Tales of Aradia The Last Witch Volume 1

by L. A. Jones

  Without thinking about it, she held her hand up to protect her eyes from the ever rising sun. Realizing what she was doing, she said, "Yikes. It's been quite some time." She looked at her watch. “Double yikes. I need to get going. Hey, do you have plans for tonight?”

  Roy beamed. “You mean, like a date?”

  “What? No,” Aradia said matter-of-factly. Realizing how callous she’d come across, she went on, “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean plans like those sort of plans. I meant, plans for when you turn. Transform. Change. Whatever you call it.”

  “Oh, uh, transform is good,” he said awkwardly and dejectedly. “Or change. Either way. And, well, I do. Have those plans.” He said the last bit hesitantly.

  Aradia did not miss the intonation. “You do, but…”

  “Well, I had arrangements last night, too.”

  She rubbed her arm mindlessly and winced. “Yeah, we saw how that went. Maybe a new plan is in order? I mean really, Roy, you could hurt somebody.”

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  “I don’t think I do,” she said coldly.

  “Aradia! You aren’t hearing me. We have… preparations we take.”

  “What kind of preparations?”

  “It’ll be better if I show you.”

  She shook her head. “No, I have to be going. My parents are probably freaking right now.” She had intentionally turned her cell phone on silent hours ago. Plausible deniability, right Rai?

  “Another time then,” he said. “Like a date, maybe?”

  More like a PETA inspection of the zoo’s wild animal section, Aradia thought. She wasn’t going to let another night go by without being personally assured, one way or another, that he’d be locked up. Out loud she just said, “I’ll call you later.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” said Roy.

  It was later in the day, and Roy was letting Aradia into his family’s home. Amazingly, they were the only two there. Aradia assumed that meant the SilverMoon Diner was packed.

  "Oh?" asked Aradia as she crossed the threshold. "How does it work then?"

  The question had been whether Roy only shifts on a full moon. "I can change into the wolf whenever I want. It’s not a clear division between the me you know and the me you saw last night. There’s some of each of us in the other. After I change, I’m more wolf-like for a while. That’s why I was quick to anger this morning. It has a mind of its own, but I’m generally in control."

  “So,” she dragged out the word, not exactly sure how the phrase the next part, “you wanted to bite me?” Her tone was somewhere between playful and accusatory. For effect, she held out her forearm. She’d applied the last of her healing salve at home and finally had the chance to properly dress the wound. It looked neat and tidy, but Roy still grimaced, knowing what lay beneath the bandages.

  "No!" said Roy shaking his head furiously. He led her deeper into the house and opened a door to the basement. Aradia noted that there was evidence of recent damage to the walls and floor. "When the moon is full the wolf takes over almost completely. We lose every ounce of control. It’s the only time we’re really dangerous. Any responsible werewolf has a plan for the full moon."

  “And your family?”

  “Very responsible,” he replied, guiding her downstairs.

  "So what about last night?" asked Aradia.

  Roy had never looked so serious. “At first I figured I must have just gotten loose,” he said. “So after you left this morning, I checked out the place.”

  He flipped a lightswitch.

  “Holy guacamole,” Aradia muttered.

  The lights flickered on in a very seventies B-grade scifi creature feature kind of way. The fluorescent bulbs lit what looked a lot like the prison she’d been in only that morning. Cells lined both walls of the basement. There were actually more cells here than there had been at the jail. The big difference, though, was that here there were no windows.

  “Yeah, it’s a standard feature in werewolf homes,” Roy replied.

  “Major selling point?” she asked in a low tone, checking out the area. “Or celling point, I suppose.”

  He raised an eyebrow, not catching the play on words.

  “One for each of us,” he said. “Outside, in the wild, on a full moon, we might hunt in packs, but confined we’d turn on each other.”

  “Hey, what was with the torn clothes?” she asked.

  “They tore when I changed,” he replied simply.

