by H G Lynch
It was part of why he’d disliked Ember so much to start with – because she was so damned unpredictable, with her wild temper and the way she always said the last thing he expected her to. But while Ember’s unpredictability usually did as much to turn him on as it did to frustrate him, having a witch sneak up on him just seriously pissed him off. He bristled, a low, menacing hiss escaping his mouth as he poised to attack, like a snake coiled and waiting for the boot hovering above it to descend. Behind him, he felt Ricky tense, just as surprised by the witch’s stealthy arrival as Reid was.
Dressed in a long white dress, the witch stood in a patch of pale sunlight pouring through the leaves, her blank-looking eyes glinting like marbles. She just stood there, like she was waiting for something. Glaring at her, Reid wasn’t sure what to do, wondering what she was waiting for. He glanced at Ricky, who looked equally unnerved, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Seeing the vampires’ unease, a slow smile spread across the witch’s mouth. The hairs on the back of Reid’s neck prickled, and he took a step forward menacingly… And felt a searing pain go through his leg. With a grunt of pain, he stumbled and looked down. His eyes widened in shock, seeing that a tree root, dripping dirt, had lifted itself out of the ground and speared his calf. The wood burned like hell, and he gritted his teeth hard as he reached down and snapped the root, yanking the end of it out of his leg. Through the ragged, bloody hole in his jeans, he stared at the gruesome wound the root had inflicted. It looked like someone had dug a chunk out of his calf, and blood pumped steadily down his leg, soaking his already-ruined jeans. Already he could feel the muscle trying to stitch itself back together, but it was slow going. Injuries inflicted with wood slowed vampiric healing. And it hurt.
“Damn!” Reid snarled, clamping one hand over the wound. Hot blood slicked his hand and he glared at the witch. “You did that, didn’t you? You bitch!” The witch just grinned wider at him, and Reid felt the slow trickle of bloodlust pulsing through his fangs. Oh, he was so going to eat this stupid cow. Just as soon as he stopped being bloody crippled.
Behind him, Ricky made a strangled sound that got stuck somewhere between shock and laughter. Reid twisted to glare at him too, and saw Ricky had one hand over his mouth, his blue-green eyes wide over the tops of his fingers. His shoulders were shaking. Reid growled at him. “It isn’t funny, asshole! That hurt!” But Ricky just laughed harder. “You know what?” Reid grumbled, “If you weren’t my best friend, I’d stake you right now.” Ricky lowered his hand and grinned. “You couldn’t catch me right now.”
With a hiss, Reid turned back to the witch furiously. She’d lost her smug smile while the vamps bantered, and she flinched when Reid suddenly lunged toward her, even with his leg in pain. In his peripheral vision, Reid saw another flicker of movement, and heard Ricky hiss. Another witch had arrived to play. Reid grinned brutally. “Now this is a party.” The lead witch’s pale eyes narrowed at him, and she raised a hand. Then a branch from the ground soared up and smacked into her palm, becoming a deadly weapon in her hands. The branch was too long to really be a stake – it was more like a spear. Uh-oh, Reid thought, seeing where this was going. He leaned onto the balls of his feet, getting ready to move, and barely had time to think that Ricky had been right – this was a stupid idea – before the witch charged at him.
“Bloody hell!” Reid yelped as he threw himself aside, rolling across the ground, collecting dead pine needles and rotting leaves on his clothes. A twig dug itself into his palm and he hissed as the wood burned his nerves. Moving fluidly into a crouch and yanking the stick from his hand, he ignored the pain and stared across at the willowy figure of the furious witch. Tall and graceful, she glared at him through those creepy eyes, her cropped black hair shimmering with streaks of blue in the weak autumn sunlight. She wielded her spear deftly, and Reid frowned. He remembered Ricky’s words earlier: if you get yourself staked, Ember will go crazy trying to bring you back just so she can kill you herself for being an idiot. He shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus on not getting staked; he could worry about his issues with Ember later.
