by H. M Reilly
People at school no longer treated her like dirt, but rumors spread about her being evil and unnatural. She never told another soul, not even her dad, about the changes her body went through, hoping it would never happen again in front of others.
Jack appeared and curled up at her ankles, looking up at her with a chirp. Charlotte lifted her tear rimmed eyes, her face hot and stained with tears. She reached down to scratch the top of the cat’s head, sniffling as the ghost of a smile appeared at her lips. After he disappeared into the hall again, she turned on the cold-water faucet and splashed her face. Her pupils slowly shifted to normal, and the dark veins disappeared. She then went back to her room and curled beneath the covers with her phone and a pair of headphones. Before long, she drifted off to sleep. When she woke, the sun hung low in the late afternoon sky, but shadows were already chasing the sunshine away.
When she rose from the bed, she dressed in a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt. Her stomach grumbled loudly, so she made her way down to the kitchen in her bare feet with Jack not far behind. The front door opened. Her grandparents stepped through the front door, calling her name as she opened the fridge. “I’m in the kitchen.”
“Have you eaten yet?” her grandmother called out.
“No.” Charlotte said, peeking into the hallway to find her grandparents carrying a few bags? “Anymore in the car.”
“Yes, milk and a few other bags.”
A pair of black canvas sneakers sat by the door. She slipped them on and headed out the front door, finding the trunk still open. As she stepped across the driveway, a dark blue truck pulled into the driveway, scattering gravel as the vehicle screeched to a stop. Charlotte’s grandparents were putting groceries away, but she noticed her grandmother stick her head out the front door and step out on to the porch, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Jimmy? What are you doing here?” she said.
“I just needed to get outta the house. Too quiet,” he said with a smile on his face. Charlotte headed up towards the front door and went inside, making her way to the kitchen. She unloaded groceries, overhearing her uncle and grandma speak through the open kitchen window. “What is she doing here, Mom?”
“Don’t worry about that. If you want to be a part of this family, you need to accept her too. She's not her father. If you want to have dinner with us, you need to behave yourself, Jimmy.”
“I'm sorry, Mom, but don't you rem-”
“Jimmy, did you not hear what I said?” Grandma snapped. “I don’t give a shit about the past. She is still my family and yours. And you need to get that through your thick skull. Especially since she has done nothing wrong.”
“Okay, Mom,” he relented.
Charlotte frowned, feeling uneasy about their conversation. There was something about the past her family wasn’t telling her, and with the bad vibes she caught from her uncle, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Had something terribly bad happened?
Charlotte stepped back out to the porch and headed down to the driveway. Jimmy glanced over at Charlotte. “Hey, Charlotte, you need help with the groceries?”
After an awkward dinner, the four of them went into the living to watch a movie together, the cold wind howling outside. A leaf floated across the window as the cold wind picked up outside. Her dad pulled into the driveway, but he went straight past the living room when he came through the front door. Her uncle took the time to set up a fire in the stone fireplace, and before long, the living room was feeling toasty. Even Jack joined them, curled up in front of the flames.
Her grandmother held a book between her hands tonight, and the purple yarn she had been crocheting sat in a pile on the floor by her feet. Her grandfather was half asleep in his chair, like most other nights. She rose from her seat, glancing over at her grandmother. “I think I'm gonna go take a walk, Grandma.”
“Okay, dear. Don't stay out too late. It's supposed to be cold tonight.”
Charlotte left the warmth of the living room and stepped into the hall, grabbing her jacket from the front closet. She glanced over her shoulder and grabbed her keys. She didn't see her dad anywhere, but she could hear the murmur of his voice down the hall as she opened the front door.
She stepped off the porch and looked up at the sky. The stars sparkled much brighter in the mountains than they did in the city. She could even see the stardust floating between the stars up this high. She crossed the driveway, slipping her hands into her pockets. She enjoyed the cold air on such a beautiful night and walked out to the dirt road, listening to the wind through the trees as she took up a steady pace.
The night grew older, the cold grew with the breeze, but when she turned to head back the road, she didn’t know how late it was. Smoke was still rising from the chimney, and her uncle’s truck was gone. Maybe her father would be awake.
She snuck into the silent house as quietly as she could. Even the television had been turned off. The smell of the fire still hung in the air when she tiptoed past the living room toward the stairs. “Charlie?” she heard her father say. He had a glass of water in his hand as he made his way back to the living room.
“Yeah?”
“Thought you were already in bed for the night,” he said.
“Nope. I went for a walk. Tried to clear my mind a bit,” she said in a soft voice. A light rain started to fall on the tin roof, and she could hear every drop.
“Oh. Okay,” he said. “Well, I have work in the morning, so I’ll see you tomorrow sometime. Keep it down, if you don’t mind.”
“Always do, Dad.”
“Charlotte?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“I talked to your mother tonight,” he said. Charlotte closed her eyes. “She wants us to come home. She wants you to come home with me.”
“And what if I want to stay here with my grandparents?”
“That’s up to you.”
“That is what I want. I feel welcome here,” she said.
“Okay. Well, if you change your mind, just come home.”
