by Sam Short
Finally, she could let the pretence slip. “Wow!" she said. "All these people have come to welcome me?"
George tugged at Millie's hand, urging her to follow him as he quickened his pace. "Yes. They’re all here for you, and they've brought plenty of alcohol and food with them. It's going to be fun!"
Millie jogged alongside him, her hand warm in his, and the heat of the fire on her face before they were within twenty metres of the flames. "It's hot!" she laughed.
"It's not your run-of-the-mill fire," said George. “It was started by one of the witches! It won’t go out until she wants it to!”
As Millie and George neared the throng of people, a cheer went up from the crowd. "Welcome to spellbinder Bay, Millie Thorn!" came Judith's voice.
Other voices joined Judith's, and an open can of beer was shoved into her hand by a heavyset dark-haired man, who Millie guessed was around the same age as her. “Welcome," he said, making no effort to hide the fact that his eyes had wandered the full length of Millie's body. “It's great to meet you, Millie. I'm Sam."
“Millie doesn't need you ogling her, Sam," said the small red haired girl standing next to the large man. She pointed at Millie's face. "That's where you look when you meet a lady."
"Sorry," grumbled Sam. "I wasn't trying to be offensive."
Millie nodded. "None taken." She wasn't lying. It wasn't every day that a man as handsome as Sam gave her that sort of attention.
The redheaded girl thumped Sam playfully on his arm. "Go and put some music on. We can start having some fun now Millie's arrived."
Even beneath the glow from the fire, it was apparent that Sam's cheeks had turned a shade of crimson. “Music it is,” he said, beginning to push his way through the crowd, head and shoulders above most of the other people.
"Sorry about him," said the girl. "Men like him get a bit fired up this close to a full moon. They lose a few of their inhibitions. I'm Eve, by the way."
Millie took the girl's hand as she extended her arm in a friendly greeting. "It's no problem. Honestly. But what do you mean, men like him?" she said, already guessing that the mention of a full moon had a lot to do with it.
"Men like him," Eve said. "Werewolves. It's okay for the males to get a bit frisky before a full moon, but it's frowned upon for us women to do the same. Tell me how that's fair!"
"Enough of that, Eve," said George. "You'll scare her. She hasn't been here long. She doesn't know much about any of this stuff. Let’s do things slowly.”
“We’re still having the wolf and vampire fight?” said Eve. “We have to have that! You promised party games, George.”
“Yes, yes,” said George, “we’ll have the fight.”
Judith grabbed Millie's wrist and guided the open beer can towards her mouth. "Drink up," she ordered. "If the look on your face is any indication of how you’re going to react when you see or hear something strange happening tonight, then you're going to need a few more beers inside you."
Millie swallowed. The beer tasted strong and it cooled her throat. She took another gulp, and only stopped drinking when the can was half empty. Dance music began playing from somewhere behind her, and the smell of barbecuing meat mingled with the smoke from the bonfire.
“You look shocked,” said George. “Are you okay?”
"Do you know what?" Millie said, licking beer from her lips. "I don't think anything could shock me anymore."
George put his hand on her shoulder. "Never say never, Millie,” he said. "Never say never."
Chapter 17
Millie and Judith sat a short distance from the rest of the crowd, watching as people danced, ate and laughed. After drinking three cans of beer, the malty taste had become too much for her, and Millie had progressed onto vodka and cola, a fresh plastic cup of which she clutched in her hand.
The alcohol had done its job, and Millie felt more relaxed than she’d done since she’d arrived in Spellbinder Bay. She took another sip of her drink, and laughed as a tall man attempted to lift his dancing partner above his head, in what he obviously considered was going to be a perfectly executed dirty dancing move, but quickly turned into a tangled mess of arms and legs in the sand. "And all these people are paranormal?" said Millie. "It's hard to believe.”
