Chapter 4 #2
She laughs. “Me neither. But to answer your questions, they’re around. Everywhere, actually. Just not many live in the enclaves like Colony Hill. They don’t like to think about the unfortunate history.”
“You mean about the witch trials and the persecution?”
“Yeah. And the public executions, and the old laws that used to discriminate. Plus, most of them prefer to spread their wings and join bigger covens in towns with more to do,” she says.
Kindly, Alma points out a loose stepping stone on the path that I narrowly avoid.
“I can understand that,” I say. “I guess I’m an anomaly for leaving New York to come here.”
“I guess we’re both anomalies,” she replies.
I decide that I like Alma.
“Alma, would you like to come over and teach me a protection spell sometime? My grandmother taught me one, but I’m convinced it didn’t work. I’d like to know what you use. I’ll make you dinner in exchange.”
“You’re not teasing me, are you?”
“No. I’m legitimately worried that I might have accidentally done a love spell instead of a protection spell last night before my date, because it did not work at all.”
She snorts. “Love spells are next level. No way you did that by accident. Why? Who did you make fall in love with you?”
“The opposite,” I tell her. “I think I accidentally made myself fall for someone really, really bad. Well, maybe not bad-bad. But just, uh, not exactly human.”
Alma is quiet for a long time as we trek through the woods. The dark is settling in, and the night noises are picking up. I love the woods at night when the moon is full and the sky is cloudless, the shadows casting a ghostly glow to the white birch trees.
“Sure. I can help you with a protection spell. I use a few different modes. Salt and herbs, of course. White candles and incantations. Then there’s a really cool simmer pot that makes white fog, just like in a cheesy horror movie.”
Alma quickly lists off several more spell modes, and I’m compelled to ask.
“Why do you do so many, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Alma lets out a big sigh. “Once upon a time, I fell in love with someone not quite human, too.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear tonight. “Oh. I see.”
“Yeah. When the vamp killed my family, it made me a little trigger-happy. Or wooden-stake happy, if you know what I mean. I got him, in the end. But it didn’t satisfy.
I still really fucking hate vampires. But I live here.
I can’t go around killing vamps that just want to live peaceably with witches and normies, now can I?
So I do protection spells to keep them all at a distance.
I don’t have to stab them all in the heart, but we can avoid each other. ”
That is…a lot.
“I don’t blame you. And I’m really sorry for what happened to your family.”
“Thanks,” she says. “You take after your grandma. She’s the only older witch who doesn’t tease me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I’m trying to decide how I wish we’d connected sooner, without sounding completely cringey, when Alma gasps sharply and stumbles backwards.
“What is it?” I ask.
But she doesn’t answer. She’s hyperventilating with her eyes fixed on something above us.
I follow her gaze, and a chill runs down my spine.
A tall, male silhouette—blacker than a black hole—looms in the trees above us.
“Oh my goddess, what is it?” I whisper, starting to tremble.
Alma doesn’t answer, only shakes her head back and forth.
From the trees, the shadow man hisses, “I warned you to stay inside.”
Timber? No, it can’t be Timber. It’s not as big, and it’s too trim.
It’s someone else.
“No, no, no, no, no!” Alma has gone into full fight-or-flight mode.
“Alma, don’t panic,” I hiss, reaching for her arm. “You got this. Use one of your spells—”
The shadowy figure jumps down out of the trees. Or it glides and lands about twenty feet from us. The shadows that form his shape recede, and his true form appears. He’s tall, well-dressed, with a sharp-edged face that could cut glass. And he’s not looking at us.
“Well? Cat got your tongue? You know they’re gonna catch you and hang your canine carcass in the town square if they catch you,” the tall, pale man says.
What in the world—oh…oh, no.
He’s looking past us, talking to someone standing behind us.
I don’t have to glance over my shoulder to know that it’s Timber he’s speaking to.
“Alma, you’re not in danger here,” I say, my voice shaking.
The witch beside me manages to extricate a vial of liquid marked “holy water” from her purse and pulls the cap off with shaking hands. “Get away from me, vamp!”
The man, whom I now am sure is Finnegan, turns his gaze in annoyance in our direction. “What do we have here? A couple of rabbits out for a walk at night? Itching to get eaten, are we?”
The raspy voice behind us snarls, “Finn, leave them alone.”
I swallow hard and turn my head. It’s Timber, half man, half wolf. He bares his fangs as he addresses his friend.
“You brought friends? Listen, old man, I’ve got enough holy water for both of you,” Alma warns.