“I know, Dad. I'll be fine here.” She crouched down to pick up Jack, who had appeared at her feet. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“Night, sweetheart.”
“Night.
The light of a passing car shined through the second-story window as Charlotte reached the top of the stairs. She turned her gaze towards the window, rain still falling steadily against the glass, blurring the sight of the quiet night outside. The old apple tree danced in the wind as it blew across the front yard.
She opened the bedroom door, dressed for bed, and crawled on top of the covers. Even after a walk, her mind was still wide awake. She reached for the book sitting on the side table, hoping a little reading might help settle her mind for the night, but sleep didn’t come. She had too much on her mind with the conversation between her grandma and uncle, and her dad announcing he was going back home. She knew he would eventually go back home to the city; her grandparents didn’t have a huge house, and she had seen her parents separate several times before.
The conversation between her uncle and grandma was such a small thing, but it made her wonder what they referred to. Whatever happened in the past that made her uncle unsure of her shouldn’t matter. She didn’t think she should be judged by something to do with her father that she didn’t even remember. Her uncle seemed to be the only one with the problem anyways. She wasn’t going to let it bother her anymore because it wasn’t worth letting herself get worked up over.
The cold, stormy night had finally puttered out to a calm silence. She glanced towards the window as the full moon peeked from behind the clouds. A blood-red halo enclosed the glowing sphere as the heavy clouds floated across the sky and swallowed the moon once more, but hours passed before exhaustion finally claimed her.
CHAPTER 4
“I found her, Logan. She’s out in Colorado,” Dixon said.
“Who?”
“The demon witch you’ve been looking for.”
The conversa
tion with his mentor didn’t last long, but Dixon never would have called at such an early hour if the information wasn’t important. He didn’t waste any time and gathered a bag, packing a week’s worth of clothes and a few essentials before heading out the door just before the crack of dawn.
Logan had been searching for years to find this witch, and after tracking her for months, he finally had a solid location. He just wished she had picked somewhere to settle other than Colorado. A few years had passed since he last stepped foot in Colorado, his home, and it had been almost as long since he saw his estranged family.
As the long drive caught up to him, his eyes felt dry, straining to see the road as dusk gradually fell over the landscape. Shadows grew long, and the sun fell behind the mountains, sinking beyond the horizon. He was less than an hour away from Durango when the pale blue sky was aflame with streaks of pink and orange splashed across the clouds. Logan shifted in his seat and shut the glove box. Not a single cigarette to be found.
He cracked the window, letting in the cool breeze, but the desert heat lingered in the air. He crossed a bridge leading over the quiet river as he passed a green road sign. Hollow's Creek. His stomach gnawed at him; it had been hours since he ate that unsatisfying drive-thru burger a few towns back. He could see a lit sign just up ahead, and he pulled into the gravel parking lot.
He stepped through the front door of Troy's Tavern, a place he had been only a handful of times when passing through Colorado. The scent of greasy food wafting through the air greeted him as he removed the sunglasses from his dark brown eyes. He stepped across the crowded room to a small table by the window in the corner. Logan grabbed a menu and scanned through the glossy pages.
A young, auburn-haired waitress stepped through the dining area. She carried a pitcher full of beer in one hand, foam spilling over the brim as she set it down at the end of a table. Three young men, all wearing University of Texas shirts, cheered and filled up their glasses. With a snicker, she turned and walked toward Logan, a smile curling across her shiny pink lips. “What can I get you?”
“Let me get a beer and…a cheeseburger with fries.” He leaned back in his seat, casually glancing over the young waitress. He glanced over the name tag pinned to her left breast. A trainee sticker sat fixed below her name tag. “How’s your night, Ruby?”
“Busy, but it’s my last week here. Were you looking for a domestic or import?”
“The house beer is good,” he said. “New job?”
“Nope,” she said. “School starts in a few weeks. I was only here for the summer.”
“Up in Denver? Or Durango?”
“Over in Durango.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “I’ll be back with your beer.”
“Thank you, doll.” He flashed a smirk, revealing the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. She beamed and turned towards the kitchen. Logan watched her walk away before he glanced over the small crowd in the restaurant. As a hunter, he always observed those around him, and crowd-watching had become a habit over the years.
Once Ruby finally appeared with his beer, he didn’t have to wait long before the food arrived. He quickly dug into the large basket of fries, still hot from the fryer, nearly burning his mouth. He ordered himself another beer after draining his glass, but he turned down dessert.
After polishing off the last small bits of salty fries in the basket, he stepped back outside to the greeting of a chilly breeze brushing across his skin. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he crossed the parking lot. Bright hues in the sky had faded away as the sky grew dark. He saw the first few stars twinkle in the darkness as he stepped over to his truck and hopped inside, turning the ignition.
He stopped at the nearest convenience store on his way out of Hollow's Creek and grabbed himself a few essentials for the road. A bottle of soda and a pack of cigarettes would be enough to get him to Sequoia. He could hardly wait until he made it out of the building, tearing open the pack of cigarettes. He slipped one between his lips and lit the end as he stood there in the parking lot, listening to the wind whistle through the trees. Clouds floated across the sky as he got back into his truck.
