A Lying Witch

by Odette C. Bell

  Before my heart could explode at the prospect that he would hurtle down to his death and crack his head on the pavement below, I heard the sound of boots on wood.

  I rushed over to the window to see him confidently walking down a large branch that brushed up close to the window.

  The night was dark, and soon he was out of sight as he climbed down the tree.

  I wanted to lean out of the window and shake my fist at him. Instead, I simply gaped at his retreating form then slowly drew myself back into the room.

  I rested my hand on the chipped windowsill for several seconds before I found the concentration to close it.

  Then I locked it, paying special attention to the tarnished brass clasp to ensure it was fastened as tightly as it could be.

  Then?

  Then I just stood there.

  With nothing much else to do, I walked over to my bed, climbed inside, and tried to close my eyes.

  Tried to.

  Every time I did, I swore I saw a few of those latent sparks buzzing through the blackness.

  I knew if I followed them, they’d lead to a vision again.

  They beckoned me, pulled me on as if they were waving me into the darkness.

  But me?

  I just screwed my eyes shut and ignored them.

  Which would prove to be a mistake. A big one.

  Chapter 9

  It was when I was lying in bed that I heard something. Faint at first, I tried to ignore it as I pulled the pillow further under my face and nuzzled it.

  But soon the noise became too loud to ignore.

  It sounded like something scratching at the window.

  Though I was sleepy, I rolled my eyes as I realized what it must be.

  Max.

  “Max, why do you have to insist on using the window?” I roared as I snapped out of bed.

  It was dark and had to be the middle of the night.

  There were no lights on in my room, and for some reason there didn’t appear to be any functioning lights on the street outside, either.

  Stomping, I made my way over to the window.

  I jerked back the corner of the curtain to reveal the window.

  I expected to see Max tapping on the glass like a giant Scottish bird.

  I screamed and jerked back.

  All I saw were two red eyes. Two red glowing eyes. Then four glowing eyes. Then six. They kept popping out of the impenetrable darkness beyond the window like daisies appearing in a field after rain.

  I felt backward, struck the carpet, and scooted along on my back.

  My whole body shook with convulsions of fear as more and more red eyes appeared just beyond the glass.

  Then the rattling began.

  Black, formless hands started to pound on the glass, trying to break through.

  I screamed, using every ounce of vocal strength I had to let it pitch and rattle through the room.

  Suddenly I heard thundering footsteps from downstairs. They mounted the stairs, growing louder and louder until I heard an equally insistent pounding on the door to my room.

  “Chi?” Max bellowed.

  I screamed hysterically as the window practically buckled.

  “Open the door!” Max insisted.

  I didn't have time to punch to my feet and sail towards the chest of drawers that were still blocking entry into the room. Instead, I just sat there in total fear as those things outside continued to pound on the glass as if it were a blacksmith's anvil.

  When I didn't respond, I heard a boom from the other side of the door.

  Suddenly the chest of drawers was blasted from its barricading position and toppled forward, spewing its contents all through the room. I had to duck and roll out of the way not to be pinned by one of the drawers.

  A second later, Max came barreling into the room.

  At first, he locked his eyes on my cowering form in the corner. Then he swiveled his attention to the window.

  The eyes had disappeared. And for a single, gut-shaking second I wondered if it had all been in my head – if I'd imagined everything.

  Nope.

  Suddenly the eyes appeared once more, and I even saw black-clad fists reach forward and pound the glass like a hammer to a nail.

  “Move,” Max suddenly spat as he twisted on the spot, shoved down to one knee, locked a hand around my wrist, and pulled me to my feet.

  I was a cowering mess, and yet I managed to find enough balance to follow him out of the room. I had to pick my way through the mounds of clothes and the drawers that were spilled everywhere.

  When I didn't move fast enough, Max scooped me up from behind with such a smooth move it was like we were figure skaters.

  He leaped over the remnants of the chest of drawers and landed outside in the hallway with a heavy move that shook the very walls.

  From behind us, I finally heard the sound of glass shattering.

  I screamed. But my scream wasn't nearly as loud as theirs. For suddenly I heard ten or more screeching bellows pierce the air and rattle my bones.

  “Shit,” Max swore under his breath as he indulged in looking over his shoulder for a brief second before snapping around and powering down the corridor.

  I was shaking, all over. Heck, I was shaking on the insides, too. It felt like I would dislodge my internal organs and squeeze them out of my mouth.

  Though that was a truly sickening image, it wasn't nearly as sickening as the sounds of the chase from behind.

  Whatever foul magical creatures were after us, they sounded like hell itself. Their screams and hissing breaths were so otherworldly, all I could do was turn my head and press it against Max's chest.

  Before today, I'd never been the kind of girl who would run from a fight. But before today, my fights had been fair.

  Max reached the stairs and hesitated, head jerking upwards. It was clear he wanted to take me up to the attic. But as the sound of chase became louder from behind, it was just as clear that we didn't have the time.

  With another loud expletive, he shoved hard on his foot and pushed down the stairs, somehow taking two at a time.

