by Ben Alderson
“I see you and the demon have joined completely. Hello, Abraxon, my dear friend. Oh, how I have missed your irritating voice within my mind. If only you could have kept me company all these years…”
Abraxon chuckles at Father. The feeling is not mutual. I have not missed him.
With a single breath, my confidence is renewed, and I’m sure I owe that to Abraxon. I take two steps toward the door. Father sidesteps, once again blocking my exit. Chin held high and shoulders back, I show Father that I am not the weak boy he left behind years ago.
“Let me guess, Father,” I spit. “You are here for my power just like Mother and her coven—”
“My coven,” Father corrects before waving a hand for me to continue.
“You trapped yourself here because you knew a time would come when Mother would be gone, and then you could return and control me just like Mother tried to. Admit it!”
“Ah, ah, ah.” He wiggles his index finger at me. “Wrong, my boy, very wrong.” His lips part as a deep chuckle escapes them. Even the room seems to shiver with amusement as if it mirrors Father’s emotions. Dust billows from shelves as the tomes shift under an invisible force.
“Then explain yourself,” I insist.
“Your mother entrapped me here, for she thought by doing so, she would one day be able to control me. But all I want is to leave this place, to move on.” He put his hand over his heart and looks into the distance, as if he’s staring right through me. “I swear to you, my boy, I have no ill intentions. I just want to pass on properly. After all, that is what I deserve. The dead should not walk among the living. All I want is your help to make this dream a reality for me.”
A strange sensation erupts within me. It’s a feeling that doesn’t belong to the demon. As much as this encounter has unnerved me, the thought of losing father again saddens me. The ghost before me hardly qualifies as a dad, but since Mother just passed, a part of me feels the smallest bit relieved to have Father here. I’m not alone anymore. Regardless of how I feel, I can’t say it aloud. Not even Abraxon is teasing me with his normally taunting voice.
“Like you said, it was Mother who kept you here. Since she passed, you can now leave.” My bottom lip trembles as a tidal wave of grief sneaks up on me once again. And my emotion doesn’t seem to go unmissed by Father. I can sense his desire to reach out for me. I too wish he would act upon it.
“If only it were that easy, my boy, my Georgie boy.” Father’s tone dips and his posture slumps. “Your mother may be dead, but the spell is unbroken. It will take more than her death to allow me to pass.”
“Then I will do it,” I say with as much vigor and confidence as I can muster. “How hard can it be?”
Father smiles. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear you say that.”
In this moment, I am ready to unleash spell upon spell, hex upon hex, to break down the barrier that keeps Father’s spirit within these four walls.
“Steady, my boy.” Father raises both hands. “It will take an educated witch and strong magic to unravel the mess your mother created.”
Was that meant as an insult? It sure sounded like one. I try not to let his words upset me.
“Move away from the door, and I will find Mother’s grimoire to remove this curse on your spirit.” Although I have never seen Mother’s sacred book, I am sure she has one. Every witch does.
“You will not find that tome within this house,” Father says quickly. “Nor will you find the reversal spell anywhere within it. Your mother was a paranoid, organized beast. She would have destroyed the reversal incantation moments after she trapped me in here just in case a moment like this ever happened.”
He is right.
“Then what was her purpose of trapping you here? Clearly, this was premeditated; otherwise, she would have let you move on.”
“Who knows? Maybe just to make me suffer.”
Abraxon slithers within my core. I try to sense the demon’s thoughts, but I only feel its distrust. It is as if the demon acts as my own lie detector of sorts.
“What of the coven? Would she have—” I begin.
“They cannot know, George. Do you understand?” Father asks, interrupting me.
His use of my full name stings. He only ever said it when he was angry with me. Although he didn’t seem upset, his use of my full name still does not sit right with me.
Countless books fly off the shelves, slamming onto the floor around my feet. It is as if Father’s obvious stress shocks the very room and all of its contents. Even the surrounding air thickens.
