by Cheree Alsop
I read Mitch’s expression as Mrs. Willard served him an extremely generous helping of spaghetti in a bowl that I suspected may have been meant for mixing it was so big. It was more food in one sitting than we usually received in a week at the Lair. She also piled on two slices of garlic bread and encouraged him to take a helping of zucchini lasagna as well.
“It’s the only way we’ll get rid of it,” she said in an overly loud whisper. She looked up to find Virgo watching and said, “I mean, we’re very grateful for your mother’s kindness.”
Virgo laughed as he studiously avoided the large lasagna pan. “I’ve eaten enough of it to last my entire life. I’ll be sure to let her know you enjoyed it, though.” He winked. “Regardless of if it’s eaten or mysteriously vanishes.”
Relief filled Mrs. Willard’s face and she sat down to enjoy her own bowl of spaghetti which was much smaller than those she had served to us.
“Jemmy couldn’t make it tonight?” Alia asked Virgo.
The warlock looked surprised. “You know, I didn’t think of asking her. I suppose I could have.”
James’ crestfallen expression was easy to read.
“I think you should,” Ian said. The look of relief James shot him was nearly comical until his younger brother concluded with, “Or else James might cry himself to sleep with heartbreak.”
Virgo’s eyes widened and he turned his attention to James. “You like my sister?”
James’ mouth fell open, but it was clear he had no idea what to say.
He had saved me a few times with a tactful change of topic, so I decided to give it a try.
“I thought it would be good for Mitch to meet her. He’s never met a witch before,” I told the warlock.
“You’ve never met a witch?” Virgo repeated in surprise. A slight smile touched his lips. “Or did you just not know you were meeting one? You never know with witches. They’re sneaky. Just wait until you meet my sister.”
“Our circle of associates was pretty small at the Lair,” Mitch said.
That brought a surprised laugh from me and I nearly choked on the garlic bread. James pounded on my back as I coughed. I was pretty sure his efforts did more harm than good, but I was soon able to breathe again.
“What was that?” Mitch asked. A hint of laughter showed in his gaze as if he guessed exactly what had set me off.
“I never thought of the other werewolves as associates.” I drew another wheezing breath and chuckled as I concluded, “It just struck me as funny.”
“What would you call them?” Mrs. Willard asked. The curiosity in her tone was genuine.
“Yeah,” Virgo said. “You killed quite a few of them in the backyard. They couldn’t have been friends.”
Silence followed his words that had effectively smothered any laughter I had left. The fresh breeze that blew through the open window carried with it the scent of the pine trees I had fought the werewolves beneath. If I looked outside, I would see the scorch marks on the lawn of the blood we had burned to keep from attracting other werewolves with the scent. The memory of bodies slain by the gun Mrs. Willard had given me and by my own hands was bitter and fresh.
“They weren’t friends,” I said. My quiet voice broke the silence. I glanced at Mitch. “None of us were friends. It was a fight to survive.”
Mrs. Willard clucked her tongue. “Well, I’m just glad the two of you made it out of there. With a little luck, those Masters of yours will realize there’s no use fighting you and they’ll leave you alone, right?”
The earnestness of her gaze made me nod. “Right,” I said.
Mitch surprised me by saying, “That’s right. And associates can turn into friends if we’re on the same page. We just needed to get out of that situation.” He smiled and it was genuine when he continued with, “And I must say, this is the perfect setting. I couldn’t imagine a better meal. Thank you, Mrs. Willard and the rest of you for allowing me to join you in your beautiful home.”
I couldn’t help staring. Somewhere between brawling in the mall and that moment, Mitch, the wild werewolf who was ready to tear my head off at a wrong word, had turned into an actual gentleman and pulled it off far better than I.
Surprise showed on Alia’s face when she looked from Mitch to me, echoing the same thoughts.