  I made no attempt whatsoever to pull myself from his grip. For one, I would need a crowbar and a blowtorch. For another, I didn't fancy my chances of being able to outrun our attackers.

  Our attackers… they'd gotten into the house, found me in the middle of the night. Though we were still in the middle of a chase for our lives, that fact struck me as if someone had written it on a placard and slapped me across the face with it.

  This was real. It. Was. Real. There was no more hiding from this magical world, because it seemed intent on hunting me down at every opportunity.

  Max threw himself down the stairs so quickly, I was sure he'd lose his balance and we'd end up breaking our necks. He didn't, though. But neither did he turn around and start using that magic of his. The magic that smelt like grass and felt like sun on my cheeks and sounded like far-off horse hooves.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and jumped onto the first-floor landing. His boots pounded out with rattling shakes, sounding like jackhammers that shook the house with every blow.

  His breath was remarkably regulated, even if he did waste it every few seconds to turn over his shoulder and swear at our attackers.

  So I concentrated on his breath – deep and regular – as it was the only damn thing I could hold onto now.

  I didn't get the chance to ask Max where we were going. Though I was totally freaked out, and my body was shaking like a flag in a gale, I still appreciated that it wouldn't be a good idea to take this fight out onto the city street. Maybe we'd have more of a chance out there, but it would be too public.

  I didn't have time to appreciate that that was almost a good thought – and certainly not the kind of suggestion my twisted morality usually offered.

  Nope, I didn't have the time, because Max reached the lounge room. He skidded in, moving so fast that he had to shove his shoulder into the door frame with a rattling thump in ord
er to control his speed.

  The fire was on, crackling in the hearth.

  It was an open fire, a fact I noted as Max sped towards it.

  My mind told me he was aiming for one of the heavy boxes on the mantelpiece. That, or he wanted the fire poker.

  That's not what he wanted, though.

  We reached the fire, and a thrill of pure terror jolted through my heart as he didn't stop.

  Muttering the strangest words under his breath, he let go of me.

  Max the fairy threw me on the fire.

  The hearth was wide, the fireplace more than large enough to take my crumpled up form.

  I didn't even have the chance to scream. Pure, pure terror pulsed through me with such power, it felt like I would explode.

  Or burn.

  I landed on the crackling logs and blistering hot coals.

  … But they did not burn me.

  Instead, I felt energy charge through me, crackling over my arms and legs and face until it covered me in full.

  Behind me, I felt Max plow into the fire, too.

  And that's when his magic took hold.

  Suddenly, everything changed. Just as my fear exploded and threatened to take the last scraps of my mind with it, the flame licking over my body disappeared. The burning logs beneath my hands and legs disappeared, too. As did the blistering hot coals.

  In a rush of energy, everything changed.

  I landed on something cold, hard, and wet.

  It took me several terrifying seconds to realize it was asphalt. It took my broken mind even longer to jerk my head back and realize I was in a darkened laneway.

  … No…. No. This wasn't possible—

  I didn't have time to doubt anything. Max appeared right behind me in a wave of magic and fire. He shoved down, caught my arm, and pulled me to my feet.

  I couldn't stand. My mind was telling me I was back in that fire, about to burn to death in the most horrible way possible. My body was telling me I wasn't burning – it was raining.

  Max picked me up once more, the move so easy for him he might as well have been picking up a kitten.

  He proceeded to run through the rain-soaked streets.

  He kept turning his head over his shoulder as if he expected an attack.

  I could barely breathe, but finally, I found the strength and coordination to jerk my lips open to scream.

  Max wouldn't let me. He could hardly spare a hand, as he was using both to lock me to his chest. He still leaned in, though, made sudden and unmistakable eye contact. “Make no noise – you'll draw them out of the darkness,” he said, quick breath breaking against my cheeks.

  I lay still in his arms, immobilized by fear.

  I couldn't catch up, just didn't have the skills to figure out what was happening.

  Max continued to run through the streets, never striking a main road. He would stop at the mouth of any laneways, listening for something before choosing the darkest, most secluded path forward.

  The pounding drone of his heavy footfall started to lull me, started to calm me as the drenching rain finally convinced my body that I couldn't be burning.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to figure out what the hell could be happening, hell being the operative word.

  Those eyes in the dark, those pitching, inhuman screams. They had to come from monsters.

  Monsters.

  Max had warned me they'd come, but I'd ignored him, hadn't I?

  Worse… I'd brought this on myself.

  If it were possible, I suddenly froze all the more, muscles seizing up with such finality it was as if I were going into rigor mortis.

  Before I'd gone to sleep – though that memory was now far off – I'd ignored something, hadn't I? I'd turned away from those sparks, from the future….

  The rain started to pound down even heavier than before. As I squeezed open one eye, I watched it sail down in vertical sheets. I was soaked, and as I darted my gaze to the side, I appreciated that Max was, too. His cropped hair was slicked, his face marked by lines of water that drained off his face and darted off his jaw in splashing waves. His usually tight gray T-shirt now clung to him, revealing every single line of his body.

