Jolene

That was nice? I expel a pent-up breath of air. Who? No! What the hell was that? Were those horns? And how did he know about magic? What about all the talk of creatures and monsters?… I’m still stuck on the rules part. What rules am I breaking? My head is spinning with many questions until it occurs to me.

Oh my God! Mathilda put that man up to it. She must suspect I’m using magic and sent that guy over to scare me. I can’t believe I almost fell for it. I knew those horns were fake. I’ll give her props for originality, though; creatures are a pleasant touch.

While fishing in my pocket for my phone. I have a frightening realization. Mathilda wouldn’t expose the fact I’m a witch. Not to anyone, for any reason. I set the phone down, rethinking my next move. The slightest trepidation tenses my shoulders and raises my temperature. That guy knows I’m a witch and knows where I stay. He could come back anytime and… off me! No, he would have already killed me if that was his aim. He doesn’t want me using magic, but why? Doesn’t matter; I snort at the ludicrous demand. That’s like telling a bird not to fly and no one clips my wings, intimidating or not…

Class has me restless. I didn’t sleep well last night, being deeply disturbed by a ruggedly handsome horn wearing freak. Seriously, what makes him think he can boss me around? How did he sense my magic? Here I go again. Sighing, I stop with the useless questions and focus on the professor. The last thing I need is my grades slipping. Mathilda would lose it. The day drags on, and I’m relieved when it's last class until the results from my test come in. B minus, and I cheated! It's not bad enough to warrant attention, but it's definitely a step in the wrong direction by my standards.

Could this day get any worse? I’m still feeling the effects of my magic trip, and my late-night visitor has got me vexed. I’ve been waging a war in my head all day. Listing the reasons why what I’m thinking is a bad idea. No matter how many reasons I come up with and how good they are, I have a feeling it won’t matter. My aunt always said my curious nature would get me in trouble.

Stopping by the coffee shop, I pick up an iced coffee in hopes of a mood boost, but it does little for me. By the time I get back to the dorm, it’s empty, and I’m feeling similar. My phone rings, making me jump. Surprise, it's my aunt.

“Hey, what’s up?” I say, throwing myself on the bed and pressing the phone to my ear.

“Not much, hun. Rachel stopped by and left you a book.”

My smile slips, and I go silent. I miss home so much. Rachel is my best friend, well was. She was a senior when I was a freshman, but she lived next door. We were inseparable for nearly two years until she went away to college halfway across the world. We kind of lost touch months after.

“Oh, what’s she doing in town?”

I hear Mathilda sigh, like she can feel my sadness over the line.

“She dropped out, took a job in fashion or something like that… how are you doing, hun? Did you get your test back?”

I stop fiddling with the pillow when I realize she asked me something.

“Hmm? Sorry, I was daydreaming.”

There’s a long pause, and I check to see if we’re still connected;

“I know I pressed you to be safe, but college is supposed to be one of the most enjoyable times of your life. You should be elated.”

Yeah, that’s me, elated. The only time I feel anything lately is when I’m casting spells.

“I am, I’m just tired. My neighbor got in pretty late and woke me up.”

Ouch! The lies are really starting to flow.

“Okay hun, I’ll let you get some rest. Call me anytime.”

“Will do, I love you.”

“Me too, sweetheart.”

I pull out my calculus for some regular studying. It's not long before my eyes drift to the closet. Would it be so bad? It's just a little location spell. I can follow him and see who he knows, what he does. That way, I can determine whether he’s a genuine threat. I know I probably shouldn’t, but at the moment, I can’t find a distinct reason good enough to stop me.

I gather some supplies; my pendulum, four candles, a map, and a pen. Lighting the candles clockwise, I draw an x over the campus area and allow my pendulum to hover. It's all over the place at first, then begins to focus on a small area. It’s a bar close to here. There are so many things that can go wrong. If I was smart, I'd put everything away and go to bed, but... Looks like I’m going out…

My attempt at blending in is useless. I opted for tight jeans and a red halter that bares my midriff and pushes my breasts up. Typical club wear minus the skirt. I loathe skirts and dresses. What I didn’t anticipate was a strip joint. The crowd is either desperate losers or entertainers. So, unless I swap my jeans for a G-string, I’m sticking out like a sore thumb. I stay at the farther tables under the broken lights. The servers don’t even notice me, perfect. I’m not here to get my drink on.

