by T. L. Martin
Finally shrugging a shoulder, I offered a reply. “At least we know he genuinely likes you.”
Stacy squealed in delight and embraced me in a quick hug, being careful not to damage her freshly painted fingernails.
“But if he calls me Chuck again, he’s out,” I teased.
“Deal.” She winked. “What are you going to be up to while I’m gone? Going for a swim?”
“Actually, a late walk.”
“How late?”
“Nine-ish. With some girls from work.”
“Nine? That’s ridiculously late for a wa—” Stacy started to argue for a brief moment before her eyes flickered with surprise. “Wait. You’re going with other girls?”
“Uh-huh.” I knew that would do the trick.
“Like, friends?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She let out another signature squeal.
“Stace,” I grumbled. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No, it’s just—” She paused and looked at me for a moment, a sentimental twinkle sparking in her eye. “It’s nice. That’s all.”
After flashing me a smile and adjusting the strap over her shoulder, Stacy headed toward the front door.
“Oh, and save me some of that spaghetti,” she added over her shoulder, eyeing the angel hair noodles as I dumped them into the pot of boiling water.
“Joe’s not taking you out to eat?”
“Well, yeah. But have you seen this dress? It doesn’t exactly hide much. I’m ordering a salad and I’m going to be starving when I get back.”
“Stace, just—”
“Gotta go! Have fun with your girls.” With a peppy turn of her heel, she was gone.
After dinner, I set a container in the fridge for Stacy, enough to cover tomorrow night’s dinner for both of us. By the time I’d finished preparing Ray’s banana bread for the following morning, it was almost time for the walk. I changed into comfortable pants and a plain top and stretched my legs and arms, enjoying the sensation of my muscles being gently pulled. After a quick roll of my neck to help loosen my shoulders, my phone went off with a soft vibration.
Pixie’s name lit up the screen with a text: We’re just down the street!
I grabbed a jacket and locked up. An older model Honda Accord pulled up beside my house, and Quinn and Pixie stepped out.
“Hey!” As per usual, Pixie greeted me brightly. Her red tendrils were pulled back into her trademark bun, and she wore a thin, ivory headband around her head.
“Hey,” I replied, the corners of my lips automatically curving upward. In spite of the uneasy feeling overtaking my stomach from being, for the first time in my life, about to go on one of my walks with company, her smile was still infectious.
Quinn, her hair secured in a ponytail much tighter and lower than my own, led the walk.
“So. I’m guessing you’re probably out by Face Rock a lot?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah,” I answered quietly. “Hardly ever at night, though.”
Quinn and Pixie glanced at each other before responding.
“Well,” Quinn peered at me from beside Pixie, “if you know which days to go, it can be a completely different experience at night. I invited Matt, but...it’s not really his thing.”
“Walking?” I asked.
Before she could elaborate, Pixie looked over her shoulder at me with a suggestive grin. “Speaking of Matty, he sure seems to be noticing you.”
“What?” I shoved a loose strand of hair away from my eyes.
“Uh-huh. He’s really cute. And a sweetheart, too.”
“Pix,” Quinn chided her friend, “leave her alone.”
“What?” Pixie asked innocently.
“You know what.”
I smiled, grateful that Quinn saved me from having to respond. Matt was a good guy, but I didn’t need that kind of distraction. I still needed to figure out a major and which college to attend. There was also the issue of my panic attacks, which, understandably, had a knack for scaring any rational guys away.
Pixie rolled her eyes in defeat. “Fine. I’ll let it go. For now.”
She was starting to sound a lot like my aunt.
We crossed over Coquille Point and continued on. The waves crashed loudly, with an occasional sprinkle of cool water tickling our skin.
“So did you guys grow up here?” I asked, breaking the growing silence.
It was a pretty small town, and despite spending so much time on the beaches and in Old Town, I’d never seen them around.
Quinn answered first. “We’re all transplants. I mean, Priscilla’s from here. But I’m originally from the Portland area, and Pixie’s from California.”
