Playing With Monsters

by Amelia Hutchins

  His features twisted angrily. “Hell cannot hold me, witch. I will return to complete what I have started, and you will die knowing that nothing you or your coven does will prevent me from succeeding.”

  “I will be reborn, and I will remember you,” I whispered with enough force that his smile faded.

  “You’re a fool if you think you can stop me, Katarina. You set forth your own doom, along with those who follow you. You will all be cursed to relive your failures, over and over again. From this day forth, any rebirth you have will be drawn to me. I will allow you to fall in love with me every fucking time. Your coven will watch it happen and they will be unable to help you. The evil you consumed will follow you as well, because of what you’ve done. Not even I have the power to undo what you’ve unleashed. So with every new life, you’ll be cursed to relive the past in your dreams—only, when you awaken, the dreams will become elusive. At the first sign of dawn, you will only remember fragments and never see my face until I allow it; but by then, it will be too late,” he finished.

  “Isn’t it enough that you plan to kill me once?” I questioned even as my traitorous body lifted for his touch.

  “One lifetime with you would never be enough,” he said with remorse in his eyes. “I was sent here follow a specific course, one set long ago; you were not supposed to be in my way. You were as much of a surprise to me as I was to you. That’s how you fooled me, though, wasn’t it? You used my need for you against me, and I promise you this, my little witch. It will never happen again,” he whispered as he sat up on his knees and looked down at me from above. “I really wish you hadn’t opened that box.”

  His hand cradled my face as I watched his eyes. He was eerily beautiful, and yet I could sense the power that oozed from within him. I was so lost in his beauty that I didn’t realize he’d still held the dagger until it was lodged in my heart.

  Shock registered and I grew cold and, thankfully, numb as he whispered his goodbyes.

  “I will kill you for this,” I whispered as blood filled my lungs. A smile formed on my lips as blood escaped and slid down my chin. “I won’t let you win.”

  I’d awoken from the dream, and he’d been there. He’d been on top of me, watching me as if he’d been flesh and blood. He’d smiled coldly and whispered the words that had turned my blood to ice. The game’s in play, sweet witch.

  Needless to say, sleep eluded me after that. I remained awake and as the dawn broke, I watched as the words disappeared from the journal and my mind.

  Chapter Two

  I sat in the window seat as the storm rolled in off the Pacific Ocean. The storm warning sirens had been going off all morning, and yet the storm comforted me. Thunder clapped from high in the sky as lightning crashed against the waves before they rolled and smashed onto the shore. I’d spent the rest of my morning trying to recall the details about him, my dream lover. As his dire warning had predicted, only wisps of the dream memories of him remained as the sun rose in the red and orange sky.

  I could remember the feel of his flesh, and the rush that his touch had sent through me, but not a single detail of his features remained. The journal didn’t have a single reference to any dreams over the past year, even though I was sure I had written them down as soon as I woke from each nightmare. My chest had felt bruised this morning, and a quick shower hadn’t stopped the pain, or removed the feel of him from my flesh.

  Checking my voicemail, I winced when the elder from the coven notified me in a crisp, businesslike voice that my presence was required in Haven Crest. The Awakening was coming up quickly and I had a big choice to make, one that would shape my future forever.

  I’d screwed up on enough of my choices before I’d left home that I wasn’t sure this choice should be left up to me. For starters, I’d almost gotten married to Todd, the supposed love of my life, who had romanced me into agreeing to be his wife, only for me to find him in bed with the biggest skank our coven had ever spawned—one week before our wedding, no less.

  It had taken me a month to get out of bed after that, and nothing seemed to dull the wound to my heart or my ego. The only thing that had gotten my ass out of bed had been the arrival of the United States Army, who had brought us a flag. One week after that, the body of my brother Joshua had been brought home for burial.

  I’d been the one to tell him to go; that if he wanted to go, who could stop him? He’d told me that he couldn’t stand being around the coven anymore and he wanted to make a difference, and I got it; I understood it. What I didn’t understand was how someone could put a bomb in a public place that was frequented by children. One hundred and forty-two people had died in the attack, and I had tried to figure out what could push a person to do something so horrendous and ruin peoples’ lives for a disagreement of beliefs.

  I often wondered if he would have been able to save himself and the others who had died in the explosion if he had waited for the Awakening before enlisting, or if he could have returned for the ceremony.

  Our coven’s elders had decided centuries ago that it would be best to bind our coven’s power until we came of age and were eligible for our first Awakening ceremony. They said it protected our coven as a whole from unwelcome attention from the outside world due to irresponsible young witches and warlocks. Until both events happened, the youth of the coven were unable to do much more than the weakest of charms or blessing spells. The last Awakening ceremony was a little over a year after Joshua had enlisted and I knew that he had tried to come back for it, but his commanding officer had declined his request to return home. Instead of abandoning his unit, he had deployed to Afghanistan powerless, and as mortal as the men he fought beside. He’d died mortal as well.

