Wiccan, A Witchy Young Adult Paranormal Romance

by M. Leighton

  “Living it up, Mercury, just like you should be doing. These are the best years of our lives and I’m determined to make the most of ‘em.” She looked behind her then leaned in close to me, lowering her voice. “And I don’t know what’s after the tattoo. I haven’t decided yet, but I guess I’d better hurry,” she said with a devious grin.

  I gasped. “You got a tattoo?”

  Billie shushed me, looking around nervously. “Obviously, my parents don’t know and I plan to keep it that way, capisce?” When Billie gets really excited, her Italian roots poke through and she starts using words that traditionally only her mother uses, words like capisce and marron.

  As for the tattoo, Billie has an ingrained rebellious nature that was bound to rear its ugly head eventually. No matter how strict her parents were, nothing could’ve prevented that. I was just surprised that it had taken this long to manifest itself.

  “Where is it?” I whispered.

  Billie pulled the waistband of her shorts down about two inches and there, a couple inches below and to the left of her navel, was a small tattoo of the comedy tragedy masks. It was tastefully done and very colorful, much like Billie herself. I instantly approved. With Billie’s bright personality and her flair for the dramatic, they suited her to a tee.

  “I love it. Just be careful who you show.” I winked at Billie.

  “The man who gets to see this will be having the best day of his life,” she teased. At least I think she was teasing, but knowing Billie...

  “So,” Billie said, hopping up onto the counter. “Where are we going?”

  “A TKE party.”

  “We-he-hell. Look at you, Miss Cool and Popular. Attending a frat party two weeks in? What has gotten into you?” Billie frowned and turned her head to look at me from the corner of her eye. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

  I simply smiled. Billie’s imaginings would be far more interesting than anything I could even dream of, so I left her to it. I didn’t want to burst her bubble with the truth about my fairly lackluster life.

  While I finished getting ready, she regaled me with tales of wild speculation about all the things she thought I might’ve been doing in the last month. As usual, she was way off target, but her guesswork was very entertaining nonetheless.

  When I was finished in the bathroom, I walked to the closet and pushed my feet into the platforms that I’d picked out to go with my chocolate mini skirt and creamy camisole. Billie whistled when I stood in front of the mirror that hung on the back of my closet door, surveying my reflection.

  “You’ll be killin’ him.”

  “Killing who?” I asked.

  “Whoever the guy you’re trying to impress is,” she replied.

  I looked away from the knowing gleam in her eye and muttered, “I sure hope so.”

  “Alright, let’s go,” Billie said abruptly, taking my wrist in her hand and pulling me out the door. “You can tell me all about him on the way.”

  And I did. Not because it was such an incredibly exciting or romantic story or because Jake and I were dating and I had to spill it or choke on it. No, it was because Billie hounded me relentlessly until I told her—as usual.

  By the time we’d arrived at the TKE party, Billie was on a mission to find an interesting specimen to entertain herself with for the night. I just wanted to spend a little more time with Jake. He could be a nice way to begin my college experience.

  The party was so packed we had to park along the street almost two blocks away. When we reached the TKE house, there were dozens and dozens of people littering the lawn and loud music was spilling out from all the open doors and windows.

  I quickly realized that I didn’t want to see Jake this badly.

  I looked skeptically at Billie. This had never really been my scene, but she was practically vibrating with excitement. She was an unstoppable force of nature, so I knew there was no point in trying to get her to reconsider. As I’d done a thousand times before, I let her drag me into a situation that I really didn’t want to be in and really didn’t feel comfortable with.

  She bounced to the beat of a Lady Gaga song as we made our way through the bodies on the lawn, up the steps and into the white plantation-style house. She weaved and dodged her way from room to room, tugging me along behind her.

  “Let me know when you see him,” she said over her shoulder as we moved into what I guessed was once a dining room.

  When I said nothing, she pushed her way through the throng of bodies into the kitchen. Just then, a voice rang above all the noise.

  “Billie!”

  Billie and I both turned toward the voice, coming from just inside the living room. It was Matt Hastings, one of Billie’s very first boyfriends and my first high school crush. I’d been invisible to him once he saw Billie, though. They’d hit it off and dated all throughout our ninth grade year, parting ways amicably just before summer.

  Billie had never really gotten Matt out of her system, though. She’d hated every girl he had dated after their split. And by the look on her face, she was still nursing that tiny flame for him.

  “Matt!” She called. Though she sounded pleased, it wasn’t until she turned to me and mouthed Ohmigod! that I realized just how well-nurtured that flame actually was.

