Witches & Werewolves: A Sacred Oath (13 page)

Jen shrugs. “Just lucky, I guess.” She climbs back into the car, and I follow.
 

Ethan’s cobalt eyes stare at me, unblinking, assessing me as I buckle my seatbelt. I’m sure he thinks I’m absolutely crazy. The buckle clicks into place, and I glance up to meet his gaze. I peer at his brilliant eyes from behind strands of hair that dangle into my face. Strands that I’m trying to hide behind, because I’m feeling desperately small. I imagine that he wants to get these neurotic women out of his car as soon as possible. But I see an emotion in his watchful eyes that I did not expect.
 

Genuine concern.
 

“While it’s touching and romantic to watch you two gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, there are more important matters at hand,” Jen says. She holds out her splintered phone. “As you can see, my phone is not living up to it’s full potential.” The mutilated device burps hideous digital growls, screeching when she attempts to use it. “We have to stop and get me a new phone on the way home.”

Ethan scowls at her.

“What, I have a constitutional right to free speech,” Jen says, her voice rich with playful sassiness.

Ethan shakes his head, and I giggle. “Probably shouldn’t offer strangers rides,” I say to him. “Look what happens.”

He sighs and points the car in the direction of the mall. “We have to get back before nightfall,” Ethan says, his voice grave with implication.

CHAPTER 17

STANDING IN THE mall parking lot, I gaze at the horizon. The sun dips down, dangling above the tree tops, casting hues of magenta and orange across the pillow shaped clouds. In another thirty minutes, the sun will drop down beyond the trees. Beyond the edge of the Earth, enveloping Haven Hill in twilight. Then, nightfall.
 

I contemplate Ethan’s dire admonition. What, exactly, will sundown bring?
 

 
Jen has her head down, fumbling with her new phone. She does her best to taunt me with all the new features that it has, taking every opportunity to tease me about how inferior mine is. Then it rings for the first time—I can tell it’s her parent’s, and they don’t sound happy.

Jen assure’s her mother that she’s fine. That it’s not a big deal. That the car just had some minor damage. It sounds like her mother isn’t really buying into it. Apparently, she got a call from the school, the police, and the trucker’s insurance company. She’d been calling non-stop, but hadn’t been able to get through until Jen’s new phone was activated. Somehow, Jen manages to put a spin on it where it actually doesn’t sound that bad. At least, not as bad as it was.
 

Ethan seems impatient, fidgeting as we huddle around his car. “We should probably get going.”

I nod.

Chocolate ice cream covers Noah’s face, and melted rivers of fudge stream down his fingers. It splatters onto the pavement as he clutches the ice cream cone. Noah wears the chocolate mask like a badge of honor from his bout with the triple decker. It’s a fight to the death, and the ice cream is losing. Noah has whittled his opponent down to a single scoop.
 

Ethan clicks the door unlocked, and Noah starts to climb into the car.

“Hey, hey! Finish that up before you get in,” I say.

“It’s no big deal,” Ethan says.

“You’re going to have chocolate all over your car,” I say.
 

“It will wash off,” Ethan says, his eyes glimmering.

I feel the butterflies in my stomach flutter for an instant, and I find myself even more attracted to him. To show compassion to me is one thing—to show compassion to someone I love is another. Ethan earns double points, and I force back a smile.
 

After Noah and Jen climb in back, I slip into the passenger seat. I glance down to see chocolate drippings splattered on the door sill. Noah stuffs the rest of the ice cream in his mouth and wipes the remaining chocolate that stains his hands on his jeans. I just shake my head.

Jen is still doing damage control on the phone with her mom. I stuff my crutches into the footwell, leaning them along the center console. It’s a tight fit, and I worry what’s going to happen to these things if we were to get into some kind of accident. Which is not entirely out of the realm of possibility, in light of recent events. I just don’t want them to become projectiles, but I suppose will survive the drive home. And there are more important things to worry about, at the moment.

Ethan fires up the engine, and we bolt out of the parking lot. He doesn’t say anything, but his face is stern. Focused. He keeps glancing at the ever descending sun. He races to drop me off before it vanishes. By the time we get to Jen’s house, a quarter of the glowing inferno has dipped below the horizon.
 

“Wish me luck,” Jen says, climbing out of the car.

“Call me with an update,” I say.

 
Jen chuckles sarcastically. “If you don’t hear from me by ten, call the authorities.”
 

“Just remind them how lucky you are to be alive,” I say.

“Oh, I will,” Jen says, with a grin.

 
Ethan clears his throat, impatient with our conversation. Jen backs away from the car and waves, her eyes filled with trepidation. I wave back. Ethan drops the car into gear and accelerates down the street. The sun has disappeared beyond the horizon, and dusk is upon us.

 
The engine growls, and Ethan drives with the precision and focus of a Formula One racer. He carves perfect turns on the canyon switchbacks.
 
The tachometer rises and falls in rhythmic waves, conducting a symphony of speed. His face is tense with worry, and his eyes fervently scan the road. He doesn’t say a word during the entire drive.
 

 
The last magenta hues of sunset have faded, and the sky has turned a cool shade of grey as we arrive at uncle Jakes. I open the door, pulling my seat forward, and Noah squeezes out. He waves to Ethan and heads inside. The cool evening air wafts into the car.
 

“Go inside. Lock the door. Don’t go out tonight,” Ethan says.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I’m not going to go wandering through the woods, if that’s what you mean?”

“No, I mean don’t go out at all. Don’t even step out onto your front porch,” he says.

