by Ruby Raine
“We’re not certain. We saw two carrying another body. May have been knocked out. Come, let’s get home.”
“The battle’s over?” she confirmed.
“Yes. We are rounding up everyone still in the woods. Making sure everyone is accounted for.”
“Who attacked?” she asked as they bustled home.
The men tossed a glance back and forth but answered. “Rogue group of witches. And I guess a werewolf too. I don’t think they had a specific task in mind other than try to take a few of us out. Probably hired guns, from who, we may never find out.”
“It’s always someone,” the other man proclaimed darkly.
“So true, that is.”
They made their way out of the woods. Lisbeth’s world, spinning.
Her first mock battle gone crazy. Mathew’s revelation. A werewolf. That aggravating vampire, Grayson Moone. A night she’d not soon forget. Logic banged around her brain, warning her to tell the trainers more about the vampire. They needed to do a thorough search and make sure he did leave before he managed to take a single life. If she kept her secret, and someone died, their blood would be on her hands.
Something stopped her from wanting to. Something she was unable to put words to. And it would have to wait now, they were almost at the village. Where someone was crying out, “My son. My son.”
Lisbeth looked at the two trainers, who shook their heads having a terrible sense that whoever they’d seen being carried out of the woods had not only died but was one of the young students who’d ended up fighting.
They quickened their paces into the village square where everyone was gathering. A father was lying next to his son whom two young students had laid down. They had not left the dead student’s side and looked trodden and beaten.
Lisbeth froze. Veins hardening to ice, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow while an ill-boding shudder ripped through her.
Sick. She was going to be sick.
This wasn’t real.
Not him.
Oh please God, not him.
Her legs started working on their own accord and she sank to her knees next to the father.
“Mathew. Oh my, God. Mathew... no.”
Tears threatened to fall freely but she bit her lip hard, to hold them in. She’d never once cried in public and had no intention of doing so now, even if this was her dearest friend in all the world.
“What happened? How did this happen?”
One of the students who’d been helping Mathew out of the woods answered shakily. “We um, got ambushed. Mathew, he... he saved my life. Pushed me out of the way and got hit with a spell straight to the heart.”
“Didn’t have a chance,” the other young man recounted somberly. “We didn’t even see who attacked. Came out of nowhere. But Mathew he... somehow he did.” He sounded genuinely impressed and humbled by the act. Both of them were clearly altered and shaken by this incident.
Only now, in a moment like this, did these young men see the value in a life so suddenly stripped from them.
“Oh, Mathew.” Lisbeth leaned in and place her forehead against his. “Twice tonight, you were the bravest man I knew.” No breath from his lips. No blink of his eyes. No heart, beating under his chest. Life, gone, in the flashing of a moment.
She lifted and kissed his cheek.
She’d miss her friend so terribly.
So unalike they were. Opposites in so many ways, and yet a good pair. She even would have said yes to his odd proposal in a few years if she’d gotten older and lonely enough. She looked up to see Charlotte in the distance. Her gaze hardened for such a shocking and solemn moment.
Lisbeth wasn’t sure what to make of her anymore; she’d changed. And yet Lisbeth understood why. Charlotte was trying to brave her way in a man’s world. And a Howard world. It was hard to blame her for what she was doing. And yet there was something behind her stare that gave Lisbeth a chill. She caught Mathew’s father staring at her.
“He was very fond of you,” his father lamented through forlorn breaths.
“And me of him. My heart is broken over his loss. He,” she choked up, unsure where she was going with this, but still felt obligated to protect him, even now, after death. “Mathew asked me to marry him tonight.”
“Oh, Lisbeth. I always wondered. He never said. I didn’t ask, and now,” he had no more words. Only pain. Only sorrow over all that would never be.
“Just so you know, I said yes.”
He nodded. Grasped her arm lovingly. Grateful. At the same time, a weary distance growing in his gaze. The man had come here in hopes of protecting his son.
“I should not have made him go through with the training.”
He was definitely blaming himself. But Mathew loved his father, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye on things. He would not want his father blaming himself.
“You were doing your best to make him strong in a dangerous world.” It wasn’t much comfort but all she had to offer. He’d always been hard on Mathew, pushed him out of his comfort zone, but was never unkind. Not so unlike her own father. She gave Mathew’s father a peck on the cheek and a comforting pat on the arm.
Looking down upon her dead friend Lisbeth had another new sensation. One she did not like. Too many firsts today. Not enough room in her brain to process all of them.
This first, this death, leaving a deep emptiness in her soul that might never be filled again. Her mother had died, but she’d never known her. Other witches had been killed while on duty. But this was her first friend. The first loss that buried itself deep into her heart. Mathew, taking a piece of it with him.
She was surrounded by caring witches, many who she knew well enough, and who cared for her in return even at her most stubborn. But not like Mathew. Never like Mathew. He was caring and smart and loyal and sensitive; a combination in most males that would be seen as a prize. But in Mathew, others saw this as weakness. It would never make sense to her. She gathered most people never got past his inherent clumsiness, or lack of fight.
So he wasn’t a fighter.