“I’m definitely calling my sister,” Virgo said. “She has a thing for meeting new people, and she’ll be mad I didn’t bring her in the first place. She’s probably sitting at Mom’s sulking.” He paused in the act of searching for something on his cellphone and looked at Mrs. Willard. “That is, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course not!” Mrs. Willard replied. “Jemmy’s a delight, and tell her we have plenty of food here, so she should come hungry.”
“I’ll do that,” Virgo said.
James couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face and I realized how true Ian’s statement was. He mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ when he caught my eye and I nodded. My attempt to turn the attention from him had certainly backfired on me, but I was glad to have helped him regardless. Perhaps I was getting the hang of being human after all.
“Psst. Zev?”
Aspen hadn’t spoken the entire dinner. James had once commented that she never talked to anyone outside of the family, which is why he was so surprised when she spoke to me without any problem. The truth of his words hit home when I realized how silent she actually was. While everyone else joked and ate, she merely picked at her food and kept an eye on Mitch. The two times he smiled at her, she had turned her attention to her plate, only to look at him again when he was no longer watching her.
At the little girl’s motion, I followed her into the hallway. She sat down with her back against the wall and patted the floor for me to do the same. I glanced at the kitchen, assured myself that Mitch would be fine, and slid down to sit across from her.
“Hey, Aspie, how was your day?” I asked.
A tiny smile touched her lips. “Good. Was yours bad?”
I followed her gaze to my bruised knuckles. The girl was sharp. “It was eventful.”
“Was it the werewolf?”
I nodded. “We had a misunderstanding.” I paused, then said, “I notice you didn’t talk to him.”
She nodded without explaining herself. Her wispy white-blonde hair waved around her face with the action.
I wanted to ask why she spoke to me when I was nearly as much of a stranger as Mitch, but I didn’t want to destroy the little friendship that had started between us.
Instead, I went with, “Did you learn a lot during homeschool today?”
That brought another smile to her face and she glanced sideways at me. “We don’t do school on Saturdays, silly!”
“Oh, sorry,” I replied, even though I had guessed as much when Ian didn’t go. “So what did you do?”
“I found a moth,” she said.
“It’s a little cold for moths,” I replied.
She nodded. “I put it in a jar with some cotton and some leaves. They were a bit dry, but I think he’ll like them. What do you think?”
“I think he’ll be very happy to be warm.”
She picked up a pencil that someone had dropped in the hallway and twisted it between her fingers. “I left the lid off in case he wanted to leave, but he seems happy in there.” She studied the pencil. “I didn’t want him to feel trapped. Nobody should feel trapped. The world is a free place.”
Something in the little girl’s tone held my attention. “Do you feel trapped?”
Aspie thought about it for a minute, then shook her head. “I don’t, but the demon does.”
A chill ran through me at her words. I kept my voice quiet and level when I asked, “Do you hear the demon?”
She shook her head and relief filled me. It instantly faded when she said, “I feel him. He’s usually fine, but lately he’s been anxious. I think he’s hungry.”
I gave myself a minute to process her words. Her father had feared that his daughter was cursed by a demon b
ecause he had angered one during his research. He had trained James and Alia in case they were attacked by anything supernatural, but after he died, Mrs. Willard had stopped the training and hid anything that would remind them of it. She wanted her children to live normal lives. Even Aspie’s weak immune system and quiet ways were something she brushed off as normal, and I would have, too, if it wasn’t for her words.
“Does he….” I glanced at her and made myself ask, “Does he hurt you or try to control you?”
She was quiet for another moment before she shook her head. “No. He’s forgotten about me. That’s good, I think.”
She said it as more of a question and looked at me for guidance. I nodded. “That’s very good. We’ll leave it like that.” I held out a hand. “Can I show you something?”
She put the pencil in it.
I twirled it through my fingers the way I had trained hours to do with a knife. It was a fancy maneuver and not worth much on the battlefield, but it was entertaining.
“That’s neat,” Aspen said with awe in her voice.
