Well, winter break is ending for me. I go back to college Monday, and I won't have as much time to write as I have had these past few weeks. Hopefully I will update more than I did in the fall, but no promises. I'm hoping I'll get to update every 2 or 3 weeks. I know this isn't a lot, but school is kinda more important. Sorry.
Anyway,I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I rewrote the ending a few times, and I can't decide whether I like it better now or before. As always, thanks for reading, and enjoy!
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Chapter 13
“Eric’s the DM right now, but his campaign is almost over, and Sean’s already been DM, and Luke is too new to be a good DM, so I think it’s my turn. I’m really excited about it. I’m thinking about having it set in a fire realm. Wouldn’t that be so cool? There would be a ton of fire monsters and stuff and like a fire castle!”
My cousin, Shay, looked at me with such enthusiasm on his face that I felt bad for not having listened to a single word he was saying. Shay was really into Dungeons and Dragons and had a group of friends that he gamed with every weekend, sometimes during the week too. I never got his obsession. He pretended to have magical abilities in this game, but he actually had magic in him; he just never used it. I never understood it.
I tried to, for his sake. I listened when he told me about his campaigns and adventures and sometimes gave him feedback, but I didn’t have it in me that day to listen. I had way too much on my mind.
I nodded at him, trying to seem as enthused as him. “Mhm, that’s great,” I said.
Shay frowned at me. “You weren’t listening to a word I said were you?”
“I was,” I protested half-heartedly. “Fire, you were talking about fire.”
He shook his head. “You are so lost in your head this afternoon.”
Kaelyn turned around from the customer she just helped and joined in the conversation. “Let it go, Shay. She’s going to be lost all afternoon. Leila has boy troubles.”
I crossed my arms and glared at her.
Kaelyn laughed. “Well you do. It’s not like he doesn’t suspect anything.”
Shay nodded. “It’s true. I’m not a complete oblivious idiot, you know.”
I turned away and started preparing a fresh pot of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You should be using me as a resource, Leila. I’m a guy after all. I know how a man’s brain works.”
I rolled my eyes and made a disbelieving sound. “Not this man,” I mumbled.
Shay leaned against the counter next to where I was preparing the coffee. “That’s true. I don’t know how the mind of a werewolf works, but—”
“Shay,” I hissed, looking around to make sure no one heard him.
“No one’s listening,” he scoffed.
“You don’t know that,” I snapped. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about anyway,” I added too quickly.
Shay rolled his eyes. “Like I don’t notice the way you watch him when he’s here, or the way he watches you. And even if I didn’t notice, the way you guys interact is totally—”
“Okay, I get it,” I interrupted, looking around again. “Just don’t…say anything,” I added quietly.
“It’s not that serious, is it? To be with a Shifter, I mean.”
I gave my cousin a steady look. “It’s very serious, Shay. It’s against witch law. Not to mention my mother would kill me if she knew I was even thinking about a Shifter like this.”
Shay frowned. “But we have the Peace Pact with the werewolves. Doesn’t this mean we can interact with them, and stuff?”
“Interact, yes. Romance, no. Not that I want to romance with anyone,” I added.
Shay shot me a disbelieving look. “Yeah right you don’t,” he grumbled.
I glared at him. He winked at me and turned away.
“Is it really against witch law?” Kaelyn asked me quietly.
I nodded. “Shay should have known that. The law doesn’t pertain to him, because he’s a Dormant, but he should still know it. No one ever thinks about it being a law because it just never happens. Witches and Shifters don’t mingle.”
“What happens if you break the law?” She asked me slowly.
I sighed. “It’s like any law. You’re punished.”
Kaelyn crossed her arms and frowned. “And I thought Shifters had stupid laws.”
I shrugged. “That’s politics for you.”
We let the subject drop, and I was glad. I wasn’t too comfortable talking about this law. It was old, mostly ignored and forgotten because it just never happened. Shifters and witches rarely spoke to each other, never mind fall in love. As for procreation, I didn’t think it was possible between the two species; our magics were too polar.
