Witch Island

by David Bernstein

  He saw her sitting by herself on a king-sized bed in the Cohen’s house. The room was cast mostly in shadow, save for the hallway light that illuminated the part of the bed Melinda was sitting on, as if she were the star attraction of the place.

  Paul strolled in and saw she was crying.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Melinda looked up, startled, tears streaming down her face. She was holding an almost-empty red plastic cup. She wiped at her cheeks with her arm. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  Paul put his arm around her. “Hey, it’s me, Paul. Come on. Talk to me. Did someone hurt you?” He reached over with his other hand and wiped a fresh tear away.

  “I…It’s…”

  “You’re at a party,” he said. “You should be having fun. School’s almost over, then no more bullshit for us.”

  “That’s just it,” she said, her voice cracking. “When school’s over…after the summer…Darren will be gone. I’ll be stuck here, alone. I’m going to lose him.”

  Paul felt a twinge of sorrow for her, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel the need to grin. He bit his lip to keep from doing so. If he was truly a friend, he could help her, the right way, do Darren a solid, but the alcohol was flowing and the universe was laying out Melinda for him. To deny this situation would be like turning his back on fate.

  He focused in on her, like a lion to its prey. He wanted nothing else at this very moment. He was a sleazebag, no doubt, but being devilish felt so right. Excitement, as if an electrical charge, coursed through him, his groin tingling. Emotions were going to overtake his ability to play this coolly. He needed to calm down, pace himself.

  “If you want me to sugarcoat the situation, I can,” Paul said. “You know, lie to you. Tell you not to worry and that everything will be okay. I can do that, but I think you deserve to hear the truth, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Paul rose, walked over to the nightstand and turned on the light, then headed over to the door and closed it. He returned to the bed and sat next to her again. He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. He gave her his warmest, most sincere smile.

  “Look,” he said, “you and Darren had a great thing. But the truth is he’s going away to school. It’s a big school, with a lot of people. He’s going to be bombarded with pressure, people, agents, coaches and wom—” Paul stopped himself, letting just enough of the word out to do its job. “He’s not going to have time for much besides school work and football. That’s it. And it won’t be because he doesn’t love you.” Paul shook his head. “It’ll be because his world has changed, and his priorities with it. He’s moving on to the next part of his life.”

  Melinda’s eyes teared, and she buried her head in his chest. “I don’t want to be alone,” she cried, her voice muffled. “He said he’d be faithful while he was away. Said he wants to stay together…but I know…he’ll have so many girls throwing themselves at him. He’ll be busy all the time.”

  “I’m going through the same thing with Shay,” he lied. “Publicly, we agreed it was a mutual split, what we both wanted, but truth be told, it’s only what she wanted.”

  Paul reached down and pulled Melinda’s face even with his. “You deserve better. You deserve to be happy. Darren doesn’t appreciate you. Not like I would…if I had a girl like you, I’d never leave you behind.”

  “Really?”

  “I never told you this, but I had my eye on you back in junior high, way before Darren came along. I’ve always had a thing for you, and when I got to know you, I liked you even more. Don’t we both deserve to be happy?”

  Paul locked eyes with Melinda. The connection was made. He moved in and their lips met. At first, she didn’t respond to his touch, but then her mouth opened and he slipped his tongue inside.

  She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. They kissed passionately for a while. Paul ran a hand over her T-shirt to her right breast, and felt her nipple rise.

  She was into this.

  He started kissing her neck, then nibbled her ear. At the same time, he slid his hand under her bra and cupped her soft breast, feeling the hardness of her nipple prod his flesh. She moaned as he played with her.

  They fell back onto the bed, kissing, feeling, exploring and breathing hard. The sheets were soft, inviting, and smooth against their skin. Paul couldn’t think about what was happening, if he did, he might mess this up, or back down from what he was about to do. If he hesitated at all, she might too, and then she’d stop him.

