Reaper (4 page)

“We all thought you were sick in the head.”

I twirled spaghetti noodles around my fork. “Thanks, Har.”

“I know you’re not now
. And I’m too much of a trouble maker to be the golden child. You never got into trouble.”

“I think they wished I did,” I countered. “Because at least I’d be normal. You’re the football star, who is popular and has lots of friends, and gets good grades without even trying.”

Harrison chuckled. “I should call you more; I like hearing this.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed too. “I miss you,” I sighed.

“It’s weird not having you around,” he told me, which I took to mean he missed me too. “Well, I just wanted to call and heckle you. Tell Ethan I said hey.”

“Ethan’s out of town,” I said with a heavy sigh.

“Oh. What’s he doing?”

“Helping his dad on a hunt. He should be home soon, I hope,” I explained.

“You’re home alone?” he asked, unable to keep the older brother concern from his voice.

“Not completely. I have Romeo and the horses.”

“And Hunter, right?” Harrison urged.

I wrinkled my nose, knowing he wouldn’t like my response. “Nope. Ethan took him with. Hunter is good to have on a hunt.”

“Annie, that’s stupid!” Harrison scolded. “You’re alone in a new town—and a new house—without anyone to watch out for you.”

“I can watch out for myself, thank you very much,” I shot back. “I’m a witch, remember? I can hold my own.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz that went so well for you last year,” he said.

“I’ll be fine,” I said shortly, my temper rising. “I’ll be extra careful, ok?”

“Ok. Talk to ya later, then.”

“Bye, Harry. Love you,” I added. I set my phone down and finished my spaghetti in silence. I cleaned the kitchen, did laundry, fed the horses, and locked up the barn. I checked to make sure all the doors were locked before making a bag of microwave popcorn and setting in bed. I flipped through channels and wasted time looking at funny pictures of cats on the internet.

Around nine-thirty, Ethan called.

“Hello,” I said into the phone, smiling.

“Hey, Annie,” he replied enduringly. “We killed the demon.”

My smile grew. “So you can come home now?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. You should have seen Hunter. He tore it to pieces!”

“I bet he enjoyed it,” I said, feeling proud of my Guardian.

“He did,” Ethan assured me. “I had a hard time convincing everyone he was just a regular dog. I ended up saying he was part Timber Wolf,” he chuckled.

“I miss him,” I sighed. “And I miss you, of course. But I think I miss Hunter more,” I joked.

“I think he misses you,” Ethan said ruefully. “He seems kinda sad and distant when he’s not killing.”

“My poor baby,” I said in a sad voice.

“He’s no baby,” Ethan reminded me.

I let out a deep breath and shut my laptop. “I know. So are you guys on your way home?”

“No. I’m tired; we’ll leave in the morning.”

“Are you really
that
tired?” I urged.

“When I think about the nine hour drive, yes, I am,” he admitted. “Is everything alright at home?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’ve had some weird, creepy dreams, but everything is ok.” I felt like I was lying, though, I had thought that was really the truth. I shook my head and put on a smile. “It’s kinda freaky here alone and I’m lonely. I need friends.”

“You’ll make friends,” Ethan assured me like he always did.

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered. Ethan had already befriended a couple guys he saw regularly at the gym. “But you’re right; it’ll take time.”

“I’m always right,” he joked. I heard the sound of a door slamming shut followed by boisterous male voices. “It’s customary to go out for drinks after a hunt,” he explained to me quickly. “I’ll call you in the morning. Love you, Annie.”

“Love you too. Tell Hunter I love him, please.”

“Will do,” Ethan said and hung up the phone.

Excited to wake up tomorrow and know that Ethan and Hunter were on their way home, I wasn’t tired anymore.
  
I played
The Sims
until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. It didn’t take me long to drift to sleep once I tucked myself under the fluffy, blue comforter.

When the mattress sunk down and a warm hand caressed my cheek, stirring me from sleep, I smiled. I took in a breath, ready to murmur his name when logical thoughts hit me. With a gasp I shot up, my right hand forming a fist and slicing through the air.

There was no one there.

I waved my hand at the light switch, causing the lights to turn on and blind me. I turned them off and telekinetically turned the bathroom light on, creating a softer glow of light to spill into the bedroom. Still no one.

“What the hell?” I asked Romeo, who was sleeping on Hunter’s dog bed. “I think I’m going crazy.” Fear radiated from my heart, pumping cold blood throughout my body. “Maybe it was a ghost,” I lied. I knew better; ghosts were never warm. I touched my cheek, as if I could pick up a trace of whatever had touched me. “I know what I felt,” I said aloud to further convince myself. My eyes scanned the clock on the dresser; it was only ten minutes till two.

Shoot, I still had hours before the sun came up. “No,” I told myself. “Go back to sleep.” I took a deep breath, slowly let it out and lay back down. I turned off the light and closed my eyes. I was tired; my body begged me to let it sleep. But my mind wouldn’t turn off. What
was
going on? Did it freak me out that much to be alone that I started hallucinating?

“No,” I repeated, complete with a head shake. I wasn’t scared to be home alone. I was a witch. A badass witch from the Coven of Sacred Guardians, I reminded myself. I fought demons and ghosts and other…bad things. I was not afraid to be alone in my own house and I was
not
crazy. I slipped my hand under the pillow and relaxed when my fingers closed around the cool metal of my dagger.

My feelings of fear grew and twisted into something else. Suddenly, I was angry. Angry that something was messing with me, angry that they were interrupting my sleep, and—most of all—angry that I was afraid of them.

