by Kizzie Hayes
Then one afternoon as they lay in her bed in the afterglow she confronted him. She told him that she was a Wiccan Priestess and that she could sense the animal in him, particularly in their most intimate moments. She told him about wanting to study his aura. She claimed that she might be able to release him from his curse.
“And you believed her,” I said.
“I would have believed the devil himself.”
She tricked him into shifting, collared him and bewitched him.
“She is no Wiccan,” I said.
“That’s true, but I don’t know what she is.”
“Probably a rogue,” I said. “But what about the children?”
“She used me to snare them,” he said. “She taught me a spell that would entrance them. I would take them to her and she would bring them into her turret-room. What she did with them I don’t know, but when she would always them back the disappointment on her face was bitter. Then I’d leave the child somewhere they could be found.”
“You told me that you were in the woods protecting,” I said. “Protecting from what?”
“Oddly enough, animals.”
“Animals?”
“Their spirits somehow interfere with her. I honestly don’t know.”
“But your presence was enough,” I said nodding. “But why children?”
“They’re virgins.”
“Boys or girls?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said.
“I could be a virgin,” I said.
*****
“You’re insane,” he said.
“Probably.”
The afternoon was warm as we sat naked by my pool. We had taken a dip to wash off, played a little and then lay on loungers soaking the sun. He held my hand as I told him my plan.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, “ring her doorbell?”
“Might be just that simple,” I said. “But you said that she likes to jog. So she’s running, she finds a little girl lost on the trails. She takes the girl home to call her momma. And then --?”
“She’ll spot you in an instant.”
“I’m very good.”
“And when she discovers your deception?”
“I can handle myself,” I said. “I handled you on the trail that night.”
“I was tired and hungry. She fed me just enough to barely keep me alive.”
“She can’t shift. I could be all over her like a tiger, or even a werewolf.”
“She’s a witch,” he said. “She has power.”
“I’ve tangled with warlocks—“
“Women are wily,” he said, gripping my hand and looking right into my eyes. “She’ll charm you and when she realizes what you’re up to she will not be pleased. She is not a very nice person. Please don’t do this.”
“Why are you afraid for me?” I asked staring right back into his eyes.
He said nothing, but I knew that look. I didn’t know what to think. The woman in me saw in those green eyes something so sad and so desperate. I could almost feel his heart throbbing. My own heart moved a little, but I didn’t want to admit it. The reporter in me took over.
“Look,” I said, “by this time tomorrow the city is going to be flooded with pics of the two of us wrestling. Then people are going to flock to the Arboretum looking for werewolves. And that’s going to force Virginia to do something, maybe something desperate and—“
Just then my phone rang. I grabbed the chance to escape and ran to answer. It was Brandy. She told me to check the headlines. My heart stopped. I brought my phone to Donovan and showed him the headline.
Ten Year Old Girl Missing From Zoo.
“What time does she go jogging?” I asked.
***
She ran in the evening after work. I had bought a pretty little floral print sundress. Donovan drove. I couldn’t. I was all of four-foot-seven and my skinny legs dangled off the passenger seat. We pulled into the Arboretum parking lot. He took my hand like my daddy and we walked down the Effigy Trail. We were deep in the woods and the sun was low.
“If you are not back here in three hours,” he said, “I’m coming for you.”
“Cool,” I said. “I have a hero. I’d kiss you but . . .”
He shook his head and disappeared into the woods. I walked the trail deeper. I felt her before I saw her. I stood stock still, feeling frightened. She rounded the bend and I gazed hopefully up at her.
Donovan was right, she was a stunner. She was tall and curvaceous with breasts that would attract even me. She wore black shorts and a jogging bra that looked like they had been sprayed on her. Her face was lean and sculpted in sharp lines. Her nose was almost pointed, her lips were thin and her eyebrows like pencil lines framing deep, sultry brown eyes. She wore her black hair up in a tight bun.
I recognized her immediately. This was big.
She smiled and nodded and jogged past. I looked at her and sniffled a little. She slowed, stopped and turned. Her face brightened as she walked to me with a smile. She crouched down and looked me in the eyes a moment before she spoke.
“Little girl,” she said softly, “are you alright.”
I said nothing.
“Are you lost?” she asked.
I nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Eileen.”
“Well Eileen, is your mother or father around?”
“My -- my daddy,” I said. “We were looking for frogs and I found one and chased it in the woods and now I don’t know where he is.”
“Does your daddy have a cell-phone?”
I nodded.
“Do you know his number?”
“Yes.”
“Well then it’s simple,” she smiled. “I live near her, so you can come to my house and we can call him. I bet he’s so worried. That sound okay?”
“Thank you.”
“It’s okay Eileen,” she smiled taking my hand. “My name is Ginny. We can have some cookies while we wait for your daddy.”
“Okay.”
She asked me about school as we walked. I made up a bunch of stuff, like an excited little girl. Her house was on Balden Drive, a very wealthy neighborhood with a few mansion-like houses and acres of wooded land between. Very lonely. Her house was two stories and sprawling with a tall turret. We went in by the back door and she had a spread- tennis court, swimming pool and a putting green. Her kitchen was huge, bright and airy.
