Where did he hide it?
I look everywhere in the living room, but my instinct isn’t working. I throw out my hands to see if I have any powers to call the book forth.
That was a failure.
Hearing a creak on the wood floor beneath me, I turn around and see no one. My ears picked up the sound of scratches in the kitchen. I move the lingering hairs from my face and slowly walk into the pitch black kitchen. Gleaming eyes dart toward me. I flip the switch only to see Jared.
I almost scream. My nerves punch against me and my legs weaken. My heart drops. I lift my hand to cover my chest and release a big sigh.
“You scared me,” I whisper, covering my mouth.
Jared glances away from me and to the shelf. He leaps on the counter and bites a muffin. He holds it in his mouth and walks to the nearest window. Then he lifts his paw to slip out of the window, but I say “I want to apologize.”
“It’s fine.” His voice is muffled from eating. Crumbs dangle from his whiskers. “You were going through a lot. It was wrong of me to tell you.” He continues looking down.
“So—”
“Grace…well, Mom, told me not to say a word about it to you because she was afraid of how you’d act when you knew the truth.” His voice begins to fade as he looks at me. “The Verel wiped her memory,” he says dryly. “And I was just…I don’t know. I can’t really remember the reason why they changed me. Anything to do with the Verel is bad.”
I’ve never heard Jared speak this way. He seems awfully hurt. The Verel meddling with my brother and mother is not a good sign.
They’re not to be trusted, as my grimoire states. They work with corrupt mystics. The mystic I vanquished must’ve been corrupt as well as the fairy my mom killed and the mermaids I encountered. They were all corrupt.
Do pure mystics even exist? You know, the nice ones…
“So, that means you’re a wi—”
“Yes, I am. I can’t kill a mystic, though, for some reason, and I don’t know how to change myself back.”
“...Right,” I say. “And you’re, like, my little brother.” I nudge his furry head.
“Don’t even,” he hisses. “I’m older than you.” He laughs.
“Whatever.” I chuckle.
“What are you doing up this late?” he asks.
“I was looking for the grimoire…I was hoping you’d give it back to me.” I sigh, exhausted.
“Sure, but I have to be present when you read it. I know I can’t do much to protect you from what’s within, but soon you’ll learn how to handle your own destiny.” He blinks. “Have you checked in the couch?”
“I already checked the couch.”
“Have you checked underneath the couch?” he asks in a matter-of-fact tone.
“No…no, I didn’t.”
I look at him and get up from the table to walk over to the couch. Getting down on my knees, I slide my hands underneath the couch and feel a rough and slick texture.
I drag it out from underneath the couch. It’s the grimoire. I hold it tightly against my chest in relief. I open it up and find the page for shifters. I read that they have yellow or red eyes that fade in and out. They’re a type of mystic who can’t really hide their attributes well when they’re humans.
I close the book. That must explain why I noticed Stacy’s eyes glow yellow, then saw her disappearing shortly after. I press my lips together and close my book
“You’re a lifesaver,” I whisper, smiling.
“You have no idea.” He waves his paw.
Chapter 12
My chest aches the next morning, so I force myself out of bed to see what’s the issue. I walk into my bathroom and glance at the mirror in front of me. I see that my acne is fading away because there are fewer dots on my skin and my face feels just a tad bit smoother.
I quickly brush my hair away from my nose. The acne is, in fact, fading away. My heart begins to thud. This is unreal.
As I walk to my life size mirror, my chest starts to throb. I look down at my…wait, I have a chest to look at? My A-cup bra is squeezing against me because it’s too small.
What the hell...?
I study the mirror, lifting up my shirt. The little patch of fat that I couldn’t burn by myself is completely gone. I cover my mouth as my eyes widen. My shoulders are up, and my back is arched. The process even changed my posture. If my body is changing, how come my hair didn’t magically transform? Seriously? I roll my eyes. First my eyesight—I don’t need to wear glasses anymore, and now this.
This must be the second phase in this weird witch transformation.
I trudge back to my bed and reach for the grimoire. I open the family book on my lap.
“Okay, Mellissa. Help me out here.” I throw my fingers in the air. Nothing happens. I wait for a second or two with my fingers still in the air.
“Come on…You helped me out before,” I whisper, but still nothing happens. I bite my bottom lip, trying to think up a plan.
“Please help me?” I look around the room.
The pages begin to flip around frantically. I chuckle, shaking my head. After passing the Mystics title page, they gradually slow down and stop on Elves.
“Elves?” I whisper, looking at the description under the title. With my index finger, I trace the words as I read them.
Mistaken commonly for a fairy, elves are nothing alike. They cannot manipulate nature. This makes them an easy mystic to face. They can, however, sense the past and future. Elves look similar to humans, which allow them to blend within crowds easily. They’re not extremely dangerous, like mermaids are. Do not underestimate an elf: exceptionally agile, quick reflexes, and excellent hand-eye coordination make them deadly fighters. Never follow one into a forest; you might just regret your decision.
My grandmother flips the pages to elves. Out of everything else that could be far more important, she decides to show elves. What about the Verel?
