Outcast (Moonlight Wolves Book 4)

by Jasmine B. Waters

  “Holy Father,” Andrea began, closing her eyes and bowing her head. I immediately copied her gesture. “We’re here today to speak to Elizabeth Hartsell, a fallen woman who has come to confess her sins.”

  I rolled my eyes. Fallen woman? What the hell does that even mean?

  Andrea nudged me with her elbow. “Pray,” she said. “It’s your time to speak to the Holy Father and tell him why you’re here.”

  “Um, okay.” I shifted nervously on the pillow, trying to find a comfortable spot for my knees. “Holy Father, please forgive me. I’ve sinned, and I greatly regret my past actions. The guilt is so upsetting to me.”

  Andrea turned to me. “You can be specific,” she said sweetly. “Holy Father prefers total openness.”

  “I haven’t always been a good daughter,” I said, fumbling for the words Monica and I’d rehearsed just hours ago. “And I haven’t been a godly friend.”

  “That’s good,” Andrea praised. “Keep going, Elizabeth.”

  My mind started to slow down. Fuck. She’s doing the same thing as before!

  “Um,” I said, stalling for time. “I’ve lied to my mother—I told her I was going to visit Monica, and really I was going on a walk. And I stood by and watched the police take Steven while they told me to go inside, even though we both violated curfew.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you, Holy Father, for listening to the sins of a fallen woman.” The phrase tumbled out of my mouth and I tried not to cringe.

  “Good,” Andrea praised. She shifted her legs, crossing them underneath her. I noticed she didn’t wince when her weight landed on the leg that had been broken.

  Relieved to be off my knees, I did the same.

  “So, Elizabeth, what did you want to confess to me? It won’t be the same as praying, exactly, but you’ll feel better. You’ll feel so much more pure.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Um, give me a minute.” Just as I went to speak, my mind went blank. Suddenly, I felt my limbs twitching—almost like I’d felt before, right when Andrea had begun controlling me. No, I thought. This can’t happen again! This was my last chance!

  “Elizabeth? Are you feeling unwell?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’m fine.” I sighed. Oh, yeah, Monica! Talk about Monica!

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Andrea said in a pleasant voice. “Go ahead.”

  “It’s about Monica,” I said quickly.

  Andrea’s smile vanished. “I’ve told you. Monica is an evil girl, and we’re not going to discuss her.”

  “It’s not about that,” I said. “I’m worried about her. I’m worried about her soul, Andrea. And I feel so horrible for the way she has treated you.”

  Andrea looked suspicious. “But you’re her best friend.”

  “I know,” I replied. “But, um, you see… I’m starting to… uh…”

  Again, the words vanished from my head.

  “Elizabeth, I’m not sure what you’re playing at,” Andrea said calmly. “I know the real reason why you’re here. You’re here to talk about Steven, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  Andrea smiled. “You’re here to confess to performing wicked, sinful deeds with my poor brother and ensnaring him in your devilish ways.”

  “No,” I said quickly, blushing hotly. “I’m not. Andrea, I swear—that isn’t why I’ve come.”

  Andrea stretched. “Well, I know it’s true,” she said stonily. “So, you may as well just confess now, Elizabeth, before I have you imprisoned.”

  “For what?” My jaw dropped. “I haven’t even done anything wrong!”

  Andrea stood, her eyes flashing with anger. “That’s what you say,” she said. “But I know you, Elizabeth. You’re a liar.”

  No, no, this can’t be happening. I felt my limbs growing heavy and sluggish. If I don’t do something now, it’ll be too late, I realized as panic flooded my body. This is my last chance.

  I got to my feet and charged at Andrea. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise as she skidded backwards, her feet dragging on the wooden floor. With all of my strength, I pinned her on the ground.

  “Elizabeth, stop this,” Andrea shouted. “You stop it right now or you’ll regret it!” Her pupils were pools of ominous blackness. “You stop!”

  “No,” I grunted, grabbing Andrea by the shoulder and trying to drag her out of the house. “You’re coming with me!”

