Chapter 9
Heresy
I had no fucking clue why I felt so damn responsible for this girl. She was just a prospect, for fuck’s sake, not even a full member of the Hell on Heelz yet. And Riptide’s talk of a truce with the Heelz? That shit didn’t sit right with me or my brothers.
The Heelz were our enemies, always would be. It was only a matter of time before things blew up again, and we were right back at each other’s throats. But Salem? She got under my skin like no one else. Sharp-tongued, always ready to spit fire. Yet, every now and then, I’d catch a flicker of fear in her eyes. Not that she’d ever let it show for long.
I ain’t one to get caught up in ghost stories or any of that bullshit, but I ain’t dumb either. That old-ass farmhouse? It had a reputation. One you didn’t just shrug off. Folks in town said it was cursed, and whatever the hell was in there didn’t let go once it got its claws in you. Now, here comes Salem, crazy as hell, marching in to spend the night as part of some dumbass dare. Hell, heard she didn’t even blink when they threw it at her. Stubborn as a goddamn mule, that one.
And for reasons I still can’t figure out, I couldn’t just sit back and let her go through with it alone. Didn’t sit right with me, the thought of her stuck out here in this shithole of a house, even though I knew damn well she’d rather stab me in the gut with that little knife of hers than admit she needed help.
So, when I saw her ride off, I trailed behind, keeping my distance. Told myself it was just to make sure she didn’t do something stupid like trip on her own boots or get trapped in that rotting mess of a house. But if I’m being honest? I was curious. Salem had this vibe—like she lived halfway between the real world and some spooky, mystical shit none of us had a clue about.
When her sisters dropped her off, I hung back, watching from the shadows like some kind of creep. She didn’t flinch when she saw me, though her eyes snapped to me fast like she knew I’d show up. But hell if she’d admit it. She stood there, looking unfazed, even as the wind started picking up and that storm rolled in like all hell was about to break loose. Perfect fucking timing, of course.
Thunder cracked loud enough to rattle my bones, and those fat drops of rain started falling. I grumbled under my breath, already regretting this whole thing. I thought it was gonna be one of those nights—the kind where you wished you were anywhere else.
But maybe it wouldn’t be. I couldn’t stop watching Salem. Every time I looked at her, it was like getting caught in the undertow of a storm. Her hair, all waves with those wild streaks of red and purple at the ends, made her look like a witch ready to cast a spell. But it wasn’t just the hair—it was the way she carried herself, like she was trying to keep it all together, even if she didn’t trust anyone around her.
Her tattoos told a story too—delicate outlines of flowers that ran up her arms, like a garden ready to bloom, but never quite there. And that quote on her other arm? Something about, “Forgotten moons”, the only words I could make out, with a cat in the middle of a crescent one. She’d carved a piece of Halloween night into her skin, and hell, if it didn’t get under mine every time I saw it.
Girl was tiny, but the way she stood made her seem like she could take on the whole world. Then there were those eyes—sharp and green, daring me to come closer, like she had secrets no one else could know. She had this pout on her lips too, like no one could charm her, and damn, if it didn’t make me wanna kiss that frown right off her face.
The more I tried to resist her pull, the more I found myself wanting her. And it wasn’t just her looks, though hell if they didn’t pull me in every time—it was the way she made danger look like an invitation. And I was ready to take the risk, no matter the cost.
Salem looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, sitting there with her arms wrapped around her knees, like she was guarding herself from the whole damn world. I wanted to break down her dark walls. Ignoring my existence, she set herself up in the main room on her sleeping bag. I made my way back outside.
The storm was kicking into full gear. Rain was beating down on the roof like the whole damn sky had it out for us, and the wind? That shit was screaming through the trees like it wanted to rip ’em out by the roots and hurl ’em at the house. I was soaked to the bone, miserable as hell, wondering why the fuck I was even here.
Then I saw it—just a flicker of light from inside the house, like something was moving.
“Shit,” I muttered, already pulling my knife from my boot.
The second I stepped inside, that cold, stale air hit me like a wall. Everything about this place felt wrong. It wasn’t just the storm, either. It was like the house itself was waiting, holding its breath, just biding its time.
Salem was in front of me, her eyes wide, like she’d seen it too. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Fuck you,” she shouted and lowered her little blade.
“I was outside keeping watch,” I explained. “Until the storm got too bad. You’re stuck with me now.”