  “Duh. I mean why were you still even wearing them? You knew you were about to change.”

  “Oh,” he replied. “Well, we don’t change until after sunset.”

  “Right, you told me that this morning. So why not take them off at sunset? Lay them outside the cell, put them back on in the morning. Boom, safe, done.”

  “We don’t change until after sunset,” he repeated, “but not always right away. There’s no real way of knowing. Sometimes we change as soon as the sun’s down, but other times we can go past midnight still in our human form. Usually it’s around nine or ten, but we can’t know in advance. It just sort of happens. And when it happens, it’s fast.”

  “I’m not getting it,” Aradia said. “Why not just strip at sunset, save yourself the clothes.”

  She saw he was blushing like a tomato, but didn’t see why.

  “Oh!” she said, understanding flooding her. “It’s your whole family in here, and you’re all wearing those weird, skimpy elastic underwear.”

  His blush deepened, passing red of tomato, hitting that of beet. Talking to his feet, he said, “It wouldn’t be so weird, but my aunt’s down here for the change too.”

  She returned to her inspection of the room and its facilities. After a bit more studying, she abruptly turned and looked at him from across the room.

  “These cells look pretty sturdy,” she said. The whole setup gleamed with factory shine.

  “We keep them in good condition. Lives are at stake.”

  “What I mean is, I don’t see you breaking out of one of these.”

  “I didn’t,” he replied.

  She made a curious noise.

  “Look,” he said, bringing her to a cell on the right side of the room.

  She checked her watch. She still had several hours before sundown.

  There was a key in the door, turned to the open position. She hadn’t noticed it earlier.

  “This is the cell I used last night. The doors lock automatically. There’s two ways to unlock them. One, a timer. It opens an hour after dawn, just to play it safe.”

  “Two,” Aradia butted in, “that key.”

  He was mildly annoyed that she’d stolen his thunder, but he nodded his agreement. “The key’s mostly just in case one of the kids locks himself in here by accident. Otherwise we’d have to wait until dawn the next day.”

  “And you keep it…” she asked.

  He doubled back toward the weird dungeon’s entryway. “Right here,” he said pointing to a hook next to the door.

  “Hmm, I guess that brings a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘who let the dogs out’?” Aradia said grinning.

  Roy gave her a dirty look.

  Aradia retorted, "I wouldn’t be so judgmental of my jokes if I were you, Roy."

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Because then I would be tempted to come up with some joke about how you get your 'time of the month'!"

  Roy looked completely aghast, which made Aradia grin wickedly as she rushed past him through the basement’s exit.

  Roy ran after her. Upstairs he got a pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator. He gestured with it toward Aradia, and she nodded. He poured two glasses.

  “You may have been joking, but you were right,” he said. “Somebody let me out.”

  “Okay,” Aradia said soberly. “Who?”

  “I’ve got my share of enemies,” he replied melodramatically.

  Aradia stared him down for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.

  “What!�
� he exclaimed. “I do!”

  “Oh, yeah,” she replied. “Sure you do.”

  He started to blush. Aradia knew she was being a little mean, but he looked so cute she could only laugh harder.

  “Look, Roy,” she said, “the werewolf thing, yeah, it’s pretty badass. But don’t overplay it, ‘kay?”

  He considered his options, then reluctantly nodded.

  “Until we know who it was, I suggest keeping that key somewhere else. Why not take it into the cell with you at night?”

  He thought about the suggestion. “Yeah, that works. We still need to figure out who it was.”

  “Well, we can rule out vampires, right?” she asked. Roy had spent a fair portion of their long conversation earlier briefing her in the chief weaknesses of his fanged foes.

  He considered, then agreed. “The first time they enter a mortal dwelling, they must be invited. After that they can come and go as freely as they please. Remember that.”

  “I got it, thanks,” she said, angry at Roy’s loathing of another race. “So what about fae? They seem like jerks.”