I handed the pencil back. Her eyebrows pulled together as she tried to move the pencil from one finger to the next. “I think he’d like you.”
I was hoping she meant someone else, but I said, “The demon would?”
She nodded with her gaze on the pencil. “Yes, because he likes dark souls.”
I stared at her. It was a minute before I could ask, “Can you see my soul, Aspie?”
She nodded without looking at me.
I sat back against the wall. Her words took something from me. I felt as though a piece of my heart was missing, or like when I drew in a breath, it didn’t quite fill my lungs because there was a hole. I had always known it was there, but to have it pointed out was extra painful.
I was about to stand when Aspen said, “Your soul is dark because of where you’ve been, but it’s brighter now, lighter since you’ve been here.” She looked up at me, her large eyes knowing. “Yours is the strongest soul I’ve ever seen, Zev.”
“Um, thanks,” I replied for lack of anything else to say.
“Can you see souls?”
She asked the question as if it was as simple as asking whether I had ever eaten an orange or seen an airplane. When I shook my head, a bit of disappointment colored her face. She managed to successfully move the pencil from one finger to the next, but it got stuck between her middle finger and her ring finger. She concentrated on it as she said, “I’ve learned not to ask people that. They look at me funny, but you don’t. You look a little scared, but you don’t doubt me, do you?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t doubt you,” I said in a whisper.
She nodded. I helped her move the pencil to the next finger. She practiced the move a few times before she said, “For most people, the soul is a wispy white cloud around them. It has flecks of colors in it, the things that inspire them or make their life harder.” She glanced up at me and the pencil paused in its movement. “But yours isn’t wispy at all. It’s completely solid. It’s like a shield.”
She scrutinized me. I had to force myself not to turn away from her intense look.
“Yours has flecks of blue sadness in it. Lots of sadness, and lots of pain.” She set a hand on my arm, the pencil forgotten. “I’m sorry, Zev.”
My eyes burned with unfamiliar tears. I shook my head, refusing to let them fall. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I said, my voice gruff.
“Neither do you,” she replied.
Taken aback, I could only stare when she took her hand away and resumed trying to twirl the pencil between her fingers. My throat was thick with emotions I seldom let myself feel. I stood up abruptly.
“Thanks for showing me the pencil trick,” she said.
I nodded. “Glad I could help.”
Chapter Seven
I made my way back to the kitchen with measured steps instead of running like I wanted to.
Alia glanced at me from where she washed dishes at the sink. “Are you alright?”
I nodded. I was about to ask her about her sister when Ian called out, “Time for games!”
“Yes, I love games!” Virgo said from where he ate his third helping of spaghetti at the table.
Alia and James groaned, but Mrs. Willard nodded quickly.
“Oh yes,” she said. “We love board games.” She grinned from Mitch to me. “You boys should join us.”
“I don’t know—” I began.
But Mitch surprised me when he said, “I’d love to.”
“Great!” Mrs. Willard replied. She rubbed her hands together. “We can leave the food out for Jemmy. Alia get the games, James, grab the snacks, and Ian, clear off the coffee table in the living room.”
The other two left to obey, but James hesitated. “Mom, are you sure we need snacks? We just ate and—”
“Of course we need snacks!” his mother said. “It wouldn’t be a game night without snacks! Heat up some popcorn and grab the bowl of chocolate bars above the fridge.” She turned around in a circle. “I used to have licorice here somewhere.”
“I think James took it when he went to the movies,” Ian piped up helpfully from the living room.
“Thanks,” James muttered.
“No problem,” Mrs. Willard said. “We’ve got gummy bears in the drawer.” She winked at Mitch. “You can’t have a game night without gummy bears.”
“No, you can’t,” Mitch agreed.
As soon as Mrs. Willard left the kitchen, he turned wide eyes on me and asked, “What are gummy bears?”
“No idea,” I replied. “But I’m sure you’re going to find out.”
I headed for the back door.