And she didn’t want to play stay-at-home witch.
Big. Fucking. Deal.
And why today? Of all days? After everything Mathew revealed to her?
His future, whatever it would have been, wiped out with a single act of bravery.
She was certain equal to that bravery, was Mathew believing his life was not worth as much as a physically stronger specimen who was a fighter and protector of the Isle. He’d succumbed to others’ opinions of him.
Would she, too? At some point?
Lisbeth kissed him one final time.
“I hope in whatever awaits us in the afterlife, I get to see you again my friend.” She whispered her last goodbye and climbed to her feet, taking a moment to collect herself.
She passed through the sniffling crowd, each mourning the loss of such a young life. Lisbeth permitted some bitterness to ease its way forward; if only they had shown him the same respect in life, perhaps they’d not be sitting here mourning at all. Mathew would still be alive. She hoped they’d learn from this and not be so outwardly judgmental.
Things needed to change.
People needed to be allowed to choose their paths in life, not have it chosen for them based on some biased, out of date, tradition.
Lisbeth spotted Charlotte and made her way over. “You’re okay?”
“Yes. You?”
“Alive.” A little battered and so confused I won’t sleep a wink. Between surviving her first battle, Mathew’s death, and the vampire, Grayson Moone.
Charlotte shook her head. “Stupid boy.” She spoke of Mathew. “Went and did exactly what we all thought he’d do. Got himself killed.” There was no remorse in her hushed statement and Lisbeth glared at her friend’s lack of empathy.
“He died saving someone else.”
Charlotte remained hardened. “Because he finally saw what the rest of us saw; no worth in his life as a witch.”
Lisb
eth glared, lips etched in a deep scowl. “How could you say such a thing? What has happened to you?”
“We are living in a kill or be killed world, Lisbeth. Preservation of the strongest and all that. Mathew was weak. And he saw the truth more so than anyone.”
“I disagree. I think others made him weak by not seeing his strengths.”
“Perhaps.” Her body softened some. But not enough to forgive her harsh assessment of Mathew.
“Be careful, Charlotte.”
The woman lifted an eyebrow in defiant question.
“I, more than anyone on this island, understand your position. What you’re trying to accomplish. Don’t forget we are still part of a team, whether your last name is Howard, or not.”
Lisbeth was shocked with her openness. A natural instinct kicked in, warning her that her friend, if Charlotte even still was this, was treading in some dangerous waters. Her personal goals shoved ahead of all else. Even basic humanity, or compassion for the loss of a fellow witch, and at the very least, a friend. If not a close friend, still a man who’d done nothing but treat Charlotte with great respect. More so than any other man on the Isle came by naturally.
Lisbeth didn’t want to start an argument with her, and not here of all places. But she feared for her friend. Something punched its way to the surface, warning Lisbeth, some kind of darkness grew inside Charlotte.
Oddly, more so than the creature of the night who’d not long ago had Lisbeth imprisoned in his arms. And freed her. She’d sensed less darkness residing inside the vampire than she did Charlotte. His wickedness, a purposeful temptation meant to taunt. Hers, a steep slide into something vile and shameful.
Her friend’s resolve softened, a flicker of remorse in her eyes, almost like she realized she was being unreasonable. However, it dissolved into that hardened determination again only seconds later. Though, she said nothing in reply.
“Lisbeth! Lisbeth!” a distressed voice called out.
“Father!” She left Charlotte with the sense that they were no longer partners in this attempt to penetrate the witch-man’s world. And that for some unknown reason, they were no longer friends. It was too much to think about now.
Her father embraced her, relieved to tears to see her alive and in one piece.
“Thanks to all your training.”
“And your hard work. I cannot believe we were attacked on such a night. And poor Mathew. Oh my dear lord, I’m so sorry for you. You were such close friends. I liked that lad. I really did.”
She squeezed his arm. All her pain and sorrow going into that squeeze. Her father understood she was trying to stay strong. And his words of the attack shook a memory into her head. The idea that someone may have tipped the attackers off about the training battle. Or that there might be spies lurking. Surely someone else must have put this together. Still, she refused to chance it, and needed to inform the right people.
“Father, I must speak with the Elder Howard. I’ll be along home soon. I promise.”
“Okay. I will pay my condolences and meet you at home. You can tell me everything about the battle. And we’ll discuss at length, any questions you have. Or what else you want to learn after tonight.” She smiled, though weakly. Leave it to her father to ground her and remind her to be open and honest with him.
Hard for a father with a grown daughter, she imagined. And so in tune with the fact that this night would have changed her in some way. That she might wish to learn new things in preparation for this kind of event to happen again.
He left her and she noticed Charlotte had gone too. It was of no matter.
Lisbeth wasted no time getting to the Howard House, sitting up high on the hill just outside the village. As expected, there was a crowd gathered, meeting to discuss possible actions and reactions to this attack. She showed no fear and walked right into the crowd searching out the Elder Howard. Henry, the current patriarch of the family and the man in charge.
“Excuse me, Sir. It’s most urgent that I speak with you.”
