Authors: Sydney Bristow
At this point, I didn’t know what to think or if I could trust Celestina, not because she had a duplicitous nature, but because I didn’t trust either Zephora or Alexis, and they might use my niece to get what they wanted.
“You should leave, Aunt Serena.”
I examined her face for any trace of uncertainty, but I saw only complete certainty. I nodded, stepped up to the door, and reached for the doorknob, but just as I reached it, I turned back and said, “Your mother and I may be sisters, but we don’t trust each other.” I didn’t want to say what came next, but I needed to, not only because Celestina needed to hear the truth, but also because I had to accept it. “We may be sisters, but we’ll never be friends. I wish I could promise you otherwise, but I can’t.” Now I had to tell her something that wounded my own heart. “We’re enemies and we always will be.” Hearing no answer, but sensing her disappointment, I knew she believed what I’d said.
I twisted the knob and opened the door. “Don’t trust Zephora. No matter what, never trust a word she says or a thing she does. She’s a liar. She’s a killer.”
“So are you, Aunt Serena,” she said in a soft, weary tone. “You told me you wouldn’t hurt Mom, but you did, and you killed Granny. She was a horrible woman, but you still killed her. Then you killed Darius. You even killed
your own
Granny.”
Mention of Grams misted my eyes immediately, and I had a difficult time swallowing, much less breathing. How
dare
she mention my killing Grams as though it meant nothing to me! Celestina had grown up with Alexis as her mother, with Delphine as her grandmother, which meant she had
no
idea what it felt like to have a caring parent. But the moment that thought hit my mind, I realized I shouldn’t hold it against Celestina. At least I had a parent who cared, a parent who loved me unconditionally. Celestina had a grandmother who physically abused her and a mother who verbally abused her. Tears slipped out of my eyes, not because I’d ended Grams’s life or because I no longer had her in my life, but because Celestina had never had a loving member of her family show her how to approach life and relationships.
There was nothing more to say, so I opened the screen door.
“I watched you kill Mom,” she said in the faintest voice. “It wasn’t a nightmare. Please…don’t take Mom away from me. If you do…” She lowered her gaze. “Please go, Aunt Serena.”
Celestina had mentioned a few times that she’d envisioned Alexis and I fighting, but this was the first time she’d stated that I’d actually ended my sister’s life. Alexis had admitted that not all of her daughter’s visions had panned out. Still, she’d been right about my killing Delphine, and Alexis and I continued to butt heads. Despite our differences, I didn’t want to hurt her. I just wanted to prevent her from taking Zephora’s side.
I just realized that I’d considered these last few thoughts because when it came to Celestina’s half-formed threat, I knew what she intended to say. She just didn’t want to admit it to herself. Maybe she didn’t want to believe herself capable of what had passed through her mind, so she didn’t utter those words. Since Celestina ordinarily had a pure heart, except for the few times her mother and I had fought, I wanted to believe she wouldn’t consider killing me. Then again, as evidenced by how she’d nearly choked the life out of me, my niece had a difficult time controlling her rage in those situations. And I only hoped that, if Alexis and I battled each other again, Celestina would have enough self-control to reign in her anger.
A couple hours later, after carrying most of our instruments and equipment from my car into the Home Bar storage room (Nolan agreed to haul the amplifiers and heavier items we’d need for the show in his own vehicle,) I felt oddly unaffected by the prospect of performing for a crowd tonight.
I couldn’t overlook the notion that Zephora and Alexis would use my niece to achieve their aims at any cost, all the while setting me against her. Nonetheless, I couldn’t do anything about it. Her mother had built up a tremendous amount love and respect inside Celestina, despite the fact that she walked a thin line when it came to abusing her daughter. Based on our last encounter, it seemed that Celestina would take whatever precautions to prevent me from ending my sister’s life. It disturbed me that my niece thought so little of me, that she thought me capable of purposely trying to murder my family members, but she made a good point. The relatives I came into contact with tended to end up dead!
I went back to the van to retrieve my microphone and mic stand. I opened the back doors, removed the stand, and set it down on the ground, only to sense movement behind me. I spun around.
Alexis stood opposite me, flanked on either side by a couple of men in their late 20s with heavy beards. Her ebullient smile contrasted with the harsh glares the men sent my way. She glanced on either side of her. “Just wanted to stop by and get some payback for practically killing me.”
“You’re not dead,” I said, “Even if Celestina hadn’t stopped me, I still wouldn’t have killed you.” Obviously, she had located me by following my soul signature. I wish I knew how to cloak it.
“Why not? You killed Mom. After me, who’s next? My daughter?”
Her question nearly knocked the breath from my body. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I just—”
“End up killing them. Face it, little sis, you’ve killed two witches in
our
family. Why? Are you angry that you didn’t get the same amount of power as we did?”