Salem pouted. “Fine. But if you snore, I’m kicking your ass.”
“You’d have to catch me first.”
She turned on her heel as I tried to shake off the rain.
The wind slammed the door shut behind me, and I cursed again.
“What the fuck?” Salem jumped.
I tried the handle, but the house was practically falling apart, so of course, the damn door wouldn’t open back up.
Fucking perfect.
“It’s stuck,” I said, trying with all my might.
“Great,” she groaned. “Now we’re trapped in a haunted house during a storm. This just keeps getting better.”
With Salem so close to me I had no question why I was here. Something drew me to the girl. “Guess we’re alone all night.” I wasn’t mad about it.
“Guess so,” she muttered, like she hadn’t been planning to stay all night, anyway.
We made our way through the front hall, the floorboards groaning beneath my boots. There were a couple of candles that Salem lit, burning low on the floor, casting some light. Salem sat by her sleeping bag, fiddling with a bunch of shit that looked like she was trying to whip up some dinner.
I knew she was thinking some magic could scare away the ghosts.
I blew out a breath thinking how useless her efforts were.
She was looking up at me like she was ready to chew me out for breathing too loud. But the way her fingers twitched told me she wasn’t as steady as she looked. I couldn’t blame her. It was stuffy in here, like we were sitting inside a goddamn tomb. I strolled over and plopped myself down, leaning against the wall like I wasn’t struggling to breathe.
I decided to build a damn fire, mostly ‘cause the storm was about to tear this place apart and the cold in that old farmhouse was starting to bug me. The silence between me and Salem was comfortable, like we’d known each other a hell of a lot longer than we had. She didn’t push, and I wasn’t one for small talk. Not that there was anything to say while the rain pounded the roof like it wanted to break through.
Just as the flames got going, the wind let out a goddamn banshee scream, and the fire died with a whoosh. Fuckin’ chimney must be blocked with all kinds of shit.
“Storm’s getting worse,” I said, breaking the silence.
Her eyes stayed focused on her work, but she shrugged as if to say, no shit. “You can leave anytime. I don’t need a man here to protect me.”
“I ain’t here to hold your hand, but figure if you’re stayin’, I might as well, too.” Just in case any of my brothers decide to fuck with her. I stretched my legs out, making myself comfortable.
She didn’t answer, just kept that stubborn look on her face, but I could see her eyes flicking toward the door like she was expecting something.
I didn’t like it.
Thunder shook the house, and the windows rattled. The whole place felt like it was about to collapse in on itself. The wind screamed outside, but inside? It was too quiet.
I didn’t say anything else. We just sat there, listening. The storm outside kept hammering away, and inside, it felt like the house was holding its breath.
Then, there it was—footsteps. Light, almost too soft to hear, but unmistakable. Something was moving just outside the room.
I gripped my knife tighter, my body going still. “Stay here,” I muttered, standing up, my eyes never leaving the door.
Like hell she listened. Salem was right behind me, her own blade in hand, looking every bit as ready for a fight as I was. We moved down the hallway, and the floor creaked under our boots like it was groaning at the weight of us. The storm outside kept lighting up the windows just enough to see, but the air inside? It was thick with something. Something I couldn’t explain, but I sure as shit could feel. My whole head felt funny.
Then we saw it, an honest to God fog. Maybe it was just creeping in from outside, but fuck, it gave me a shiver.
“Your sisters didn’t set this up, did they?” I whispered, keeping my voice low.
“Hell no,” she whispered back, her eyes darting around. “They wouldn’t go this far.”
I believed her. Every hair on the back of my neck was standing up, and that sure as shit wasn’t because of her sisters.
We cleared each room, one by one, but nothing. The footsteps had stopped, and all we were left with was the storm and the sound of our own breathing.
When we got back to the main room, Salem collapsed onto her sleeping bag, muttering under her breath.
“This is bullshit,” she hissed. “It’s just the damn storm.”
I sat back down, knife still in hand, watching her. Maybe it was just the storm. Maybe it wasn’t. But I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let her face whatever the fuck was in this house alone.
For now, we were stuck in this place, just the two of us, while the storm raged on, and the house groaned under the weight of whatever roamed through it in the dark.
I was restless as the girl burned sage and cut limes.
“Limes and salt?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
Sticking a candle in the lime and sprinkling it with rosemary, Salem got out a bottle and started flicking water.
“I take it you ain’t makin’ margaritas. Is that Holy water?”