"Every single one of them," said Judith. "A non-paranormal person couldn't get near this spot. Apart from my dad of course, but he's a one-off. The concealment magic would just make them turn around before they got within a hundred metres of the cliff. They wouldn’t even question their decision — they’d just turn around and walk away."
Millie swivelled her head and looked at the cliff. "What's so special about this cliff?" she asked. "I know Spellbinder Hall is built on top of it, but why can't non-paranormal people be down here? It’s just sand and rock.”
Judith pointed into the shadows. "Can you see that crack in the cliff?” she said. "The one that looks wide enough for a person to walk through?"
The cliff displayed a spider web of cracks, visible in the glow from the fire, but it was apparent which crack Judith was speaking about. Bigger than the others, it was wide at the bottom, and tapered into a point high above the sand. "Yes, I see it," confirmed Millie.
"There's something very special in there,” said Judith. "Something that no normie can ever be allowed to see."
"What is it?" said Millie, tilting her head to get a better view of the fissure.
Judith took a long sip of her drink. “You'll find out by the end of the night," she said.
Millie laughed. That was vague. "Come off it! You can't tell me there’s something very special inside a crack in a cliff, and then tell me I can't see it straight away. That's not fair! I want to see!“
Judith spilt her drink as she laughed. “Have patience, young lady. The night is young.”
Sudden silence washed over the beach as the music abruptly stopped. A man's voice rang out, echoing off the cliff. "Okay, folks! It's fight time. Vampires and werewolves… have you chosen your warriors?"
Judith stood up, wiping sand from her shorts. “The secret in the cliff will have to wait. It’s games time!“
"The man said fight time," said Millie. "He definitely said fight time. Not games time.”
"It's both," smiled Judith. “There’s going to be a fight, but it's just a game. A bit like a boxing match, but without gloves and walk on girls.”
A tickling sensation ran the length of Millie’s forearms as the small hairs stood on end. She swallowed the last of her drink. "Does this mean I'm going to see a vampire and a werewolf?" she said. "I mean — am I really going to see them? In their… other forms?”
"Better than that," said Judith, grabbing Millie's hand and pulling her to her feet. "George told me he’s been chosen as the vampire's warrior. You’re going to see him in his true form!"
The crowd had formed a tight circle around a patch of sand bathed in the heat and glow from the fire, and a young man stood in the centre, addressing the crowd. His bare chest glistened, and his long black hair flowed over his broad shoulders. ”Where is the guest of honour?" he shouted, looking around the circle of people. “Where’s the new arrival in the bay?”
Judith grabbed Millie's wrist and pushed her hand into the air. "Here she is, Daniel!” she yelled. "Millie Thorn. The New witch in Windy-dune Cottage!"
A loud cheer rose from the crowd, and friendly hands slapped Millie’s back. "Welcome to Spellbinder Bay!" somebody shouted. "Where anything goes!" laughed another.
Millie gave a wide smile. "Thank you," she said, her voice almost lost among the excited chatter. "It's an honour to be here among you all." She put her mouth close to Judith's ear. "Was that okay?" She whispered. “An honour?”
“Of course," said Judith. "It sort of is an honour to be a part of this community. I feel blessed to count myself as a paranormal person in Spellbinder Bay.”
"Bring Millie to the front!" shouted Daniel, flicking hair from his eyes with a toss of his head. "The guest of honour should have a good
view of the fight!” He paused, and smiled at Millie, his eyes narrowed. “Unless she’s afraid of monsters, of course?”
Judith guided Millie through the warm bodies of the revellers. “They’re testing you,” she said over her shoulder. “They know you haven’t seen a vampire or werewolf yet. They want to know if you’re going to fit in around here before they fully trust you.”
Somebody replaced the empty cup in Millie’s hand with a full one, and as Judith guided her to the inner edge of the circle of bodies, Millie took a long swallow, the liquid burning her throat. Whiskey. One of her least favourite things in the world. She grimaced as she took another sip, not wanting to show any weakness. “I’m not scared!” she shouted, alcohol partly fuelling her courage, but her innate determination providing most of the fuel. “Show me the monsters!”