I sensed that she was biding time to allow the men on either side of her to decipher any weaknesses I might exhibit as well as pick the best moment to attack. I examined them in hopes of identifying any paranormal powers. Each of them had short, but thick, dark hair. Their determined expressions disclosed that they had arrived to fulfill a mission they were determined to see through to the end, regardless of the personal cost.
That didn’t bode well. I couldn’t detect any overt abilities, but I guessed they would only come once they attacked because Alexis wouldn’t have brought them for show and tell. Bringing backup revealed she didn’t entirely feel that she could take me one-on-one. For the briefest of moments, I couldn’t ignore the pride that sprung forth upon realizing that she felt the need to bring reinforcements to defeat me, but then reality bounced back, forcing me to acknowledge the quartet of men facing me weren’t interested in a meet-and-greet. Therefore, I set my mind toward how best to deal with them and Alexis.
“I don’t think you’ve met anyone like these guys,” said my sister.
“Well, guys make up half the population, so it’s not really an eye-opener.”
“But how many of them are werewolves?”
My mind reeled at the possibility. I scanned their features. Their heavy, matted hair lent the impression that they might indeed be werewolves, and I knew better than to distrust my sister’s remarks, so I examined their body structure and stature for any areas of weakness I could attack with a reasonable amount of success. In that instance, I’d need to strike with the least amount of time and resistance in order to turn my attention to the person (or wolf) beside him.
“Turns out,” Alexis said, “werewolves can change on the day leading up to and after a full moon. Who knew?” A good-natured smile touched her lips. “Oh, that’s right, Zephora.” She looked skyward. “She’s too much.”
Although the sun had vanished over the horizon, it was still light out, but a hazy full moon had already risen. “Why werewolves?” I asked.
“You seem to handle vampires pretty well. They may be fast and strong, but they walk on two feet. Werewolves use four legs, and you haven’t fought anything like this before.”
I presumed that, like the demon Kendall had fed on in my home, Zephora had called out to werewolves and this pack arrived to deal with me.
“Good luck,” said Alexis with a chuckle. She gestured to the men beside her and stepped away from them as though they weren’t worthy of sharing her company. Each of them slipped off their shoes, undid the button on their pants, and slipped out of them, before standing in their socks.
“I’m telling you the truth, Alexis,” I said, irritated by her ignorance while also incredibly intimidated by the pack of werewolves a dozen feet away from me. “I told you, Lucifer controls Zephora, but you’re still stupid enough to believe that I’m lying.” Calling her stupid might work against me, but I needed to light a fire under her to consider my words as truth.
She waved a hand through the air as though trying to push aside a foul scent. “You lie all the time, don’t you? Is it a habit or do you just like hurting people?”
“Remember when we talked in The Lucky Bean Coffee Shop a few days ago? You promised not to lie to me, and I trusted you. Because of that, I’ve never lied to you. You also said you’d try to read my mind every chance you got, but I’ve done a good job of preventing it from happening.” I glanced at the men facing me. “You obviously think I’m a threat, and I want to prove that I’m not. So for just this one time, I’m going to give you a backstage pass to my mind. You can ask any question and get the truth.”
She permitted a condescending smile. “So you can lie to me? Not gonna happen. I don’t trust you, little sis, and I never will.” She nodded at the men on either side of her. She obviously thought they would tear every limb from my body.
They elicited low grunts as their torsos transformed from sinewy muscles to thick and massive. Their hair darkened and sprouted across their faces, arms, shoulders, chests, and arms.
Terrified, I watched the pain they endured. I could throw fire at them, but I recalled that these creatures weren’t vampires or demons. They were humans who had the ability to reconstruct their bodies a few days each month because Zephora had cursed their ancestry to pass on this genetic blight to future generations. Granted, they followed her orders, but it didn’t make them evil. They were simply brainwashed, and for that reason, I couldn’t kill them unless I needed to do so in order to save my life.
Likewise, I could pull in the energy around me and thrust it toward them, but it would only knock them down and infuriate them. Afterwards, they would race toward me in an attempt to tear my heart out of my chest. I could attack now while they had no chance to retaliate. However, an alternate option came to mind. I could run.
Far from a cowardly option, I regarded it as the smartest move I could make, so I rushed toward the door Alexis had just entered. The moment I pulled open the door, I felt a foot slam into my lower back, pushing me against the door and shutting it. The blow expelled the air from my lungs, sprawling me flat against the door.
I spun around and faced a quarter-turned werewolf (the others were too busy shrieking in pain while their bodies worked on fully forming). This man’s teeth and fingernails had grown three times the normal size of a human. I half-expected his muscles to tear off his shirt and pants like the Incredible Hulk. He still stood like a man, but once he turned into a wolf, he’d attack on all fours. It meant that I couldn’t rely on basic fisticuffs because he wouldn’t stand at a similar height, but would have a lower center of gravity, which would make him that much harder to fight. In that case, I could still strike his head, shoulders, and back, but not his chest or…
That gave me an idea. Rather than allow him to continue transforming, I relied on the most logical maneuver available to me. I kicked him in the nuts. That tactic snapped his head back as his legs collapsed and his knees crammed into the concrete. Instead of continuing to transform, his body reverted to human form. Maybe debilitating him had pried his thoughts away from turning into a werewolf and centered his attention on trying to relieve the pain.