“This is nice,” I said.
“Stupid bitch,” she said.
“What?”
“I can smell him on you.”
And then my head exploded.
*****
When I woke the back of my head throbbed. She must have nailed me with a frying pan or something. I never saw it coming. The room was dimly lit and cool. Looking around I saw it was a weird cross between a medical laboratory and a dungeon.
I was naked and strapped down on a gurney. My shoulders and breasts were sore and there were red marks around my waist and thighs.
“It was actually fascinating to watch,” the woman said. “The moment you hit the floor your body shifted to normal. Your dress and panties didn’t like that.”
“I know you,” I said. “Virginia Tanner, city Councilwoman.”
“And I know you, Eileen Morgan,” she smiled. “And now I know how you have managed to get all those juicy stories for that rag. You’re a shape-shifter.”
“I am,” I said, “let me show you.”
I thought I’d be a werewolf, just to bring things full circle. I took a breath and began my chant and – and nothing happened. I tried again. Not even a twinge.
“It’s called Supresus,” she said, “a charming little spell that keeps folk like you in their place.”
I started to get scared.
“Okay,” I said. “All I want is that little girl.”
“She’s already gone. She’s useless to me.”
“What do you want these children for?”
“That’s none
of your business,” she snapped.
“Look, I know what I’m up against. A woman in your position can’t keep me around long. So why can’t a dead girl know what she died for?”
The room rang with her silvery laughter.
“Oh, but darling girl,” she said, “I can keep you around for a very long time. I can think of all sorts of ways to have fun with such a beautiful woman. Like this.”
She took my nipple between her nails and began to squeeze. Hard. I shrieked.
“You’re a fucking sadist,” I said.
“Yes,” she smiled batting her eyes. “But it’s always so much more fun when there’s a real goal involved. So tell me, where is he?”
“Where is ggyyyaaaaaahhhh!!”
I thought she’d pull it off.
“I don’t know!” I shrieked. “I haven’t seen him since that night!”
“Liar.”
She let me go but her hand began to creep down my belly.
“Honest,” I said. “I haven’t seen him since the cops took him.”
“Mmmm,” she said stroking my bush. “Keep lying.”
I screamed as she grabbed my clit. I thrashed in my bonds and she laughed and laughed. Then, with a final pinch, she strolled away out of my sight. I lay there in real fear. I was helpless and powerless and I wondered how much I could take before my hero crashed in. Ginny returned with several small, silver toothy clips dangling from delicate chains.
“Now,” she sighed, “where shall we start?”
Suddenly the door burst open and for a moment I thought that it was Donovan. But it was a woman’s voice crying,
“Ginny! Ginny I found her! I found her!”
“Tabitha,” Ginny cried. “What are you doing out of your chamber?”
“Look! Look!”
Tabitha was petite beauty of a blonde. She wore a floor length white silk night-gown that clung to her shapely form. Her eyes were a deep blue and her face so delicate almost elfin, and yet it looked as though her creamy skin was crisscrossed with faint dark lines as if her skin were cracking. She held a crystal ball in her slender trembling fingers. Floating inside was the face of a wide-eyed, innocent, young, red-headed girl. She looked half frightened.
“Tabitha are you certain?”
“Absolutely. This is the one.”
“Can you draw her to us?”
“I can barely hold her,” Tabitha said. “My strength . . .”
I stared at the ball and memorized the face.
“Darling, I’m losing her,” Tabatha said.
Then she groaned and slumped, nearly dropping the ball. Ginny caught her and carried her to a chair.
“I saw her, Ginny,” I said. “I saw that girl and I can find her for you if you let me go.”
“I let you go,” she said, “and you go to the police.”
“Darling,” Tabatha said, “who is she?”
“Just some snoopy reporter.”
“She’s been with the wolf. She’s made love with him.”
“You’re wrong,” I said.
“Tabatha is never wrong,” Ginny said.
“Darling,” Tabatha said, “was that her screaming?”
“Yes, love.”
Tabatha smiled. She took a deep breath and walked over to me. I cringed in my bonds. She placed her hands on my temples and sighed.
“Oh darling, she’s a good one,” she said. “Oh yes. I can feed from her, she is such a good one.”
“Then feed you will, my love.”
And so my torment began and all I will say is that she was a sadistic bitch and Tabatha somehow drew strength from my torture. It was as though I would scream and she would inhale my pain. Ginny was slow and thorough. She did no damage and she kept grilling me about Donovan. I knew that as long as her lover was relishing in my agony there would be no let up, so I told her nothing. I just screamed and screamed.
Then, in the middle of a particularly vicious lash of a whip, Tabatha, herself, wailed and leapt back in fear.
“He’s here!” she cried. “The wolf is here!”
The whipping stopped. I heard crashing sounds from above and my heart dared to hope. Then Donovan burst through the door all in a rage as his hideous wolf form. Tabatha shrieked and Ginny lashed at him with the whip. He grabbed the thong and yanked it out of her grip. Then he slashed at my bonds with his claws and I was free.