  With that, she towed me a little ways back toward the living room then let go of my wrist when I began to impede her progress. I don’t know how she maneuvered through the crush of bodies so fast, but before I knew it, she popped up beside Matt.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her. I knew Billie all too well. What she really wanted to do was hurl herself into Matt’s arms, but she restrained herself admirably, settling for a sedate hug instead.

  I was watching their reunion when a familiar swagger caught my attention. It was the confident-but-not-too-cocky strut of Jake Wheeler. And he was making his way toward me.

  He looked like he belonged on a beach rather than at a frat party. His hair was attractively mussed and looked like it might have been styled that way on purpose. He was casually dressed in a very cool blue and white striped shirt with a gray design on one shoulder, baggy blue shorts with white piping and flip flops. He looked great in a surfer kind of way.

  “Mercy Holloway,” he said when he reached me, a lopsided grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Glad you could make it.” He turned and looked back over his shoulder then looked back to me. “Is that your friend?” he asked, tipping his head toward Billie.

  “Yep. That’s Billie.”

  “Huh,” he said, his eyes quickly scanning me from head to toe and back again. “You look great.”

  “Thanks. I have to fix myself up every once in a while just so I don’t forget how.”

  “Oh, you haven’t forgotten. Trust me.”

  There was an appreciative gleam in his sky blue eyes that made me want to grin like an idiot. I bit my lip to keep them straight. I didn’t get compliments so often that I was ever unaffected by them when one came my way.

  “So, this is TKE,” I observed casually.

  “The one and only. Have you been to the kitchen yet to get a drink?”

  “No. We were just making our way around when Billie got…sidetracked.”

  “In that case, stay here and I’ll bring you a beer.”

  I just nodded and smiled. I wanted to tell him not to bother, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I’d forgotten my water and for some reason it was a huge party foul to be seen without a drink in hand. It didn’t really matter what that drink was, but if your hand was empty, partiers would aggravate you to death until it wasn’t. I thought I’d just save us all some trouble and carry a beer that I had no intention of drinking.

  I watched Jake disappear into the kitchen and I looked around. Parties were excellent venues to people-watch if that was your thing and, trust me, it was my thing.

  I’d always loved to observe people, in all different kinds of settings. At the mall, in a restaurant, in class, at the
beach, at a party, at a funeral, wherever; it doesn’t matter. As a rule, I think people are fascinating and I have a tendency to watch them (and sometimes stare rudely) wherever I go.

  I busied myself interpreting the body language of the group I was standing near. It was comprised of two girls and four guys. One of the girls had her hands up the shirt of a guy with shaggy brown hair. Obviously, their plans for the night were very much in motion.

  The other girl was apparently still deciding between the two guys with dark hair. She laughed and flirted with them, touching them frequently with a hand on the chest or a fingertip on the arm. At one point, she grabbed each one around the neck and pulled them down toward her, where their ears were near her mouth.

  As she whispered something to them, one laid his hand on her lower back and the other reached around to grab her butt. Her body language told me that she might not be rejecting either of them tonight. I just shook my head. Yes, people are fascinating, but many of them are very strange, too.

  I looked down at my watch. It seemed like Jake had been gone an awfully long time. I scanned the room. Billie and Matt had made their way to a corner and were engaged in deep conversation, but I didn’t see Jake anywhere. I thought surely it shouldn’t take that long to get one beer from the kitchen.

  Turning to make my way to the kitchen, I had to squeeze through several tight spots to get by. At one point, I passed so close to a guy and a girl talking that I couldn’t help but overhear a snippet of their conversation.

  “Believe it or not, Lisa made a great Tony Stark. I never would’ve thought as coming dressed like a guy,” the girl said.

  I tapped her on the shoulder and bent closer to her so she could hear me. I didn’t want to blurt my question out too loudly. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about Lisa. Were you talking about Lisa Bauer’s costume?” I took a chance that they’d think I knew what they were talking about when I actually didn’t.

  “Yeah. It was great. Were you there?” The expression on her face said she didn’t recognize me and thought it highly unlikely that I was in attendance at that party.

  “No, but I heard about some of the costumes. I was just curious how many people came dressed in red wigs.”

  The girl tapped her lip with a bright pink fingernail as she pondered. “Hmm,” she said as she began ticking off names. “Haley, Ashley, Oksana, Jordan and I think maybe a couple teachers came in disguise. That’s the only girls I can think of that came in red wigs. Why?”

  “Oh, I was just curious. I heard it was quite a party.”

  “It was,” she said, smiling in that I’m-blowing-you-off-politely way.

  “Well, thanks. Enjoy the party,” I said before I turned and continued on toward the kitchen.

  Maybe I’d made some real headway in trying to identify the mysterious red head involved with Lisa. I had four concrete names (first names anyway) and that had to count for something. At least it was a start. This time I’d go to Grayson with something he didn’t know. I was sure of it.