The vampire turns his gaze to my fellow witch. Something flickers in his eyes, like he wants to say something important. But then he fixes his stony face. “I’m afraid that won’t work on a werewolf.”
She turns to me, her body trembling and her breath puffing out in white clouds. “W-werewolf?”
“It’s okay, Alma! He won’t hurt you!”
Finnegan laughs. “Don’t be too sure about that.”
Alma screams and runs back in the direction of the witch’s village. “Alma! Don’t run!”
I have to stop her. Running away will only trigger the wolf. And who knows, it might also amuse the vampire to give chase.
I drop the basket and take off after Alma, following her up the trail toward the witch’s colony.
I don’t turn around to see if anyone’s following me. I know better.
Timber is right on my heels.
On and on I run, trying to keep eyes on Alma.
Until she vanishes. And not by taking a path leading into denser woods. She vanishes in thin air. One moment, she’s there, and then, poof. Gone.
As if she magicked herself away.
I come to a halt, because what is the point of continuing if I don’t see her, hear her, or sense her presence anywhere?
“Alma!” I scream.
But it’s no use. She’s simply gone. Not even a lingering aura.
I scamper across the forest floor in the direction of Colony Hill, hoping to find her there, safe and sound.
It’s over half a mile away yet, and the wolf is still chasing me.
Despite my concern for Alma, despite the danger and the fright and the worry, I can’t help but notice the feeling that grows in my belly as the wolf chases me through the woods.
I shouldn’t be enjoying the chase. I have no right to. I lost sight of my friend. I should be running straight back to my grandmother’s house.
Instead, I’m running in random directions, purposely getting lost in the trees and the underbrush.
Pretty soon, I have no idea where I am, though I’ve walked these woods every week for a year.
And that makes it all the more exciting.
Timber’s here, and he’s not going to let anything bad happen to me.
Probably.
He would never hurt me.
Most likely.
My mind flashes back to the kiss from this morning. How it felt to be in his arms.
This moment bears no resemblance to that.
He is half man, half beast, and there’s nothing sweet and gentle about him as I look over my shoulder.
He is a cursed monster, and I’m getting a sick pleasure from making him chase me.
I don’t know what he’ll do when he finally catches up to me, but the thrill in my belly is matched by the need.
Whatever spell I put on myself, it hasn’t gone away.
Apparently, I made the spell diminish when my feelings about what happened to Toby took over. That was guilt.
But now, why don’t I feel guilty about losing sight of Alma?
Because she poofed herself away with magic. She’s much more experienced in protection spells than you are, silly witch.
The evidence is undeniable.
And so I run, giving in to the excitement of crashing through the bushes, bounding over rocks, feeling so much more sure of myself than I felt last night, barefoot and all.
Finally, Timber overtakes me in a clearing near the covered bridge.
Pretending to stumble, I let him corner me by some rocks at the creek.
I hope Alma will forgive me for whatever is about to happen to her Red Riding Hood costume.
Timber is over me once again, but this time he’s not taking his time to reassure me.
The human eyes are determined. Wicked, even.
With no further preamble, Timber’s furry, clawed paws push my thighs open like he owns me.
He drags his cold, wet snout over the inside of my thigh, and then his fangs rend my panties into shreds.
There’s only a brief sniff and a growl before his thick, flat tongue sweeps over my heat. Insistent and firm and claiming.
Oh. My. Goddess.
How could something so wild be so careful with his razor-sharp teeth?
The idea that he could hurt me in my most sensitive spot adds yet another layer of danger.
I never used to like danger. But I like Timber.
And he feels so good, I could go mad.
When that wicked tongue finds my clit, I grab on to the scruff of his thick neck and hold on for dear life.
My body trembles in its first spasm, and the pleasure quickly builds again as the beast continues to claim me with his mouth.
The pleasure is so intense that I scream out his name, triggering a howl from Timber that is purely, hauntingly wolfish.
I roll to my side as he scrambles away, writhing in pain.
What did I do?
But it wasn’t something I did.
Something is happening to him.
In awe, I watch the complete transformation. Timber’s fur grows thicker. His four limbs are fully canine now as he writhes and howls in pain. All but his eyes lose any semblance of humanity.
The wolf man is now just plain wolf.
My overspent brain pieces it together. On this night, at the full moon’s peak power, the wolf transformation is complete.
No more Monster of the Week. The werewolf is a terrifyingly beautiful, jet-black wolf that doesn’t belong in this world. Twice the size of a normal wolf and ten times as deadly.
Timber takes off into the night, leaving me spent and helplessly shattered on the ground.