“California?” I repeated.
“Yup,” she chirped. “The Bay area, born and raised.”
“How’d you wind up in this little town?”
She smiled, staring into the wild waves as we walked. “My parents are old friends of Priscilla’s. They sent me up here last summer to work with her. Kind of like an apprenticeship. Quinn’s been here for years, though.”
Quinn nodded her head. “Fifteen years, actually. Priscilla pretty much raised me, after my parents couldn’t.”
“Wow,” I replied softly.
Quinn shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not like some sob story. I’m lucky is what I am.” She looked over at me with curious eyes. “What’s your story?”
“Yeah,” Pixie chimed in. “Are you from here?”
I hated talking about my life, even in answer to a question as noninvasive as where I’m from. But getting a glimpse into theirs made it a touch more bearable. Plus, I figured I kind of owed it to them now.
“Not originally, no. Guess we’re all transplants.” I smiled half-heartedly.
We were approaching Face Rock, and the familiar enormous and enchanting stone stared down at us from between gently crashing waves. Even in the darkening evening, I could make out the shape that gave the rock its name, with its stern eyes and pointed nose facing upward, toward the sky.
“I’m from Flower Mound,” I continued, without looking at them. Though I was making a conscious effort, I still wasn’t fully warmed up to talking about myself to others my age. “A small town outside of Dallas. I moved here with my aunt when I was four, and we’ve been here ever since. Well, I have,” I clarified, thinking of Stacy. “My aunt’s like a marketing guru. She’s away a lot, traveling for work. She grew up in Austin and gets bored in small towns like this one.”
The shore was now decorated with sporadic rocks popping up along the sand, varying in shape and magnitude, anywhere from three feet tall to five times my size. I followed Quinn and Pixie to one of the larger rocks amongst us of which, to my surprise, they proceeded to climb.
“Then, why did you guys ever leave?” Quinn asked between breaths. “I mean, why move all the way out here?”
I hesitated, trudging up the rock at Pixie’s heels. The truth was, I didn’t exactly know the answer myself.
“After my parents died,” I began, “and Stacy had to take me in...I think she just needed to get away, you know? She’d already lost her parents there, and then her sister—my mom—and...I don’t know. I never really knew how to ask. So, I guess, I kind of always just assumed.”
Quinn looked over at me, but it seemed she didn’t know what to say.
“Wow, Charlie. I’m really sorry,” Pixie said quietly. “Sounds like you’ve got a pretty great aunt, though.”
I gave a small smile. That much was true.
Reaching the top, they both sat down, gesturing for me to sit beside them.
“Just give it a second,” whispered Quinn, seizing the moment to catch her breath.
We sat there wordlessly for another moment with their eyes unwaveringly focused in the distance northeast of Face Rock, and I wondered what in the world we were waiting for.
Finally, I saw something. It started out as a small flicker of brightness, like the light of a candle’s flame, then evolved into a burning ball of lum
inous flames. Vibrant red and orange streaks clashed together toward the sky, with an occasional blue or purple electric bolt zipping through the middle. It was coming from the Coquille River Lighthouse.
Just when I was about to ask what it was, the flames silently burst, dispersing loose flares into the sky before calming into an enormous flat and steady blanket of mist.
I stood up for a better look just as the mist fanned out in a perfect circle, growing larger by the second, until it finally reached beyond where the river meets the ocean and surrounded us. It wasn’t exactly something I could touch—not in the same way you could reach out and touch an object, anyway. But I felt it on my skin all the same. The sight was mesmerizing. Magical, even.
Breaking my gaze from the enrapturing sight, I glanced in shock at Quinn and Pixie, who had also rose to their feet. But they weren’t looking at the mist at all. Their focus was on me. Pixie’s jaw dropped slightly.
“I knew it,” Pixie whispered. “You see it, don’t you?”
“I’m pretty sure everyone in Coos County saw that,” I replied, awe and confusion obvious in my voice. “What is it?” I weaved my hand in and out of the mist.