  My grandmother had begged me to stay after that, but I couldn’t. It was the last straw in a long string of unhappy events. Everything inside of me needed a time-out away from that world. A scholarship to one of the colleges that offered a botany program had cemented my decision that leaving was the right thing to do. It was a way to get out and see the world, and to learn how to better the family business in Haven Crest if, or when I decided to return.

  My mother hadn’t blamed me for leaving, but I had for a long time. My grandfather once said that you can’t change the past; you can dwell on it, but eventually you need to let it go. Look to the future, and remember the past when you need to, but lock it down and don’t dwell on it because it is the past, and you are already in the future. He was a very smart man.

  My grandfather died when I was fifteen, and I missed him every day since. I hugged my knees tightly to my chest as I remembered better times. I needed to put those thoughts behind me, because the moment I got back to Haven Crest, the festivities for the Awakening would be in full swing.

  The idea of going home was overwhelming, and, while I had my reasons, I could have left under better circumstances, or given more warning than I had. There’s a limit to what the heart can endure, and what the mind can absorb. My heart had shattered at the loss of my brother, but it had already been broken when my father left us and the love of my life slept with Cassidy Smithers. I had become numb, and I’d begun building a wall around me. I didn’t let people in anymore, but I continued to live and get by. I took everything one day at a time, stopped looking to the past, and focused on my future.

  If you could call what I was doing living. I’d had a meaningless one-night stand with the man who had done my tattoos. I’d kicked myself in the ass for allowing it to happen, and in the back seat of his car outside of a bar, no less. It had been more than a letdown, and for a long time afterwards, I’d hated myself for doing it. I’d promised myself, as most girls had, that the first time would be something special, and it hadn’t been. I’d asked myself for a few weeks afterwards if I’d been punishing myself or Todd. I’d moved on, though, and gotten myself tested for STDs after seeing him take another unlucky girl out to his car. A girl
needed to protect herself, and I was no different.

  Whatever; I’d lost my virginity, which Todd had treasured. I’d done it because it was something I could control, and because it was an act of revenge against him, which only ended up hurting me. I’d been at a low point in my life, and on a downward spiral. After a few mishaps and picking fights with the wrong people, I’d realized that my self-destructive path was only hurting one person: Me. At least by the time I’d finished this phase of acting out, I’d only had a single one-night stand, seven fights, several stitches, one broken nose, and an attitude adjustment.

  It was out of my system after six months, and by the seventh month I’d settled into a routine that I could comfortably do with my eyes closed. I’d given up working at nightclubs to avoid temptation, and started working a safer job. I worked a nine-to-five in a floral shop during the summer months and part-time during school, putting my green thumbs to use. Since it was kinda what I had done at home, it was familiar.

  After work, I’d pick up a bottle of wine and head home to my empty apartment. The only person who missed me through the day was Luna, a small cat that I’d found with silky black fur and a crescent patch of white on her chest. She’d been left to die at one of the many rest stops between here and Haven Crest.

  I’d used the milk that was supposed to be for my coffee for her, and nursed her back to being a healthy kitten, and since that day three years ago, I’d become her mother. We were both alone, but only one of us had chosen it.

  I looked around the small apartment and noted that for being here for three years, I had nothing. Sure, I had a few new pieces of clothing, and a lot of shoes, but other than that, I had nothing. I hadn’t made any new friends, and I’d kept to myself. Hell, my neighbor had spent weeks pestering me with her suspicions about me being in the witness protection program, and for a brief moment, I’d thought about going with the story but it would have been a lie, and I’d told enough of them to myself that I didn’t need another one on my conscience.

  The thunder cracked across the sky, drawing my attention back to the storm, and I smiled sadly, since the storm matched my emotions perfectly. I didn’t want to go home, but I did miss my family.

  I stood up and stretched out, tossing the empty journal on the bed. I moved to pick one of the near-dead Gerber daisies from the fire mantel and brought it back to life with a simple touch of my finger. I plucked the bud from the stem and held it to my nose.

  “I’m coming home, Kendra,” I whispered to the flower. I moved to the window and opened it, allowing the storm into my apartment. Rain pelted my face as I held the flower in my palm and whispered the words that would take the message and flower to my twin sister.

  I didn’t wait for the storm to pass before I quickly packed my meager belongings into the old Toyota four-door I’d picked up in high school for a steal of a deal, and then returned to force Luna, who wasn’t a happy camper about being placed in her carrier for the long car ride home, into the car.

  I looked around the apartment and blessed it for the next lost soul who was searching for whatever they’d lost, and headed home to face the past head-on.

  I knew there would be mixed feelings when I got home because I had left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to anyone. Goodbyes were hard, and I’d been an emotional wreck with the weight of leaving everything I knew behind. It was just easier, and so I’d left without a single word to anyone. I’d prepared them in my own way, dropping hints, and speaking to my grandmother of what I had planned. She’d explained it to them after I’d been on the road and in the wind.

