Hex Bound

by Ben Alderson

  Chapter Four

  George

  I force myself not to watch the clock that hangs on the wall above the teacher’s desk. No matter how many inhalations separate each glance, I cannot help but believe that by looking I slow down time.

  This is my first period of the day, and already, I want to go home. As my ass numbs due to the awkward wooden seat, the building regret of not seeing Father before I left for the academy grows. I should’ve visited him, even if only to say good morning. Now, I am stuck here until the final bell rings. On and on, Mrs. Tate drones about literature, a lesson I usually love. I believe it is similar to the lessons humans would have in their mundane schools, but within this class, alongside the materials humans studied, we are also assigned novels on the history of witchcraft and other spell-based tomes that have been translated by foreign witches all over the world.

  Before today, I enjoyed the immersion of past witches’ teachings, yet now, I want nothing more than to hear the bell signal for the end of class. It doesn’t help that Abraxon’s whisperings have not stopped filling the void within my mind.

  You are acting with haste, he warns.

  I grip the edge of my table, knuckles turning white, and think, you refer to me as a master, yet you question my actions as if you are above me.

  I question what I believe to be as acting out of character.

  Oh, you know everything about me, do you?

  No, Abraxon confirms. But I know a lot about your father. I know how his mind works. He has always feared death, yet now, he begs for it. Do you not think it is strange?

  Your distrust is misplaced and unwanted. How can Father fear death when he is already dead? Now, stop with this annoying chatter.

  I expect the demon to argue, but he does not. Instead, he replies a final time before falling silent once again, Believe it or not, George, I have your best interests at heart.

  “You are a demon. You have no heart,” I grumble.

  “Yes, Master Alcott?” Mrs. Tate calls to me from the other side of the room. “Do you have something to share about the piece of dialogue?”

  I am completely lost, and I am sure every student watching me can see it.

  “If you have something to add, Master Alcott, please do so. Otherwise, wait until after class. I do not tolerate conversations while I am teaching.”

  I lower my chin to my chest and apologize. “Sorry.”

  With everything I have, I try my hardest to concentrate as Mrs. Tate drones on about our author of choice today. The only thing I seem to take from this portion of the lesson is her skill of making a perfectly good book sound boring.

  ***

  For the fourth time in the past half hour, my phone buzzes. I know it’s either Savi or Chad. And for the fourth time, I ignore their persistence. Just the thought of speaking to either of them displeases me.

  They are never going to stop until they both get answers as to why we are ignoring them.

  I fight a yawn and reply to Abraxon, By tonight, Father will have moved on and that will be one less conversation I need to lie about.

  That is only part of the truth, but I know I do not need to voice the rest of my decision to my demon. Savi stopped me from seeking revenge. The desire to kill the alpha still bubbles within me.

  The only reason I came to the academy today was for information that would help me free Father from his study. Plus, I need to keep up the illusion of normality. If I miss classes, someone would either come looking for me or call Mother.

  And that would be one very short phone call.

  “Master Alcott…” Mrs. Tate calls, her voice riddled with annoyance. “The answer, please.”

  Ever since she first called me out at the beginning of class, I became her prime target for the rest of the day. I know she is trying to catch me not paying attention, and until now, I was doing a pretty good job of listening to her boring lecture.

  I sit up straight, dropping both my elbows from the table. Blinking away my own concoction of tiredness and confusion, I ask her to repeat the question I so clearly missed.

  “Tell me why you think our love interest decides to be the one to embed the knife into the chest of the woman who holds his affection?” She puts a hand on her round hips and leans on one leg. Her entire posture suggests she believes I cannot answer.

  Unfortunately for her, I know the answer to this question, as it is very close to home.

  “Possession,” I say, voice clear and loud. “She did not hold the same feelings for him as he did for her. Being selfish and riddled with lust, he decides that he will kill her to stop anyone else from having a chance to take his love away forever.”

  “And can you explain what the author was trying to depict in the scene that follows her death?” Her gaze narrows on me.

  “Stupidity. Taking the same knife that took her life, he uses it to kill himself, believing that in life, he may not have her, but in death, she would have nowhere to go but to be with him. They are two spirits trapped in an eternal place… together. It’s classic human ideology of warped love.”

  Mrs. Tate swallows her pride, and the entire class turns their backs on me to face the chalkboard.

  “Interesting take on the novel’s ending, Master Alcott, but with literature, any answer with enough reasoning behind it can be correct. This time, I gave you an easy one, but next time, my question may be more challenging for you, George. I suggest you pay attention.”

  I smile and long for her attention to shift elsewhere. Mrs. Tate then goes on to explain how the novel was written by a human, but the story is actually about a forbidden romance between a witch and a human. Of course, human readers never knew this, but the signs were there. Any witch could see them. Sadly, a human fell in love with a witch, and because the treaty prevented them from being with each other, they both plotted to die so they could be with each other in the afterlife.

  The author’s biography at the end of the book explains how he was “practically possessed” when writing this story. Mrs. Tate and the majority of the class believe that he most likely was possessed. After all, he was a human in love with a witch. Spells were in order.

