Outcast (Moonlight Wolves Book 4)

by Jasmine B. Waters

  I shuddered. “That’s intense,” I said quietly.

  “It is what must be done,” Ligeia said. “She will burn your entire home if you don’t stop her.”

  I blinked. “You two are more powerful than I am,” I said slowly. “Why can’t you kill her on your own?”

  “Because we are not of physical power,” Henrik said.

  “You’ve been controlling my parents’ minds for months,” I snapped. “And by the way, how the hell is that any different from Andrea controlling everyone in Jaffrey?”

  “Henrik controls your parents in order to help your powers flourish,” Ligeia said. “You mustn’t be angry with him. Prudence is different. She only seeks to control for sheer love of power itself. That is the most dangerous love of all, Monica. Surely, you realize that.”

  I sighed. I knew she was right.

  “Fine,” I snapped. “So why can’t you…I don’t know, possess someone? Have that person kill her?”

  “That would hardly be fair,” Ligeia said. She raised her eyebrow. “Imagine waking up from a long sleep only to find blood on your hands. We could not do that to an innocent. That is more like something Prudence would do.”

  “But it’s different if I kill her?” I narrowed my eyes. “Well, too bad. I don’t want to.”

  “You must,” Henrik said quietly. “We will have no chance of survival if the spirit of Prudence Arrowsmith is allowed to reincarnate once more. We have already allowed her too much power. She should have been stopped eons ago.”

  “Lucky me,” I mumbled.

  “Yes,” Ligeia said. “You are very fortunate, Monica. You will be heralded as one of the most powerful witches of all time if you manage to stop Prudence. Everyone who practices magic will know your name.”

  “I only wanted to get famous for writing,” I mumbled.

  “Life has chosen a more powerful fate for you,” Ligeia said. “Henrik, please. Leave us for a moment.”

  Henrik nodded gruffly. He got up and bowed slowly to Ligeia, then turned to me and dipped his head. I stared. It was the first time he’d shown me anything even resembling respect. After he was gone, Ligeia beckoned for me to come close.

  “I am an old woman,” Ligeia said. “Defeating Prudence has been a lifelong goal.” She reached out for my hands and grabbed them with surprising strength. Her hands felt warm and smooth, another surprise given her mass of wrinkles.

  “I know,” I said. “I’ll try, I promise.” I felt my walls start to come down, and before long, I was crying, resting my head on Ligeia’s shoulder. “I’m so scared,” I wailed. “I’m so worried about my friends, Ligeia.”

  “I know, child,” Ligeia said. She stroked my hair and rocked me against her chest like I really was a child. “All this evil shall pass, and life will return to what you are used to.”

  I felt sick as I nodded. “Okay,” I mumbled softly. “I’ll do it.”

  Ligeia looked at me. Her blue eyes searched mine until I felt stripped naked of all pretension.

  “You must swear it,” she said. “Swear to me, to Henrik, to the coven that you will complete this task.”

  The words spilled from my mouth before I could really think about them.

  “I swear it,” I said.

  Ligeia reached behind her. When I looked down at her hands again, I saw she was holding an athame. Ligeia handed the knife to me. She began chanting in a low voice under her breath. I watched as she reached for a piece of chalk and made a few strange markings on the hearth – runes, but I didn’t recognize any of them. Then Ligeia plucked the athame from my grasp. She took my hand, pulling it close and gripping my wrist. I couldn’t breathe as she turned my palm up to face the fire, then made a sharp slash across the skin with the athame. Dark red blood dripped from my palm onto the hearth, and I gasped as the runes lit up to a shimmering, soothing blue light.

  “This child will banish you, Prudence,” Ligeia hissed into the fire. “You will be dust and dirt and earth; your spirit will be crushed and trapped.”

  I tried to pull my bleeding hand away, but Ligeia kept a firm grip. She sliced her own palm with the athame, then dripped blood onto the runes. They hissed.

  “Prudence, you will not defeat me,” Ligeia said. She gazed into the fire. The firelight flickered on her face, making her look almost young. “You have come to the end of your life.”