I figured these men had the same strengths and weaknesses once they turned into werewolves of fictional lore: they had tremendous power, a silver bullet would kill a wolf, and a werewolf bite would release venomous toxins in the salivary glands to transform that individual into a werewolf upon the appearance of the next full moon. That would occur within the next two hours, which added up to one thing: don’t get bitten.
I hurried behind the man-beast, prepared to snap his neck, only to recall he wasn’t a vampire or a demon. He was a human cursed by his ancestry.
To administer another form of pain and hopefully prevent him from mutating, I found a pressure point in his shoulders and pressed hard enough that it forced him to the ground, lying still.
Just as I prepared to swing around to the others, I felt a foot bash into my ribs, sprawling me out onto the concrete. I spun around and tried to regain a firm grasp of my surroundings, since my vision took a while to catch up to the action taking place before me.
My next adversary, having transformed halfway into a werewolf, rushed toward me. His button down flannel shirt tore at the back, and his blue jeans split at the thighs, revealing thick fur. Below tufts of thick eyebrows, his enlarged eyes were bright brown. He opened his mouth, and an angry roar erupted.
I scrambled to my feet, and when he leapt toward me, I ducked and watched as he soared an inch over my head. He came down on all fours seven feet behind me and continued running until he arced in a wide half-circle in order to return in my direction and target me again.
The other two men behind me allowed the transformative process to proceed without any interest in attacking me, probably because they figured the lone werewolf in-transition had matters under control. In the unlikely event that I bested him, this duo would be at full-strength, whereupon they no doubt considered defeating me an all but a certainty.
The wolf behind me set his sights on me again and shot toward me.
I preferred to hurry towards the door, but by using four legs, the lone wolf had doubled his speed, and I wouldn’t have enough time to slip inside the facility before he clawed me to the ground, so I settled on a middle ground. I raced toward the door, but when I reached the halfway mark toward it, I spun around.
The wolf, now less than ten feet away from me, threw himself in the air, aiming straight for me. With no option to run, I held my ground and calculated my chances of success with various strategical attacks. Only one ensured a punishing blow, much less survival. I applied a spinning hook kick.
My foot slammed into the lone wolf’s face, which snapped his head back, but with so much force pushing forward, his neck slammed into the door, evoking a heavy thump. The wolf fell to the ground, but scrambled up a second later, although it stumbled around on unbalanced legs. The front pair held firm, but their pair of two hind legs couldn’t determine the amount of strength needed to remain upright. The wolf swerved around for a few moments and collapsed. It seemed the wolf had suffered a concussion.
Two down, two to go.
I spotted the next werewolf, now fully transformed, while his buddy still had perhaps another fifteen seconds to complete his metamorphosis. The werewolf attacked, and I barely had enough time to prepare for the next onslaught. After dodging a clawed fist, which came quickly but not nearly as fast as the fists of fury Darius had fired off, I did a back kick.
The blow caught him in the ear. He staggered in place, more startled and irritated than harmed. Caught unprepared, he shook his noggin, attempting to regain his wits.
These beasts had rushed me so quickly, even if I wanted to use my magical abilities, I wouldn’t have had enough time to send flames or energy blasts at them. Without the opportunity to rely on my supernatural gifts, they would eventually wear me down until they leaped on me and tore the flesh from my body.
I used the respite to rush toward the door in order to escape the now fully formed werewolf, but just as I grasped hold of the door handle, a fingernail tore the fabric of the back of my top, and the tips of the nails slightly scraped my skin. My cheek slammed against the door, causing my head to throb. My body slid downward, but I knew giving in to that automatic response might result in death.
Rather than waste time turning around to face my opponent, I grasped the door handle and pulled it open. Then sharp incisors sank into my skin and clenched onto the right side of my neck. I shrieked, unable to hold in the misery, as a spasm racked my body while my hand fell away from the doorknob. When the werewolf’s teeth fell away from my body, I felt a slight reprieve in pain and managed to half-turn around to confront my adversary. A rush of bitter, humid breath brushed against my face from eight inches away.
Once again, the beast dug deep into my flesh, burrowing for the greatest grasp possible. Screaming out in pain, I gave way to my reflexes as they forced me to abandon hope of entering the building as the werewolf behind me dragged my body backwards.
Fear throttled throughout my body, resulting in a pent-up dose of adrenaline that all but rendered the pain in my injured shoulder inconsequential. Now that he locked another mouthful in place without permitting me a way to free myself from him his grasp, I was now mere seconds away from the moment he tore me limb from limb.