“You aren’t going to play?” Mitch asked.
I shook my head. “I need to stretch my legs. I’m feeling a bit cooped up. Besides, someone should check the perimeter in case your instincts are wrong. Have fun, alright?”
I opened the door and was about to close it behind me when Mitch said, “Do you think I’ll be alright?”
I paused and looked back at him. “You’re doing just fine. Keep it up, and you’ll fit right in.”
I shut the door behind me and sucked in the cool night air. The breath I let out was white. It was definitely too cold for moths. My mind turned to Aspen’s comment about my soul. I pushed the thought aside and shoved my hands in my pockets. Feeling completely outside of my element, I made my way to the fence that lined the forest and searched the trees without leaving the yard.
If Mitch was right, no more werewolves would be attacking the Willard house. If that was the case, there was no reason for me to stay and defend them. So why did I feel such a need to stay? I didn’t belong there. I wasn’t human. They didn’t need me. All I did was disrupt their quiet home by bringing danger to it. I should have left already. I frowned at the darkness of the trees. So why was it so difficult to do so?
I walked the perimeter of the yard. My path brought me to the front of the house. The window gave me a view of the family in the living room. They sat around the coffee table with Mrs. Willard, Alia, and Mitch on the couch, James kneeling at the head of the table, and Ian and Virgo with their backs to me. Aspen toyed with the pencil on a chair in the corner. Her concentration made me smile. If she kept it up, she would have the trick in no time.
Alia moved something on the table and picked up a card. I could almost read her lips when she recited something aloud. Mrs. Willard threw her hands up in the air and James laughed so hard it reached me easily. Alia took a small, rectangular piece of paper from in front of her mother and shot Mitch a smile.
My heart slowed. It didn’t matter that he smiled back before he moved a piece like she had. I ignored whatever he did on the board or what he read from the card. My eyes were locked on Alia. She watched his every move with a look in her eyes like what she had shared with me, only more so. She smiled even when he wasn’t looking at her, and if he did catch her, a blush colored her cheeks, but she didn’t look away.
Mitch straightened as if he felt something and looked out the window. Our eyes met and I turned away. I heard him say something about getting some water. I stalked away, angry but unable to put into words why.
I didn’t own Alia. In fact, I had only known her for a few days. I had risked my life for her on a few occasions, but that included her entire family. I had no right to assume she would act any particular way to any person who came to their house. It was her home. She had a right to feel and treat someone however she wanted.
Girls were flirts. I knew as much from all of the research I had done during our teen interactions chapters at the Lair. I had watched all of the assigned movies filled with teen angst, practical jokes, mean girls, and sometimes lots of music. Thank goodness true life videos had taught me that teens didn’t regularly break out into songs like what was portrayed on several of our required viewing lists. I really would have been embarrassed then, especially since I didn’t know the first thing about singing.
As I made my way to the backyard, I told myself it was normal for Alia to act the way she was, and for Mitch to respond in kind. To be fair, he definitely appeared out of his element. I couldn’t blame him if a beautiful girl liked to smile at him. It wasn’t his fault he fit in far easier than I did and with apparently ninety percent less effort.
I didn’t turn at the sound of Mitch’s footsteps.
“Are you sure you’re alright with me being here?”
I kept my gaze on the trees I wanted to disappear within. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The sound of a few crickets who dared to brave the early night chill filled the silence.
“How was the game?” I finally asked.
“Fun, surprisingly,” Mitch replied. “It all takes place on a board and there’s money and strategy and luck even plays a part.” He paused as if he realized he had just babbled on about something, swallowed, and said, “It was fun.”
I glanced at him. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
He nodded. “What about you? Are you enjoying the, uh,” he looked at the forest meaningfully, “The trees?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all, actually.” Before he could question my bluntness, I said, “I feel unsettled, full of tension, like a balloon about to pop. I keep thinking someone or something is about to attack, but it doesn’t, so I’m patrolling.”