by D. H. Davis
Attending the same school as your idiot brother isn’t the greatest, and unfortunately for me, Sammy’s one of the really popular kids meaning he always has a group of minions egging him on to outdo whatever stupid thing he did last. Supernaturally however, it’s a completely different story. Incantations don’t come as easily to Sammy as they do to me. They regularly result in a mispronunciation, which provides comical outcomes. He once tried to levitate a book and instead set it alight; made all the more amusing by the fact that it had all his homework in it.
Along with being the popular kid at school, he’s also fairly good looking. Not that I would ever admit that to him but he definitely got Mum’s pleasing looks. He’s tall like she is with a slender, athletic build that comes from excessive amounts of football and cycling. He’s also got the same shade of thick brown hair that he lets grow to a length he can run his hand through – not too long but just enough so that he can give it a flick. (I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s a member of Baywatch when he does this but the girls go crazy for it, so much so that he’s done dating girls from his year group and is now onto ones from the year above). He has Mum’s kind features too, her friendly smile and bright blue eyes with long, full eyelashes that I’m incredibly jealous of.
Once breakfast is over, I head back upstairs to jump in the shower and get ready. As usual, it takes me trying on several outfits in the mirror before settling on a pair of faded denim shorts and a baggy black top that falls off one shoulder. I opt for scraping my thick, dark curls into a messy bun leaving a few wisps of hair framing my face. Mum says I should wear it down more, as it’s so long but my waves aren’t soft and silky like hers; mine are a little more manic with a mind of their own, rarely falling the way you want them to.
I stand awkwardly looking at myself in the mirror for a few minutes debating whether to change again. I’m not as tall as the rest of my family, I only just about scrape the five-foot barrier and although I dance, I don’t have a typical dancer’s frame either. Instead of a straight slender build, I have curves. I know a lot of girls would kill to have an hourglass figure but to be totally honest, I hate being big chested, which is why I always try to hide the fact with baggy tops. I’m so short that people must just look at me and think I’m about to topple over.
Oh well, I decide that I’m not going to get much better than this for today, grab my over the shoulder school bag and head downstairs.
As I’m shouting bye to my parents, Sammy barges past me, out the door and down the road at a fast pace, clearly running late as always. He catches the school bus with his friends, while I get a lift. We always hated going to school together so when Eve finally passed her test and got a car, life got much easier. I start to pull the front door closed behind me but it meets some resistance. It’s Dad putting his foot in the way – clearly, my lecture for the morning was not over.
“Brooke, you can’t be late back tonight. You’ve got to meet with the Elders for a history lesson.”
“Yes, Dad, I’m well aware of my many commitments,” I reply in a frustrated tone, turning and heading down the drive.
As I approach the end of the drive rolling my eyes at Dad’s irritating persistence, Eve pulls up in her battered Vauxhall Corsa, originally red, but now resembling more of an orangey brown which she refer to as rustic. The driver’s side is covered in scratches from numerous misjudged attempts at swinging around the McDonald’s drive thru.
“Your chariot awaits,” Eve calls, sticking her head out of the window and giving me a wink. She knows what a piece of junk her car is but she just owns it.
“Mr L, you silver fox, how are you this morning?” Eve addresses my dad in the same manner as usual, while I clamber into the passenger seat, being careful not to slam the door too hard in case any more ‘rustic’ paint falls off. It used to bother me that Eve fancies my dad but I soon realised it was a frivolous endeavour as Eve pretty much fancies everyone.
“I’d be much better if you could convince this one to take revision more seriously,” replies Dad, trying not to smirk and let on that he loves the attention she gives him.
“No worries, Mr L, by the time we’re at school her entire outlook on life will be altered. You know I’ve got your back,” she smiles with another wink before pulling off and heading down the road. I turn and give Dad a little wave out the back window.
Once we’re out of my street, Eve feels brave enough to say what she really thinks.
“When is he gonna let up about all this coven history crap? I get it’s important but so is a life!”
“Oh, you’re not up his arse anymore now that we’re out of ear shot?” I laugh with a playful smile.
“I can’t deny it B, that man has a power over me. I just want to make him happy.”
We both burst into a giggling fit. This is one of the many reasons why I love Eve so much, not only is she smart, sassy and as loyal as they come, but she’s hilarious and constantly has me in stiches.
People often underestimate her because she’s beautiful but they couldn’t be more wrong. Underneath that thick, shiny, waist length, red hair, behind those deep brown eyes and flawless pale complexion, is a wit that can rarely be matched. She also dresses a little skimpy, embracing the crop top and high-waist tight jeans phase society seems to be in at the minute; people definitely misjudge her on that, assuming she’s some airhead only interested in boys, but they couldn’t be more wrong. She’s an intelligent, fiery young woman. The boys bit is still true, though.
She’s forever trying to get me to wear something more revealing, convinced it will help me ‘bag a boy’ as she calls it, but I’m good. Me, I like my leggings and baggy tops.
“I mean, has he even had you doing any practicals lately because if he saw your projection charms he’d know the coven will be in safe hands. No one rocks a projection like my girl B!”