  “They are,” he replied, “but this isn’t their style. They’re more… white collar criminals. Ponzi schemes and that sort of thing.”

  “Hey!” she asked. “Bernie Madoff, was he a fae?”

  Roy shrugged. “Not to my knowledge, but you never know.”

  “Okay, so probably not a vampire, probably not a fae. Shapeshifter?”

  He squinted, then shook his head. “Probably not. They’re political, but they’re generally pretty straightforward.”

  “That’s ironic,” she replied.

  “I suppose,” he said.

  “You think this is related to the Vampire Murders?” she asked.

  “I can’t prove it’s not, but I don’t see any obvious relation.”

  “Yeah, neither do I. What about one of those other races you mentioned?” she asked. “You said there were lots of them.”

  “Maybe. It could have been anyone, really. Whoever it was knew enough to be afraid. They left the key in the door. I don’t think they opened it. They just unlocked it then got out of there. Eventually I must have kicked it open and left.”

  “Roy,” she said gently, “they didn’t need to know much to be afraid. One werewolf was… well, terrifying. A whole roomful would be close to a nightmare.”

  He puffed his chest out and smiled. “You thought I was terrifying?”

  “Let’s get back to the bad-guy hunt,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Have you considered humans?”

  He shook his head again.

  Seriously, he’s going to give himself a concussion with how much he’s doing that.

  “Not an option,” he said. “I told you about the law.”

  “Only about a million times.” She shrugged. “Maybe somebody slipped. Or maybe you were followed last time you turned. Who knows?”

  Aradia finished off her lemonade and glanced at her watch. “Well, time flies!” she said. “I’ve gotta head out and finish my weekend homework. This has been educational, but they don’t quiz on this stuff at Salem High.”

  He hurried in front of her, blocking her path. "Hey, remember your promise."

  "What?" asked Aradia.

  Roy rolled his eyes and said, "You know. I showed you mine. Now you tell me what you are."

  "I can't do that," Aradia said without missing a beat.

  Roy's expression turned furious. "We had an agreement!”

  "What I mean is, Roy," Aradia interrupted and turned around to face him. “I can't tell you what I am because I honestly don't know."

  "What do you mean you don't know?"

  "Exactly what I said. I don't know what I am," she repeated.

  Roy tried to determine her level of sincerity. She looked him in the eye and let him judge.

  After a while, Roy inhaled sharply. "You really don't know, do you?"

  Aradia nodded grimly.

  He walked her to the door and asked, “So you aren't going to tell anyone about me, are you?"

  Aradia looked back at him and gave a half smile. “Roy, you’re my friend and I would never betray you. Plus, you told me about the whole hidden law thing. But come on, even if I told someone that you are werewolf, would anyone believe me?”

  He chuckled. “I guess not.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Well, you're certainly the talk of the town,” Tristan remarked as he, Roy, Roy's brothers, and Aradia sat together at the diner. It had started as just Roy and his brothers. When Aradia came in they eagerly invited her over. Tristan invited himself.

  Roy's brothers were both seventeen and juniors at Salem High School. Al, short for Alejandro, was Roy's eldest brother, eldest by twelve minutes. D, for Diego, was Al's fraternal twin.

  Like Roy, Al had tanned skin and a wide smile which he flashed freely. Where Roy’s grin was goofy, almost doofy, Al’s was perfectly charming, to which many of Salem High’s female students would attest. He was muscular to the point of being bulky, thanks to a minimum of an hour a day, six days a week at the school gym. He was sexy and he knew it. His penetrating brown eyes were so dark as to appear almost black. In violation of the SHS student codebook, he sported a black goatee. Every couple months he’d serve detention for it.

  D bore a strong resemblance to Al. The biggest difference physically was that by comparison, D was positively scrawny. On his own, he looked like a normal teenage guy. Standing next to his brother, though, it was hard to compete on physique. Beyond that, D kept his hair short, had somewhat darker skin, and had a little isosceles triangle of three moles on his right cheekbone.