  Pushing my way through the group of people standing in the kitchen doorway, I walked by the keg and on around to where the kitchen narrowed to a hallway that emptied out into the living room. I didn’t see Jake anywhere, so I walked through the small hallway.

  About halfway down the hall, there was a small bathroom to my right. The door was ajar and as I passed it, movement caught my eye. As soon as I saw that there was someone in there, I started to look away in embarrassment. But then I noticed a familiar blue and white t-shirt.

  Jake was in profile to me, his head bent as he kissed a short girl with long dark hair. I couldn’t make out who she was, but I knew without a doubt that it was Jake swallowing her face.

  A flood of several emotions rushed through me all at once—shock, disappointment, embarrassment, and finally, anger. I was a little aggravated at the girl who’d hijacked Jake, but I was absolutely furious and disgusted with him.

  My usually nonexistent temper was raging like a hurricane inside me. It had immediately blown away all reason and logic. It didn’t matter that I had no claims on Jake. It didn’t matter that he’d given me no reason to think that he’d invited me to the party as anything more than just a friendly gesture. It didn’t matter that I’d only known him a few days or that his girlfriend had just been killed. I was livid!

  It registered somewhere deep down that, below my irrational anger, I didn’t even really know why I was so mad. I just was. I think it had less to do with him being with another girl than the way he was going about it. Plus, he was supposed to be getting me a drink. I felt like a fool.

  Horrible thoughts started circling in my head, thoughts of how I’d like to hurt them, to see them screaming and crying in pain and misery. I still had enough control of myself to stop those thoughts, knowing that ruminations such as those were neither healthy nor normal.

  Instead, I started thinking about how I wished the girl would throw up all over Jake and how I hoped it would ruin his awesome blue and white t-shirt.

  My head started to throb and then, as I watched, the girl twitched a little. Over the music and voices, I could hear a gurgling sound and then suddenly Jake jerked his head away from her. He bent at the waist, spitting and gagging onto the bathroom floor and then the girl started vomiting all over his back and side. Perversely, as I watched the disgusting scene, I hoped that her puke went down his throat as well as the back of his shorts.

  When the stench of bile and digested beer reached my nose, it acted as a sort of smelling salt. It brought me back to the present, to reality, with an alarming jab.

  I was horror-stricken, as much over what I was witnessing as the possibility that I’d played a role in it. Had I done this, caused it? Was that even possible?

  Before I could find my way to any disturbing conclusions, I backed away from the powder room and wiggled through the growing crowd to the living room and out the front door.

  I pulled in huge gulps of fresh air, my heart and mind racing. What was happening to me?

  I walked to a deserted corner of the yard and paced in a tight circle for a few minutes, taking deep breaths. Whether from all that vomiting or from my troubling thoughts, I didn’t know which, but my stomach was swimming with nausea.

  At least no one got hurt, I thought encouragingly. I shook off that other shrill voice that was screaming in my head You may have just made someone sick—with your mind!

  Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic, even though I was out in the open and the closest people were about thirty or forty feet away. I bent over and put my hands on my knees, saliva gushing into my mouth.

  I closed my eyes and focused on how much I wanted to go home, how I wished Billie would hurry up so we could leave.

  When my stomach had settled a little and I didn’t feel so much like I was going to throw up, I straightened and looked around. No one was paying me the least bit of attention.

  And then I saw someone racing down the steps.

  It was Billie.

  “Do we need to leave?” she asked, a panicked expression on her face.

  Stunned, I just looked at her, mouth agape. “Why would you say that?”

  “I just got a terrible feeling that you needed to leave, that something was wrong.”

  My vision zoomed in and out around me and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” I chanted quietly.

  “Are you alright?”

  I looked at Billie. She was so pretty and so worried and she was the best friend I’d ever had. I didn’t want to ruin her night, her reunion with Matt, because I was freaking out. So I forced my lips up into a wobbly smile and reassured her. “I’m fine. I think I just got too hot in there. I’m ok. I’ll just stay out here for a while. Cool off.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Why not? I’ll be fine. I just need some fresh air.”

  “Why don’t we just go?”

  “Because, I want you to stay and have a good time. Really, I’m ok,” I s
aid, nodding to drive the point home. “Go back in and find Matt. I’ll be coming in after a little while.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Billie—”

  “Don’t ‘Billie’ me. You’re my best friend. We’re going.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “I don’t want for you to have to leave Matt.”

  “I can catch up with Matt some other time,” she said, but I could see the regret and uncertainty in her jewel green eyes.

  “Fine. Why don’t you go get Matt and the two of you can drive me home, drop me off and then come back.”