Melee

by Kristy Tate

  The woman inclined her head. “It’s not an unreasonable request. There have been many in the past who have asked the same.”

  A rustling behind her drew Lizbet’s attention to the largest black cat she’d ever seen trailing behind them.

  “The circle will listen to your request, mostly out of respect for your grandmothers,” the woman said. “I would fain be friends with you, for their sake.”

  “You knew my grandmothers?”

  The woman nodded again. “Back in Salem.”

  “My grandmothers didn’t live in Salem. One lived in Portland and the other in Everett. Grandma Littleton wasn’t a witch. She was the president of her church council and taught kindergarten for nearly fifty years.”

  The woman chuckled. “You don’t think a church council president and a kindergarten teacher can be a witch? Think again.”

  Moon glow filled the small clearing where the witches gathered. Some were Hollywood beautiful, but most wore the same nondescript face as the woman who had earlier joined them. Many hovered a few inches off the ground and floated more than stood. As if on cue, although Lizbet hadn’t noticed one, the witches formed a circle. One voice started singing, but soon everyone but Lizbet had joined the chorus. The wind howled in tune, and the trees swayed in time. Somewhere close, a river rushed. Beasts howled, chattered, and clicked. It seemed as if all of nature sang along in praise of the earth, the moon, and the magic.

  The magic wand is endowed with the gift of transforming the universe in a landscape populated by desired things. In fact, the real magic wand is the child’s mind.

  Ortega y Gasset

  From Lizbet’s Studies

  CHAPTER 12

  When the singing ended, silence filled the valley as the witches bowed their heads. Even the noises from the wind, animals, and nearby stream fell still.

  “What’s happening now?” Lizbet whispered to Courtney.

  Courtney responded by pressing a finger to her lips and lowering her head. “Pray.” She mouthed the word.

  Lizbet bowed her head and scrambled to string coherent thoughts together. Please help us to get home safely when this is over. Please bless the witches to help us.

  “Sister Price will now read our notes from our last meeting,” a woman said, breaking the silence.

  Lizbet raised her eyebrows in question, but Courtney didn’t seem to find this at all surprising.

  Sister Price, a small, round woman—who, aside from her black cape, looked like she’d be more at home behind the library circulation desk than in a witches’ meeting in a midnight forest—stepped into the center of the circle and cleared her throat.

  “Notes from the meeting held on August first,” she began, holding a small notepad in front of her. “Sister Pickering suggested we hold this year’s celebration of All Hallows’ Eve in the town cemetery as opposed to the St. John’s cemetery.” She read without raising her eyes to the witches floating around her.

  A discontented murmur stirred through the crowd.

  “But we’ve always held our celebration at the St. John’s cemetery!” a witch spoke up.

  “This is exactly why Sister Pickering thought a move would be a good idea,” Sister Price said. “Isn’t that right, Matilda? We want things to be fair.”

  Matilda Pickering stepped forward. With the cloak around her shoulders, she looked almost as wide as she was tall. “There’s more to it than that,” she said. “There’s also the convenience factor. As you know, the St. John’s cemetery has fallen into disrepair—”

  “Which only adds to its appeal!” a witch from the crowd chimed in.

  “Yes, it’s wonderfully isolated,” another witch chimed in.

  “But it’s hard to find. I get lost every year,” one of the few witches standing on the ground complained.

  “Get a GPS,” a witch in the back said with a growl.

  Lizbet glanced at the moon. It smiled down on her like the Cheshire Cat’s grin. She swayed on her feet with fatigue and her thoughts strayed to Declan. He would be safe for a few more weeks. But after that? What about when school started? She tried to imagine him sitting through pre-med courses after a night of roaming the woods. What would it be like to take classes prepping him to save lives when he feared he’d been responsible for taking them? Her eyes flew open when Courtney began to speak.

  “As I’m sure you’re all aware, the werewolf problem has gotten out of hand,” Courtney said.

  A murmur of discontent ran through the crowd.

  “She’s right! We shouldn’t have to put up with the fur balls and their shenanigans!” one witch said.

  “But they have as much right as any to be here,” another said.

  “They’re endangering all paranormals!”

  “They’ll expose us for sure!”

  Sister Price pounded her staff on the ground for attention. “Sisters!”

  “I have an idea.” Sister Pickering stepped forward again.

  Sister Price scowled at her. “Well, let’s hear it then.”

  “We’ll help only if we can get the vampires on board,” Sister Pickering suggested.

  “The vampires?” a witch squeaked.

  “Ha! That will never happen!” another said.

  “Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask,” someone said.

  “Yes it could,” another answered. “It could hurt a great deal!”

  Sister Price held up her hands, asking for silence. A hush fell. “Are you willing to try to recruit the vampires to your cause?” she asked Courtney.

  Courtney nodded. “We’re in luck! The vampires hold their annual festival in North Corner.”

  “It’s your funeral,” a witch said.

  “How will we find the vampires?” Lizbet whispered.

  “Easy, we wait for lightning,” Courtney whispered back. “Come on, let’s go and tell the boys our plan.”

  A safe fairyland is untrue to all worlds.