Quinn took a step toward me, a strange look in her eyes as she watched me. “Do you see this, Pix?” she asked.
Pixie nodded her head up and down, her eyes watching me just as closely.
I frowned. What were they looking at me for? Had they not seen that incredible sight just now? We needed to get closer, figure out what it was. The mist was already evaporating, and we needed to move now if we were going to trace its source.
“What are we waiting for?” I strode forward, carefully climbing down the rock and hopping onto the ground.
“Wait!” Quinn barked. She took a step after me, about to slide down the rock when she immediately stopped in her tracks. A look of surprise formed on her face, and she tried to move forward once more. But, again, something stopped her.
I reached back to touch the rock but smacked straight into something solid around it. Rubbing my hand from the collision, I peered up at Quinn. There was nothing visible dividing us, but I could feel it.
Pixie tried this time and found herself stuck as well. She spread the palms of her hands out and pressed them against the air in a mime-like fashion, as though she was touching an invisible wall around the rock. She leaned toward Quinn and whispered something too quiet for me to hear, resulting in what could only be explained as a look of utter fear flashing in Quinn’s eyes.
“What’s going on?” I asked quietly, hoping against hope that they somehow had an understandable explanation for this.
Before they could answer, firm and sweaty fingers were clasping tightly around each of my wrists from behind. I was instantly propelled onto my back, crying out as I hit the ground. My attacker increased their hold on my wrists, pulling them over my head. Suddenly, I was sliding against the damp sand and ragged rocks, being mercilessly dragged away from the others. I tried to get a good look at the stranger, but it was no use.
I could hear Quinn and Pixie shouting, calling my name in the distance, but something was muffling the sound.
Sharp stones cut into my arms and neck as I was dragged, and my head hit the rocks on the ground. My mind was stunned, but I knew I needed to do something—and fast.
Mustering up all of my strength, I tried to put my kickboxing techniques to use and swung my arms forward against my chest. The full weight of my attacker’s body flew backward toward my feet. The man, shielded by a worn cloak, was much larger than I had anticipated, and I glimpsed a faded, yellow star tattooed on his olive-toned forearm. He grunted in pain as part of his body hit a boulder, and he began to chant something hypnotic under his breath.
Pulling my aching body upward, I moved forward to reveal his face. But before my hands had reached the cloak, the use of my muscles failed me completely.
My body crashed limply to the ground.
I wanted to scream, to speak. But not even the muscles in my throat were strong enough to pull through.
He crawled clumsily around me, retaining his grasp of my wrists and yanking me angrily behind him as he trudged forward. His fingers dug into my skin as he dragged me, and the back of my head thumped solidly against a large rock, prompting a faint whimper to escape as the sharp pain pierced through me.
I didn’t even see it coming. A dark figure appeared soundlessly beside me from the shadows. His speed was remarkable as he tackled my attacker to the ground with ease, quickly freeing my wrists.
My throbbing body lay sprawled out, still unable to move. I felt any remaining sense of consciousness drifting away as I watched the blurred lines of my rescuer tower over his opponent, whom was now lying helplessly on the rocky terrain beside the river.
My defender glanced over his shoulder at me, revealing fair skin, dark hair and intense blue eyes—the likes of which I had only seen once before. The menacing expression upon his face would have sent me running if I could.
He turned back and faced the other man, uttering something far too quietly for me to understand, though I could distinguish the threatening undertones even in my current state. The edges around my line of vision were darkening, and I strained to keep my eyes open. Desmond gently leaned in toward the assailant, hovering in dead silence for one long and terrifying moment. Then, he lunged forward, ravaging the attacker’s bared neck.
Everything around me went black.
***
“Dammit. Nothing’s working.” The panic in Quinn’s chest made her voice shake.
Pixie was ghostly pale, beads of sweat shimmering on her forehead. There wasn’t enough magic between the two of them to break a spell as dark as this one, and it was draining every last drop of energy.