I stared at my painted nails, the tips beginning to chip after only two days. I had spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about David. It was too confusing. One moment I saw him smiling and teasing me, the next I could only feel his nails digging into my head. I couldn’t figure out what my own feelings were toward him—did I fear him or did I feel guilty? and why did I want to see him so badly?—and it was too tiring to try. So I gave up, and figured I would deal with that later.
Kaelyn told me David was fine. She wouldn’t tell me anything else though. Said I had to ask him myself. Part of me really wanted to know; the other part was afraid to ask.
The afternoon passed in the same manner as it always did. People came and went in a steady Wednesday afternoon flow. It wasn’t heavy, and there were short periods when there were no customers at the counter and the three of them just joked behind the counter. It was light, easy. Every the bell jingled I looked up at the incomer, anticipating it being a certain werewolf and my pulse jumped. Every time I turned away, disappointed and confused by my own disappointment.
Finally, it was time to close. I was tired, and confused with myself, and just really glad to be going home. I sent Kaelyn and Shay in the back, to close up the kitchen and office while I tidied up behind the counter and took the money out of the register.
I heard the bell jingle. “We’re closed,” I said, not bothering to look up from the cash register.
Something slid across the counter. A white envelope, covered by a hand with two long, faint scab marks across the top of it.
My head shot up and my heart began to beat faster. David stood in front of me, his gaze down at the envelope he was pushing across the counter. He had scab lines, like the ones on his hand, down either side of his face, four on each side. He had bags under his eyes and his neck looked bruised under thicker scab lines. One ear looked like it had been ripped in half and was only partially healed. The rest of him was covered in a long sleeve black shirt.
“What happened?” I whispered, feeling the stirring of guilt again. I felt a strange urge to run my hands down his cuts and bruises. I wanted to offer to heal him, but I was too nervous too. Also, I wasn’t the best healer.
“Read it,” he rasped, “please.”
I looked down at the envelope he was pressing toward me and then back at him. He looked uncomfortable, like he was still feeling the pain from the cuts.
I gently touched one of the red lines on his hand, giving in to the urge. His skin felt cool. His whole body shivered.
“What happened?” I asked again.
He shook his head once. “Just say you’ll read it. Please, Leila.” I had never heard his voice be that raspy, like each word cost him to say. I looked at his half-healed neck again, wondering if his vocal cords had been damaged.
I felt like I was drowning in guilt, knowing he did this to himself because of me; knowing it was all my fault. I shouldn’t have said that to him. Especially since I didn’t actually think that about him.
I pulled the envelope from under his hand. “Okay,” I whispered.
He nodded, still not looking at me. Then, silently, he turned and walked out of the café. I noticed him limp. The guilt tightened. I wanted to call him back, apologize for everything, anything, but I didn’t. My voice was trapped in my throat.
I glanced down at the envelope in my hand. In small blockish letters that said LEILA. I held it to me and watched David retreating from the café out the windows.
“Sissy, look what I learned to do!”
I looked down at my enthusiastic six year old sister and smiled, showing her I was giving her my undivided attention. Marissa giggled and clapped her hands twice before holding them together. Light grew in the cracks between her hands before shooting out from all the cracks between her fingers and palms, illuminating her face. She pulled her small hands away from each other, and between her palms was a glowing ball of light.
I gasped, “Wow, look at you! You made that ball of light perfectly!”
Marissa giggled again, very proud of herself. The act was simply exciting electrons between her hands, but for a witch of her young age, it was rather impressive that she was able to do it so well. I hadn’t been able to perform that as well as her until I was eight. I had a feeling my sister was more of a physical witch, like our mother. I was more of a mental one, like our father.
I ran my hand through Marissa’s fine hair. “Soon you’ll be better than me,” I said, “and you’ll have to protect me from all the scary things in the world.”
Marissa’s eyes widened. “Is Sissy scared of the monsters?” She asked.
“They wouldn’t be monsters if they weren’t scary.”
My sister stuck her thumb in her mouth and thought on that for a few seconds. Then she gave me a determined nod. “I’ll be scarier than them. And Sissy won’t have to be scared.”