  As we darted past a flickering streetlight and caught the reflected illumination of a headlight from the end of the street, I saw Max's expression. Appreciated the sheer determination crumpling his brow and angling his jaw hard.

  It… distracted me.

  It reminded me that he was saving me, again.

  To be honest, I hadn't picked up the sounds of chase since we'd left the house. Somehow – I still couldn't reconcile the fact that we were now out here on the city streets.

  That wasn't the point, though. The point was, surely it was safe now.

  “Ma-” I began.

  He crumpled forward, pressing me closer to his chest, trying to stifle my words. “Shh,” he said under his breath, whispering so low that I could only pick it up because I was a precious few centimeters from his lips. Again I felt his warm, gentle breath break against my cheeks, and again, it calmed me despite this break-neck situation.

  “But they're gone,” I whispered back.

  “No, they aren't,” he responded in that same gentle whisper.

  My back became electrified with nerves. I shifted my head back, reluctantly plucking it from his chest as I tried to peer through the darkness.

  I searched the shadow – every shadow – for a sign of attack.

  Once upon a time, I would have labeled Chi McLane as a brave woman. After all, I had zero problem with confrontation, and I was a pretty independent person.

  Clearly, I'd simply never been tested.

  Because suddenly I heard it. Or maybe I felt it. Or maybe some far off part of my mind told me it had to be there.

  Point was, I became convinced that there was something right behind the van to our left.

  Max had taken us down a winding side street. It was lined with old, dilapidated three-story brick buildings and broken, long, metal warehouses.

  The gutters gushed with rain, trailing Styrofoam cups, wrappers, and cardboard burger cases into the storm drains.

  Not once did Max skid in those distinctive camel-colored leather boots. He had the balance of a gymnast.

  So why had he fallen on me in the bathroom? Some part of me suddenly wondered. A part that should really be paying more attention to the fact we were in a race for our lives.

  I felt it again. Those sparks. They didn’t quite explode over my vision like I was getting accustomed to. They didn’t squirm in front of my eyes like dying fireflies. Instead, I caught the barest hint of them. It was almost like a visual echo.

  My eyes tracked them until I locked on something beside one of the truly run-down factories.

  There was a small gap between the side of the factory and a broken four-story brick building beside it. There was an old, overflowing dumpster, and behind it….

  I jolted, twisting hard into Max, practically climbing him as I tried to get away from the creature in the dark.

  “Chi.” He struggled to pull me off.

  “There’s something behind the dumpster!” I roared.

  He came to a screeching stop, his boots dislodging a line of water that splashed across the van to our side.

  I felt every single one of Max’s muscles harden, which was saying something. His shoulders suddenly felt as if they’d been carved from marble, his back and arm and biceps and chin nothing more than cast steel.

  If you’d asked me a few days ago, I would have told you that I would have a level head in a critical situation. Okay, as I’d previously mentioned – I wasn’t good with certain things like violent crime, flying planes, or telling complete strangers that my grandma was dead.

  Still, I’d been around the block, as it were, and theoretically, I could keep my nerve.

  Not today. God, not today.

  I was climbing Max like he was some kind of tree as if I was a scared cat trying to get away from a dog.<
br />
  He pulled me back but didn’t let go of me as he stiffly angled his head towards the dumpster.

  I saw something shift in the deep, dark shadows behind it.

  My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my heart grind to a standstill.

  Again, I caught a glimpse of those magical pricks of light flitting through my vision.

  Though my brain told me to stare at that dumpster, the pricks of light played to my left until I jerked my head to the side, following them.

  That’s when I saw a long shadow flitting behind the van to our side.

  Acting on complete, pure instinct, I shoved into Max. “Move!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  Though the rain still pounded down from above, I knew how to scream, and boy did my shrill voice split the air like a blast from a horn.

  Max didn’t need to be told (or screamed at) twice. He shifted to the side revealing his true magical reflexes as he moved with all the speed and grace of a cheetah.

  It was just in time.

  Something sailed down from the top of the van. It sliced into the pavement, literally splitting it in half. The most godawful sound filled the air as something screamed right behind Max.

  He jolted forward, pushing into a roll. Problem was, I was still in his arms. And yet, don’t ask me how, but the Scottish fairy managed it. It happened so quickly that I didn’t have a second to appreciate the feel of his body crumpling around me, only the sound of battle behind.

  Another one of those ear-splitting screams split the air, sounding like some dinosaur from some film.

  A certain smell filled the air, too – a hot one.

  Though the rain still drove down from above, drenching the streets, that didn’t matter.

  I started to feel heat buffet out from something behind Max.

  It played along my arms and cheeks, sinking easily through the once cold rain to my exposed flesh beneath.

  “Shit,” Max bellowed as he threw himself away from the van and that strange heat.

  He seemed to hesitate for half a second before he threw himself at the warehouse before us.

  It wasn’t just run down – even from the outside, I could tell it was likely to fall down any second now.