Distracted, Reid almost didn’t hear the slithering of the branches of the tree behind him. He ducked just as a thick pine branch shot toward him and grazed his shoulder, tearing a hole in his t-shirt. It snagged him in place, and he spat a curse as the blasted witch took advantage of his momentary position trapped against the tree. Her face was twisted with anger. She plunged the sharp end of her stick toward Reid’s shoulder and he whacked it away viciously, snapping the long branch in two. The witch screeched and lunged at him with her bare hands spitting sparks as more branches shot out from the tree at his back and wrapped around his arms and waist. He sighed. I really hate witches, he noted mentally, right before he yanked his arm free of the tightening chains of branches, splinters digging into his arm painfully.
With one arm free, he caught the snarling witch around the throat as she flew at him, able to hold her off at arm’s length for the moment. Still, her fingers spat sparks at him that stung his skin, and she fought to get out of his grasp, gasping as he tightened his fingers around her neck. With a low growl, he bared his fangs at her and tore his other arm from the coiling branches, then ripped at the ones squeezing his chest – they were an inconvenience more than a danger. They stopped him moving, but as vampires didn’t need to breathe, that was pretty much all they did. It just irritated him more.
Once free of the branches, he continued to hold the furious witch at arm’s length, watching her thrash. She scratched at his hand and forearm with her nails, but the wounds healed swiftly each time. Blood coated his hand anyway, and it stained his ripped t-shirt where the branches had slashed at him. Thin lines of welts ringed his arms where the branches had bitten into his skin. Reid shook his head, frowning. “See what you did?” he said to the witch, who had given up fighting him and simply stood glaring at him, caught in his inhumanly-strong grasp. She was trapped, and she knew it. Reid paused, a feeling of victory rising inside him, knowing he could end this here and now. All it would take was a brief tightening of his fingers and he could crush her windpipe, snap her neck. But that would be too easy, too fast – a quick death just wasn’t enough. After all, she’d threatened his Ember.
“Now I’m going to have to feed. Fancy being a vampy snack? No? Too bad.” He flashed his fangs in a grin and started to draw the wide-eyed witch – suddenly scared and thrashing again – toward him, peeling back his lips to bite into her neck. Witches generally tasted great, their blood always had a thick, rich taste like a finely aged wine. Normally, he’d take the time to savour it, but this wasn’t about the pleasure of the feed. He needed the blood to heal the wounds from the cursed wood – and the still-leaking hole in his leg – and he wanted to make the witch suffer. The witch tried to scream, but his hand around her throat choked it to a whistle. Reid took a moment to wonder, not absently and not for the first time, what Ember’s blood would taste like. The thought made his mind recoil – he would not feed on her – but his body didn’t agree. God, he wanted to bite her. He wanted her. The thought of sinking his fangs into Ember’s neck gave him a totally inappropriate thrill and he pushed it away. For God’s sake, eat the witch already! he told himself.
But just as his fangs touched the evil girl’s neck, her sour lemon-and-rosemary scent settling on the roof of his mouth, a sharp voice distracted him and he looked to his left to see Ricky struggling with the other witch. In his second of distraction, the witch produced a stick from somewhere and stabbed it into the hand holding her neck. With a hiss, Reid jerked his hand back and the witch stumbled backward, away from him, choking and gasping, her hand at her throat. “Damn!” Reid spat, staring at the stick shoved through his palm. It looked sort of surreal, like one of those surrealist paintings Ricky liked, all melting clocks and faceless men – that feeling of something here isn’t right. Scowling, he gripped one end of the stick and yanked it out, giving a hiss of pain. Blood splashed over his palm and the back of his hand,
and he raised his other hand to his face – now they were both bloody, his left from the stick and his right from bursting his knuckles on that tree. Somehow, ironically for a vampire, he ended up with his own blood on him more often than he did other peoples’.
Turning briefly to see how Ricky was doing with his own troublesome witch – the red-haired one with the cold smile – Reid was grimly pleased to note that for all their claims of vampire-slaying abilities, they couldn’t stand against one of them in a real fight; they relied so much on their magic to lure the unwitting vamps out, using the element of surprise more than skill. The ginger witch was sprawled in the dirt at Ricky’s feet, scrambling to get up, looking like she wanted to claw Ricky’s face off with her nails. Ricky just frowned at her in his please-don’t-make-me-hurt-you way. Reid thought that in another life, Ricky would have been a Buddhist or something – against violence and animal testing and all about world peace, blah, blah. “Leeches!” the coven leader hissed as Ricky threw the ginger witch back down, not really hurting her but keeping her from clawing his eyes out. Reid turned back to the leader, grimacing.