“Oh come off it. I’m average at best,” I sheepishly reply looking out the window as the car starts to slow.
“Oh you come off it! You know your reach is getting insane lately. No one our age has recorded rates like that since your dad and you know it.” Eve scolds me, something she does fairly frequently.
“Right, shut it now. Owen’s about to get in!” I snap, beginning to feel irritated at her misguided perception that my dad would be anything other than angry that I’d been practicing incantations without him. I was also irritated by her lack of discretion, she was speaking very loudly when an ordinary was about to get in the car.
Pulling up outside Owen’s house, he was on the curb waiting our arrival, so he didn’t have to sit at the breakfast table making small talk with his dad.
“Three guesses for the topic of conversation this morning.” Owen sighs as he clambers into the back of the car, chucking his Captain America backpack onto the empty seat next to him.
“Ooooo, I love this game!” cries Eve.
“You’re spending too much time indoors?” I shout, but Owen shakes his head.
“You don’t have enough friends?” Eve shouts but Owen shakes again as he does up his seat belt.
“Your lack of athletic ability?” Eve yells, visibly excited.
“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Owen calls in his best game show host tone raising his arm in the air in celebration.
“Oh, I didn’t go for that as that was only the day before yesterday’s,” I moaned, gutted I hadn’t guessed right.
“Accurately remembered Brooke, however as you know, it is one of his favourites. My inability to kick or throw a ball is of high value disappointment to Sergeant Williams.” He mocks a soldier’s salute with his hand as he finishes his sentence.
Owen’s dad was a Sergeant in the army and from what people say, he was a very well respected one. He left the Army two years ago to care for Owen after his mum ran off with the man whom she was having an affair with. He’s always resented Owen for it. His dad never misses an opportunity to evoke his disappointment. He wanted a son to match him in every way; physically
fit, mentally strong, authoritative, sociable, brave and above all else, good at taking orders. Unfortunately for Mr Williams, what he got was a lanky boy with a dark, wavy mop of hair and blue eyes hidden behind thick, black frames. Owen hides his skinny and undefined build in baggy Marvel T-shirts and jeans. I, however, think it’s incredibly fortunate that Owen didn’t turn out like his dad. The world has enough strong men on the outside and what we really need is more people exactly like Owen: kind, considerate and strong on the inside. Being insanely intelligent helps too. He is going to achieve some amazing things one day, despite his dad’s negative pressure.
“I had a feeling it would be that one, football try-outs are tonight, aren’t they?” asks Eve before pulling off and beginning the drive to school. Pretty sure she only knows about try-outs because she’s planning on watching them warm up.
“Yeah, try-outs for the football team that haven’t won a game in two terms but no mention of the Mathletes who are actually competing tonight and haven’t lost a match all year, thanks to moi,” Owen remarks, a slight crack in his voice showing the hurt that lies behind the sarcasm.
Chapter Two
The morning goes by painfully slowly with a triple helping of English Literature. The lesson consists of reading and rereading our anthologies and annotating them ready for our AS exams. Usually, I would love a lesson like this as I really enjoy poetry; there’s a beauty in the vast difference of opinions and I love how people can read the same five lines and have completely different interpretations of the meaning. It’s something I can get lost in and forget about how crappy the world can be, but today, I’m just far too distracted to make notes of any worth. I also started on a poem all about a metaphorical black hole sucking the life out of a man, which resonates a little too close to home for my liking. All I can think about is how little of my life is actually my own and the thought terrifies me. If I feel this way now, surely it’s only going to get worse, once I’m actually in charge. Our coven has forty-two witches at present all living, here, in Arcane Grove, all of whom would want me to guide them, when to be honest, I’m not even sure I can guide myself.
When the bell lets out its hideous and deafening three screeches to let us know it’s time for lunch, I decide I’m not in the mood for company and go for a walk instead. I shove my books in my bag and swing it over my shoulder before heading out the classroom door and bumping into Eve in the busy hallway.
“It’s Panini day in the canteen,” she grins, linking my arm with hers. “I’ve already sent Owen to get in the queue.”
“Sorry, I’ve been too much in my own head this morning, thinking about the massive amount of impending responsibility, I just wanna go for a walk and clear my head out a bit,” I reply placing my hand gratefully on her arm.
“No worries, I’ll text Owen to meet us, once he’s got our grub. He can tell his dad he’s worked out then if he tries to catch us up!” She gives me a wink as she cracks her joke.
“Do you mind if I go by myself?” I ask, knowing full well she will be displeased. “It’s not that I don’t love you and Owen, I’m just not good company right now. I need to snap out of my mood and I think I’ll only manage that on my own.”
Eve unlinks my arm and moves herself in front of me, stopping me from walking any further. She looks me up and down with a stern expression and I suddenly feel a cold, crisp chill in the air around me and realise she’s trying to get in my head.
“I thought we agreed you would never do that to me,” I snap in a hushed tone, ensuring no ordinaries can hear us.
I’m no longer feeling sorry for myself now, I feel a burning rage build inside me at the violation that’s just occurred. I give Eve a long, hard look whilst shaking my head in disbelief, gradually turning and walking away.