I laughed and ruffled her hair. “I’m going to hold you to that. When you’re older, you need to protect me from all the big, bad scary things out there.”
She giggled. “Okay,” she agreed shyly, although I could tell she was pleased.
I ruffled her hair again. “Have you had dinner yet, Marissa?”
She shook her head. “Mom’s making squash. She wouldn’t let me play with it this time.”
I smiled, remembering last time we had butternut squash in the house. Marissa wanted to be the one to cook it, but our mother brushed her aside. So my sister, trying to prove she was capable of cooking something, tried to heat up the squash. Only she hadn’t mastered heat—still hasn’t—and ended up exploding it. She was much more adventurous with her powers than I ever was at her age; yet another reason to believe she was a physical witch.
“Will you go tell mom I’m home and will be down for dinner shortly?” I asked Marissa.
Her little head bobbed and she turned around and ran toward the kitchen, her thumb in her mouth. I watched her go until she turned the corner and out of my sight.
“You, scared of monsters? I find that hard to believe.”
I looked to the source of the voice and saw Topher standing at the top of the stairs staring down at me. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.
“You must think too highly of my bravery then,” I countered and began walking up the stairs.
“Perhaps. But then again, you seem quite at ease with the mutts,” he accused quietly.
I paused at the top of the stairs next and looked sharply over at him. “Looks can be deceiving,” I stated before moving onward to my room.
Topher followed me. “Can they? I am, after all, trained in reading people.”
I entered my room, annoyed to find Topher was trying to follow me into it. I dumped my bag on my bed and turned to glare at him.
“And how well are you reading me?”
Topher smiled. “Not well at all, as you know. You’re mental defenses are well built.”
“So again,” I repeated bitterly with a fake smile, “looks can be deceiving.”
“Hmm. But then why…” he trailed off and his eyes fell to my open bag. The corner of David’s yet unread letter was poking into view.
Stupid, I mentally screamed, should have tucked it away carefully.
“Why do you have something of the werewolf’s?” Topher accused in a dark tone. His fists clenched and his black eyes flashed to me.
Witches, with honed skill, were able to sense who the owner of things were. A witch well skilled in the art would be able to pick objects across a room and tell who owned it, or created it. Handwriting, being a personal creation of expression, was always a dead giveaway of the creator.
“It’s nothing important, Topher,” I lied quietly, still cursing myself for not hiding the letter. But seriously, it’s not like I expected Topher to be anywhere near it!
Topher made a move for it and I blocked his path.
“Nothing important?” He spat. “Then why are you hiding it?”
“Just leave it be,” I said through clenched teeth.
Topher huffed once. “What is it? Some damn love letter? Are you correspondents now, is that it? Have a secret love affair?” His tone was getting louder, for the first time since I created the barrier around my room a year ago I began to regret making it sound proof. Part of me wished my parents would hear the noise and come running in; although I also realized that could make matters worse.
“No, of course not!”
“Don’t think I don’t know,” he growled. “I may not be able to read you, but I can read that damn mutt, and I know exactly how he feels about you.”
“It’s an apology,” I snapped. “Nothing noteworthy or—or amorous.”
Topher glared down at me, his beady black eyes glinting with anger. I boldly glared back, warning him to stand down. I was telling the truth when I told him it was an apology, and I hoped he had sensed that.
“Prove it,” Topher challenged. “Read me the letter.”
I swallowed. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
He stepped forward so we were only a few inches apart and continued to stare me down. I held my ground.
“Do it.”
“This isn’t related to you, Topher. Stay out of it.”
“Oh, it’s related to me alright,” he said in a dark tone. I noticed the room getting darker and Topher’s skin was beginning to glow, as if his body was sucking the light out of the room. Only his face was devoid of the glow, casting his features in a deep shadow. It made his eyes look even darker.
My heartbeat increased and I relaxed my muscles, preparing for an attack. Fear crawled along my spine. I didn’t know enough about Topher to be able to have an advantage over him. I knew he was powerful, and that was cause enough for fear.