  Paul removed his hand from her shirt and slid it into her jeans, beneath her panties. His fingers surfed over her mound and found her wetness. Using his middle finger, he slipped it in and out of her, moistening the area. Melinda moaned and tensed, kissing him harder.

  Paul massaged her clit. Melinda pulled her mouth away from his, taking deep breaths as she moaned louder. He kissed her neck, watching her body contort with pleasure. She reached down and felt his hardness.

  “I want you, Paul,” Melinda said. “I want you in me.”

  Paul removed his hand from her pants, then slid off her jeans. She reached up and removed her shirt. With her bra still on, Paul pulled the right cup down, revealing a beautiful, voluptuous breast. Paul felt himself straining against his pants. He lowered his mouth to her breast and circled his tongue around the pink nipple. He gently flicked it. Melinda’s body jerked as she moaned.

  From there, Paul went south, reached her panties and pulled them down with his teeth. He lifted her butt and slid them all the way off. With her legs open, he went in.

  Melinda writhed and moaned in bliss, grabbing his head and shoving him into her. Finally, she exploded. Paul came up and saw that her bra had been removed, her DDs revealed. She stared at him. “I want you in me now.”

  Paul slid off his pants and boxers, his shirt and socks and was on top of his friend’s girlfriend in skillful haste. He slid into her easily. She gripped his shoulders as he pushed himself deep, then relaxed as they moved as one.

  The sex was slow and intense, then hot and porn-like in its motion and talk. The experience was better than Paul could have imagined, and he held out for as long as he was able, enjoying his final conquest.

  Afterward, he fell asleep. When he awoke, Melinda was gone.

  Paul felt conflicted, scared and satisfied all at the same time. Conflicted, because he’d betrayed his friends. The group was tight, had been for a long time. But he brushed that bullshit off. After high school, things changed. People went their separate ways. At least Paul was going some place. Maybe they’d all stay in touch over the years, see each other when one of them came back to town to visit relatives. But, then again, maybe not.

  None of that would matter if Melinda kept her mouth shut. If she did talk, it still wouldn’t matter. Darren would be leaving, going pro one day. The big guy would forget all about the small people, including Melinda. Jim was Paul’s friend since childhood. They’d stay in touch for sure regardless of his betrayal. Paul wouldn’t lose him. The rest—Steve, Darren, Melinda, even Shay—could all go to hell.

  On some level, Paul was a bit scared, too. The summer was far from over. If Melinda talked, he’d have to hide out until college started. He’d be friendless, girlfriendless, save Jim. Jim would meet up with him in secret, talk with him on the phone. Darren, now he was a hard one to figure. Paul had no idea what the guy might do. Go crazy and kill him? Darren was huge and a killer on the football field, but around people, in public, he was a teddy bear. Paul could only remember the kid getting into one fight all throughout high school, and that was when some townie punk harassed Melinda. But that couldn’t happen anymore. Darren wouldn’t risk his ride, not over some girl.

  Above all else, the shining emotion coursing through Paul was satisfaction. He’d bedded the girl he had wanted since middle school. Saved the best for last? She definitely ranked among the best. She eluded him for so long. Now he could ride off into the college suns
et, having accomplished his goal, and it was a night he wouldn’t forget. Melinda had been wild.

  Sitting in the car, Paul almost couldn’t believe he’d done it, had his dick inside her, making her moan and ask for him to thrust harder, deeper. Paul grew hard just thinking about it. And now he was waiting for Melinda’s man to come outside and ride to the store. They’d all be hanging out later tonight, and Darren would be sitting there with his large arms and stupid grin, none the wiser. Every time Melinda kissed Darren, Paul would smirk, knowing he’d had her.

