Witches & Werewolves: A Sacred Oath (22 page)

“Right, boy problems,” I stammer.
 

“So, what do you need? A love spell?” Cerise asks, bright eyed. “First loves are so wonderful.” She sighs, reminiscing.

“Well, it’s a little more complicated than that,” I say.

“Isn’t it always,” Cerise says.

“I don’t need a spell to make him love me. That wouldn’t be genuine,” I say.

Cerise’s face twists up, offended. Jen glares at me. I feel my heart thumping in my chest.
 

“I mean, I think he genuinely loves me already,” I say. “With a spell, I’d never really know how he felt.”

Cerise ponders this a moment. Her face softens. “Ah, so you seek true love? Even better.” She smiles, leaning forward. My eyes catch sight of her pendant, swinging in front of her bosom. Two silver rings, dangling from a silver chain. They glimmer in the sunlight that beams in through the bay window. “So, if he already loves you, what’s the problem? Ex-girlfriend? Disapproving parents? Going to different colleges?”

I glance over at Jen. She gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head that says:
don’t bring it up just yet.
Jen clearly hasn’t told Cerise everything.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?” Cerise says. “It’s not like I don’t already know.” Her words hang in the air a moment. Then Cerise's eyes blaze at Jen. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“No,” Jen stammers, terrified.

“One doesn’t get to my age without a little foresight,” Cerise says, her eyes narrowing.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you everything. Please forgive me,” Jen says.

Cerise looks to me, and her scowl fades. “I have foreseen your coming for centuries.”

“What do you know about the prophecy?” I ask.

“Everything. I am the one who foretold it,” Cerise says. She smiles. “Hold out your hand.”

I extend my arm, my hand palm up. Cerise glides to a bureau and slides open a drawer. She returns to me with a greenish-blue gemstone. “For your sake, I hope I’m wrong,” she says, gravely.
 

 
She places the stone in my palm. I recognize it as alexandrite. The same type of stone that was in the pendant that Jen snatched from my neck. Just like the pendant, the stone changes from teal to glowing red. Rays of light bathe the room. I feel the heat radiating from the stone.
 

After a moment, Cerise covers the stone with her hand, grasping it from my palm. The room seems almost dim now without the glowing light. Cerise replaces the stone in the bureau, and returns to her seat. She is quiet, with a solemn look on her face.
 

“What does all of this mean?” I ask.

“You seem like a nice girl. I’m sorry, but it means that you must die,” Cerise says, with a malevolent gaze.

I try to shift in my seat, but I can’t. I can’t seem to move from the chair at all. It’s like my arms are restrained to the arm rests. I start to panic. My heart beats faster. I feel sweat bead in the small of my back.

“Why are you doing this,” Jen asks.

Cerise waves her hand, and Jen’s mouth disappears. Gone without a trace. Just one continuous flap of skin from her nose to her chin. Jen’s muffled shrieks and moans fill the air.
 

“Silence, or I’ll take your voice box too,” Cerise snaps.
 

If it wasn’t clear before, it certainly is now. Cerise wants to kill me.

CHAPTER 30

JEN AND I are shackled to a wall in a dungeon below Cerise's cottage. But these aren’t your typical iron shackles. They are skeletal arms. Bony protrusions extending from the wall, clasping my wrists and keeping me in place. The house is alive with evil magic. A living entity to serve Cerise's will. Jen still doesn’t have a mouth. I don’t know if she will ever have one again.
 

“The wolves will be here shortly,” Cerise says. For whatever reason, Cerise doesn’t want to kill me herself.
 

“Why are you helping the wolves?” I ask, worrying this is the last thing I’ll ever say.

Cerise just glares at me.

“I think there’s been some kind of big misunderstanding. I’m in love with a werewolf, so that pretty much negates this whole
bring doom to the werewolves
thing.”

“What do you know about love?” Cerise asks. “You’re only 17. Just because your heart flutters and your legs quiver doesn’t mean it’s love.”