  On the voice message this morning, the elder had left a summary of the upcoming events, which was how I knew that when I got home I’d be coming back like a thief in the night. And, knowing my mother, the manor house would be filled with witches, male and female, who would be participating in the Awakening. It would also be the opening celebration, so it was a required meet-and-greet along with welcoming those who had travelled here for the celebration.

  I entered town with a sense of dread, but ignored it as I continued down the country road to home. Haven Crest was a small town of close to twenty thousand residents. Most were scattered in the woods, or on Witching Hills, which was where my family had settled down in the late 1800s.

  It was past eight, which meant that I’d missed the opening of the party but would be able to enter unnoticed, or so I hoped. I parked the car in the back, behind the little guest house, quickly unloaded my things and Luna from the car, and lugged all of it up to the quaint little cottage my grandparents had lived in before my grandfather passed away. I’d moved a lot of my things into it, expecting it to be where Todd and I would stay until we could afford to get our own place.

  It was less than a ten-minute walk to the main house, and had actually been the main house at one point in time while our great-great grandparents had built the larger manor house. Mom had redone it, presumably after a little too many DIY shows and entirely too much wine.

  I deeply inhaled the air around me. I’d always loved it here. The fresh jasmine blooming in the gardens and the herbs that grew wild around our place had been a huge draw for our ancestors, and in this moment in time, I could understand it. I closed my eyes, sparing a moment to get lost in the scents and the natural buzzing of the leyline which ran through this town.

  I used the key I still had and entered the silent house, knowing my dress for the opening celebration of the Awakening was waiting inside, because it had been one of the first things I’d moved into the cottage before I had left. It wasn’t a formal dress, but it had been a perfect fit.

  The dress was beautiful, handmade by a woman named Athena. At one time, it had been a part of her dowry, but according to my grandmother’s story, she’d never married. Her fiancé had been murdered and then she, too, followed his fate. It was a shame the poor woman had never worn the work of art, but lucky for me, since men back then were basically one step up from cavemen—who knew what would have happened to the dress on their wedding night?

  I was sure Cassidy would be decked out in couture and her group of friends would be dressed in whatever was trending, but I hadn’t wanted my mother to fork out hundreds or even thousands of dollars for a dress. She had probably paid for Kendra’s, and had most likely ended up donating a kidney to pay for it.

  Showering quickly, I did my hair and make-up in record time and slipped into the dress. For a brief moment, I was elsewhere. I could see glimpses of things I didn’t recognize, and worse off, I couldn’t breathe. As reality came rushing back, I considered taking the dress off, and had to mentally calm myself.

  “What the fuck,” I snapped, and Luna’s purring was the only answer.

  I moved to the oval shaped stand-up mirror and my breathing stopped. The dress was more than beautiful. It was a work of art. The Grecian style dress was a smoky taupe tulle evening dress that had a V-neck and pleats that gathered down the front on each side of the V. It had a spray of tiny beaded embellishments that dotted the pleats of an elaborately beaded piece cinching the gown tightly at the waist. Floral accents peeped from the neck and sides of the dress, created in expensive lace.

  My light blue eyes and caramel blonde hair shined and were a perfect contrast for the dress. My light skin tone accented it perfectly. The only thing missing were the perfect breasts to fill out the bodice, and a waist that could give the right curve to the dress. Yup, hello low self-esteem, how I’ve missed you in the last hour.

  What woman doesn’t want a boob enhancement at some point? I stared at my reflection and wondered if they’d recognize me, and then cursed myself for being an idiot. It’s not like I’ve been gone a decade, and they did have my identical twin with them for the past few years.

  “Get it together, Magdalena Fitzgerald. There’s going to be a ton of eyes on you tonight. You can do this, you can. So what if your ex-fiancé is in t
here, probably with his new skank-friend, and everyone in town knows what happened? You need help, probably in the mental department,” I whispered to the mirror.

  Flipping open a small wooden box, I pulled out the domino mask that I’d bought before my life had gone upside down, and looked at the silver mask with its cubic zirconia accents before returning my eyes to the stranger in the mirror. I could do this. Wine would help, but I wouldn’t get that until I got inside the main house, and then it would defeat the purpose.

  I slid the mask into place and tied it quickly before I slipped into my lace-up heels. I tied them and headed to the door. With one last look around the room, and a warning for Luna to behave, I left the safety of the guest house.

  Chapter Three

  Outside the old Victorian style house that I’d grown up in, I paused. I could hear the music floating through the open windows, and the sounds of laughter and people lost in conversation. It had been so long since I’d been home, and the nerves and doubts were pushing to the surface.

  I reminded myself that I wasn’t the same girl who left this estate three years ago. I’d changed, not because I’d wanted to, but because I’d been hurt enough that I had to, just to survive. I’d run away because I’d been unable to process the losses, and knew now that while I’d been strong enough to deal with it, I’d needed time and space to learn how to face it. I’d picked myself up, and I liked the woman who’d I’d become. I built her from scratch, and she was independent and stronger than she could have ever been if she’d stayed here.