  A small part of him felt rotten. Not for fucking her, but for avoiding her. But she needed to know it wasn’t going to happen again. Paul knew how good he was in the sack. Once a woman had him, they’d always want him. Melinda was a one-time thing, had to be, at least for now. Maybe when he returned to town from college, he’d see if she was up for something, as long as Darren was out of the picture. Maybe tonight, he’d pull her aside and talk to her, let her know he had nothing against her, just wanted a clean break. Hopefully, she’d understand. If not, oh well.

  There was still the slight chance that Melinda had told someone. No, not someone. Gwen. Gwen was the one the girls confided in. She was the only one who could keep a secret. But if Gwen knew what had happened between him and Melinda, she would have given Paul the evil eye, said, or did something, letting him know what a dog he was.

  Good, he thought, convinced his and Melinda’s secret was safe.

  The door to Darren’s house swung open and the big guy came out. He galloped down the steps and headed over to the car.

  Paul’s pulse quickened.

  Darren had his usual big-ass grin spread across his face. The guy was always in a good mood it seemed. Unless Darren was a great actor, Paul was certain the kid didn’t know a thing. For now, it seemed they were still good friends, and tonight was going to be fun.

  Darren opened the car door and got in. “My man, Paul,” he said, holding out a fist.

  Paul bumped it. “Ready for tonight, or what?”

  “Hell yeah. I need to relax and party a lot this summer. I got a long, difficult road ahead of eating healthy and working hard.”

  “I hear the working hard part, buddy. Now, let’s go get some alcohol.”

  Chapter Nine

  Steve was getting ready to leave his house when Jim called.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Just confirming that we’ll have your presence with us tonight. You’re still coming, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Then I don’t need to reveal the secret I’m keeping.”

  Steve sighed. He’d taken off of work. He wasn’t going to miss the party and didn’t need his friend giving him a bonus for showing. He had a new outlook on life.

  “What secret?” he asked, deciding to play along.

  “Show up, and find out. Oh, and make sure you wear clean underwear. At least, that’s what I was told to tell you. See you at the lake.”

  “What?” Steve waited for a reply. He looked at his phone and saw the blinking timer, the numerals no longer counting. He put the technological marvel into his pocket. He had no idea what Jim was talking about. Make sure you wear clean underwear—the clue was odd, making him think they were setting up Steve with a girl, maybe a hooker. Did his friends think he usually didn’t wear clean underwear? Lucky for him, he washed daily and always wore clean undergarments. He’d put on deodorant, brushed his teeth, used mouthwash too. Yup, he was all set for whatever was in store.

  Steve was a low-key type of person, and didn’t care for the spotlight or attention, which included surprises. He hardly ever raised his hand in class, even when he knew the answer. He was a go-along-with-the-group sort of guy, a blender. And he liked it that way. Amongst his friends, he came out of his shell a little. He still wanted to know what they were all up to. Could they really be bringing a girl for him to hook up with? He wasn’t ugly, nor was he a stud, so what made them think he was going to score? They were just making sure he was prepared, he guessed. Or maybe they had all pitched in and really were bringing him a hooker, a real, paid for, woman of the night.

  Yeah, genius, that’s what your friends did. They all chipped in and got you some possibly disease-ridden whore, because that’s what good friends do for those without a partner.

  Looking at the clock on his nightstand, he saw that the time was 5:30 pm. His phone was charged, he had some cash in his pocket and…wait. Something was missing. The chips! He was in charge of bringing the chips, pretzels and any other snacks he thought everyone might want. There were none of those items in his house either, so he’d have to stop off at the store.

  Steve did the shopping at home, his mom always too out of it, tired, or blitzed to even get up from the couch in front of the television. If his friends had wanted microwaveable dinners and canned goods, he had plenty of that crap. His mother lived off alcohol, but when she did eat, it was soups and TV dinners. Steve never bought his mom booze, but didn’t stop her from buying it herself, the local liquor store having a delivery service.