 
“Is this the part where you tell me that the full moon is going to transform you into an uncontrollable beast, hungry for blood? My blood?” I tease, doing my best to make my eyes smolder.
 

“You watch too much TV.”

“Then what is it?”

“We don’t have time for this right now.”

“I’m not getting out of the car until you tell me,” I say.

“I can’t tell if you’re stubborn, or just extremely stupid.”

His words sting. I swallow hard, my throat tightening. My lips tense, and I fight back a frown. I can feel my eyes filling, but I keep telling myself not to cry. I don’t know if I’m more angry, or hurt.
 

“You know what I am, and yet you sit here in the car with me as a full moon is about to break,” Ethan says, gravely.
 

“I thought you just said you weren’t going to turn into some uncontrollable maniac?”

Ethan’s grim eyes stare at me.
 

“You won’t hurt me,” I whisper.
 

“Yes, I will.”

“You didn’t last night. You saved me.”

“Tonight is different,” he says.

“How?”

“I can control it every other night of the month. Except tonight. The power of the moon is…”

“So, you will turn into an uncontrollable monster,” I sigh.

“I need to go. Do as I say. Please.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“I need to lock myself up so I won’t do anything I regret. It’s what I’ve always done. But that also means that I can’t protect you,” Ethan says, his face anguished.

“From?”

“The others.”

“And these other wolves are the one’s responsible for all the attacks?” I ask.

“There is nothing more nourishing for a werewolf than human flesh. It’s something every wolf must feed on to survive.”

“Every werewolf? I mean, you don’t eat…” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. “Do you?” I ask, my voice barely squeaking the words out.

His eyes darken, and his face grows treacherous.

“Never mind, don’t say it,” I mumble. “I don’t want to know.”

 
Okay, I want to know, but I don’t. I want just a few more minutes of fantasizing that this could all work out somehow. That we aren’t mutually incompatible by virtue of the fact he needs to eat human flesh to survive. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am stupid.
 

“Starting to feel uncomfortable yet?” He asks.

“No,” I say, hoping he can’t tell I’m lying.
 

“It’s not just creatures like me that you have to worry about.”

“Let me guess, vampires, witches, and warlocks?” I say, my voice overflowing with sarcasm.

“Yes,” he says, his voice thick with dread.
 

“You’re for real?” I ask, as snarky as ever.
 

“Is it so hard for you to believe?”

 
I take a long deep breath, trying to determine what it is, exactly, that I do believe. It’s easy to dismiss all of this as nonsense. The escapist ramblings of a girl suffering from extreme loss, creating a fantasy world in which to occupy her beleaguered mind. And Lord knows, I’ve tried to dismiss the things I’ve seen. I’ve tried to come up with some rational excuse or explanation. It would be easier just to say, or rather, just to admit, that I’m crazy. That I’ve gone off the deep end.

 
But I’m not crazy. I know what I’ve seen. I believe Ethan is a werewolf. And, if he can exist, so can vampires and witches.

I take a deep breath, staring into his eyes with conviction. “No, actually. It’s not hard for me to believe at all. You have no idea how much I want to believe. Believe in something more. More than this. The most terrifying thing I can imagine is not werewolves, or vampires, or witches. The most terrifying thing that I can imagine is that there is nothing out there at all. That there is nothing beyond this life. That when we close our eyes for the last time, it is just blackness—the long dirt nap, where we all become worm food.”

 
Ethan shifts back into his seat, his dark eyes growing bright with surprise. I don’t think he was expecting that response.

 
“I wouldn’t worry about the worms. But I can tell you this—there is something more.”

“How do you know?”

“The witches. They can speak with the dead. Provided the dead want to speak.”

“So, you know witches?”

“I know one witch,” he says, gravely. His eyes look troubled.
 

“Who?”

Ethan’s face tightens. “We should not speak of her.”

“And what about you? Can you die?” I ask.

Ethan grins. “I can die, just like everyone else. But I’m very hard to kill. It’s the vampires who are immortal. And they will be out tonight.”
 

“Why?” I ask.

“Because they hate werewolves.” Ethan’s eyes narrow, burning with contempt. I know this look, and I search my memory trying to place it. Finally, it hits me.

“Is Lucas a—”

Ethan grits his teeth, cutting me off mid speech, “—You ask a lot of questions.”

The cool gray of twilight fades to midnight blue. All evidence of the sun is gone. It is now, unequivocally, night. The moon will begin to crest the horizon shortly.

“You need to get out of the car now,” Ethan says.

I pull the door shut. “What if I don’t want to?”

He glares at me, the muscles in his square jaw tensing.
 

“I will physically remove you, if I have to,” he growls.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Is that a dare?”

I lean into him. “What if it is?”

He scowls at me, but then his face softens for a moment. I raise an eyebrow, taunting him. Daring him. Our faces are so close now. His complex eyes appraising me. His full lips inches from mine. I can smell his fresh, clean skin, with just a hint of fragrant body wash. I breathe him in, and my spine tingles. Again, I try to make my eyes smolder, and I lean in even more. It’s a blatant invitation.
 

I pull out all the stops. I flutter my eyelashes and bite my lip, seductively. I shift in my seat, arching my chest out, ever so slightly. I want nothing more than to feel his warm lips against mine. To feel his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me into him. To feel every nerve in my body alive with passion.

He leans in, slightly… then lunges, biting at me, snapping his teeth. I fly back against the door, terrified. I fumble for the door handle, panicked.
 

Ethan is laughing his ass off, amused at how easily I was startled.