“This coming from a woman who’s over 300 and still single,” I say.

Cerise scowls at me. Her eyes narrow with fury. “I’m going to make sure you suffer.”

I swallow hard. My throat is dry. I shouldn’t have said that, but sometimes words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

Cerise's eyes light up. “Ah, our guests have arrived.” The door to the dungeon opens on its own accord. Two muscular men enter. One a sandy-blonde, the other a brunette. Both with amber eyes and fierce scowls. Werewolves, in mostly human form. They march toward Jen and I.

“Take them from the property and dispose of them,” Cerise says. “Let no harm come to them on this land. Do you understand?”

The wolf boys nod and take us from the skeleton shackles. The bones release their grip upon Cerise’s command.
 

“Make it slow. Make it painful,” Cerise says.
 

The wolf boys take us from the dungeon. The daylight has evaporated, and the night air is crisp. It is sometime after midnight. They toss us in the trunk of their car—it’s cramped and dirty. It smells like old tires. We drive for about fifteen minutes, bouncing and rattling. A bit of exhaust seeps into the trunk, making it hard to breathe.
 

Once we clear the property, Jen’s mouth reappears. She takes a deep breath, gasping for air—like surfacing from underwater.

“Nice friend you’ve got there,” I say.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Jen says.

“At least you can speak now.”

“We must be out of reach from her magic,” Jen says. “I’m guessing she did a masking spell. She made you and I believe that I didn’t have a mouth. Just an illusion. Witches can be tricky.”

“I’ve noticed,” I say. “Can you do a masking spell?”

“I’ve done little one’s before. You know, like hiding zits and stuff,” Jen says.

“How about you create an illusion that we’re no longer in the trunk?”

“I don’t have that kind of power,” Jen says. “I would need something to draw power from.”

“Like something of Cerise's?” I ask.

“That would work. Maybe. But we don’t have anything,” Jen says.

I grasp at my earring. I feel a single strand of hair tangled around it. I pull it free, and in the dim light that seeps in through cracks in the lining of the trunk, I see a single strand of grey curly hair. Cerise's grey curly hair.
 

I hand it to Jen. “Will this work?”

She balls it up in her palm. “No promises,” she says. “Take my hand and chant with me. You’ve got more power than you think.”

Jen begins to chant a poetic couplet. “Cloak and hide us clear like air, enshroud us from the eyes that stare.” Over and over, she repeats herself in a rhythmic cadence. I follow along. After another few minutes, the car stops. The suspension dips and bounces. We quit chanting.

I hear two car doors open, then slam shut. Footsteps crunch on the ground toward us. The latch on the trunk is released and the lid flies open. I have no idea if Jen’s cloaking spell is working or not. We both remain perfectly still.

The blonde wolf’s eyes widen as he gazes into the trunk. “What the hell.”

“Where are they?” The dark haired wolf boy says.
 

“You saw me put them in here.”

“Well, they’re not there now! We are in big trouble.”

The two bicker a moment.
 

But I have a big problem—I’ve got to sneeze. The burning sensation in my nose is growing. I try to hold it back. I’ve got it just about under control when it blasts out.
 

ACHOO!
 

The wolf boys stop their bickering. Their gaze snaps back to the trunk. Their eyes narrow as they scan the seemingly empty compartment. They are about to reach in when Jen yells, “Run!”

 
I leap from the trunk, like a fullback blasting through a defensive line. Jen and I rush past the two wolf boys, who are caught off guard. I run as fast as I can. Blood pumping, heart pounding. I’m sucking in huge breaths of air. Jen is right behind me. I don’t know where we are running to, but we don’t stop. We are in the middle of the forest, racing past trees. Beams of moonlight cascade down from the canopy of leaves. The fresh scent of the forest fills the air.

 
I look over my shoulder and see the two boys running after us. I run even harder, dodging and weaving through the brush. Another glance over my shoulder, and the boys aren’t chasing us anymore—but two wolves are. And they are gaining on us.