He stopped his discussion and looked down to her; he was a tall, broad man and she a tiny waif of a woman in comparison, wearing a determined stare that would not back down. He stepped away and motioned for her to follow.
She explained all she’d believed to be true about the possibility of a spy either amongst them or on the Isle somewhere. He said nothing and let her finish and when done, gave her a mysterious look she wasn’t sure the meaning of.
“You are not the first person to tell me this tonight, Lisbeth.”
She breathed out in relief. “So others did put it together as well. Good. I’m glad.”
“I am curious, though, why you’d say you came up with this idea?”
She shook her head, baffled by his response.
“You were with Charlotte earlier tonight, yes?”
“Part of the night, yes. But not all. We got separated.”
“I find it odd you claim to have come to this knowledge all on your own when Charlotte came to me a short while ago explaining how she’d thought this idea herself.” There was accusation in his tone.
“Excuse me?”
“Making claim to such knowledge without being the creator of the idea is not the behaviors of a witch in training. If you plan to prove yourself to this group of witches, you cannot expect to do so by cheating.” A few others raised their heads to look their direction, conversations muted.
Lisbeth said nothing, speechless.
This had nothing at all to do with the typical argument of, well, you’re a girl... this was all Charlotte. Because she was a Howard and not a Deane. So her word was automatically worth more at a time like this. So obvious, the truth became. Another harsh reality, and first. She’d had about enough of those for one day.
Lisbeth lifted her gaze to see the raven-haired witch stalking not too far away, that hardened look, smug and satisfied. The last string of their friendship broke with a sharp plink. She tore her gaze away from Charlotte and landed it back on the Elder Howard like a dagger with perfect aim.
“I assure you, Sir. The thought was my own. The concern belonged to us both. Believe whatever you like. I care not as long as the people on the island are safe.” She made to leave, but paused, ice in the gaze she returned to the Elder Howard. “I’d also like to suggest that in the future when it comes to training of any kind, that students be permitted to choose their vocation, not forced into it. While I appreciate the opportunity to train as a fighter, there are those who should be allowed not to.”
And this was the reason no man would ever have her.
Lisbeth refused any filter when it came to suggestions she deemed vital to the future of all witches, whichever gender they may be. And most saw her defiance in this, especially to anyone in charge, almost treasonous.
Her chin lifted, her head high as she barged through the crowd like she owned the ground below her feet. The Elder Howard said nothing, his gaze even, flipping a few times between Lisbeth and Charlotte.
Lisbeth ignored the woman, wondering what she’d done to make her friend behave in such a manner. Furious with her, and yet uncaring as the sadness over Mathew and the need for things to change so much more important. She’d believed she and Charlotte had been on the same page with their views. Obviously, Lisbeth had been incorrect. Or something had changed. She passed by the witch, eyes sticking straight forward. But the chill that divided them was felt to Lisbeth’s bones.
No, they were definitely no longer friends.
Somehow, they’d become opponents.
Lisbeth dare not think enemies and wished like hell she understood the why of it all. Did Charlotte believe there was only room at the top for one woman?
Lisbeth had never viewed it like a competition. Simply trying to change the way people thought about women and their roles in the community.
As soon as she was clear she hurried home and fled into her bedroom. Her father was not home yet, and that was good. Lisbeth needed a few minutes alone to clear her head a
nd sort through this night.
Her first battle, her first loss of a friend, her first encounter with a vampire who got her blood hotter than she cared to admit. Her first gain of an enemy.
Yes, just admit the truth, she told herself.
However, and why ever, it had happened.
Charlotte was now an enemy, not a friend.
One single night had changed, everything.
CHARLIE HOWARD HAD attempted to aim his boat toward home for two days. Each time, failing, unable to bring himself to follow through. He was ignoring duty, his family, Lizzy, and a hundred other things that took his mind to gloomy, disabling places. His boat, the only solace from the world he was trying to escape. Unfortunately, there was no escaping his brain. It refused to shut down and give him any room for clarity.
He’d checked in with his family a few times, to be certain chaos had not broken out. But for now, things were relatively quiet with returned from the dead vampire, Grayson Moone, locked safely in the basement of the Howard Mansion. Inside the study belonging to the absent William Wakefield who they’d still had no word from.
Between Melinda, Michael, Lizzy, and Lucas, and even Courtney Jessup and Mack as backup, Grayson would not escape. Lizzy might love Grayson, but she’d never take chances with the safety of the Isle, or its innocent inhabitants. Charlie believed this with all his heart. Like him, she’d always choose the right thing for the greater good, even over her own wellbeing. Or happiness. Part of why he loved her so damn much, so hard, so fast. She understood his duty; the heritage he was obligated to uphold.
The thought of losing Lizzy to this vampire...
Charlie needed to let this go. There was little to do about the situation other than let it play out. So much easier said than done, and one of the reasons his boat wasn’t ready to point homeward yet.
How did he face her, act around her, be around her, and pretend he didn’t love her?
Dealing with the inevitable sympathetic stares from his family.
And just as inevitable taunting from Grayson, who was likely to win her back.
There’s that ego getting in the way of my job again.