  J.R.R. Tolkien

  From Lizbet’s Studies

  CHAPTER 13

  “This isn’t a plan,” Malcolm said. “This is suicide.”

  Declan and Lizbet sat side by side on a sofa in Malcolm’s warehouse. Declan kept his fingers wound through Lizbet’s as he watched Malcolm and Courtney argue.

  “Didn’t it occur to you that if you asked the vampires and witches to drive out the werewolves, we—” he waved his finger between himself and Declan “—would also have to leave.”

  Lizbet could see from the look on Courtney’s face that she hadn’t thought of this.

  Lizbet wanted to hit herself on the forehead, because she should have realized this as well. “It’s just so hard to think of you as werewolves,” she said in a hushed tone.

  “Well, we are,” Malcolm said.

  Declan slid a quick glance at Lizbet and cleared his throat. “What does lightning have to do with vampires?”

  Courtney waved her hand in the air. “Oh nothing, it’s just...”

  Malcolm stood and began to pace. “The vampires gather during thunderstorms. And, as you know, thunderstorms are common at the end of the summer on the eastern side of the Cascades.”

  Courtney nodded. “That’s where we could find the vampires.”

  “If we wanted to find the vampires,” Malcolm added.

  “I still don’t understand,” Lizbet said.

  “According to Slavic mythology, there’s an ongoing battle between Perun, god of thunder and lightning, and Veles, the horned black god of the underworld.” Malcolm sat on the edge of the sofa and silently tapped his foot.

  “He’s the leader of the vampires,” Courtney said.

  “When Perun gets fed up with Veles and his vampires, he starts throwing lightning bolts. Veles and his minions taunt Perun by transforming themselves into various animals and hiding behind trees, houses, even people,” Malcolm said. “Ultimately, Perun hopes to defeat Veles and the vampires and return them to the realm of the dead.”

  Courtney added, “We think of summer storms as si
gns of the changing of the seasons, but actually they’re just supernatural battles.”

  “The storms can sometimes get really out of control,” Malcolm said.

  Courtney nodded. “Like the storm of 1903.”

  “What happened?” Lizbet asked.

  “It was in a small farm town called Mapleton in northeastern Washington. People went to church, ate dinner, and relaxed with family and friends. But late that afternoon, what everyone thought was a violent thunderstorm hit the town with heavy rain and hail, soaking the mountains and bare hills bordering the town.

  “The thunder and pounding hail masked the sound of something they likely could not have imagined: a roaring two-story wall of water raging toward town. Within an hour, one of every five people in the town of thirteen hundred would lose their lives as the flood pulled apart and carried away nearly everything in its path. The center of town was devastated. Enormous drifts of debris, tangled around bodies, snaked down the valley.”

  “If the vampires are busy battling Perun, chances are they’re not going to have time to listen to us,” Declan said.

  “It’s a bad plan, anyway,” Malcolm said. “Like I said, even if we could get the vampires to drive out the wolves—they’d want to send us, too.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Declan said slowly. “Maybe leaving is the best idea.”

  “Declan, no!” Lizbet tightened her grip on his hand.

  “Look, we want the wolves to leave,” Declan said, “because we think everyone will be safer without them. Well, that includes me...” he paused and looked at Malcolm, “and you.”

  “You’re right.” Malcolm pushed to his feet. “It’s a decision I’ve been fighting for weeks. I think I’m ready to go.”

  “If you’re going, I’m going,” Courtney said.

  Declan looked at Lizbet. She gave a small shake of her head. “I can’t,” she said, her voice faltering as she remembered her promise to Elizabeth. She had said she wouldn’t leave. How could she go with Declan when Elizabeth needed her help on the ranch? Biting her lower lip, she sent a prayer to heaven that somehow, someway, she’d be able to keep her promise to Elizabeth and not be separated from Declan.

  DECLAN TOOK COURTNEY and Malcolm to the train station first thing in the morning. “I still don’t get why you need a train,” Declan said.

  “What do you mean?” Courtney as they stood in the ticket line.

  “Why not just teleport?” Declan asked.

  A business man carrying a briefcase flashed Declan a startled look.

  “I’m joking, of course,” Declan told the man. “And you shouldn’t listen to other people’s conversations.”

  The man grunted before he turned his attention to the lady on the other side of the counter.

  “I can do short distances pretty easily,” Courtney told him. “But things can get sketchy if I try to push myself. Besides, using my magic always drains me. I’m afraid if I tried to teleport myself to Alaska, I could end up in Zimbabwe and so weak I wouldn’t be able to correct the situation for weeks. And who knows where Malcom could end up.”

  The business man stared at Courtney.

  “Sir,” the woman behind the counter addressed him, “your tickets.”

  The man shook himself, grabbed the tickets, turned on his heel, and hurried away.

  “I hope we don’t sit by him on the train,” Malcom said.

  “He won’t recognize us even if we do,” Courtney said before turning to the woman behind the counter. “Two tickets for Blaine.”

  As previously arranged, they’d take the train to Blaine, and from there sneak across the border into Canada and then carry onto the colony of peaceful paranormals living in Alaska who would provide them a safe harbor.