  “No!” Andrea shrieked. She opened her mouth and wailed, screaming and crying at the top of her lungs. The sound was piercingly loud and I gritted my teeth as my head ached from the force of her cries. I knew that Monica must be able to hear—she was crouched right outside the window. But when I turned my gaze to look, I saw that she was standing and peering inside, looking horrified and scared.

  Andrea turned her head to follow my gaze. When she saw Monica, her face turned murderous.

  “I should’ve known,” Andrea said. She spat at me and I cringed as warm saliva dripped down my face. “You’re both evil women!”

  “No,” I shouted. “Leave her alone!” Mentally, as I stared at Monica’s figure, I wondered why she wasn’t moving. Then I realized—she was frozen in place. Oh, my God, I thought as my heart raced. We’re so fucked. Monica isn’t as strong as she thought, and Andrea is more powerful than both of us!

  “You stay here,” Andrea growled. Suddenly, my legs turned to frozen jelly and I collapsed with a hard thud on the living room floor. When I tried to move, a hot bolt of pain shot through my body and I screamed. It felt like I was being pulled apart, limb from limb.

  Andrea smiled down at me. “That doesn’t feel nice, does it,” she said, cocking her head to the side and glaring. “That’s what it feels like when you’re put upon the rack. I know what that’s like, Elizabeth. And you’re going to find out.”

  “No,” I whimpered weakly. I could barely move my lips, and the sound wasn’t even as loud as a whisper. The only thing that I could feel moving in my body was adrenaline, rushing through my veins and pumping through each limb. Please, no.

  Andrea looked down at me and smiled again. “You really thought you could outsmart me, Elizabeth?” She threw her head back and laughed. “The whole town is on my side. Everyone except you and Monica! Your own brother even turned you in,” she added smugly.

  Tears welled up in my eyes but my arms were bound to my side. I felt helpless as hot salt water spilled down my cheeks and dripped onto the floor.

  “I really should have known better than to even think about trusting you,” Andrea said. She shook her head and an edge of venom came into her voice. “Things have been going downhill for centuries. And this is what you deserve.”

  Her words sent a chill down my spine. I knew what Monica had told me—that Andrea was a reincarnation of Prudence Arrowsmith, Ligeia’s fanatical younger sister. But even though I’d believed her—truly—at the time, this was still stranger than anything else that had happened thus far. A cold fright settled over my body and I shuddered.

  Andrea sighed loudly. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said in a snide voice. “I’ll be right back.”

  I could only lie there, helpless, as Andrea flounced down the hall. I listened as Andrea’s footsteps faded away. The front door opened and closed. Please, Monica, run away. Find your strength and find the coven—Henrik will know what to do!

  As soon as the door slammed shut once again, I gasped. A heavy, thumping sound filled the living room and I gasped when I saw Andrea dragging Monica’s slight, prone figure across the floor. Monica’s eyes were closed and she looked weak and stiff.

  “Now… what am I going to do with you?” Andrea said. She set Monica down on the floor. She wasn’t even breathing hard, or heaving from the effort of dragging Monica’s body. Somehow, that made my predicament all the more terrifying.

  “Please,” I whimpered. “Please, Andrea, have mercy.”

  Andrea laughed. “No,” she said.

  “It would be the Christian thi
ng to do,” I added softly. Even making the effort to speak was excruciatingly painful. My lips and tongue were dry and cracked, but I forced myself to keep talking. “It’s what you should do.”

  Andrea stared at me. “No,” she said. “I can’t. You and Monica have taken advantage of my trust too many times. I’m going to keep you both here until the Church and I decide what to do with you.”

  Andrea picked up Monica’s supine body with ease and carried her across the floor. This time, there was no limp from her injured leg. Fucking liar, I thought as I watched her carry the body of my best friend down the hall.

  I thought back to that night at the hospital. Andrea had looked so weak and sick—had it all been an act?

  When I heard Andrea open the door to the basement and go down the stairs, I knew that we were in immediate danger. Andrea’s parents—not to mention Steven—could be home at any minute, and if I didn’t do something fast, Monica and I were helpless.

  I have to help her. I have to save her, and then we can find the coven and everything will be okay. Yeah, things will be fine.