“Now, now, no need for name calling,” he said, lifting one corner of his mouth just a fraction. The witch glared at him, her hands in fists at her sides. Reid tilted his head, watching her simmer, waiting for her to attack him again. This time, he’d snap her neck instead of trying to feed on her, even though he could really use the blood after wasting so much of it bleeding from that leg wound. Thankfully, the wound had mostly healed already, but it had cost him a little too much blood loss.
But the witch didn’t attack again, and from the eerie quiet behind him, Reid guessed the red-head had quit trying to rip Ricky apart too. He narrowed his eyes at the coven leader, pursing his lips. He didn’t like it when they weren’t attacking – it made him wonder what they were thinking. Fighting was easier than trying to figure out what they were planning in their twisted witchy brains. For a second, there was some sort of stalemate going on; the witches weren’t attacking but they weren’t leaving, and uncertain what was going on, the vampires didn’t chance making a move, fearful of the branches all around them that could come alive at any moment, per a witch’s command.
Reid got impatient and snapped, “Well? Are you just going to stand there and wait for a bloody invitation? Take your shot, witchy!” The crop-haired bitch sneered, sending a thrill of ice down Reid’s spine. “Stupid, stupid bloodsuckers,” she muttered. “Did you really think we were stupid enough to try and take you on one-on-one? Didn’t you wonder where our other coven members are?” The witch asked it in the most condescending tone, a tone that got right under Reid’s skin, and he bit back a growl. Now that she mentioned it, witchy had a point; where the hell were the other spell-casting bitches? Something didn’t feel right.
Seeing his unease, the leader split into a sharp grin. “We were just waiting for your girlfriend to come out and play.” A spike of something unfamiliar shot through Reid, and he thought it might have been fear. Real fear. Not for himself, but for Ember. He shifted his weight, leaning forward, and snarled through his fangs, “What have you done with Ember?”
The witch’s grin broadened, and Reid had half a second to contemplate ripping it off her face before she said, “Nothing…yet.” And then she was gone. Just like that. In a sudden flare of light, leaving behind smouldering leaves and a puff of smoke, she vanished. She took her red-haired friend with her, too. “Shit!” Reid spat, whirling around. He met Ricky’s wide eyes. Trying to convince himself the witch was lying, he said, “Ember’s inside with Sherry. She wouldn’t come out here, not after the last time…” But the look in Ricky’s honest blue-green eyes wouldn’t let him lie to himself, and he cursed, shoving a hand through his hair. Of course Ember would come out into the trees, even knowing the witches were out here, because it was what Ember did. She did stupid, reckless things, and nothing anyone said or did would stop her.
Ricky just stared at him, twitchy and upset, and Reid knew they were thinking the same thing: Ember was in danger. Reid took off, hoping he could find her in time.
Chapter Three
** Ember **
Damn it, why couldn’t she remember last night’s dream? It was bugging her because she had the feeling Owen had said something important for once. Something about her…something that she really ought to remember…but she couldn’t grasp the threads of the dream. They kept slipping through her fingers whenever she thought she’d gotten hold of one.
Ember sighed, resting her chin on her hands on her desk. She was in Maths, dying of boredom. She couldn’t care less about parabolas and equations right now. Her mother was going to be here in five days, and there were vengeful witches on the loose aiming to kill her boyfriend and probably her, too, if they got the chance. Maths was unimportant in light of those issues.
Frustrated, Ember headed out as soon as the bell rang, and quickly dumped her school bag in her room, changing into scruffy jeans, a thick jumper and her boots. She pulled on gloves and a scarf, and headed outside. She couldn’t think in class, she couldn’t think in that building, so she’d go to her tree and see if she could remember that damned dream. The open air might be good for me, she thought, shivering in the brisk wind.