  Following Ligeia’s gaze, I gasped as I looked into the fire and saw Andrea’s face, smirking at me.

  “Your end is near, Prudence,” Ligeia growled. Grabbing my hand, she squeezed the puckered flesh on my palm and gathered some of my blood in her palm. I gasped in pain as Ligeia flung the blood into the rising flames, making them hiss and steam.

  Andrea’s smirk faded and was soon replaced by a tortured moan. She screamed and writhed, wailing and twisting in the flames. I couldn’t take my eyes away as Ligeia did the same with her own hand, throwing droplets of blood into the flaming hearth. Andrea wailed and moaned, screeching so loudly that I had to cover my ears. Then she faded slowly into the fire, until I couldn’t see anything other than flames licking high – up, up, up, into the chimney.

  Ligeia looked at me serenely.

  “It is done,” Ligeia said. She tossed her head, placing the athame behind her once more. She handed me a clean strip of cotton, and I wrapped my palm, gritting my teeth. Blood soaked through the fabric almost at once, but I kept it pressed firmly to the wound.

  Ligeia clapped her hands once more. A few seconds later, Henrik walked back into the hut.

  “Come, child,” Henrik said. “We must get you home.”

  I nodded. Just as I was almost out of Ligeia’s hut, she called my name, and I turned around.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you, child,” Ligeia said. She dipped her head in a small bow. “For agreeing to help us. We will not survive without your help.”

  I nodded. “I know,” I said.

  “I know it is not to your taste,” Ligeia said. “But it is necessary.”

  Henrik and I walked through the woods in silence.

  “I’m scared,” I confessed. “What happens after I kill her?”

  “Hopefully, the spell will be broken on everyone you know,” Henrik said.

  I frowned. “Hopefully?”

  “Sometimes, in the case of a very, very powerful witch, spells can remain for days, even years,” Henrik said. “Obviously, we will do everything we can to counter the possibility of this happening. But I can make no promises to you, Monica. We must handle each thing as it comes.”

  I nodded stiffly.

  “Earlier, you were going to ask me something,” Henrik prodded gently. “What is it, child? What do you wish to know?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t really feel like talking about it,” I said. I looked down at my feet and kicked a rock, listening to the sound of it skimming across the leaves. I could tell that we were nearly out of the sacred land of the coven – the air was growing colder by the second, and the leaves were turning brown and dead.

  “You may tell me,” Henrik said kindly.

  I sighed. I closed my eyes, thinking about the intense look in Elizabeth’s eyes. Her confusion over Steven and Andrea. I shivered, thinking of how she’d react when she learned the truth about Andrea.

  I bit my lip. “My friend, Elizabeth,” I said slowly. “She wants to join the coven.”

  Henrik peered down at me. “She does, does she?”

  I nodded. “Can she?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Elizabeth

  When school started again, I didn’t even bother trying to talk to Steven. A couple of times, I could tell he was hurt. He’d come up to me at my locker and tried asking me if I wanted to get together. But the curfew was still in effect, and every time I thought of my night spent at the police station, my wrists chafed with pain.

  More than anything, I wished Andrea would just go away. I wanted to confide in Steven; I wanted to be close to him. But I couldn’t risk telling him anything. Ho
w did I know he wouldn’t spill to Andrea, just like he’d done the first time I’d talked to him about Monica?

  It didn’t help that being home made me anxious. Mom was mad at me because I still hadn’t forgiven Aidan, and Dad was distant, wrapped up in some work project that kept him out of the house for long hours. Most of the time when I got home from school, I’d stay in bed until dinner and then stay up late doing my homework. It made me feel rebellious to stand at my window and stare out at the dark streets.

  One night in January, I was sitting at my desk, listening to the sound of snow and hail blowing outside. Jaffrey was in the middle of a blizzard – supposedly one of the worst storms in years – and we hadn’t had school in three days. I was going stir-crazy.