“I…” I lose my thought.
“They will do everything in their power to keep me here, Georgie. You must understand. It is very important that you deal with this curse yourself. Only you can know about me.”
He looks at me, gaze locked with my own as he pleads for my secrecy, and I cannot deny him.
“It’s our little secret, Georgie.” He smiles.
“Okay,” I tell him, nodding.
Father takes a moment and seems to scan me from face to foot. Scorching light behind his sunken eyes sparks; it’s an expression that could have melted me on the spot. “I am very proud of the man you have become. It is a blessing that I get to see you once again, like this, just like I predicted. I knew you would become a strong, powerful witch.”
In this moment, I want to rush and throw my arms around him. I restrain myself under the memory that Father and I have never hugged. Only when his lifeless body lay beneath me did I grant myself a moment with his cold embrace as Mother left us to hide his grimoire.
“Tell me what I must do,” I say.
“You must search for anything on the topic of breaking curses, entrapments, or imprisonments of souls. It may take a few different spells, but we should soon find one that will work. I will try to help by providing as much knowledge on the matter as I can, and I am certain Abraxon, my old friend, will aid you with the power you will need to strengthen the magic.”
Will I? Abraxon whispers within me.
“I have school soon. Perhaps the academy will have books on those subjects.”
Father claps his hands together, but there is no noise. “Brilliant, Georgie. Start there.” His praise warms me from the inside out. “In the meantime, I can help you understand Abraxon as I have spent years with him. With my grimoire again in hand, I will teach you what I know, and you will become a powerful adversary.”
Savi comes to mind. Hybrids… Perhaps Father could tell me more about the black magic I used to save her?
Master Alcott, Abraxon says. Ever the teacher, always the preacher.
Its comment rattles around my mind, but I’m not sure what it means.
“Would you like that?” Father asks, urging me to reply as I waver in my own moment of internal thinking.
“I would,” I say a bit too excitedly. “I would very much like that.”
Father flashes a subtle grin. “Morning is only a few hours away. Perhaps you should retire so you are refreshed for tomorrow.”
I nod. He is right. With everything that happened, I need to be clear in my mind to deal with the next day.
Father sidesteps the door and relaxes his arms to his side. “We will see each other tomorrow with hopefully good news.”
“I hope so. I will try to find answers,” I tell him.
“Trying is all I can ask for.”
I hold my breath as I leave the room, fighting the urge to cry. His words have always had this effect on me. They’re raw, honest, and kind. Never did I think I would feel this way again. At least, not after the way my relationship with Mother deteriorated after Father died.
All at once, my grief over her passing dissipates, and I’m filled with an undeniable happiness over having Father back. I’m not sure how long he’ll be here, so I plan to take advantage of his presence.
The door to Father’s study closes shut behind me, and I stop with my back to it. Finally, the tears flow freely down my cheeks, leaving a chilled trail in th
eir wake.
Why do you cry? Abraxon asks.
Because… I think. I’m no longer alone.
Abraxon is quiet before replying.
What next?
Next? I deal with Father without giving into the selfish part of me that wants to keep him here for as long as possible, and then I deal with Savi and Chad. I hope no one comes looking for Mother until I’m ready to deal with her death. When all of that is taken care of, I will…
We will, Abraxon corrects.
I reply to the demon this time. We will fix the mistakes made, mistakes we both created. But first, I need to sleep, and I know you are going to be respectful of that… aren’t you?
Of course. Abraxon’s voice becomes faint. Master.
Chapter Three
Savi
Centuries ago, Hillcrest was founded as a safe haven for supernatural beings. Those who could abide by the rules set forth would call this town home, without fear of exposure or regular human contact. Only a few bloodlines from the original settlers remain. Among them are George’s family and mine.
Mother used to tell Chad and I stories about the council. Believing this town would flourish, the leaders of three supernatural factions—the vampires, the witches, and the werewolves—came together and offered their eternal souls to join the council. The strongest witches came together, forming the first coven of Hillcrest, and called upon the darkest magic, cursing the tributes with immortality.
