Wiccan, A Witchy Young Adult Paranormal Romance

by M. Leighton

  I snickered a little. “Good point.”

  “Listen, I’ve got to run, but I want you to stay away from Jake Wheeler. I’m still not sold on his innocence. Probably won’t be until we can find the person who really did kill Lisa Bauer.”

  I thought it was kind of sweet, his protectiveness. “Alright. I’ll stay away from him. I’ll just have to find someone else to take me out for a cappuccino this weekend,” I teased.

  Though I was just kidding, as soon as I’d said it, I became lost in a pleasant daydream about sharing coffee in a secluded spot with Grayson. I’d get whipped cream on my lip and he’d kiss it away…again and again and again.

  “Hey, you know what?” Grayson’s voice dropped to a husky rumble. “I think I know somebody who’d be more than happy to treat you to a cappuccino. Today even. And you’d get to enjoy it in the privacy of a Dodge Charger,” he said, really making a pitch.

  My stomach twisted again, but this time it was a knot of a different kind. A warm and gentle anticipation blossomed in my gut and spread throughout me. I dropped my voice to match his. Though my only connection to him was a wireless one, it suddenly felt like we were the only two people in the world.

  “Wow. That’s quite an offer. And, personally, I couldn’t think of a better way to enjoy one.”

  “Call you later?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He hung up again, which didn’t bother me as much as it had before. Now it just left me feeling a little…unsatisfied for some reason. The least he could do was say “bye” or something. It was just so sudden.

  I shook off that feeling as I stared down at all the items I’d dumped in the kitchen floor—shoes, bag, purse, phone, keys. I picked it all up and carried the load back to my bedroom. Mom would have an attack of some sort if she came home and saw that mess.

  I changed into cotton shorts and a light t-shirt. The shorts said GEORGIA across the butt and the t-shirt said SAVANNAH across the chest. After that, I busied myself picking up my room and what little mess there was throughout the rest of the house. That didn’t take me very long and used very little of my nervous energy, so I decided to go for a run.

  I’m not exactly an athletic person per se. I dabbled in a few random sports in school, but didn’t really specialize in any one particular thing. I like to be active occasionally, but not regularly. That’s the best way I can describe it. That had been the case all throughout school and that was still the case now.

  Slipping on my running shoes and grabbing my iPod, I locked up and took off up the street. I thought I’d just jog my path to school and see if I could get anything at Lisa’s murder site.

  Once I got there, I pulled my earphones out and stood staring at the crime scene tape. I hadn’t been thinking about the consequences of crossing the tape. I wondered how much trouble I could get into for crossing it if someone caught me. How on earth would I explain what I was doing? But then I thought of the downtrodden way Grayson had spoken of the case and I threw caution to the wind and slipped under the tape anyway. He was worth it.

  I walked slowly, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, mindful of where I was stepping and what I was “seeing”. As I watched the ground, neither my mind’s eye nor my other eyes saw anything. No vision, no additional evidence, nothing out of the ordinary. Just nothing. Not even a flicker.

  Putting my earphones back in, I bent and shuffled back under the tape and turned to head up the sidewalk to take the longer route home.

  A prickly sensation stirred the hair at the back of my neck and I stopped to look around. The wind rustled in the trees and bushes, the birds fluttered here and there, a butterfly darted from blossom to blossom on a lilac bush, but other than that, I was alone.

  I resumed my run, trying to forget about the disturbing feeling. It was hard to describe and even harder to shake, but finally, when I was two streets away from my house, I’d finally managed to push it out of my head.

  That’s when I heard the growling.

  CHAPTER NINE

  With Katy Perry blaring in my ears, it was hard to locate from where the sound had originated. Slowing to a fast walk, I quickly unplugged my ears and listened as I looked around.

  I heard the growl again, but by the time I figured out it was coming from about an eight o’clock position, which was to my left and nearly behind me, the huge chocolate Doberman was upon me.

  As I turned, the dog jumped at me. The fact that I was in mid turn probably saved my life. He wasn’t able to get to my neck as easily because of my shoulder, thank God.

  When he knocked me down, I defensively, instinctively threw my arms up. I felt his teeth sink into the flesh of my right forearm and bite down—hard. It seemed as though the bones were being crushed; the pressure was tremendous. And then, as if he wasn’t doing enough damage, he started shaking his head and pulling, like he had hold of a chew toy.

  From a distance I heard a scream, but it didn’t register that it was my own. I was totally focused on the dog and what he was doing to my arm. I saw blood and saliva flying from his jowls and when I met his vicious black eyes, they were trained on me.

  I’m not sure how I didn’t panic. I certainly felt panicky. But somehow, despite that, I was able to completely focus on the dog. And then I knew nothing but rage.