  Mom knocked on my door. “Hey, sweetie, can I come in?”

  I groaned, arming myself for yet another conversation about how I ‘had to’ forgive Aidan.

  “Yeah,” I called.

  Mom pushed open my door and came in, settling down on my unmade bed. “How are you, sweetie?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Just kind of bored with all the snow. I’m caught up on schoolwork,” I added quickly, before Mom could ask.

  Mom nodded. “How is Steven?” She raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

  “Oh, yeah, well, you know…” I trailed off, biting my lip. “The curfew and all. Makes it pretty hard to go outside.”

  Mom nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “That must be rough on you.”

  I shrugged.

  “Honey, did something happen between the two of you?”

  I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Again, I couldn’t imagine admitting anything even close to the truth. This was like one of those dumb, Lifetime movies, minus the D-list actors.

  “I don’t know,” I said after a long pause. “His family is kind of strict, you know. They don’t really want him dating.”

  Mom laughed. “They’re going to have a hard time with that when he’s at college, I bet,” she said. “Sorry,” she added. “I don’t mean to imply he’s going to forget you.”

  ‘I almost wish he would,’ I thought. But all I said was, “Yeah.”

  My phone buzzed on my desk.

  “Steven?” Mom glanced over, trying to see.

  “Uh, I don’t know,” I said. “Do you mind?”

  Mom nodded and scurried out of my room. She didn’t close the door behind her, and I groaned, getting up and slamming it quickly.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  “David?” I squinted. “It’s been months.”

  “Yeah,” David said darkly. “Sorry about that.”

  “Is everything okay? Did something happen to Monica? Oh, my god, what’s–”

  David laughed – a rough, raspy sound that turned into a cough. “Everything’s fine, calm down,” he said. “I mean, it’s not fine. But you know, whatever, we’ll get through it.”

  I blinked. “Did you guys have a fight?” My stomach churned. ‘Why is he calling me?’ I wondered. ‘Why is he telling me all of this?’

  “No, it’s nothing about Monica,” David said. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been able to visit her in a few months because of this stupid, fucking curfew.”

  My heart stopped in my chest. “You have a curfew there, too?”

  David laughed humorlessly. “Oh, shit, it’s not just here?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Anyone under eighteen has to be inside, at home, by seven-thirty.” My wrists ached, and I shivered. For a moment, I debated telling David about what had happened that night. But I decided against it. Sharing something so personal probably wasn’t a good idea.

  “Anyone under eighteen can’t leave town, except with a parent or guardian,” David said. He clucked his tongue. “It’s fucking insane. They’ve got cops set up at all the roads that lead outside of town. My friend tried a couple of weeks ago, and he was in jail for the whole night.”

  I shivered. Against my better judgment, I blurted out, “Yeah, something similar happened to me.”

  David fell quiet for a moment.

  “I know this is crazy,” I said quickly, “but I think you were right.”

  “About what?”

  I lowered my voice and stepped away from the door, turning toward the window. “About Monica…and that whole witch thing,” I said quickly. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think there’s something supernatural going on here. And Monica’s in trouble. She disappeared for another month before Christmas.”

  There was a long pause.

  “David? You still there?”

  “She doesn’t tell me anything anymore,” David said. He sounded bitter. “I haven’t really talked to her lately.”

  ‘Then why are you calling me?’

  “Either way, she’s in trouble,” I said quickly. “And we have to help her. I don’t know. I asked her, like, if I could join…you know, like join her…” I trailed off.

  “Her coven?” David snorted. “That’s what it’s called.”

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Still insufferable,’ I thought. ‘Even if you are being a lot nicer.’

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “She got really mad and told me to stay out of it.”

  David sighed. “Monica’s like that,” he said slowly. “She doesn’t want to accept any help from anyone if there’s even a chance she thinks she can do it herself.”

  “Something really awful is happening,” I whispered, gripping the phone.

  “It’ll probably get worse before it gets better,” David said. He sighed. “That’s usually the way things go.”

  I swallowed. “I should probably get off the phone.”