 
My thighs are burning. I’m sucking air in and out so fast that my lungs hurt. The cool night air dries my lungs. I hear the snarling beasts behind me. My spine tingles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall. I can almost feel them breathing down my neck. Snapping at my heals.
 

 
I run harder and faster. My heart about to explode. My pulse pounding in my ears with deafening thuds. But my legs are turning to Jell-O. I breathe deeper and push harder. But I feel myself slowing down, despite my effort.

Suddenly, I’m tackled to the ground, eating a face full of dirt. A vicious werewolf, fully transformed, pins me to the ground. Slashing and clawing. I try to defend myself, but it’s no use. Sharp claws gouge massive canyons in my forearms as I tried to block the blows. Torrents of blood stream and splatter. The beast growls, flashing razor-sharp fangs. Evil eyes blaze at me. The ferocious demon lunges toward me. I feel its fangs puncture my skin, tearing a chunk of flesh from my neck. The wolf snarls, chewing the morsel of meat, swallowing it down.
 

Glistening fangs, dripping with blood, hover over me, ready to strike again. I feel the werewolf’s hot breath on my face. I clasp my hand to my neck. Warm blood pulses through my fingers. My hand clutches the gaping wound. I imagine it looks like a shark bite—a chunk of flesh missing.
 

I feel light headed, about to faint.

CHAPTER 31

MY VISION BEGINS to fade. I can tell I’ve lost a lot of blood. I no longer have the strength to even pretend to fight. The werewolf snaps and claws, tearing at me in a frenzy. I watch the events unfold, like it’s happening to someone else. I feel life fading away.

 
Suddenly, a figure rips the werewolf away from me. It’s all a blur. Fur, fangs, and growls. With lightning speed, the figure attacks the werewolf. He tears it to shreds with superhuman strength. Another werewolf attacks the figure.
 

I look around for Jen, but I don’t see her anywhere. With a few swift moves, the figure destroys the second werewolf. I’m about to lose consciousness, drifting in and out. I see the blurry figure move toward me, coming into focus. It’s Lucas.

He bites into his wrist. Crimson blood flows down his forearm. He shoves his bloody wrist against my lips.
 

“Drink,” he says.

His warm blood wets my lips, dripping down onto my tongue. It tastes sweet. Not at all metallic, like regular blood. My lips and tongue tingle, brimming with energy. The blood trickles down to my throat, and I muster the strength to swallow. I feel the blood flow down my esophagus, radiating warmth. Like a shot of whiskey, without the sting. The tingling energy flows over my entire body, extending down my extremities to my fingertips and toes. The feeling is positively euphoric. I snap from the grasp of death to a heightened mental state. It’s like I took a triple shot of espresso. Supernatural espresso.

 
I grab hold of Lucas’s wrists and insatiably suck the blood from his veins. It’s like a drug. Lucas allows me to guzzle down his precious life force for a few moments, then he pries his wrist from my lips.

“Enough,” he says, pulling away.
 

 
I sit up on my elbows, looking around, taking in the sights and sounds with an entirely new perspective. Everything is more vivid and intense. The colors of the forest are brighter. I can see deeper into the shadows. The sounds are clearer, and I can pinpoint exactly where they’re coming from. I hear a bird chirping in a tree two hundred yards away. I see her, sitting in her nest. Every scent in the air is unique—no longer a hodgepodge of aromas. Each smell is distinct and identifiable. Like a shark, I have a nose for blood.

 
I feel amazing. No pain whatsoever. I glance down to my forearms—no wounds. I clutch my neck where the werewolf had feasted. The skin is perfectly smooth. No evidence that a werewolf ripped a chunk of flesh from my neck.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice. You were dying,” Lucas says.
 

“Am I a…?” I ask. I can’t bring myself to say the word vampire.

“Yes.”

My mind swirls with emotion. I try to process what that means. How that is going to change things. How it is going to change me. What it will do to my relationship with Ethan. What it will do my relationship with my family.