“What I do and who I converse with is my own business, Topher.”
“What you do will become my business soon enough,” he said in a low voice. Air snapped between us as tension built.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I spat.
“Give me the letter,” he demanded, ignoring my question.
“No.”
“Fine. Don’t.” Topher growled. “But watch it burn.”
His fist crackled into a fire. In an instant he had formed a ball of fire in his hands and was launching at across the room.
“No!” I yelled. I threw out a gust of wind and the fire ball flew into my wall, where it instantly died. A huge black mark was left covering the blue walls.
Topher was giving me a menacing smile. “Clever, Leila. But I wonder what you’ll do next.”
I braced myself as he formed fireballs in each hand. The moment they left his palms I was pushing them into the wall with air. But more came. He was launching fire faster than I could blow it. The fire balls were getting closer and closer to me and the letter. I took a step back, breathing heavily. I wanted to use water, but I was afraid Topher would have thought ahead and used oils to conjure the fire. Oil fires were easiest to conjure in the hand.
The fire was coming too quickly and I couldn’t stop it. I glanced sideways at the letter and turned back just in time to see fire in front of my face. Instinctively I reached up and trapped the fire with air.
This concentration cost me. Because the next moment there was an explosion to my side. I looked over to see fire eating up my bag, David’s letter lost to the flames.
The fire in front of me went out at the same time as the flames on my bed. Regret for losing the letter tore at me, and cool anger overset me. The air in my room cackled with spent energy and smoke, and my wall and ceiling were blackened and smoking. Still panting from exertion, I turned a glare to Topher.
He was breathing more heavily than I was and a sheer of sweat covered his face and neck. His hands were smoking and raw red. This battle cost him too.
“You should know your place,” he warned.
My jaw clenched. I contemplated attacking him in vengeance, but it would do no good. He was tired from the fire balls, but he wasn’t so tired that he was weak. If I attacked, the fight would likely end with him the victor again.
“You should mind your own business,” I countered lowly.
Topher sprang forward quickly and grabbed my chin tightly in his hand. His skin was still hot and it began to burn mine. I made myself not react to him—I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction.
“I know my business and I know my place,” he growled with his face only inches from mine. “Learn yours and stay away from that damn mutt.”
I tried to jerk out of his burning hands, but he only held me tighter.
“I fail to see how I’m out of place.”
Topher snickered. “You’re romanticizing with a Shifter and you fail to see the error in your ways?”
“We’re not romanticizing,” I said through my clenched jaw.
“Keep it that way,” he spat. “Or I will take care of him myself.”
Anger and fear curled around my gut at his threat. With one last huff of air in my face, Topher let go of my jaw and stomped out of my room. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, massaging some feeling back into my jaw. When I opened my eyes, all I could see was the ruin of my room. My ceiling was completely black, making the room seem much darker. The wall along my bed was black too. Looking down, I noticed burn marks on my floor as well.
I walked over to my bed. Surprisingly it wasn’t a totally burned disaster. My bag was blackened and useless (luckily I didn’t actually have much in there except the note, a sweater, a water bottle, and a book) and the contents were ash. The blanket around the bag was also ruined. I picked up the mess—blanket, bag, and ashy contents—and dumped it into the trash in my corner, shrinking it down so it would all fit. Then I walked over to the first burn mark on my floor. Running my hands over it I concentrated on putting the wood panels back to how they looked. Using magic, I pulled thin layers of the panels from under the burn marks and put them on top. Then I molded it all back together to one wood panel. The burn marks were hidden under the new layer.
When I was halfway done repairing my floor, I heard my mother call dinner from downstairs. I didn’t want to go, but I knew I had to. I felt weak and sick, and I didn’t want to see anyone, but I also didn’t want my mother to be suspicious.
Climbing into standing position from where I crouched on my floor, I looked in the mirror on the far side of my room. I looked normal, not like I just fought with another witch and lost.
Yeah, ‘normal.’
With one more deep breath of composure, I walked out my bedroom door.