In a swift movement, I pulled the dagger from under my pillow, flicking the sheath loose as I moved. It silently fell onto the bed.

“Why don’t you freaking show yourself already?” I asked into the darkness. “Or are these mind tricks the best you have? You should know, it’s not working. You’re not fooling me.” I swung my legs over the bed. “I’m waiting,” I sighed impatiently. I looked around my room, listening and feeling for anything out of the norm. After a few minutes passed, I relaxed. “That’s what I thought,” I huffed and lay back down.

My head hadn’t even touched the pillow before I heard the distinct sounds of hoof beats on dry earth.
 
My thoughts went from ‘the horses got out!’ to ‘someone is stealing the horses!’ in a millisecond. As if something took over my body and made me uncharacteristically brave, I jumped out of bed, shoved my feet into a pair of boots, and raced down the stairs, my fingers closed around the dagger.

Without the sun, the warmth disappeared. My breath clouded around me as gravel crunched around my feet. The fact that my heart was racing didn’t even register in my brain until I skidded to a stop at the barn. I slowly slid open the door and peered inside.

It was dark, way too dark to see, but I knew there was nothing wrong in here. It felt peaceful and safe. Not wanting to blind myself or the horses, I telekinetically turned on the light in the crossties, located in the middle of the barn. The fluorescent light was still bright, causing me to blink several times before my eyes adjusted.

Silently, I slipped down the aisle; Mystery was lying down in his stall. He gave me a ‘please don’t ride me’ look before closing his eyes again. Neptune was standing with her head down, sleepily munching on leftover hay.

“Night,” I whispered to my horses. I decided to leave the light on and snuck back outside. The barn door had just slid shut when someone whispered my name.

I whirled around, instinctively holding the dagger in front of me. I didn’t breathe as I looked around.

“I’m right here,” I jeered. “No need to do the creepy whispering thing.” A shiver ran through my body as the chilly night air pressed against me. “Is there something you want?” I asked, my voice edging on impatience. My pulse quickened as the seconds passed. I slightly bent my knees and raised my left hand, ready for an attack.

When nothing happened, I sighed and did my best to act as if I had dropped my guard. I was halfway to the house and still nothing had happened. Assuming whatever was teasing me was
just
teasing me, I shook my head. Then I saw it, just barely saw it. A little flicker of fire reflected in the side mirror of the truck.

I spun around, dropping to the ground just in time for the Burning Man to reach a fiery arm out at me. He was only feet away and my ass was on the damp grass; I was a sitting duck. Trying to remember the defense moves Ethan had taught me, I flung myself back onto my feet and stepped away. Even if I could remember self defense, I didn’t want to touch someone that was on fire.

I threw my left hand out to telekinetically throw the Burning Man to the ground. Then I’d…I’d get the hose and put out the fire? I couldn’t think that far ahead. I felt my heart thumping in my chest and could hear the air loudly rushing in and out of my lungs. The energy left my hand but had no effect on the Burning Man.

He took another step at me, glowing embers and chunks of charred skin falling to the earth with each jerky movement. I took a step back and madly tried to think of something.

Stab him.

It was my only choice. I tightened my grip on the dagger and prepared to launch forward, sinking the blade into his blackened chest. But what if it didn’t work? The dagger sets its victims on fire, and he was
already
on fire? Nervous sweat dripped down my back.

I had no other choice. I wasn’t going to die, not tonight, not by this…this
thing.
I couldn’t think anymore. I just had to do it. I sprang up and extended my hand. The dagger was pointed right at his chest. The tip had just broken through his sternum when he disappeared. I felt as if I was airborne for minutes. Then I hit the ground rolling; my elbow caught on an uneven patch in the yard, making my fall a jumbled mess of pain.

I didn’t feel it right away; the wind had been knocked out of me and all I could think about was not being able to breathe. I wasn’t sure what hit me first; the incredible pain or the warmth of my blood soaking through my shirt. Horrified fear made my cry out.
 
Eyes wide with shock, I looked down and saw that the dagger had sliced open my stomach.

Chapter 3- The Memory Remains

Tears pooled in my eyes. The pain was overwhelming. I was terrified to move my hand and see the damage. I sat, frozen in hurt and fear, for a few seconds. There was no way around this. I had seen too many movies to know that a direct slice through several layers of my stomach didn’t end well.

My thoughts flashed to Ethan; to him coming home and finding me dead in the yard. I wondered if I’d be cold and stiff or if rotting would have already set in. Would it be too early for maggots to be crawling on my face?

Stop it
, I scolded myself. I wasn’t going to die. It took enormous effort to move the handle of the dagger. Slippery, it fell from my hands, staining the dead grass with blood. I gasped, unable to breath and pressed my hands over the cut. I explored the wound with my fingers. It wasn’t very deep; it only cut through my skin and maybe just into my muscle. Still, the blood gushed out at an alarming rate.

It was pointless
, I thought feebly. Maybe I shouldn’t even try and stop the bleeding. It would only prolong my suffering. Pain clashed with fear and I wanted to sob. I couldn’t; my weak physical body couldn’t handle crying and bleeding to death at the same time.

Then I began to feel warm.
Oh, God, this is it
, I thought.
I’m dying
. But the warmth never spread. It stayed deep inside the wound, radiating out. The pain faded. Too scared to move, I lay motionless in the grass.

“Am I a ghost?” I asked no one when the warmth was gone. The pain wasn’t there anymore either. I felt…nothing. I took a breath. My eyes bulged. I could feel again! My heart was beating, my pajama pants were soaked with dew, my head hurt from rolling on the ground, and my stomach—I madly felt underneath my shirt—wasn’t sliced open.