*
The clouds overhead were murky and oppressive, the wind bit at her cheeks and nose. It was chilly and she was thankful of her cosy woolen gloves. Ember stomped through the mushy leaves and pine needles, brushing past the tendrils of bushes that reached out to snatch at her legs and feet. The trees loomed over her, swaying and moving in a way that was somehow sinister today. Like they were alive, and were trying to reach for her. Ember shuddered at the sharp whip of wind that tore at her face, and made it to her tree with a stumble. She didn’t hesitate as she swung herself onto the lowest branch, catching her scarf on a small twig. She paused and unhooked it, tucking the scarf into her jumper for safety, and continued up the tree.
She stopped ten feet up, perching easily on a wide branch and sighing. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, brushing at a twig that wound into her hair. Tucking her knees up, she tried to recall what that dream had been, what Owen had said that was so important.
They’d been…on a river…or in a field…No, the valley at Red’s. Owen had said the usual; that she was in danger…
Ember frowned and whacked impatiently at another twig, poking into her back painfully.
What else had Owen said? He’d been concerned, she remembered vaguely. He’d…
Ow! Another twig was jabbing her arm, and she snapped it off viciously.
Owen. He’d said…something about the witches, about her and danger…Yes! That was it. He’d said–
“OW!” she squealed. She opened her eyes and tried to shift away from the newest twig, stabbing into her shoulder. But she couldn’t move. She glanced at her feet and gaped in horror as she saw tendrils of bark curled round them like ropes, tying her feet to the branch. She reached to tear them off and found her arm suddenly leashed by more twigs. They were tough little branches, winding round and round her arms, stinging tight. As she continued to struggle, more branches wound round her waist from behind, rendering her pretty much immobile. She gasped and wriggled more, trying ferociously to break the twigs. None even cracked. She drew breath into her lungs to scream, hoping like mad that Reid would hear her from here.
Before she had the chance, there was someone suddenly talking to her. “Don’t waste the energy. Just listen to us and we’ll let you go unharmed…well, mostly.” The cold, amused voice came from a red-haired girl, not much older than herself, floating four feet in front of her, nothing below her but air. Ember instantly recognised her as one of the witches and her heart lurched in fear and anger.
“What do you want? You remember what happened last time you tried to hurt me? Didn’t work so well, did it?” Ember snarled, glaring into the girl’s dark eyes. Another girl floated up beside the girl, one with long brown hair.
“We don’t want to hurt yo
u. We want to help you.” The brunette girl smiled almost sweetly, but Ember wasn’t buying it. If they didn’t want to hurt her, why had they tethered her to the tree? And she knew they had. Only a witch could make a tree do what it was doing.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not buying your bullshit. What do you want with me?” Ember spat. The brunette girl frowned and another girl appeared at Ember’s side – the rainbow-haired one. They were all wearing the same drab brown dress, the colour of the dirt below. Rainbow-hair didn’t speak but her smile was creepy as she tilted her head to examine Ember like she was a new species of insect. It made Ember want to spit in her face.
“What do you want from me?!” Ember repeated, glaring at the girls, meeting their gazes unwaveringly despite the thrashing of her heart. Her fingers trembled, and she sunk her nails into the bark binding her hands to keep the witches from noticing. She was trying to think of an escape; the trees would muffle the sound if she tried to scream. Maybe Reid would hear her if she sent a telepathic message? She wasn’t sure, but maybe…
A voice answered from somewhere above her and she looked up to see the crop-haired girl, the leader, descending through the upper boughs of the tree to hover in front of her – where she’d floated down from, Ember had no idea. It was freaky none the less. She was wearing a loose white gown that swirled about her ankles, making her look like an angel descending from on high…except angels didn’t sneer the way the witch was. “Nothing. We want nothing from you. We want to give you something,” she said, her gaze sending shivers down Ember’s spine.
Ember didn’t let it scare her as she said belligerently, “You want to give me warning I’m guessing? How original.” Ember rolled her eyes, ignoring the strange glare of the crop-haired witch. Her eyes were so odd, a grey that swirled like pale light bouncing off clear pebbles. She looked almost blind, but her stare held a piercing quality that made Ember certain the witch could see her just fine.