Today, the council members still reign, passing down laws; selecting the next generation’s elder, alpha, and supreme; and ensuring Hillcrest remains the sanctuary it was promised to be.
The day the tides turned red and the sun refused to rise is considered a historical day in Hillcrest. The black magic caused devastation across the land, and because the witches’ spell cost many their lives, that dark magic has been forbidden ever since.
If the council ever discovered George tapped into that darkness to save my soul the day the wolves attacked, they would vow to take our lives as penance. For fear of uprising, they would be forced to make such hasty decisions. If another witch tapped into that power, who knows what he or she could conjure… The council’s fierceness is to protect us all.
The council has been in leadership since Hillcrest’s founding days, yet the only souls to lay eyes upon them now are the faction leaders. They’ve been reclusive ever since that fateful night. As citizens of Hillcrest, we ask no questions. We don’t wonder why the council refuses to be seen by the supernaturals they swear to protect.
As I stalk Elder Jane, I consider our town’s history. The council resides in confined quarters located deep inside of Hillcrest town hall. These areas are only accessible by the faction leaders. Mother always told us this was to protect them, to keep their existence a secret. If humans ever discovered the supernatural world—and that these particular supernaturals are, in fact, immortal—a war would ensue that would devastate the earth. For fear of retaliation by the humans, they stay away from prying eyes. I often wonder if they fear being seen because the dark magic that cursed them with immortality also changed their appearance. I can throw on sunglasses to hide my crimson irises, but maybe their attempts to cover what they are aren’t quite as simple.
I pass through the threshold and enter the town hall. Sneaking past the lobby guards is easy, because they are focused solely on Elder Jane’s sudden appearance. Whispers have enveloped our small town, reaching the eager ears of every supernatural around. Word of humans lingering, investigating, questioning, our residents have secluded themselves to each household. Many are staying inside, refusing to answer their doors when the men come knocking. Thankfully, no one has showed up at my house yet, because I’m not so sure Chad can fight the urge to open the door and instigate a fight. He wants vengeance. He wants to murder the beings that tortured me, even if it costs him his life. And it will. Sadly, my brother is unprepared for what’s to come.
I hide in the shadows of a small corner, watching as Elder Jane directs the guard to hold all visitor requests for the day. She is canceling the meetings she had planned as well. She tucks a loose strand of her frazzled hair and scans the room. Just before her gaze lands on me, I step back into the comfort of the darkness. I pray she doesn’t see me.
She turns, leaving the guard who’s still stammering over questions about rumors he’s heard, and walks away. Her feet smack the marble floor and loud echoes of her hastiness permeates around the room. The guard is too distracted by her abruptness to even notice me slip past him.
Elder Jane and I exit the main lobby. The door to safety slams shut behind me. I follow her down a long corridor of hallways. At any moment, should she glance behind her, she will see me. There’s nowhere to hide, but I can’t stop now. I’m fully committed and a bit obsessed with finding out more about the hunters and what the council actually knows. Have they known of their existence this whole time? Did they refuse to tell us? Or are they still in the dark? Maybe they truly believe they’re humans investigating a disappearance.
Elder Jane walks quickly. Her clothes are oversized and flowy, blowing in the breeze as she shuffles down the hall. I assume her attire was made for an easy night at home and not something she ever expected to wear around town. It reminds me a bit of loose-fitting pajamas. The material looks soft and smooth to the touch, like silk, but her buttoned up top is too large for her small frame. The pants scrunch at her heels, dragging against the hard floor as she slides effortlessly toward her target. Her entire outfit is the color of vampire eyes. I find that interesting.