A cheer went up from the crowd, and Millie grinned. She gasped as Judith elbowed her in the ribs. “Ow!”
“That’s the way!” said Judith. “You’ll fit right in with that attitude!”
The crowd quietened as the ringmaster raised an arm above his head. “Vampires!” he yelled. “Have you chosen your warrior?”
“Yes!” said a young woman, the bronzed skin of her arms intricately patterned in black tattoos. “We choose George Brown!”
“That’s his surname?” said Millie. “He doesn’t look like a Brown. He looks more like a Pitt, or a Clooney!”
Judith laughed. “Don’t tell him that. It will go to his head!”
The crowd parted to form an aisle, and Millie put a hand to her mouth as George entered the ring to cheers from one portion of the crowd, and jeers from another. “What happened to him?” she said. “His chest… what happened?”
The ragged scar ran from his bulging left pectoral muscle, in a raised welt which continued almost all the way down his torso, stopping an inch shy of his navel. As George pumped both fists above his head, in a show of fighting spirit, the wound stretched with his skin, daubed in the dancing glow of flames.
“It happened a long time ago,” said Judith. “It almost killed him. He was a British soldier during World War One. He was disembowelled by a German bayonet, which also cut into his heart. He’d have died if Fredrick hadn’t been on the battlefield.”
Millie smiled at George as he gave her a wink. “That’s when Fredrick turned him?” she said.
Judith nodded. “Yes. Fredrick was a German soldier — an officer. He’d been a vampire for centuries before the war, though. He had vowed to neither take, or save a life on the battlefield. He wanted to be neutral, but he’d wanted to do something for the country he called home at the time — so he enlisted as a medic, with the intention of helping people who could be saved by natural methods, not paranormal methods.”
“Then why did he turn George into a vampire?” said Millie. “He was an enemy. If Fredrick was going to break his vow of not saving anyone’s life, why would he chose an enemy to save?”
The crowd roared a cheer as George pumped his fists again, and Judith smiled. “He said that George reminded him of the son he’d once had. His son had refused to be turned, and had died of old age. Fredrick didn’t want to let a reminder of his son die, so he turned George into a vampire.
“George had just enough life left in him to give his permission, and when he’d been changed they both left Europe until the war was over. They found their way here in the nineteen-fifties, I believe.” She sipped her drink. “That’s all I know about it. George told us all one night — at a beach party like this. He doesn’t mention it much, and we don’t speak to him about it unless he brings it up.”
Millie nodded, understanding the veiled advice. “I won’t mention it to him. I promise.”
Another raucous cheer from the crowd prevented Judith from answering, so she chinked cups with Millie, and smiled.
“Werewolves!” shouted Daniel. “Have you chosen your warrior?”
“Yes!” came the call from the group of people opposite George’s supporters.
Millie kept her eye on Sam, who stood next to Eve. Having learned they were both werewolves, she was certain that Sam would be chosen to fight.
He stood head and shoulders above everybody else, and his broad chest was twice as wide as the average man’s. If he was that large as a man, Millie wondered with trepidation and concern how George had even the smallest of chances against him when he became a wolf.
“We’ve chosen Timothy!” came a shout.
“Timothy?” said Millie, nudging Judith. “The Timothy I met? The short man-child in Spellbinder Hall?”
“The very same,” said Judith.
Millie frowned. “He’s a werewolf?”
“One of the strongest,” said Judith.
The crowd parted, and Millie stared in astonishment as Timothy sauntered into the ring, his bare belly wobbling a little, and his attempt at a beard as unkempt as it had been when she’d last met him. He pummelled his naked chest with both fists and gave the crowd a wave.
“But he’s so small,” said Millie. “Why didn’t they choose Sam? He’s a man mountain.”
“The size of the wolf is not based on the size of the person’s body,” explained Judith. “It’s based on the courage contained in the heart. Sam might be a big man, but his wolf is tiny and, well… a little bedraggled, if I’m honest. Timothy’s wolf on the other hand, is huge. Just wait and see!”