  Steve drank, but only on the weekends after work and only when there was a party going on. He saw how his mother was and didn’t want to end up like her. For all he knew, alcoholism was in his genes, so limiting his drinking was a smart move. His friends knew better than to ask him to bring anything from his mother’s stash. The woman was a drunk, sloppy and careless, but she always knew when a bottle was missing, or if water had been added. He’d learned firsthand not to touch his mother’s supply.

  One night, he’d been at a get-together with some of his ex’s friends—Jim and the gang not invited—and the alcohol supply was running low, the stores closed for the night. His ex suggested taking a bottle from his mother’s stash, and he complied, thinking she’d never know.

  The next day, his mother came into his room. She went crazy, tossed his things around, broke his Xbox gaming system by stomping it to pieces, cut up her feet pretty badly too.

  “You’re a thief and fucking liar,” she said, after he denied taking a bottle. “You’re just like your father, a no-good loser son of a bitch.” She grabbed the trophy he’d won for archery at the Black Rock Gaming Club and threw it through one of his closed windows. He found the trophy outside, broken in pieces. To make immediate matters worse, it was the middle of winter and he had to board up the window with plywood until he could afford to get the glass fixed.

  She demanded the money for the bottle of alcohol he’d stolen, then went back downstairs. The next day, she acted like nothing had happened, only saying the window was his to fix, his punishment for stealing.

  His mother was usually docile, as long as she wasn’t provoked, which seemed to revolve around her canned goods, TV dinners and the booze. Steve made sure he stayed away from those things.

  Standing in his room now, he was ready to leave. He’d go downstairs, grab some dinner, then head over to Stack’s Grocery and grab some goodies.

  On his way out of the room, he paused. The ring. For some reason, the family heirloom had just popped into his mind. He thought about what his mother used to tell him, before she had become a drunk.

  When he turned twelve, his mother came to him and gave him the ring as a present. She said it had been in the family for decades. It was worn by anyone who went to the lake and said to protect against Margaret Rivers, the witch of the island.

  As a boy, the tale had scared Steve, and when his mother had given him the ring, it frightened him even more. He wore it constantly until he met Kelly. After they started dating, she went down the list of things he needed to change about himself, starting with the ring.

  “Yuck,” she said. “Leave that hideous thing in the box it came in, then bury it where no one will find it.”

  Of course, he didn’t get rid of it, just tossed it into a drawer and forgot about it. The ring was a family heirloom, maybe valuable, though it didn’t look it, and had a great story to go along with it. Thinking back, which he was doing a lot
of lately, he should’ve stood up to his ex, instead of taking her shit and being such a good little boy, as she put it.

  Steve opened the top drawer of his dresser and fished around for the box containing the ring. Picking it up, he opened the container and removed the antique piece of jewelry, then slid the ring onto his middle finger, but not because he believed in the legend of Witch Island, or because it was what his mother had wanted—she’d lost all privileges when it came to that. He wore the ring because he wanted to. He’d always thought the thing was cool, like something found in a tomb or cave.

  Staring at the ring, focusing on the strange emblem on the top, he said, “Fuck you, Kelly,” and smiled, feeling good about himself, something he hadn’t been able to do for a while.

  Chapter Ten

  Interlude

  Salisbury Mills, 1904

  Eshram Vogel was a protection specialist, a warden. People swore he had the ability to look into a person’s soul. His dark eyes had a spark to them, which caused most that looked upon him to glance away. He was muscular, and had a defined figure. His dark hair flowed to the middle of his back. The many necklaces and earrings he wore were made of rare jewels and blessed bones from various animals, each item a ward against specific evils. His muscular arms were tattooed with tribal markings, also protection against things that meant him harm. He stood over 6 feet 5 inches and was an imposing figure. He was often viewed as a heretic or savage, until he announced himself, and then people knew what he was.

  He had been called in by various people, from all walks of life, including churches, synagogues, secret organizations, villages, only to name a few. Most of the specialists, witches, sorcerers, magic dealers, etc., were charlatans, performing their rituals for profit and nothing more, hoping to get out of town before the truth was found out.