  Today, Malcolm was back in his feminine Goth clothes while Courtney wore a trench coat and fedora, and carried a leather satchel. She’d need a coat where they were headed. Malcolm not so much. They stood beneath a ticking clock, their faces resolute and yet scared.

  His heart ached for both of them. They hadn’t asked for this. They were both good kids, A students, they’d done everything right. Taken the AP classes. Played in the band and orchestra. Provided the community service. And yet, here they were, about to get on a train that would lead them to a life they hadn’t prepared for and couldn’t have ever imagined.

  Declan hugged them both goodbye. As he watched them board the train, he couldn’t help wondering if he would soon follow.

  “YOU DON’T HAVE TO COME with me,” Declan said, sounding miserable.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the northern lights.” Lizbet bumped her shoulder against his, trying not to think of her promise to Elizabeth.

  “The light here is pretty cool...”

  They sat side by side on a blanket overlooking Elinor Bay. The sun, a smudge of light peeking through low clouds, hung on the horizon.

  “But what will you do?” Declan cleared his throat. “What will I do?”

  “I don’t think we need to do anything drastic...after all, Godwin was able to live a fairly normal life as part man, part wolf.”

  “Godwin is not my role model.”

  “I get that, but I just think that if he can do it—you can, too.”

  “But he has a pack... Like Nicole said, no one likes a lone wolf.”

  Lizbet looked over her shoulder as if she expected to see Nicole. Instead, she saw an elderly man walking a greyhound, a young couple pushing a double stroller, and man on a nearby bench listening to something on his phone...normal people leading normal lives. Or so she thought. But what did she really know? For all she knew, every single person at the park could be hiding a terrible secret. Suspicion and unease tingled over her skin.

  “Cold?” Declan asked, slinging his arm around her and drawing her closer.

  Was it her imagination, or had he grown warmer since he’d turned? And it wasn’t just his body heat that had changed. He was bigger and more solid. Strength radiated from him. But the changes weren’t only physical. It seemed that he read her more easily, picked up on her emotions. She thought about something she’d learned from her dog, Wordsworth. All emotions have a smell. She shifted away from Declan, a little uneasy that he could interpret her better than she could understand him. It made them an uneven pair—like a plow horse yoked to a colt. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her knees.

  Declan ran his fingers through her hair. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we are. You’re better than any pack.”

  “Lots of...I was going to say people, but that doesn’t seem like the right word.”

  “Paranormals?”

  She nodded. “Lots of paranormals would argue with you.”

  “Probably, but who needs them?”

  “I think you do. We all need a tribe.”

  “So says the girl raised on a deserted island.”

  She grinned. “Thanks for making my point. Living alone with my mom on the island wasn’t healthy.”

  “And you think staying here and being a target for Godwin is?”

  “We don’t know if you’re a target... He hasn’t tried anything since—”

  “My mom’s accident?”

  “Well, there was that...”

  “He’s probably just lying low until the right time.”

  “He must know that you’ve turned.”

  Declan nodded.

  Lizbet leaned against his shoulder and lifted her lips so he could kiss her. “I’d go anywhere with you, but we should learn everything we can about being a werewolf.” A thought tingled through her. “Let’s go and talk to Dr. Madison.”

  “He’s going to think I’m crazy,” Declan said. “Do you think he’ll talk to me?”

  “Of course he would. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Will you ask him after your next class?”

  Semester is over, remember? So, why don’t you come with me to his office?”

  “What, now?”

  “Why not?”

  LIZBET
TUCKED HER HAND around Declan’s arm. It was a friendly gesture, but also a way to make sure he didn’t bolt. She glanced down the empty hall. Since classes didn’t start again for another few days, they really didn’t have any guarantee that Dr. Madison would be in. But she didn’t know where else to turn. She jumped to her feet when she spotted the professor ambling toward them.

  He didn’t seem surprised to see them and his words confirmed Lizbet’s hunch. “I know why you’re here,” he said as he unlocked his office door.

  Declan shot Lizbet a questioning glance and she responded with a shrug.

  Dr. Madison held the door open and motioned for them to take a seat in the two chairs facing his desk. He rested his butt against his desk and studied Declan. “After all, it’s not every day a new wolf is born. And of course, losing a pack member is always a tragedy. Leo...” He hung his head.

  Lizbet and Declan both stared at him. Lizbet’s mouth hung open so long the back of her throat began to grow dry.

  Dr. Madison removed his glasses and cleaned them with a small white cloth. “Of course, I can’t blame you,” he addressed Lizbet. “You were only trying to protect yourself...and those you love.”

  “The sheep... He was a monster...” Lizbet sputtered.

  “Some call us that, yes.”

  “You?” Declan could barely get the word out. “You’re telling us that you’re a werewolf too?”

  “Of course you can’t tell anyone. But your silence is assured by your own state of affairs, is it not?” He went around his desk, settled into his chair, and gazed at them as calmly as if they were talking about the weather. His eyes crinkled with kindness. “This is not what you were expecting. I understand that. It was different for me, but not so very different.”

  “How so?” Declan gasped.