I leapt to my feet and ran out of the way. Ginny flung something like a fireball at Donovan and he batted it away. The ball rolled and smoldered against the wall. Donovan leapt at her but she held out her hand and he slammed to the floor. From her fingertips threads of lightening flashed and wrapped him like an electric blue net. He was writhing and roaring. I ran and grabbed Tabatha, digging my nails at her throat. She felt like she was burning with fever.
“Enough!” I cried. “I’ll rip her throat out!”
Ginny’s eyes flashed to me. She glared a moment, then shrieked in a strange language and clapped her hands above her head. The room filled with white and then went black. My arms were empty. I collapsed in the burning room.
*****
I was in a haze of pain and smoke. I could barely breathe. Donovan’s iron-like arms picked me up and carried me out and away. He was a man again. I remember the cool night air as he ran through the woods. He gently laid me in the back seat of my car. There was still a clip biting my nipple.
“This is gonna hurt like hell,” he said as he gently eased it off.
I shrieked. The blood rushing back into the crushed skin woke the numbed nerve endings and it was excruciating.
He drove with all the windows open. I could finally breathe as he carried me to my hot-tub. The whirling water eased away my harms.
He dried me and lay me on my bed. He eased my welts with a cooling balm. I remember caressing him tightly and sobbing. He wrapped me all in his arms and I fell asleep to his soothing voice saying,
“It’s okay. You’re safe now. Safe . . .”
I woke in the morning to his soft green eyes gazing at me. I kissed him long and lovingly. He flinched some and I pulled back. He had fared no better than I. His chest and arms were criss-crossed with scorch marks. He had slathered himself with the balm but I didn’t care. I kissed each and every burn.
“Poor baby,” I said. “I so want to make love with you right now”
“That will have to wait,” he said.
“I know.”
“We have to find her.”
“I know. Maybe – maybe we should go to the police.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I have a bad feeling. Let’s first see what we can find out.”
We got on my computer and that’s when we got our first shock. The morning papers had nothing about a fire anywhere.
We dressed and drove down Balden Drive. There we got a second surprise. There the house stood pretty and pristine. A gardener was working outside, as if nothing happened. But what really blew me away was that the turret was gone.
We drove to my office and I rang the City Council – yes, Councilwoman Tanner was in her office. I hung up. There was no way that we were going to the cops.
My next thought was of the little red-haired girl.
Our newspaper is sneaky. We’ve hacked into databases all over the place. I got into Madison’s middle schools. I started with Badger Rock looking at every student photo. I found the girl in O’Keeffe School. Pretty little Emma Cantor lived on Jennifer Street. Her parents were Mark and Donna.
I called the house. Donna was home. I explained to her who I was and how I thought that her daughter was in danger. She was near hysterical. I told her to call the police.
“What now?” Donovan asked.
“Now we get help.”
I called Anna Phelps, the Wiccan and told her that I had news. She invited me to her house. She and her wife Cheryl were very gracious, though they eyed Donovan suspiciously.
“So you were right about me,” I began. “I am a skin-walker. And Donovan,” I said tak
ing his hand, “is a werewolf.”
They listened calmly as we told them the whole story. Anna was understanding and compassionate. Cheryl was angry. She stood and paced, wringing her hands.
“Tabitha,” she said, “there were lines on her face you say?”
“Yes.”
“Like you could see her capillaries?”
“Yes,” I said remembering. “I thought that her skin was cracking but—“
“And she was feverish?”
“Oh yes.”
“Fools,” Cheryl said.
“What is it?”
“They tried an Epíklisi tis Athanasías, an evocation of immortality. They botched it and now the woman’s soul is burning.”
“Ginny was concerned that she was ‘out of her chamber’,” I said.
“They have a place where they are burning Sacred Space, it’s a mystical incense that calms the soul and eases the fire.”
“That could have been the turret,” I said. “But when we drove by this morning it was gone.”
“It’s still there,” Cheryl said. “It’s just on another plane. There are some real and powerful dark arts here. But what really galls me is that Tabitha was able to feed on your pain. She’s more than a witch, she’s a psychic-vampire, she can absorb life forces, and pain is so full of those forces.”
“What about that poor girl and her mother?” Anna asked.
“Safe for the moment,” I said, “but what is it so special about her?”
“Her humors, most likely,” Cheryl said. “The balances in her blood need to match the woman exactly.”
“So they snatch random kids and hope?”I said.
“No,” Donovan said. “I was given very specific instructions when I was her slave.”
“Tabitha searches with her crystal,” Cheryl said. “They test the blood and when it’s a reject they let them go. They have to be stopped.”
“I know,” I said. “Little Emma may be safe, but they’ll keep looking.”
There was a small silence in the room.
“Will you help us?”
***
We made a plan.
I can shift my shape in one of two ways. The way I usually do it is simple mimicry; my body takes the shape of the form I want, but it’s still me inside. The other way is Embracing. When I Embrace I actually become a clone, but that’s complicated. I need real DNA from who or what I wish to copy. If I kiss you or make love with you I get plenty of samples. Getting DNA from a twelve-year-old girl would be tricky.