If looks could kill, Salem’s stare would have terminated me. “Be serious. Nothing seems to be working. What the hell are you doing here, Heresy?” she snapped, her voice sharper than that blade she was always twirling. “I’m trying to get rid of all this negative energy, but you’re still here.”
Getting to my feet, I leaned against the doorway, watching her like I had all the time in the world. “You know what they say—no rest for the wicked.”
She rolled her eyes, but I could see it. The way her shoulders dropped, just a fraction, like she was glad I was here, even if she’d never admit it. “I’m not wicked.”
“Are you a good witch?” I tried not to laugh as my mind wandered to her being a very good girl for me.
“When I want to be. I have a question for you. It's a haunted house, right?” She shot me a look, green eyes blazing with suspicion. “So why were you creeping around outside?”
She had me there. It was time I fess up. “Truth is, Slayers know you’re here. Figured some of ‘em might try to fuck with you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” Then she squinted.
“Heelz have been planning this for a while, having you stay the night here. Word got around. We thought they’d do it the other night after the party.”
“That’s why you were watching me?”
“Prez’s orders, witchy. But let’s just say I wasn’t about to let you get spooked by more than just some ghost stories.”
“Witchy?”
“If the pointy shoe fits,” I quipped.
She ignored my humor. “You swore you wouldn’t tell your brothers you were out here.”
“Only Riptide knows I’m here. Not saying I wasn’t eager to volunteer.”
She huffed. “You think Slayers are still coming?”
I shrugged, wandering deeper into the room. “Knowing the lot of them, I say the storm’s too bad. Looks like we’re both stuck in this shithole tonight and no action.”
“No action? This place is full of action.”
“Not scared, are ya?” I teased, crossing my arms, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from dragging over her.
She scowled, her fingers clenched tight around her pack. “I don’t scare easy, Heresy.”
“Sure,” I said, smirking. “You look real calm.”
“I’ll be fine,” she shot back, her voice hard as nails, but I heard the tremor underneath. Didn’t matter how tough she acted, this place had her on edge.
I nodded, walking past her to an old, half-broken chair in the corner. I settled in, keeping my distance like she wanted, but there was no way in hell I was leaving. Something about this house was all kinds of wrong, and I wasn’t about to let her handle it alone.
The storm outside? It got worse. The wind howled like a pack of wolves, rattling the windows so hard I half-expected the glass to shatter. Rain pounded the roof like it was trying to break through, and every few minutes, the whole damn house shuddered like it might come down around us. Salem was doing her best to pretend none of it was getting to her, but I wasn’t buying it.
She kept glancing over her shoulder, her eyes flicking to the door every time the wind rattled the windows. The house creaked and groaned, but it wasn’t just the usual sounds of an old place like this.
No, this was something else. Like something or someone didn’t want us here but wouldn’t let us leave.
“Heresy,” she muttered, her voice softer now, like she didn’t want to admit she was spooked. “Do you hear that?”
I didn’t answer right away ‘cause, yeah, I fuckin’ heard it. Footsteps, again. Light, soft as a whisper, but they were there. Someone, or something, was moving just outside the room.
I stood up, pulling the knife from my boot once more. “Stay here,” I growled, but I already knew she wouldn’t listen.
Sure enough, Salem was just behind me, brandishing her own blade. She was tense, her breath coming fast, but she didn’t back down. Even scared, she was ready to fight, and that just made me want her more.
We stood in the dark hallway, the storm casting enough light on the windows to make out our surroundings. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as we both listened.
“I told you this place was fuckin’ haunted,” she whispered, her voice tight with nerves.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I muttered, but hell if I was sure about that anymore.
Another creak, this time closer. Louder.
I stepped forward, my knife raised, ready for whatever the hell it was. But when I rounded the corner, there was nothing. Just the storm outside and this empty, rotting house.
Salem stayed close behind me, her breath coming quick. She was scared, but she wasn’t gonna show it, not to me.
“Maybe it’s just the wind,” she said, though she didn’t sound convinced.
I didn’t answer, just kept checking every room, every corner. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no voices. Just the damn storm, beating down on the house.
When we finally got back to the main room, the door was still shut tight. The candles she’d lit were flickering on the walls like the place was alive.
Salem glanced at the door, her eyes darting as though she expected something to happen.
I sat back down, my knife still in hand, keeping watch. Something wasn’t right. Not in this house.
And the night wasn’t over yet.