“Transire permittatis,” Quinn repeated yet again, refusing to allow exhaustion to weaken her.
“Quinn,” Pixie breathed, the palms of her hands still desperately searching for a weak spot in the invisible barrier.
“What is it?”
“Listen.”
Quinn strained to oblige, but the barrier was doing a solid job of keeping any sound from reaching them. “I still can’t hear anything. There has to be a way to dispel this stupid thing.”
“No. Listen,” she repeated.
That was when Quinn finally felt it. Once she allowed some of her focus to sway from the spell, a familiar cold chill in her spine jabbed pointedly at her.
“Vampire,” she whispered.
Pixie nodded her head carefully.
A vampire and a witch working together? Something so taboo was simply unheard of, with neither party willing to demean themselves by working with each other.
Quinn leaned closer to the barrier that grew cloudier by the minute, squinting her eyes to see past it. The dunes just on the other side were not impossible to see but they were extremely blurred and disorienting. When she centered her attention on it, she was able to make out the vague shape of a tall, sinewy figure smoothly gliding down the hill. It was coming straight for them, and fast.
“Pixie. Step back,” she instructed.
Pixie immediately complied, and Quinn positioned herself in the lead, her right hand held up in preparation to strike with fire. Granted, her own flames were mere child’s play compared to Priscilla’s—and her magic couldn’t strike him directly, regardless—but it would be enough to startle even a vampire, if unexpected.
The figure crept closer and closer still, until she was finally able to clearly make out tousled dark hair falling into a pair of distinguished blue eyes.
Desmond Stone.
Her blood boiled at the sight of him, and she would have lunged right then and there if it wasn’t for spotting something limp in his arms. Or rather, someone. She immediately braced herself to attack, her teeth clenching angrily. He swept past the barrier as though it weren’t even there—probably the only perk of being a vampire—and was at the top of the rock before she knew it.
They stood facing each other in thickened sil
ence for a brief moment, with her speculating how to strike in such a way that would not harm Charlie.
To Quinn’s astonishment, he kneeled before her, carefully laying Charlie’s body down. He did not release her from his arms completely, but his body language was evident all the same: he did not intend to harm her. She could see it in the gentleness of his touch and in the attentive way he watched the girl.
She quickly rushed to Charlie’s side, Pixie close behind, and examined the cuts and bruises scattered along her body in sheer dismay. The sound of her breathing was ragged and restless, even in her unconscious state. Quinn closed her eyes. How could she have let this happen? Pixie would heal her, of course, and casting a small memory wipe would allow Charlie to recover peacefully. But that didn’t save Quinn from the overwhelming guilt.
Pixie gave her hand a gentle squeeze before closing her eyes and inhaling one long, deep breath of air and raising her arms above Charlie’s body. As she quietly chanted her practiced healing spell, Pixie’s skin began to glow in a way Quinn had never witnessed before. Even the rough stone beneath them seemed to thrive with unborn life from her touch. Within a matter of seconds, Charlie’s body was completely healed.
Unlike Quinn, Pixie was a natural born healer. Yet she had never seen her magic work so quickly.
Charlie’s skin shimmered marvelously, just as it had when she’d run her hand through the elders’ magic earlier—like soft rays of sun pouring from every inch of her. Her long waves of brunette hair spilled angelically around her dainty face. The sight was breathtaking. Quinn peered curiously at Pixie, whose own glow had already dissipated, and she appeared to be just as baffled.
With the gracefulness only a vampire could possess, Desmond finally released Charlie from his hold and stood. The cryptic expression on his face had shifted into one of unmistakable anger when he looked at Quinn, fire flashing behind his intense eyes.
He did not need to utter a single word for his accusation to be understood.
Quinn narrowed her eyes at him, immediately wanting to defend herself. It was foolish of her to bring Charlie out here after dark—she recognized that now. But Priscilla was keeping them out of the loop, and they had to know if she possessed magic. The selfishness of her own reasoning echoed back at her with a painful pang of guilt swelling in the pit of her stomach.