  “The council created the treaty for many reasons—one being the separation of supernaturals. To keep bloodlines and power pure and to prevent the extinction of our kind, we are only to be with a being of the same species—witches with witches, wolves with wolves, and so on. To go against the treaty would mean breaking a most sacred law.”

  Mrs. Tate hammers on about the author once again, delving into more sinister reasons why the two lovers died. Was it a true plot on their behalf? Was the author of the story truly possessed to write this story?

  “And can someone please tell me what would happen if the council’s treaty is broken?”

  Her jade eyes scan the sea of hands that are tossed into the air.

  “Yes, Leon.”

  She picks the boy sitting two seats behind me. Right behind him is Samuel, whose eyes burn straight into mine.

  Who is he? Abraxon asks, referring to Samuel.

  Someone who wants me to join his coven.

  You don’t want to join his coven? Abraxon questions.

  I’m a solitary witch.

  Not with me around…

  Abraxon makes a valid point.

  Leon, the boy speaking, seems familiar to me. Over the many years I’ve attended classes at the academy, he and I shared many classes together. Unlike Samuel, whose element is fire, Leon is a top air performer during our physical lessons.

  He stands from his desk, chair squeaking. “Death. Just like the lovers in the story. The council will call for the blood of the two beings who broke the treaty and kill them.”

  “That is right,” Mrs. Tate says with a crooked smile.

  Chad’s face morphs in the dark behind my eyes. Hearing the reality of our affection brings it home for me. Death. If we are caught…

  All thoughts and feelings come to an abrupt halt. My blood rushes as loud as the ocean
within my mind.

  “George Alcott!” Mrs. Tate screams across the room at me. No longer am I in my seat. Instead, I am standing and running out of the class room. “Where in the Goddess Earth do you think you are going? Class has not been released!”

  “I’m not feeling well,” I reply, and it’s not a total lie. I cannot tell if it’s Abraxon that makes my stomach churn or something far sinister. I’m long gone down the corridor before Mrs. Tate can even reply.

  On and on, I run, until I am in familiar surroundings. Elder Jane’s office is nearby. Why have I come here? It isn’t like I am going to tell her anything. If I did, maybe she’d turn me straight over to the council so they could burn me to ash for breaking the sacred treaty.

  Elder Jane’s office door is closed, so I slide myself down the wall beside it until my knees are up to my chin. My hands shake uncontrollably as I pull out my phone and hover above the call button to Savi.

  You really want to speak to the person who stood in the way of you avenging your own blood’s death? Abraxon has a hint of humor in his voice.

  Don’t pretend you care that Mother has died.

  I fist my hand around my phone, threatening to snap it in half beneath my grip. As much as I want to call Savi, I can’t. It’s the same invisible barrier that is stopping me from returning her calls and messages.

  But soon, I’d have to face her and Chad. Oh, how I want to see him right now. He’ll tell me it’s all going to be okay, that we’ll be safe.

  I gather my bearings and take a deep breath, hoping it will squash whatever comments my lurking demon is preparing to make.

  I knock on Elder Jane’s door.

  Silence.

  I try again, but there’s no response.

  Reach out, Abraxon tells me. You can sense if she is close.

  Latching onto the air, I slip the element beneath the gap in the door and notice that the office is empty. Before I can turn to leave, the demon taunts me into staying.

  Ah, ah, ah, we are not leaving. We cannot return to your father empty handed. Go in.

  There is a part of me that knows I cannot sneak into Elder Jane’s office, but that voice of reasoning is so silent these days. Going against my better judgement, I listen to the demon and enter the office, uninvited and unwelcomed.

  Now what? I ask him.

  Search for anything that may help your father.

  I scan the books first, glancing at the spines for any words that might describe Father’s predicament. Mostly, they are just binders with documents for the students attending the academy. Only a few books are clearly labeled as to what they hold.

  Elder Jane’s office is as neat as it was when I last visited days ago. The teapot is laid out and ready for her return, even her handbag is left hanging over the side of her desk chair. Wherever she has gone, she must be close. The thought of her returning makes me speed up my search.

  After wasting several minutes, I slam my hand into one bookshelf to exude my frustration.

  What has the shelf ever done to you?! He is snarky today.

  “Abraxon, would you stop!” I yell aloud, unable to contain this argument within my mind without the looming threat of a headache. “If you have nothing helpful to say, don’t say anything at all.”

  I am trying to help, he hisses in my mind.

  “Then spare any demonic senses you have to aid me in my search. I have no clue what I am looking for, and your comments are not helping.”

  “Whose comments?”

  I’m startled by a voice from behind me. Samuel. His voice is pinched in confusion as he peers around the room for whomever I am talking to.

  “No one,” I snap, rushing to leave. “Excuse me.” He is blocking my exit. An iron grip wraps around my upper arm and stops me from running away.

  “Who is Abraxon?” Samuel asks, fingers tightening.

  I try to pull away, but it is a wasted effort.

  “Please,” I beg. “Let me go.” I fear what will happen to him if Abraxon feels threatened.