  Even if they’d looked completely identical, though, there would have been no mistaking the two. Their entire demeanors were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Where Al was outgoing and flirtatious, D was withdrawn and quiet. D’s idea of a good time on a Saturday night was sitting by himself and practicing bass guitar.

  Where their interests overlapped, they did everything together. When D went out it was with Al, and when Al stayed in he hung with D.

  Neither of them had better than a rocky relationship with Roy. Al teased Roy relentlessly while D would quietly look on. Their father couldn’t stand seeing his sons fight, though, so he had a rule. “When you’re at the diner,” he’d say whenever they started acting up, “you get along or you get out.”

  He meant it, too. Once they’d made the mistake of getting into a loud bicker match. Their dad physically expelled them from the SilverMoon in front of many of their friends. The experience didn’t help any of their reputations. After that, Al, D, and Roy got along at the diner.

  “And how’s that, Tristan,” Aradia asked lackadaisically as she twirled her straw.

  "Before you were just the new girl with the weird smell,” he began.

  Immediately Aradia was interested, mostly because Tristan seemed like a total freak talking about how she smelled.

  “From what my sources tell me, at least. Fae are too civilized to go around sniffing people.”

  Al and Roy growled.

  Tristan continued. “Now you're the new girl that knows about us, can take apart a wolf form werewolf, and yet no one can determine what type of hidden you are. Yes, everyone has definitely been talking about you.”

  Aradia smacked Roy on his arm, hard.

  “Roy!” she whisper-yelled. “So the first thing you did was blab about me to the school?”

  “It wasn’t me!” Roy protested while Tristan laughed.

  Turning to the faerie, he added, “And I didn’t get taken apart!”

  “Officer Schaefer says otherwise,” Tristan gloated gleefully. “I am told she actually dragged you into jail by your hind legs?”

  Al said, “You know, Tristan, no matter how much you say, nobody values your opinion.”

  Tristan scowled.

  Al added to his insult, saying, “Wait a minute, that's not true.”

  Tristan scowled again when Al went on to say, "I bet the rats in the dum
pster out back value your opinion, at least a little."

  Sensing an opportunity, Aradia grinned, and said, "Of course the rats value his opinion, Al. He is after all one of them."

  Tristan stood up, and without saying a word, he straightened his distressed-look Armani Exchange blazer, cast a dirty look at all four of them, and turned to go.

  Determined to have the last laugh, though, before leaving he said, "I think you have the back alley confused with your diner’s kitchen, Al. It's pretty obvious which place would be more infested."

  Al shot up from his seat and stalked around the table menacingly. With surprising speed, D was out of his chair with his hand on his brother’s chest. He exerted very little pressure. He couldn’t hold Al back physically if he tried. That’s not what his gesture was about.

  Al got the message. “You better hope I don’t see you later,” Al warned. “All the fairy dust in the world won’t help you.”

  “Tristan,” Aradia pleaded, “just go, will you?”

  His eyes narrowed on Aradia. He seemed about to speak, but then he surprised her. He merely nodded his head, once, sharply, and left.

  Roy's face was sullen as he stared at Al and D. He was the one person at the table who hadn’t participated in kicking out Tristan. Does he feel guilty? Aradia wondered.

  Then realization struck her. He hadn’t gotten involved because he’d had to have taken his arm off her shoulders. She didn’t even have to read his mind to see it.

  He had been acting differently toward her since they’d met in the woods two nights earlier. He took every opportunity to hold her hand and generally wouldn’t take his eyes off her. In short, he was making her very uncomfortable, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Roy soon noticed Aradia looking at him and turned his head toward hers. He smiled at her, doing his best Al impersonation. She smiled back innocently. Emboldened by the moment, Roy brought his face closer to hers. Aradia panicked and froze. His face came closer still. The air grew hot and heavy, crushing her. What do I do? She had only moments to decide.