  Gritting my teeth, I tried to sit up. Pain racked my body and I cried out, biting my lip to cover the sound. Even moving just a few inches was the most pain I’d ever experienced in my life, and fresh tears filled my eyes as the agonizing sensations vibrated through my limbs again and again. I gritted my teeth and grabbed the edge of the couch, hauling myself to my feet.

  Yeah. I can do this. I can do this, I can defeat her. I know I can. I know I’m strong enough. Yeah, just keep going. Just keep moving.

  Only by grabbing the edges of the furniture did I manage to haul myself through the living room and down the stairs. Tears streamed down my face and I knew I made too much noise, but so far, Andrea had yet to come running. Somehow, I knew that was a bad sign—she was obviously too pre-occupied with Monica to worry about me.

  When I got into the basement, I gasped. Monica was bound and gagged, tied to a chair as Andrea stood before her, clutching a Bible and a crucifix. When Andrea saw me, she dropped the Bible and gasped.

  “You!” Andrea growled. “How did you get down here?”

  It’s now or never, I told myself. You can do this.

  Launching off the railing, I pushed myself forward and held my arms out straight, trying hard to push through the intense pain plaguing my body. My hands landed on Andrea and I pushed her back, knocking her to the concrete floor. As soon as her concentration was broken, the pain stopped and I felt my limbs break free of her curse. Wrapping my hands around her throat, I squeezed.

  Andrea shrieked and yowled. She formed her hands into claws and scratched and scraped at my face, desperately trying to free herself. Guilt formed in my mind, but as soon as I remembered Monica, I squeezed harder and harder. Andrea’s face changed from pale to blue to purple to a sickly kind of green, but I didn’t stop. I grunted, shoving my full weight against her body until her lids fluttered closed.

  Behind me, Monica kicked and struggled with her bonds. She spat out her gag and looked at me with wide, hectic eyes.

  “Is she dead?” Monica asked softly.

  I looked at Andrea. For a moment, she was still. But then her chest began to slowly rise and fall, and her lips parted for breath.

  “No. She’s still breathing.”

  Keeping one eye locked on Andrea, I got to my feet and untied Monica from the chair.

  “Stay here in case she wakes up,” Monica said quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Monica, we have to get her out of here,” I hissed. “We need to take her to Henrik and Ligeia before she wakes!”

  “I swear, I’ll just be a second,” Monica said. She darted up the stairs and I sighed heavily.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, what now?” I muttered under my breath. I kept my eyes glued to Andrea, making sure that she wasn’t moving. She twitched every so often, but for the most part, I was relieved.

  Monica’s footsteps thundered down the stairs. Her face was a mask of rage and she ran over to Andrea’s body and kneeled. Before I could stop her, she held her knife—the sacred athame—over Andrea’s chest and plunged it into her chest.

  Chapter Six

  “What are you doing?” I screamed. “What the fuck did you just do?”

  Dark, red blood—hotter and denser than I ever would have imagined—spilled from Andrea’s chest at a rapid rate. Her breathing slowed and my eyes filled with tears as I watched her shirt turn from white to a deep, reddish black that soaked through the cotton material.

  “I had to,” Monica said stiffly. She stared at me with no hint of remorse. “Elizabeth, I had to do it.”

  “Are you crazy?” I yelled. “You killed her! How the fuck are we supposed to take her to Henrik and Ligeia now?” I covered my face with my hands and shut my eyes tightly. No, no, no, no, no, I thought. This can’t be happening. This is a dream—any minute from now, I’m going to wake. No!

  “This isn’t a dream, Elizabeth,” Monica said harshly. “I had to do it. You know I had to do it. What if we can’t find the coven? What would we do if she woke in the woods and took control of us again?”

  “Monica…” Tears streamed down my face. “I can’t believe you.”

  “Then don’t,” Monica said stiffly. “But I need you to help me carry her body.”

  “No…” I bit my lip and burst into sobs. “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

  Monica grabbed my hands and held them tightly. I tried to twist out of her grasp but she held on with surprising strength.

  “I know, it’s hard,” Monica said. “But Elizabeth, you swore. You swore loyalty to the coven, and to me.”

