattled off a few more assets in my head until I realized that I hadn’t seen any children, or better yet barely any adults.
I looked back up into Sam’s solemn eyes and frowned. “People,” I almost whispered. “Humans, besides the odd supernatural creature here and there, I don’t think I’ve seen many, if any, actual people.”
Sam smiled sadly at me. “Yes,” he said. “Humans haven’t lived in Saint Jean for more than three hundred years now. The only ones that ever set foot into the city are those captured from surrounding towns to feed the Tiennan family and their pets.”
I lowered my head and looked at my feet as my mother’s words came back to me. There were no humans in Saint Jean, no innocents, the whole town was evil. I started to feel cold and desperately alone. I knew I wasn’t human anymore, not fully anyway, there would always be something in me that was different. But it scared me to be a part of another world I’d never known before. I started to feel as though I didn’t fit in anywhere, as though I would always be between worlds without ever truly fitting into one.
Sam’s warm arm came around my shoulders to comfort me and I wrapped my right arm around his waist, clinging desperately to something real, something I believed in. And as I stared up into the kindness of his sincere, violet eyes, I began to wonder whether or not I would mind so much if there was a cure to turn me human. For a moment, I almost believed I’d take it, if it existed.
Twelve: Give Me Strength
It didn’t take long for me to snap back to reality. To be human was to be without Sam, without Max and to be completely separate from my family, my ancestors. I would be no one, have no one and have no past history. My mother could want me to be human all she liked and I would not break my promise to listen to Louis. But deep down inside my soul, I knew who I wanted to be, who I really was and that person was not at all like the normal human being my mum wanted. The only person I was ever going to be was me and she just had to deal with that.
After a labyrinth of twists and turns down wide and narrow alleyways, Sam finally stopped me in front of a large, wrought iron gate. He dropped his arm from my shoulders and began fiddling with the latch. Once he managed to pop it open, he pushed the gate inwards with a loud, nails-on-chalk-board screech and motioned for me to enter.
“Where are we,” I asked him, raising an eyebrow and feeling a little suspicious.
He grinned at me with shining innocence and brushed his unruly golden fringe out of his eyes with his fingers. “I thought you might need to talk,” he said.
“I think I’ve already done enough talking for the day,” I sighed, but stepped over the threshold anyway.
Sam stepped inside behind me, then closed and latched the iron gate behind him. He turned back to face me, in the tiny, old, dimly lit room and gave me a boyishly excited smirk. “Follow me,” he said as he stepped around me and eagerly began climbing a small set of stairs.
Before long, one tiny, dark staircase turned into two, then three and four. After my seventh lot of stairs, I was relieved to find that we had reached the top. Even if the top was only a round, shadowy room.
“Where are you taking me,” I muttered through heavy breaths as I took my final step.
Sam stretched out a hand and pulled me up next to him. “It’s just a little bit further,” he said, still smiling in anticipation.
He led me over to a door on the side of the gloomy, circular room and twisted the handle. Bright sunlight lit up the room, like fire in the dark and as the door opened, it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust. Sam, holding my hand firmly, helped me outside into the glowing light of day and the fresh mountain breeze.
“Wow,” I said, when my vision finally returned. But, there was no way that ‘Wow’ could do the view I saw justice. Rolling hills full of lush pastures, thick green forests and small, country towns spread out for miles and miles in front of us. Then, at the very edge of the horizon, glittering in the distance was the vibrant blue Mediterranean Sea.
I let go of Sam’s hand and stepped over to the stone-walled edge. When I looked down, I saw all the deep browns and reds of the tiled rooftops of the joined medieval buildings of Saint Jean. The tricky maze of alleyways that were its streets appeared to make simple sense as I stared at them and tried to commit their twists and turns to memory.
“This used to be the town’s bell tower,” said Sam as he stepped up close beside me. “And it also happens to be the safest place to talk in Saint Jean without being overheard.”
Sam’s words stole my attention away from the incredible view and back to him. He smiled softly at me, almost reassuringly, as though he was waiting for me to reply. I stepped casually around him, pondering whether or not to open up to him and I began following the dark, granite-walled edge as it circled around the small balcony of the tower. I glanced back at Sam and saw that he was following a few steps behind me.
I couldn’t be sure how much Mum had told him about our talk and whether or not there were things she was trying to keep from him. I took a final step and stopped. The view on this side of the tower was mostly of the Tiennan’s home, if you could call it that. It was built back firmly into the side of the mountain upon which Saint Jean was built, and was surely more of a castle, with its looming towers and stained glass windows, than a plain, old house or home.
I turned around and looked back at Sam who had stopped a couple of footsteps behind. “How do you know so much about Saint Jean,” I decided to ask, starting with something easy.
Sam smirked at me, leaned his elbow on the granite wall that circled the balcony’s edge and then glanced out into the distance. “Well, apart from doing a little research on the net,” he said, as if admitting to a flaw, “I also have a few friends I can contact when I need to, who know more about the supernatural world and its people then I could ever hope to remember.” Sam’s serene violet eyes met mine as he rested the shotgun against the wall and clasped one hand in the other, and then leaned with a more relaxed posture against the wall.
I had to wonder what Sam’s idea of friends entailed and if it sometimes included characters with a personality not all that friendly. Immediately my mind went to my meeting with Cantrelle. I saw her sharp, pointed teeth and sunken eyes, and then her razor-like fingernails slicing into Sam’s flesh. Repulsed by the memory, I screwed up my face and took my eyes away from Sam’s.
“Yes,” Sam said, suddenly as if reading my mind. “Cantrelle was and still is one of the friend
s I mentioned. We met many years ago, when she was much stronger, and found that we had something in common. You and your family. ”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. It seemed to be just too hard to try and digest the reality of Cantrelle and Sam as, gulp, friends. Why would someone as nice as him, as good as Sam, want a friendship with Cantrelle, a scary, evil, witch woman?
Sam seemed to understand the meaning behind my silent response and soon continued. “I never said that they all belonged to the same side as me,” he said, bluntly. “Besides if that were true, my information and their usefulness would be limited or worthless due to bias and I would never get the full story.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sam, in one graceful motion, straighten up from where he was leaning and take a step towards me. But, I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him without seeing the bloody wounds Cantrelle had made.
“My role in this life is to protect you,” he said, quietly, taking another step. “Which means that I would do anything to guarantee your safety, even if it means giving up my own.”
My eyes met his again and he was standing much closer than I expected. I frowned at his hopeful smile and apologetic eyes.
“Cantrelle would never have hurt you,” Sam said, sounding as though he was trying to earn back lost trust. “She is much too weak nowadays and the thought of seeing you become all that you can be is one of the only things truly keeping her ancient form alive. It was me she wanted to punish.” Sam’s smile lost its cheerfulness as he waited for my answer and his face began to look defeated.
Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel) Page 11