  “Okay. Bye, Elizabeth.”

  It wasn’t until after we’d hung up that I realized I still had no idea why David had called in the first place. Just as I was texting to ask why, a loud knocking sounded from downstairs.

  I shivered. Pressing my ear to my bedroom door, I listened as Mom walked into the foyer.

  “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Hartsell, is your daughter, Elizabeth, at home?”

  Cold panic raced down my spine, and I felt rooted to the spot in fear as I heard the front door close and booming voices ascend from the downstairs foyer. My mom’s words were incoherent, a buzzy whine next to the booming voice of the cops.

  “Elizabeth!” Mom yelled. “Can you come down here, please?”

  My legs were shaking as I walked down the stairs. Sure enough, two cops were standing there, in full uniform. One of them was holding a pair of handcuffs.

  “Elizabeth Hartsell,” one of the cops boomed.

  I tried to look calm. “Yes?”

  “You’ve been discussing forbidden topics,” one of the men said. “Come with us, please.”

  In terror, I grabbed my Mom’s sleeve and tried to cling to her. “Mom, don’t let them take me,” I begged. “You can’t let them arrest me. I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “Ma’am, we’ll need to take your daughter down to the station,” one of the cops said.

  My mom turned to me in dismay. “Elizabeth, what are they talking about?”

  “I don’t know!” I shouted. “Please, don’t let them take me!”

  “We’ve received reports that your daughter has been discussing witchcraft, both in person and telephonically,” the bulkier of the two cops said. “And as you know, as of the decree from last November that is a forbidden topic that carries punishment to the fullest extent of the law.”

  “It’s not against the law to talk about witchcraft,” I said quickly. “There’s nothing in the Constitution about it!”

  My mom was shaking her head. “Elizabeth, what is going on here?”

  “I don’t know,” I begged. “Just please, please, don’t let them take me anywhere!”

  “Step aside, ma’am,” one of the cops said to my mom. She moved out of the way slowly, as if in a trance. When the cop grabbed my wrists and forced them behind my back, I started to cry. The feel of cold metal
encircling my wrists brought a flash to panic to the front of my mind, and I screamed.

  Mom was staring at me like she’d never seen me before as the cops hustled me out of the door and into the cold, snowy night. They dragged me across the front yard and pushed me into the backseat of a police cruiser. I was shivering violently – I was only wearing thin pajamas – but the cops didn’t seem to notice. As they backed out of my parents’ driveway, they started chatting amiably about an annual police barbecue.

  “Hey,” I said sharply, “I didn’t do anything wrong! You have to let me go!”

  “I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut,” one of the cops snarled.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I repeated.

  The cop rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. He turned back around, settling against the seat.

  By the time we got to the police station downtown, my chest was so tight with anxiety that I thought I was going to throw up. Just like before, the cops left me in the car for almost an hour while they went inside. By the time they dragged me into the station, I was actually glad to be out of the cold. I was shivering and shaking as one of the cops dragged me down a familiar hallway.

  But unlike last time, the room was full of people from all around Jaffrey. I recognized a couple of kids from school, as well as this old guy who used to live across the street from my parents. They were all handcuffed – silent and miserable.

  “Is everybody here for the same thing?” I asked when the cop had left us alone. “Witchcraft?”

  One of the kids glared at me. “Shut up,” he said. “They don’t like us talking.”

  “I don’t like them hauling me downtown when I didn’t do anything wrong,” I cried loudly. “This isn’t fair!”

  This time, multiple people glared, even my old neighbor.

  “Elizabeth, keep your mouth shut,” he said. “This isn’t about you.”

  Tears of frustration welled up in my eyes, and I sank down against the wall. The room smelled of sweat and piss and shit, and soon, no matter how I tried to block it out, the odor was trapped in my sinuses. I felt sick and tired and miserable. The metal cuffs were worse than the plastic ones. This time, the metal cut sharply into my skin, and soon my fingers were slippery with blood. Moaning softly, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall.