Witches & Werewolves: A Sacred Oath

by Bella Raven

“Yes.”

  “Great, well maybe we’ll see each other around.”

  I think he must have sensed that my mind was drifting off and decided to cut his losses. He seems like a nice enough guy. We part ways, and I meander back over to Jen and the girls.

  “So, tell us everything,” Jen says, unable to contain her excitement.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I say.

  “Lucas is cute, right?” Jen says.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I stammer.

  “I told you to stay away from Ethan,” Jen says with a smug tone.

  “Next subject, please,” I say.

  “I could try to set you up with Nicholas?” Jen says, almost desperate.

  “No, I’ve had enough awkward encounters this evening, thank you,” I sigh. “I’m just going to go grab some air.”

  I wander back through the mob to the edge of the clearing and lean against a tree. I take a full breath, hold it in, and exhale deeply. I am totally over Mr. Blue Eyes, and I’m never going to think about him again. Ever.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone dash into the forest. A dense mist floats between the trees making it impossible to see into the depths of the woods. Whoever it was disappeared quickly. I’m not sure, but at a glance, I’d swear it was Ethan.

  Whatever. I’m done with that.

  I look at my watch: 11:32pm.

  I know I don’t have a curfew anymore, but dad always wanted me home by midnight, so there’s a part of me that feels like I should still hold to that. I take a few steps back towards the congregation to find Jen. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream fills the thick night air, echoing through the trees.

  My eyes dash to the sound emanating from deep within the forest. I can’t see anything through the mist. I glance back to the crowd, moving in rhythm to the music. Surely someone else heard that? But nobody else seems to have noticed.

  I look back to the direction of the sound. I’m sure I heard a scream. It couldn’t have been my imagination. I take a few steps into the trees and pause, I still can’t see anything. I listen for more noises from the forest, but it’s quiet, apart from the festivities. I look back over my shoulder at the glowing bonfire and the ocean of teenagers swarming around it. They carry on as usual. I fix my gaze back to the forest and creep deeper into the mist.

  I’m about a hundred yards into the woods when I decide that this is a really bad idea. What was I thinking? The once towering flame of the bonfire is now a speck on the horizon behind me. The music is a dull thump, and the temperature has dropped rapidly. With every step, dry leaves crinkle under my feet, and the crickets grow louder. I freeze in my tracks when I hear the howling of a wolf echoing in the distance.

  I turn around and head back to the bonfire. But I stop. The scream of the girl haunts me. What if she needs help? What if that was me? I’m this far already, I might as well keep going. I turn back to the darkness and march on, more determined than ever.

  I weave my way through the thick pines, stepping over fallen logs and branches, plowing deeper into the mist. I keep going and going. Then it dawns on me, I can’t hear the music anymore. I can’t see the flicker of the bonfire. I’m not sure I can find my way back. Panic sets in.

  What if I’m lost?

  There’s no way I would last the night out in this wilderness. I’m really cold now. My skin feels like a plucked chicken just out of the fridge, with goosebumps so tall they need warning lights for aerial vehicles. I put my jacket in Jen’s car about halfway through the night when I was getting overheated.

  I’m just about to turn back when I hear some leaves rustling ahead. My pulse quickens. I’m shaking from the cold and adrenaline. Mustering all my strength, I plod forward step-by-step. On the ground, a shape appears through the mist. As I draw closer, I discern what it is. My heart stops when it comes into full view.

  Long, curly strands of blonde hair attached to pale skin dotted with crimson torrents of blood. It's the body of a young girl ripped to shreds. I gasp at the horrific sight. My throat tightens up and my stomach churns. The blood rushes from my head, and I feel my extremities tingle and go numb. I want to scream but I can’t make a sound. My eyes well with tears. A few feet from her body is another, equally devoured corpse.

  A low pitched growl reverberates through the trees. I have a lump in my throat, and I realize I am not alone in these woods. I hear the growl move closer. Ferocious. Angry. Through the fog, a figure races toward me. I am petrified and cannot move. The shadow draws near, emerging through the fog, revealing himself—it’s Ethan. He looks enraged, with eyes of fire. His teeth glimmer, almost like fangs. He huddles over the savaged bodies with blood soaked hands.

  “Get the Sheriff. Now!” he yells.

  CHAPTER 5

  MY MIND RACES with questions that may never get answered. Yellow caution tape ropes off the trees where the bodies rest. A crime scene photographer documents the incident with intermittent flashes that illuminate the trees. The desolate area is now a beehive of activity as officers swarm about. I stand shivering, wrapped in a sheriff’s jacket, as I tell him everything that I can remember. The sheriff tells me that it’s too early to know for sure, but that the couple may have stumbled upon a bear, or some kind of large animal. He goes on to say that we shouldn’t even be out here in the first place and doesn’t really seem to take too much pity on the mutilated couple.

  “This is God’s country. You go trespassing against nature, sometimes nature’s going to trespass against you,” the sheriff says.

  Two more county sheriff’s deputies question Ethan. I can’t hear what he’s telling them, but every time I glance in his direction I see Ethan glaring back at me.

  A bear or some other kind of animal. These words loop in my head. What other kind of animal? What was Ethan doing out here? I don’t think there is any way that he killed those people, but just the same, I can’t say that he didn’t. Maybe I’m imagining the whole thing, but I swear he looked different. For an instant, as he hovered above the bodies, his eyes were almost blood red. His teeth were sharper, and he looked even more physically imposing.

  It’s hard to say. I’ve never seen dead bodies like that before. Not that fresh. Maybe it’s the shock of it all? Mix that in with all the stress that I’ve been under lately… Plus, how much can you really see out here in the dark? It’s my overactive imagination running wild. Ethan looks perfectly normal now, talking to the officers.

  Still, I’m not sure.

  “You don’t think Ethan had anything to do with the deaths, do you?” I ask the sheriff.

  “Not unless that boy sprouted fangs and a set of razor sharp claws. Unfortunately, these kind of animal attacks are fairly common around here. Sometimes it’s a bear, sometimes a mountain lion, sometimes a pack of wolves,” the sheriff says.

  For the next few days I can’t sleep, and when I do, nightmares rip me from my brief moments of slumber. I wake with my body vibrating, dripping a cold clammy sweat, gasping for air in the darkness. It always takes me a few moments to get my bearings and realize that I’m in my bed in my room—my new room. Most of the time, I wakeup in the mornings thinking that I’m at home, back in Texas. Sometimes I wake up and think my parents are still alive—that all of this has been a nightmare. Then, like a punch to the gut, I remember.

  Dawn breaks through the window, and I pull myself out of bed. The image of the mutilated bodies in the woods has haunted me since the night of the bonfire. I wish I had never walked into the forest. Some things just can’t be unseen.

  The vision of Ethan appearing through the mist has replayed in my mind over and over again. I can’t seem to stop thinking about him. I’ve thought about that night so much, I can’t tell what is real and what’s a dream. I’ve created outrageous scenarios in my head about what may, or may not, have happened. For whatever reason, I can’t accept that it was an animal that did this. But then I think I’m just going crazy. I feel my stomach tighten, and I take a deep breath.

  I grab some br
eakfast, and Jen swings by picking me up to go shopping with Sophia and Gwen. According to Jen, it is a fashion imperative that I upgrade my wardrobe for the coming semester. This is also something that I’m not allowed to do on my own, as per Jen’s orders, as my taste in fashion is somewhat suspect. I’m perfectly fine with this, because, admittedly, I do need a little help.

  Haven Hill is not necessarily a fashion Mecca. But there are a surprising number of boutique shops in town that carry the latest selections of designer clothes. Second street is essentially an outdoor mall, with a half mile of shops lining the cobblestone street. Shoe stores, clothing boutiques, art galleries, book stores, sidewalk cafés, and upscale restaurants. Even a movie theater.

  We flit from store to store, and Jen has me trying on all kinds of outfits. Girly clothes. Short skirts, low cut tops, painted on dresses. I feel like I’m on a fashion gameshow, and Jen, Sophia, and Gwen are the judges. The only thing missing are actual scorecards. Sophia and Gwen always look to Jen first before casting their vote. If it’s a dress she approves of, Jen will smile and wink. If she doesn’t like it, her face will crinkle up, and her nostrils will flare like she smelled rotten fish.

  I go through piles of clothes. Most of them are rotten fish. But a few of them make it into the yes pile. I have to admit, the dress I have on right now is even making me smile. And I’m a T-shirt and jeans kind of girl.

  Jen is beaming, and the girls are nodding in agreement. It’s a black, sleeveless micro-mini by Versace, made of jersey stretch fabric, that elegantly glides over my skin. It’s the kind of dress that makes you glow. I feel like a million bucks.

  The girls are giddy with excitement. “We have to accessorize,” Gwen says, dashing off. Sophia follows her, rushing to the jewelry section.

  “Someone might actually mistake you for a girl wearing this,” Jen says.

  I crinkle my face at her. “I own dresses.”

  “Not like this, you don’t,” Jen says.

  I glance down and get a glimpse of the $500 price tag. I gulp at the sight. “And it looks like I’m not going to be owning a dress like this.”

  Jen raises an eyebrow, staring me down. “Say it with me, beauty has no price.”

  “Beauty has no price,” I repeat, hesitantly. It’s best not to argue. I’m just going to keep going along with this fantasy of a dress. Gwen dashes back over to us, brimming with joy.

  “You are going to look stunning in this,” Gwen says.

  She reaches around from behind and clasps an alexandrite pendant on my neck. I turn to the full length mirror, stunned by the ensemble. The dress, the shoes, the pendant. Gorgeous.

  Suddenly, I feel the pendant radiate heat. The color of the pendant changes from a cool purple to a glowing red.

  Jen’s eyes grow wide, and she snatches the gemstone from my neck.

  “Ouch,” I exclaim, as the necklace grates against my skin. “What did you do that for?”

  Jen stammers, then says, “It wasn’t working with the outfit.”

  Rubbing my neck, I watch Jen strut away. Gwen and Sophia look dumbfounded.

  “What was that all about?” I ask.

  The girls shrug and exchange a glance.

  I change out of the dress, back into my jeans and T-shirt. I meet Jen at the check out counter with a slew of clothes draped over my arm. Minus the fabulous dress, of course. Jen is ringing up some items of her own.

  “You want to tell me what that was all about?” I ask.

  “I told you, the wrong accessories can ruin an outfit,” she says. Her tone is such that I drop it. She glances at the clothes slung over my arm. Her eyes narrow, instantly noticing the dress is missing. “Where is it?”

  “I put it back. I can’t afford it,” I say.

  “Go and get it,” she commands. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “And the shoes.”

  “But—“

  “But nothing. Do it,” she says, staring at me.

  “Jen, I can’t afford it. I’ve got to be really careful with funds,” I whisper.

  Jen clutches my arm, leans in, whispering in my ear, “I’m buying, silly.”

  My eyes grow wide, like saucers. I swallow hard, shocked. “Why?”

  “Because friends take care of each other,” she says, smiling. “Just stay away from alexandrite pendants. In fact, stay away from all gemstones,” Jen cautions.

  I look at her perplexed. “What’s with the gemstones?”

  I can tell by the stern look on Jen’s face that she doesn’t want to talk about it. I drop if for now, but I have another burning question. “How can you afford this?”

  “Go. Get the dress. Before I change my mind,” she says.

  Resistance is futile. I scurry away to snatch up the dress. And the shoes.

  Alexandrite is a gemstone that changes color. In daylight, it looks bluish-green. Inside, with incandescent light, it looks a purplish-red. But it doesn’t glow bright red, radiating heat. At least, it’s not supposed to.

  I look for an opportunity to press Jen on the subject, but one never really presents itself. We spend the rest of the afternoon, shopping and having fun. I just relax and enjoy the moment. I haven’t been on a shopping spree in forever.

  Afterward, Jen drops me off at uncle Jake’s and I thank her profusely. She seems almost embarrassed by my gratitude, so I try to keep my gushing thanks to a minimum. I gather up my bags, say goodbye to Gwen and Sophia, and head inside.

  CHAPTER 6

  A NEW DAY, a new dawn. I’m terrified. It’s the first day of school. After breakfast, Jake tosses me the keys to the rust bucket, and I drop Noah off at his middle school before heading to class. The first day is rather uneventful, except for the fact that everyone wants to know all the gory details of the incident. I have quickly become known as the girl who saw the dead bodies. By lunch I am exhausted, and my throat is dry and cracking from telling the story so many times already.

  In the cafeteria, I sit with Jennifer, Sophia, and Gwen. I just want to sit down and eat in peace, but the barrage of questions continue. A nonstop flow of people just happen to stop by the table and introduce themselves, cutting straight to the chase. I can’t begin to keep up with all the faces and names. As draining as this all is, it pales in comparison to the sense of dread I feel about encountering Ethan in the cafeteria, or in the hallways. The image of him hovering over the bodies, bloody and snarling, is permanently etched on my retinas.

  What will I say to him? What will he say to me? Maybe he will just ignore me and act like nothing ever happened. That would be for the best. I try to keep my head down, focused on my pale green lunch tray. It holds something that looks sort of like beef, with sides of mashed potatoes, peas, carrots and green beans.

  I try my best to resist the urge, but every now and then I scan the cafeteria looking for him. I am quite relieved not to see him among the throng of students, but I’m also unnerved. Unlike my old school, where we had an A, B, and C lunch—due to the size of the student body—here, we have a single lunch period for all grade levels. By all rights, Ethan should be somewhere in this cafeteria.

  With all this anxiety, I have zero appetite and can only manage a few bites. It’s okay, I guess. If things continue on like this, I will never have to worry about my weight.

  My next class after lunch is chemistry. Upon entering, I’m assigned my seat by Mr. Fischer—a puffy, round man wearing a lab coat and thick black glasses. I take my seat behind a tall lab table and wait for the class to begin. The lab table has a black marble top with a stainless steel sink and fixtures in the middle. A propane spigot to fuel the Bunsen burners juts out from the fixture. Within minutes the tardy bell rings and I notice the seat next to me is still empty. Mr. Fischer scans the rows of desks comparing the attendees to his seating chart, mumbling out names to himself as he goes.

  “Has anyone seen Mr. Storm?” says Mr. Fischer.

  My heart climbs into my throat. I start to sweat. Am I really going to have to sit next to him the entire semester? At
least he’s not here today. Maybe I can go to the office after class and get transferred into another time. I exhale and try to calm down. Just then, the door bursts open and Ethan stumbles in.

  “Good of you to join us, Mr. Storm,” says Mr. Fischer. “I’ll assume you got lost looking for my classroom, since this is the first day.”

  “Uh, yes, sir,” Ethan says.

  “Be aware that any further late arrivals to my class this semester will be rewarded with a unit of detention.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Ethan says.

  “Take a seat.”

  Ethan glances to the empty chair beside me and our eyes meet. My heart flutters with a shot of adrenaline, and I dart my eyes down to my textbook. From the corner of my eye I see him stroll toward me as I pretend to read. I shift slightly away as I hear the chair clatter against the floor as he pulls it out, taking a seat.

  “Open your textbooks to chapter one, Atomic Elements and Properties,” says Mr. Fischer. “Everything in this classroom is made up of a combination of elements. The desks, the chairs, the chalkboard, even you… all made up of elements.” Mr. Fischer holds up a pitch black rock. “Can anyone tell me what you have in common with this lump of coal?”

  I can feel Ethan staring at me. I tilt even further away, trying not to be too obvious about it.

  “We didn’t really get a chance to meet,” he whispers. “I’m Ethan.”

  My body stiffens. Is he really talking to me? Now?

  “Mr. Storm, perhaps you would like that detention now?” asks Mr. Fischer.

  “No, sir,” Ethan says.

  “Then you better hope you pass this little oral exam, starting with the question I asked when you were flirting with Ms. James.”

  I can feel my face turned beet red.

  “Coal is primarily made up of carbon, with a few secondary elements such as hydrogen, sulfur, oxygen, nitrogen. The human body is 18.5% carbon,” says Ethan.

  “Without looking at the periodic table, what is the relative atomic mass of carbon?”