  The way the dog was staring at me, I knew he would kill me if he got the chance. I could see it in his eyes. There was a craze beyond logic in them. I thought he might even be rabid. It didn’t make any sense for a dog to just attack me out of the blue like that. But this wasn’t the day I was going to die. Not on the whim of a dog, anyway.

  I imagined that if I had the strength, I would pry open the dog’s jaws, extricating his teeth from my flesh. Then I would throw him across the street into the big maple tree I’d just passed. And then I’d—

  When the dog began to whine, it broke my concentration. His jaws trembled against my skin, almost like his teeth were chattering. The murderous look in his eyes had turned to one of fear. Then, with a yelp, he backed away and hunkered to the ground. He lay there whining, staring up at me pitifully, as I rose to my feet.

  Even though the dog had just tried to eat me, I felt a little sorry for it. I don’t know what happened to him, what had changed his mind, but I wasn’t going to wait around to find out. I was going to get the heck out of dodge and worry about it later.

  With my heart thudding painfully in my chest and my breathing as ragged as ever, I ran home. Not jogged, ran. I didn’t waste a second. I cut through yards and flew across patios. I even climbed a short fence and jumped a fire pit. I was determined to get home before whatever had come over that dog wore off and he remembered what I tasted like.

  As I let myself into the house, I thought back to my trip home. I was incredibly quick and agile when terrified. Good to know.

  I washed and cleaned the dog bite, examining it closely. I thought I saw a flash of white bone in a couple of places and thought I probably needed stitches. I knew I’d have to go to the hospital anyway. If Animal Control couldn’t find the dog, I’d probably have to be treated as if it had been rabid. I wanted to avoid that if at all possible. I’d heard horror stories about the series of injections you have to take when you’ve been exposed to rabies. Not for me!

  I called Animal Control first and explained what happened. They promised to have someone come out and look for the dog as soon as possible. They assured me that they’d want to speak with me as well. I told them I was going to the hospital and that they could find me there or reach me on my cell phone.

  Wrapping some gauze around my arm, I grabbed my keys and purse and headed for the Jeep.

  Once I’d been checked in at the emergency room, I had to wait. I took the time to call Mom and Dad, just to let them know where I was. They both wanted to come to the hospital, but I assured them that it would only add insult to injury if my parents accompanied me to the ER like a child. I promised that if I needed anything, including a ride home, that I’d call. />
  Almost an hour later, I was still in the waiting area when the Animal Control Officer called. I was relieved to hear that they’d located the dog. Apparently, it was still lying in the street where I’d left it. They traced it back to its owners via its tags and they were able to produce records where the dog had been recently vaccinated for rabies.

  Finally, nearly two and a half hours later, they put me in a room. A nurse came in and took my history then examined my wound. She warned me that she’d be coming back shortly to clean it in preparation for the doctor. I felt like she probably did that on purpose so that I’d be preoccupied and filled with dread rather than impatient and filled with aggravation because I had to wait. And, sadly, it worked.

  When the nurse returned, she brought in all sorts of supplies. Among them was some kind of little scrub brush spongy thing that was impregnated with an antimicrobial solution. What had been a dull ache in my arm up to that point began to burn, sting and throb as she cleaned. That nurse was brutal.

  Needless to say I didn’t thank her when she left to go get the doctor. I thought by not punching her in the face, I was showing my gratitude and incredible good grace. And, at the moment, that was the best I could do.

  While I waited for the doctor, my cell phone rang. I was supposed to have turned it off upon leaving the waiting room, but I was feeling antsy and rebellious and it soothed me somehow to thumb my nose at authority, even in such a petty way.

  The screen showed that it was Grayson calling. Not surprisingly, that did a lot to take my mind off my arm.

  “Hello,” I said quietly.

  “Why are you whispering?” he whispered. I’d always wondered why people did that. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I’m at the hospital and my phone is contraband. I don’t want to get busted and sent to the principal’s office or the boiler room or wherever they send hospital rule-breakers,” I quipped.

  “Why are you at the hospital?” He was talking in a normal voice now and I could hear the concern in it. Despite the frigid temperatures of the sterile room, it warmed me.

  “I got attacked by a dog and I had to come get my arm checked out.”

  “You what?”

  “I got attacked by a dog,” I repeated.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I think so. They found the owners and the dog’s had its rabies shots. That was what I was worried about more than anything else.”

  “How bad is it?”

  I turned my attention back to my arm. It was hurting like crazy since that devil nurse had messed with it. “I’ll probably get some stitches. The doctor hasn’t been in yet so I don’t know anything for sure. I’ll live though.”

  “Can you move your fingers? Your arm? Which side is it?”

  You know, I hadn’t even thought to be concerned about that kind of damage, but now I was incredibly grateful that I could move my fingers as well as bend my elbow. “Yes, yes and right,” I answered. “Really, it’s not that bad.”

  “Is your luck always like this?”

  I considered his question for a few seconds. “Yeah, pretty much. Wanna change your mind about that coffee?” I said it in jest, but I was desperately hoping that he wouldn’t take the out I’d given him.