He almost passed the turnoff, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he smoked the cigarette sitting between his lips. Music played softly through the speakers, and he reached over, turning the music down. Many months had passed since he last drove through Durango or even his dad's old neighborhood, and nothing seemed the same as the last time he had been around. The last time he had been in Colorado, it had been for his father’s funeral more than a year before.
He parked beside the curb and made his way across the street to the flagstone path that led him to the front door, slinging his old blue backpack over his shoulder. He could see the light glowing in the front window of the house, made dimmer by the sheer curtains hanging in the window. Images flickered on the television screen.
He pulled out his keys, searching for his father's house key, but with hesitation, he knocked on the door, hoping his stepmother was still awake.
An attractive older redhead answered the door, wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. “Logan? What are you doing here?”
“I’m in town for some work. Need a place to stay. I hope you don’t mind, Sandra.”
“No, of course not, but I wish you would have called first,” she said with a gentle smile. “Come on in.”
His father had also been a hunter, but he never told Sandra about the line of work that sent him traveling across the country. Logan never understood why, but he had a feeling it had to do with the way their family had been raised. Only blood family knew anything about their hunting careers, and his mother had been unsatisfied with the lifestyle. She had been even less satisfied that her only son grew up to follow his father’s footsteps.
Logan didn’t know anything but hunting, and he wasn’t sure anybody knowing less helped them survive. Many years ago, he lost his girlfriend and their unborn baby in a brutal attack. She didn’t know a single detail of his hunting career, and the guilt Logan felt kept him awake at night.
As the redhead shut the door behind him, he glanced around the foyer and down the long hallway that stretched before him. The chandelier on the ceiling sparkled, making him feel out of place with the old pair of jeans and boots he wore. “How’s everything been, Sandra?”
“Fine. Just been working a lot.”
“I see you’ve done some new things to the house?”
“Yes. I have more free time on my hands now that your dad is gone. I haven’t gone in the attic, though. I didn’t want to touch your things,” she said as she led him down the hallway. They passed the living room, and Logan could hear the quiet murmurs of the television. “How long have you been out on the road? You must be hungry. Or maybe you want something to drink?”
“I've been driving out from Kansas. I'm fucking tired,” he said. “Shit. Sorry.”
“That's a long drive.” She glanced back at him as she shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen. “No need to be sorry. It’s not like I haven't heard the word before.”
“Yeah, something to drink sounds great,” he said. A ginger cat leaped down from one of the counters and darted through the kitchen as Sandra flipped on the light switch, grabbing a box of tea from one of the cabinets by the stove. “Water okay? Or did you want some tea? I can boil some water if you'd like?”
“Tea sounds great. I'm gonna go make a trip up to the attic while you do that.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Make yourself comfortable,” she said. Sandra took the teapot sitting on the stove and filled it at the sink as Logan stepped out into the hallway, disappearing down the hall.
The air in the attic was old and stale with the faint undertones of smoke in the air. A thick cloud of dust floated ahead of him. He reached over and flipped on the light switch, turning on the lamp beside the bed in the far corner of the room. He stepped over, dropping his backpack off beside the dresser s
itting beneath the only window.
He leaned forward to blow a layer of dust from the surface, picking up the prayer card sitting right where he had left it. He flipped the card over, reading the back. Jeffrey S. Eaton. More than a year and a half had passed since his father died in a hunting accident gone horribly. If his father hadn't gone alone into the vampire den, he might still be alive, and Logan still felt a pang of guilt that he couldn't make it in time. His father was a great hunter, but accidents happened even to the best. He set the card back down and went to sit on the bed, pulling a joint out of his pocket.
By the time the tea kettle whistled downstairs, Logan had smoked half the joint. Smoke billowed from his nose as he reached over to crush the cherry out into the nearby ashtray. He rose from the edge of the bed and made his way back downstairs, greeted by the scent of peppermint tea as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Tea bags are on the counter, Logan.”
He was assaulted by a muddled plethora of different scents when he opened the container sitting on the counter, plucking a bag of chamomile tea from the selection. He poured water into the mug, tracing the crack on the handle with his thumb. It must have been his dad's mug; he had old repaired mugs in the cabinets even when Logan was a kid.
He brought the mug to his lips as he made his way out the hall and towards the living room as a fluffy white cat darted across the hallway. “Mind if I join?”
“Sure. If you don’t mind my girly movie.” Sandra chuckled and pulled her blanket closer. He sat on the couch beside her, setting his mug on the coffee table.
She stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth, offering the bowl to her stepson, who reached over and took a handful for himself. The ginger cat he had seen earlier in the kitchen jumped up on the couch beside him with a chirp. “I guess you’re not totally alone.”
“No, I got myself a pair of kittens a few months ago. That’s Sid. Boomer is around somewhere. Probably getting into shit he shouldn’t.” She chuckled and took another handful of popcorn. She set the bowl on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch cushions as her cats made themselves comfortable on the couch with them. “Any idea how long you’re staying?”