With the sun completely set, moonlight vied with the glow from the fire to illuminate the two adversaries in the ring as they turned to face each other.
Daniel looked at each of them in turn. “Are you ready to fight?” he asked.
“I am,” said George, his voice deep and calm.
“Me too,” Timothy half squeaked and half groaned.
The ringmaster took a step backwards. “Remember the rules. The winner must transform as soon as the loser does.”
George and Timothy nodded their agreement and each extended an arm, shaking hands with one another.
Daniel stepped out of the circle and lifted a fist. “As the old saying goes — let battle commence!"
Wondering if she was ready to witness two apparently human men turn into monsters, Millie held her breath and waited.
Chapter 18
Things happened quickly, and Millie wasn't certain who'd changed first. She'd seen Timothy suddenly gain at least four foot in height in the same instance his arms had bulged with muscles, and coarse dark hair had coated his body. The shorts he wore disintegrated into shreds, unable to contain the monster within.
George's transformation had been quicker, and less dramatic. More reserved. Millie hadn't noticed his eyes darken, but it was evident they had, and the blackness gave him an eerie appearance.
He crouched into a fighting stance as he approached Timothy, two prominent fangs protruding from his upper jaw, and his muscles even better defined than they already had been.
Millie instinctively took a step backwards, but Judith placed a hand on the small of her back. "Don't worry," she said. "You're perfectly safe. And there won't be any blood — it's just a wrestling match, and it’s friendly — it’s just a game."
Timothy tilted his chin, his snout toward the moon, and let out a bloodcurdling roar which reverberated in the air and echoed over the beach, amplified by the cliff wall.
"George doesn't have a chance!" said Millie. “Look at the size of Timothy. He’s terrifying!"
"They said the same about David when he fought Goliath," shouted Judith, making her voice heard over the roaring of the crowd. "And look what happened there!"
"Yes, but George doesn't have a slingshot," said Millie, her attention stolen by the huge claws which extended from all four of Timothy's dinner-plate sized paws.
"No," said Judith. "But he has got incredible strength while he’s in his vampire form. Timothy’s strong too, but not as strong as George. He has to rely on his teeth and claws, but as this is strictly a wrestling match, he’s not allowed to use them. He’ll be forced to use his superior we
ight.”
Millie tried to step backwards again as Timothy gave another roar, but Judith applied more pressure to the base of her back. She took a deep breath, calming herself. "Won't instinct takeover?" she asked. “I’ve seen it in films! The werewolf can be lovely in his human form, but when he turns into a wolf he goes mad!"
Judith laughed. "I can promise you that no filmmaker has ever approached the werewolf community to find an adviser for their films," she said. “If they had, the films would be very different. Both Timothy and George are in full control of themselves. Don't worry — they do this all the time."
Attempting to relax, Millie loosened her shoulders and took a sip of her drink. As Timothy continued to howl at the moon, George circled him, keeping his body low — resembling a thinner and better toned version of a sumo wrestler. Suddenly, and without his body language giving any warning, George leapt at the wolf, his legs propelling him high in the air — high enough to land with a heavy thud on Timothy's back.
The werewolf howled and spun on the spot, attempting to remove George with swats of his large paws, his howls becoming louder.
George held on tight, scrambling higher on Timothy’s back, until the wolf’s large head was trapped between his thighs. George twisted his upper body, and as Timothy lost his balance, the vampire utilised the momentum of the stumble to slam his opponent into the sand, his neck still trapped firmly between George’s knees.
The crowd roared their approval, and Timothy roared his frustration. Sand flew from beneath his rear paws as he scrambled to his feet again, casting George off his back with a powerful swipe of a large forearm.
The two creatures circled one another, but this time Timothy took the chance to attack first. With all four feet burrowing into the sand, he launched himself at George, like a lion hurling itself at a Gazelle.