Elder Jane comes to an abrupt stop. I halt and sink against the floor. I push myself against the cream-colored walls as firmly as I can, wondering if it were possible to simply mold myself into the wall itself. I know I’m not blending in. If she turned back, she would see me clear as day. My skin isn’t cream; it’s more of a pale, pearlescent white. But I had to at least try to be less obvious. Mother used to encourage me to join the guards of Hillcrest. She’d scoff at the idea if she saw me now. I shake my head, trying to focus. I can’t worry about Mother or the past.
Beside the door Elder Jane faces, there is a silver box with a large screen. This is where she places her hand. I watch a neon green light scan her handprint like we’ve exited Hillcrest and entered the next James Bond film. A loud buzzing rings, and the door clicks open. Before I can react, she’s twisting the handle, entering the room, and slamming the door shut behind her. What the hell just happened? Witches are known for their magic, not the human’s technology.
I dash toward the door but think better of scanning my own handprint. Instead, I place my palms firmly against the hardwood and press my ear to the door. I close my eyes and listen. The door is thick, but my senses are stronger. I hear the rustle of movement, the shuffling of feet, and the opening and closing of another door.
“My liege,” Elder Jane says softly. I imagine her bowing or falling to her knees or some other form of blind devotion. “Forgive me for calling upon you at this hour.” I arch a brow and glance at my wristwatch. I guess it is early in the day. Most supernaturals do prefer the evening hours. “I have news. The humans in town are investigating the alleged disappearance of a dozen or so college students from the next town over. I haven’t any information regarding the students, but I am looking into it.”
“Do what you must to force them out of Hillcrest. Our people are already concerned. We must unify during these dark times. We must show Hillcrest we can handle any threat.”
The speaker’s voice is unfamiliar. It is rough, deep, dark… I can’t picture him, and I can’t tell if he’s a witch, vampire, or werewolf. But something in his tone resonates with me. It’s as if my soul calls to him from deep within me. Could I actually know this supernatural? Have I met him years ago and simply forgotten the encounter? Maybe some witch voodoo wiped my memory.
But how could that be? The council members have been locked in their castle for centuries. No one, save for our fearless leaders, has seen them. I don’
t understand the familiarity that’s washing over me, and sadly, I don’t have time to consider my feelings. I know Elder Jane won’t be in there for long. I doubt she will willingly waste his time. And if she catches me lingering in this hall, I’ll likely have to answer for my indiscretion with my life.
“Yes, my liege,” Elder Jane says. Again, I picture her bowing her head, agreeing to whatever order he passes down. This man must be a witch. Supernaturals tend to stick with their own kind. I can’t imagine Elder Jane taking orders so easily if they were passed down by a vampire or werewolf.
“Help the humans. Make their trip uncomfortable and quick. Only if you must, take care of the problem.”
“Yes, my liege,” she says again. “I will keep you updated on my progress.”
I hear her approaching footsteps, and I panic. Quickly, I turn on my heel and dash down the hall. I reach the door in record time and open it slowly. The guards are busy escorting visiting supernaturals out of the lobby, so I have just enough time to slip through the door before—
“Halt!”
I freeze, gaze landing on a set of red, glaring irises. A guard stares directly at me. Behind me, the door closes shut. He knows I’ve just eavesdropped on Elder Jane and that I’ve been in a section of the town hall that’s forbidden to even him.
Shit!
I run, feet slamming against the marble flooring. The noise of my escape echoes through the room, bouncing off the walls, mentally trapping me in this moment. Flashes of images fill my mind. I consider what would happen to me if I were caught. Would they question me, or would I be put to an immediate death?
Another guard lunges toward me, and I leap over him. He growls his disapproval, and I know he’s mere seconds from unleashing his inner wolf. I body slam the door, flinging it open so carelessly the glass windows shatter as it smashes against the stone wall beside it.
And I’m running. I run until my legs ache and my chest burns. I run until I realize I’m running for Wolfsbane Forest, not my home. I run until I cross the threshold into werewolf territory and feel a sudden sense of safety course through my veins. I run until I realize the only place I want to be is among the wolves, beneath the moon, and away from the chaos that is Hillcrest.