  “You killed her!” I shrieked. “That’s not what the plan was!”

  “It was the plan for last time,” Monica said. “And you couldn’t go through with it, remember? Your will was so weak that she possessed you before you even crossed the threshold!”

  I slumped over. “I can’t believe this is really happening,” I whispered. “I want it to stop.”

  “It will,” Monica said. “I promise. But I need your help. Come on,” she added. “We have to work quickly.”

  I let out a choked sob when I looked down at Andrea’s body once again. Blood still spurted from her chest, soaking her body and dripping down to the concrete floor.

  “There isn’t much we can do to clean up,” Monica said. “I promise, it’ll be okay. Come on.” She grabbed Andrea’s feet. “You get her head and shoulders.”

  “No,” I whimpered. “I can’t.”

  Monica rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “Take her feet then. See if I care.”

  I bit my lip as I got to my feet and grabbed Andrea by the ankles. When Monica lifted her by the shoulders, her head lolled back. Like a corpse. She’s like a dead person already.

  We carried her up the stairs, Monica going first, as quickly and quietly as we could. Blood dripped from Andrea’s body and splattered the stairs, the hall, and the porch as we lifted her body through the front door and into the woods behind Andrea’s house.

  My mind ran wild with horrible thoughts. We’ve finally done it. We finally have something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Monica’s face stayed calm and composed. Her brows were knitted together with the struggle of carrying Andrea’s body, but otherwise, she looked unperturbed. It bothered me—sure, Andrea had been a witch—but did she deserve to die?

  Stop, I told myself as we waded deeper and deeper into the woods. You’re not going to get anywhere by thinking like that.

  Monica stumbled and for a moment, we almost fell. But she regained her footing at the last second.

  “We’re close,” Monica said. “I can almost smell it.”

  “I can’t smell anything but blood and dead leaves,” I said morosely as we stumbled together past a large tree. “Are you sure?”

  In my arms, Andrea stirred. Her lids fluttered but her eyes didn’t open, and her lips were parted. She drooled on her face and her forehead
was screwed tight with pain.

  “She’s still alive,” I breathed. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Well, yeah,” Monica said haughtily, as if I’d somehow offended her. “I didn’t mean to kill her. I just meant to subdue her spirit.”

  “You stabbed her in the chest,” I said. It was hard to keep the accusing tone out of my voice. “How the hell did you know that she wouldn’t die?”

  Monica shrugged, as best as she could while still carrying Andrea. “I didn’t,” she said. “But it worked out.”

  Anger and shame raced through my body. I closed my eyes and leaned against the trunk of a tree. “I’m getting tired,” I said. “I can’t carry her for much longer.”

  Monica sighed. “We’re almost there, just a little bit longer.”

  “She’s heavy,” I said. I glanced down—Andrea’s face was paler than usual, and her lips were white. “She’s losing a lot of blood,” I added. “Will Ligeia be able to cure her?”

  Monica didn’t answer. She led the way and I had no choice but to follow behind as she led me through the dark woods. As we moved further and further away from Jaffrey, I could swear that the woods became lusher. Buds appeared on the trees, and there was a hint of green grass under the leaves.

  “Almost there,” Monica heaved. Her own face was red with sweat and the effort of carrying Andrea. “Just a little bit longer.”

  I wondered if she was saying that more for the benefit of herself than for me.

  Eventually, we stumbled onto a clearing of lush, emerald grass. Déjà vu hit hard when I realized it was the same clearing where Ligeia had initiated me. A chill ran through my body—that all felt like so long ago, even though not much time had passed.

  “Henrik!” Monica yelled. “We’re here!”

  Seconds later, the wizened old man appeared. He wore robes of cobalt, and his white hair was bound with a leather strap. When he saw Andrea, he nodded gravely.

  “Good,” Henrik said.

  “Good? She’s nearly dead,” I cried. “You have to help her!”

  Ligeia glided out of the woods, moving swiftly in her ivory robes. Her blue eyes flashed when she saw Andrea’s bleeding form on the grass and I saw a flash of hatred behind her dark pupils.