“Well, how do you kill them?” The page flips once to ‘How to Kill’ underneath the title. In the middle of the page, it says:
Unknown
“Awesome. You show me elves, and no one in our family or anyone before I was born knows how to kill one?” I close the book.
The thunder outside claps. I can hear the rain smash against the walls of my house. I walk toward the window to poke at the huge droplets on it. My thumb softly grazes the surface of my silver elephant necklace as I watch the trees sway naturally from the harsh wind and the rain roughly washing my car.
Lightning illuminates the grey sky. It’s the beginning of a beautiful storm. My lips part and my warm breath fogs the window.
Jared walks into the room, a cute little bounce in his step. He walks to the little house he made.
“Cute.” I chuckle. “You bounce.”
“Shut up.” He looks up at me and buries his furry head into the clothes that surround him. I laugh.
“Whoa, where did you get those?” Jared says, looking at my boobs. “And you look…” He squints his eyes at me, “cleaner.”
“I woke up, and my chest was in pain. I couldn’t fit my bra.” This is awkward. I can’t believe I’m talking to my brother about my bra size. I shiver. Out of politeness, he glances away.
“Second phase, huh?” He clears his throat. “Mine was…interesting.” He chuckles.
“I bet,” I say, shaking my head.
I look outside of the window in front of me. I sigh, grab my laptop off my dresser, and walk back to my bed. The walls of my room are covered with light yellow paint, and my toes play with the fluffy white plush carpet. My room is plain. I like it that way.
I type in Google and search witches, but a bunch of crap comes up. Nothing says anything about witches being assassin or ninja killers. I type in witch stores and, after endless scrolling, I manage to find a creepy store that isn’t too far from where I live. Taking a deep breath, I jot down the address and tuck it safely into my purse.
“Wanna come?” I ask Jared.
“I thought we agreed to not sneak around?”
I forgot my roommate was my best friend for a second. I’m surprised she isn’t knocked out by now with her hectic work schedule. She doesn’t look too pleased to find me out of my room at this time.
“I can’t get a drink of water? In my own house?”
“With a purse around your shoulder and your keys tucked in your hand…”
I rub my forehead. “Look, I don’t want you to get hurt, Dawn.”
“I’m going with wherever you’re going.”
She enters her room quickly and races downstairs in a blue leather jacket. I guess there’s no point in trying to talk her out of this. It’s still raining, so we place our hoods over our heads. I turn on my car as Dawn scrolls through her iPhone.
“Where were you trying to sneak off to?”
“I wanted to check out this witch store.”
“Oh em gee, like the whole shebang of witchcraft?”
“Pretty much. So stay close if anything happens.”
I turn on the car and we leave down the road toward Witcher’s Place.
***
Eventually, we make it to the store, which is apparently open. Dark orange and gold lighting flow out of the window. This is the place mom got her witch syringe from. I lock my car, glancing at the paper I scribbled the address on. As I squint up at the sign above me, it starts to drizzle while thunder roars around the area.
I scan our surrounding. It seems to be in an urban area for independent stores. It’s near campus but not too far from where Dawn and I are staying. In front of us, where Dawn is standing, there are a bunch of trees waving along with the cold wind. I see a rabbit jumping into the forest.
I hold my hood tightly over my head as my wet hair sticks to my shirt. I run to the shop and open the door slowly. It creaks as I step inside. Lightning flashes behind me across the sky.
My eyes wandered around the shop. It doesn’t seem that spooky inside. Swords, daggers, and whips are purposefully scattered along the floor. I close the door behind me as the gold bell from above jingles.
“Why would a witch store have swords and daggers?” Dawn mutters to me.
“How would I know?”
“Well…You’re the witch here, not me.”
Dawn’s hands shoot up. Holding the strap of her purse, she bounces excitedly. Her eyes search around the place. I can tell she’s anxious to explore the world of a witch. She’s so filled with energy that she begins to wander off to the point of not being aware of her surroundings. She almost bumps into a rack of weapons.
“Dawn…!” I hiss loudly, but she turns around and bumps into the object anyway, causing the weapons hanging on it to fall
“Welcome to Witcher’s Place,” says a light voice from the closet behind a glass counter in front of us. Two brown cash registers are on the counter. Dawn and I are so immersed in the store, neither of us stop to reply or look at the speaker.
I play with the dream catchers that hung from the ceiling. “I wonder if these actually work.”
“Never know if you don’t try it,” Dawn says, holding a pink one. She can be quite a shopaholic. Dawn doesn’t know about the dreams I’ve been having and I really don’t plan on telling her. Although, I won’t stop her from buying a dream catcher and just steal it from her to use for my own.
As I walk toward the back of the store, I see black clothes everywhere: Leather pants, leather gloves, knee high boots. These are the clothes my mother was wearing when she saved Dawn and I from that fairy.
The same smell of dead flesh and vinegar from Dawn’s room enters through my nose. I look for my friend immediately, just in case a mystic is here. She is playing with a dagger.
“Dawn, be careful! For God’s sake, stop touching this stuff.”
“I think I know how to hold a knife.” She laughs. She points at me, and the tip of the knife she was holding opens, shooting out a dart. I yelp, bending down to dodge the dart as it hits something behind me. Briefly after the incident Dawn drops the knife as it beams a red color. “I told you to be care—”
The gold bell jingles, indicating that someone else has entered the store. Tall fixtures block my line of vision. The items for sale in this place are already weird and I for sure don’t want to encounter someone who actually owns one of those daggers.
Dawn and I duck to the ground between the clothes and see a pair of shoes walking toward the counter. They are male black polished leather shoes. Behind him are black boots, just like the female ones in this store.
The store’s door closes with a creak as the lights in the store flicker off and then on. The lightning outside shoots across the sky from the window I glanced out of. I look to Dawn and motion to cut her neck if she makes a sound.
“Good evening. Haven’t seen you here in a while.”
There is a sound of something falling down on the counter. I’m guessing it’s items in a box. There is a clearing of a throat as someone walks through beads from behind the counter.
“Actually, I haven’t seen you here with him. What is it that you need?”
“Listen, I need your help.” A light voice that sounds really familiar enters my ears, but it’s muffled. I can’t quite put my finger on who’s speaking.
“You’re asking for my help?” There’s a slight chuckle.
“Cut the crap and give us the answers we need,” the man says harshly.
“We know you come from Ellevil and I need you to lend some of your insight,” the muffled woman says.
The lady slaps her hand on the counter. “And If I don’t? I’m sorry, I don’t work with witches,” the sales associate says. My ears perk at the mention of witches. I lean in closer to eavesdrop, but I bump into a box that holds equipment. Something falls out of the box and crashes on the floor.
“What was that?” The muffled woman says as her boots turn to my direction. Thunder follows the noise I made, saving me from being discovered.
“These markings are hurting me and I don’t know what the cause is,” the woman says.
“Oh, I know the cause of the pain, and from what you’ve dealt with. Whatever I have to tell you isn’t going to help you,” the sales associate mutters. “It’s already begun. You should have accepted the rose I gave to your daughter. She could have been able to save you. You chose not to tell her anything about who she’s to become. You chose your life instead of hers. What kind of mother are you? Don’t you think she has the right to live peacefully…?” Her voice trails off. “Innocently?”
Daughter? I feel my heart drop in my chest. Mom? What was she doing here?
“What are you talking about?”
“The rose I tried to give you the first time. Obviously it was a fake. I still have the real one, and I’m ready to give it to her,” she says slowly but with certainty to get her point across.
“You aren’t getting away with what you’re planning to do with my daughter, Terese.”
“Oh, I will, and you know I will. I’m just waiting until you leave again, with him.”
The guy clears his throat and steps back a bit.
Mom gets angry. She grabs something from a fixture and throws it across the room. She wrecks everything in her path.
“You cannot harm me…”
“I’ll have your head by the end of this process.”
“Just make sure you know who all is involved,” Miss Canary says, not bothered. The man begins to walk down the path where Dawn and I are hiding. He stops to pick through the weapons in front of us. He looks up as I bend down from sight.
“Let’s go,” mom says to her guy friend. They leave the store, the doorbell jingling behind them.
I slowly walk forward out of my hiding spot with Dawn. I gaze at the leather material in front of me. Everything is quiet, too quiet. I glance over my shoulder slight
ly and see Miss Canary behind the counter. She’s wearing all black with leather gloves around her hands.
The orange gold lights in the store flicker on and off at her pale skin. Her gold blonde hair is tucked neatly into a messy fancy bun.
Tilting her neck to the right, she squints and holds on tight to what looks like a basket of old books. Her lips create a little circle shape as she looks at me with disbelief.
“Eliza?” she mumbles, clearing her throat. “How are you doing this stormy night?”
“Great,” I mutter. “What are you doing here?”
She lays the basket down on the glass counter and her fingers scurry up to her lingering hairs as she tucks them behind her pointy ears.
“Well, I work here, of course,” she answers.
“And here…is what?” I ask.
She pauses from what she was doing and suddenly turns around, wiping her outfit from the dust she created. She then lifts her eyes and says, “A witch store,” she replied sarcastically.
I shift my position. She looks at Dawn as she fingers through her phone.
“Where’s the wands?” Dawn chuckles as she glances at the side of me.
“Wands?” Canary asks. “Oh no, darling. You won’t find anything from Harry Potter here.” She glides to a rack of weapons that seem a bit too deadly for what I assumed was Miss Canary’s tastes. It’s hard to believe she works here. I bite the bottom of my lip as I follow her to the sharp weapons. It just goes to show that I didn’t know Miss Canary that well.
“Let’s be straight up with each other, Miss Canary. That lady and man that came in here. They were my mother and her boyfriend, right?”
I stand in front of her, narrowing my eyes as I wait for an answer. The woman definitely sounded like my mother, and the stuff they talked about certainly is similar to what happened to me when I was a kid.
Her lips part slightly as she looks down at the glass on the counter. She looks up slowly and says, “Yes.” She grins at me. “Yes it was, my dear.”
Mystical (The Mystical Trilogy Book 1) Page 12