“B, I’m sorry!” she shouts after me standing still in the spot where I left her. She doesn’t attempt to follow me as she can sense my anger and knows it’s best to let me cool off on my own.
Eve is what we call an Empath witch. She has the ability to feel others emotions and at times she can even project herself into another’s mind and see what they are thinking. It’s an incredible gift, one not many witches possess, but one they all want to acquire. The issue with acquiring the power, though, is that to suddenly have your mind and body infiltrated with everyone’s thoughts and feelings around you, can actually make you insane.
Imagine hearing bickering, internal voices and having your own emotional state change from the highest ecstasy to the lowest pits of depression within seconds. That’s what happens when people seek out the power, they don’t understand how to handle it and, eventually, it consumes them and they’re left as an empty shell of a person, let alone a witch. In some cases, it can even overload the mind and cause physical pain.
Eve was born an Empath so she’s never known any different. She’s grown up learning to filter through what she hears and manages what she allows herself to feel. She’s impressively strong and can reach people from quite a distance with an unwavering level of control.
We, however, made a pact when we were five-years-old that she would never try to enter my mind and until today, she never has attempted it. I don’t even know what she was expecting to find, I tell her everything! I’ll have to seek out her reasoning later, once my rage has subsided. For now, I think a chip roll will help so I head out the school gate.
As I near the row of stores that the chip shop is on, something on the opposite side of the road catches my eye. There is a white haired, elderly lady leaving the corner shop with her reusable shopping bag on her arm full to the brink with food. She’s walking slowly and is hunched over, clearly the bag is too heavy for her frail frame but that’s not what’s caught my interest. It’s the two middle aged, scruffy looking, tall men that came out of the shop after her.
They are both wearing beany hats that are pulled down to just above their eyes and the hoods of their jackets are up as if they are trying to hide their faces. They’re walking with their arms slightly bent at the elbow and with a slight limp in their step. It reminds me of when school bullies walk towards their victim, trying to inspire fear.
The closer I look, I realise the two men are closing in on the old lady; they’re actually following her into the dreary, narrow alley next to the shop. I can’t put my finger on why but I’m consumed by a feeling of unease. Something bad is going to happen so my instincts take over and I follow them.
Things happen quickly. The slightly taller of the two men pulls out a silver switchblade that shines as the sunlight catches the metal, as the other man reaches forward and grabs the lady by the shoulders. The old lady lets out a scream as they turn her around to face them and I see fear flash across her face, especially, as her eyes scan the knife that is now being pointed at her.
“Oi!” I shout before even thinking about what to do next.
Both men turn and look at me. “What have we got here? Some little school girl fancies herself the hero.” Smirks the man holding the old lady. She isn’t even struggling against him, she’s simply frozen in fear.
“You don’t need to do this, you can let her go and walk away before anyone gets hurt,” I say as sternly as I can but I’m certain they can sense my nerves.
I know it’s silly that I’m scared because I could easily disarm these guys, but magic is forbidden in front of ordinaries unless absolutely necessary and I was hoping to resolve this without having to utter a single incantation.
“Oh, it’s sweet you think you can talk us down, love, but you really don’t have a leg to stand on and unfortunately, we can’t let you run along and tell anyone either,” warns the guy holding the knife, as he begins walking towards me.
“I’m giving you a chance to walk away here, please take it,” I plead, taking a few steps back but not taking my eyes off the knife.
He just laughs at me and continues moving towards me, while the other man holds the elderly woman with her arms behind her back, clearly hurting her as she’s wincing at
his tightening grip.
This was it, one of those defining moments where a decision is made that you can’t go back from. An innocent ordinary life is at stake and it’s my coven’s job to protect ordinaries; it’s written into our law. It’ll be my job to lead by example soon and I would want others to step in and help, blowing cover or not. It’s as simple as that! I take a deep breath, close my eyes and command them to freeze.
“Duratus!” I open my eyes expecting to see the frozen ordinaries but there was no preparation for what I was seeing.
Stood in front of me facing the attackers was someone that wasn’t there before. At first, I can’t place where I know him from, I just panic that there’s now another ordinary caught up in this, although I don’t know how he got there so fast. Before I’ve finished my thought, my sense of danger escalates as this person turns to face me and I recognise that it is Jessie-a guy from school. He’s in year thirteen and not in any of my classes but I’ve definitely seen him in the common room. He’s usually surrounded by a group of swooning girls. Clearly, because of his chiselled facial features, thick black hair and smooth, light, black skin that covers a very muscular physique. Aesthetic appeal aside though, he should be frozen like the others and that can mean only one thing. He’s supernatural too.
“What are you?” I ask my voice barely audible.
“I’d ask you the same thing but I think it’s pretty obvious what you are,” he replies looking me dead in the eye. That was it, as he spoke I saw something I’d never seen before. Fangs.
“Vampire!” I gasp with a startled gaze on my face. This couldn’t be happening, a real life vampire right in front of me, one that’s been at school with me for the past year. I lift my right hand ready to cast a burning incantation.
“Incend—,” but before I can finish uttering the word his hand is over my mouth. He moved so quick I didn’t register it straight away, I just knew I was in trouble.