  “No. Mrs. Tate sent me to look for you, and I’m not returning without you. Just wait until she finds out where you’ve been! Sneaking around Elder Jane’s office? Now whatever will they do when they hear about that?”

  He sounds like a predator that taunts his victim with both his tone and the knowledge he has. But little does he know, I am no victim.

  Abraxon doesn’t make a sound, but I sense his growing power. Like the bubbling of a kettle, its hiss grows, and I’m ready to burst.

  “You are hiding something, George.”

  “What gave that away?” Abraxon’s confidence coats my words in an unfamiliar sound.

  “Your eyes…” Samuel stammers, not answering my back-handed question. “They… They are…”

  Before I can wonder what he sees when he looks at me, Abraxon fills me to my core. My mouth is forced open as a snake of dark shadow bursts free. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can only watch as the darkness spills into Samuel’s mouth with such force that it devours the boy’s scream before it can pierce the otherwise silent room. I watch as Samuel’s wide eyes roll into the back of his head.

  Like the snapping of an elastic band, the shadow, Abraxon, rushes back into me and settles down, full as a kitten after a bowl of cream. The interaction lasts no more than a few seconds.

  Samuel stands still in the same spot, seemingly petrified. His eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls gently as if he sleeps. I wait with bated breath for him to say something, anything.

  What have you done? I scream internally at the demon.

  I devoured his memories before he was able to share my name with anyone else.

  I slam my hand to my chest as I take several steps backward, leaving the confused Samuel swaying in the place where he stands. Mere seconds later, his eyes flutter open.

  “George.” Samuel blinks several times and shakes his head, even rubbing his temple with pinched brows. “Mrs. Tate told me to come retrieve you.”

  I nod, worried anything I say or do will reverse whatever magic Abraxon used on Samuel.

  “I was coming to see Elder Jane, but she is not here,” I tell him, clenching my hand to stop my shivering nerves.

  Samuel glances past me, still looking concerned about something. “Elder Jane is out all day today.”

  At least Abraxon’s memory wipe only affected Samuel’s most recent thoughts.

  “That explains it then.” I keep my reply short and follow Samuel back to class.

  You could have really harmed him, I think.

  To prevent him from knowing about me, I am willing to risk his life. Knowing my name gives him power, George. Never can anyone outside of your bloodline or your coven know my name. Never!

  With his final word, the demon contracts within me, causing a sharp pain to work its way up my spine. This pain is riddled with his own threat—a threat directed at me.

  Chapter Five

  Savi

  Old Oak looms over me, and I want nothing more than to sit beneath its soon-to-be-bare branches and sink into the mound of crunchy, dying leaves that clutter its base. I yearn for the days when life wasn’t so hard. Like when George and I would spend hours on end at Crest Coffee or prancing through these very woods. We broke a lot of rules, but we never hurt anyone.

  Not until that night.

  Not until I dragged him into the woods, while he protested crashing the humans’ bonfire bash. I wouldn’t listen. He needed to get out more, to have fun. He told me he was mourning a romantic relationship that died. I had no idea he was in love with my brother or that Chad broke his heart. Instead of giving him the time he needed, I forced him to break out of his comfort zone and party hard.

  I stare at the scene of the crime. Behind me is Old Oak, where I told George to meet me that night. Before me is the small clearing, where the humans thought they were safe. To my right is the tree line, where the wolves were hiding, waiting for their moment to strike. To my left is the cliff ledge, where George us
ed his magic to send the alpha’s brother over the edge and to a watery grave. Everywhere I look, I see decisions. I decided to come to the party. I decided to ignore the wolves. I decided to walk away from George in favor of beer. I decided to save the human…

  Will.

  Hunter.

  Not human.

  I exhale slowly, running a hand through my loose hair. I scratch at my scalp before letting my long locks fall to my shoulders. I trudge into the center of the clearing. Turning on my heels, I assess the area. The wolves cleaned up their mess, and then George and I returned later to make sure nothing could tie the devastation to us.

  But the longer I stay here, the more I sense George, his magic, and the battle that took place. I can’t explain it, but I feel him here. As if he were standing beside me, his scent lingers. I close my eyes, and I can hear his hearty laugh, feel his playful shoulder knock mine. I swallow hard and focus on his essence.

  How did everything get so messed up? I felt his heart break the moment his mother was taken from him, and I stopped him from enacting vengeance—something I still ache for. I didn’t have the luxury of investigating my parents’ death. But I wish I did.

  The subtle echo of a twig snapping underneath the creatures weight sends electric shocks through me. My eyelids jolt open instinctively, and I’m scanning the woods before I can consider how ridiculous it was to come out here in the first place. What idiot goes to the site of a massacre during an investigation? Is it even possible for me to continue to make stupid decisions? I mean, haven’t I met a quota by now?

  The moment my gaze meets his dark, piercing stare, I bare fangs and charge, wholeheartedly, with a mindset to kill. I’m leaping through the air just as he’s telling me to wait, but I don’t listen to his words. Like he is to me, they’re meaningless. They’re lies.