  “Not a chance. You’ll be weak and I’ll have the upper hand,” he teased.

  A little chill raced down my spine at the prospect of him overpowering me and having his way with me, though not in a rape-ish kind of way. I was thinking more of a you’re-strong-and-hot-and-I’m-a-damsel-in-distress kind of way.

  “Sounds like a date.”

  “Call me when you’re finished?”

  “Will do,” I said easily. Then quickly, before he could hang up, I said, “See you later.”

  “Count on it,” he promised then hung up.

  Though it was not an actual goodbye, it would do. Plus the promise in those words did funny things to my stomach.

  My phone rang again while the doctor was in with me. Thank goodness it was the Animal Control Officer. I answered and quickly asked if I could call him back in a few minutes. When I got off the phone, I told the doctor who it was and that they’d said they needed to be able to reach me so that’s why I left my phone on. It wasn’t until later that the fact that the lie had come so easily to me became worrisome.

  About an hour later, I was stitched up, bandaged up and ready to go. The nurse gave me my discharge instructions, a prescription for antibiotics and pain medication as well as an order to follow up with my primary care physician in 7–10 days.

  I gathered my belongings and headed for the door. Once in my vehicle, I remembered to call the animal people back. I punched the number into my phone and listened to it ring. I was beginning to think they’d gone home for the night when a man finally answered.

  It was Officer Bryant, the same man I’d talked to twice before.

  “Where were you when the dog attacked you?”

  “I was crossing the street. Why?”

  “And where was the dog?” he asked, not answering my question.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see him until he started growling. At that point he was sort of behind me in the street. Why?” I asked again.

  “And what did you do to the dog?”

  “Nothing. He jumped on me and knocked me down. And then he bit me. When he let go, I got up and ran away. Why?” I asked a third time, my patience running thin.

  There was a pause before Officer Bryant finally answered me. “The dog has some pretty severe injuries. The owners were curious how he sustained them.”

  A cold lump of dread formed in my stomach. “What kind of injuries?”

  “The muscles in his jaws are torn, several ribs are cracked and he has some internal bleeding.”

  I thought of my imaginings about the dog, about what I’d have done if I’d had the strength to defend myself. Suddenly, I felt sick. The things the officer was explaining were the types of injuries the dog might’ve sustained if I’d pulled his jaws apart and then thrown him up against a tree. Just like I’d imagined.

  “So, what are you getting at?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as level as possible.

  “Well, I wondered if maybe the dog had been hit before you stumbled upon him. Wounded animals react violently sometimes, especially to strangers. That would explain the injuries as well as his attack, though I don’t know how he managed an attack being in such bad shape.”

  “He looked fine to me, but it all happened so fast, I just- I can’t say for sure.”

  I rested my forehead against the cool steering wheel. Had I really done all those things to that dog? I mean, if I had, it’s not like I was unprovoked. He was trying to eat me after all. But still, it didn’t set well with me, hurting an animal like that. I’d always liked animals and, before today, they’d always liked me.

  “Well, in any case, it’s not your fault. And the owners know that. They’ve asked that I pass along their number so that they can pay for your hospital bill.”

  The girl at the registration desk had asked some questions about things like that when she’d gone over insurance information, but I just assumed I’d never know who the dog belonged to, so…

  “That would be very kind of them. Thank you for passing that along, Officer Bryant.”

  I took down the name and number of the dog’s owners and bid Officer Bryant a good night. My stomach was a little swimmy and I really didn’t feel like coffee, but I did want to see Grayson, so I called him next. We agreed to meet at the park near my house again.

  I called home and told my parents that I was stopping by the store and it would be a while longer before I got home. They were still adjusting to my independence, but they were trying their best to respect it. Mom just reminded me to be careful and kept all her other thoughts and opinions to herself.

  By the time I got to the park, Grayson was already there and I was feeling somewhat better. He rolled down the passenger window and said, “Get in.”

  When I’d
locked up the Jeep and slid into the passenger seat of the Charger, I shut the door and turned to look at him. The car smelled lightly of cinnamon and his lips were curled into a lopsided grin. “I can’t say that I blame the dog. You do look pretty edible,” he kidded, his eyes a warm dark gold in the dying light of the day.

  My cheeks heated and I’m sure I was turning eight shades of red. Luckily, darkness was fast approaching and I doubted it was that noticeable. Maybe he’d attribute any vibrant color to the blazing orange sunset.

  “Starbucks alright?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Buckle up,” he said, pulling the gear shift down into reverse.

  He watched me as I pulled the seat belt across me and slid the metal clip into its clasp. He was looking at me like I really was edible and I felt my cheeks burning again. A silly grin tugged at my lips and I leaned my head back against the head rest, watching him watch me. He shook his head as if clearing it of a fog, smiled and backed out of the parking space.