It takes a few seconds of searching before I find him. He’s at the bar, leaning toward the server, trying to be heard over death leopards pour some sugar on me blasting over the crackling speakers. The dancer is in her late forties and has had one too many plastic surgeries. Things just don’t look right, but the customers or lack thereof don’t seem to mind.

The server my mystery man is talking to is very attractive if you're into that type. She’s dressed in less than the strippers and flaunts her curves like she’s desperate.

Whoa, did I just get jealous?

I shake my head in disbelief and turn my focus back to the duo. His chestnut hair is disheveled, curling here and there like he just showered. He’s wearing a grey sweater and faded jeans. I’ll give him points for at least not looking like he belongs here. I observe him for a while, noticing he can handle his liquor well. I lost count after shot thirteen. He doesn’t glance at the dancers, not once, and it makes me wonder why here?

When he finally gets up to leave, I expect him to fall down, but he walks out the door like he’s sober.

The streetlights make it hard for me to stay hidden and the gravel in the ally, even harder to keep quiet. When I round the same corner, he did nearly a minute ago, he’s gone. Doing a three-sixty, I scan the area. Nothing! How the hell?

“Looking for me?”

I jump, startled by his closeness. Slowly turning, I take him in. His eyes are bright. He doesn’t look drunk. Quite the opposite. If anything, he looks... excited?

“I was on my way back to campus, thought I heard something.”

He smirks, eyeing me. The way his gaze lingers on my body makes me feel like he’s already inside me and knows all my dirty secrets. There’s something about him I didn’t pick up on before, but it's clear now. This guy is dangerous.

“From where?… What were you up to at this hour?”

Holding out my hands, I begin to back up. My fingers tingle at the ready with enough juice to blow up a semi-truck. I don’t like the look he’s giving me, like I’m his next meal. I’m starting to believe those stories Mathilda told me about creatures living among us, hiding in plain sight. My eyes flicker to the horns I saw on our last encounter, but they’re no longer visible. Although his hair could be hiding them.

For every step I take, he inches closer.

“Stop! You don’t want to mess with me.” I warn him.

He smiles savagely, showing teeth.

“Oh, but I do. You have no idea how badly.”

My hair stands on end at his tone, and the effect those words have on me isn’t all together unpleasant. Maybe that’s what scares me. This doesn’t feel like the same level-headed man who visited me just days ago.

He pounces like a cat. It all happens so fast, and the next thing I see is my energy burst from my hands in a flare of light.

When I crack open an eye, my mouth drops to the floor. I subconsciously bonded him. Smug satisfaction paints my features as I walk around him, surveying my work. His lips are clamped, and his hands and feet are locked in place. His chest pumps with angry breaths and his fists clench. I can feel him fighting my power. He’s strong. I won’t last long; so, I bluff trying to speed up the exchange.

“I told you.” I say in a singsong voice, just to taunt him. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Now be a good little puppet, and tell me how you know I’m a witch.”

He glares, anger rolling off him in waves.

“Oops, my bad. You may speak.”

He takes a deep breath before starting, like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“I can’t… I’d have to show you.”

Said the wolf to the innocent, juicy lamb. I can already feel my power slipping.

“Why should I trust you?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, tipping his head to the side.

“You shouldn’t, but since you’re here.”

He begins to move freely. Shit! That wore off fast, and I can feel the effects of my consumed power. It's not a good sign. Trying not to panic, I back up and threaten to do worse. It gives him pause but doesn’t stop his attempts.

“Come with me.”

I look at him like he’s crazy, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Let’s cut the shit. It’s no accident you’re here. You were following me... I promise no harm will come to you. Just let me show you what you came looking for.”

I scoff because I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Although I’m curious as to what he wants to show me or what he thinks I came to see. I've made up my mind, even I know this is a bad idea but my curiosity prevails. Besides, I think I have enough in me to freeze him and get away if need be.

He motions for me to walk beside him. I do, keeping a safe space between us.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He looks straight ahead. I begin to think he didn’t hear me.

“Elliot.”

Not what I was expecting, but fitting in a way. He’s definitely strong and bold, but I wouldn’t peg him as religious by any means.

“So, Elliot, are you into cosplay?”

He trips up, looking sideways at me before righting himself.

“You mean like role-playing… sexually?”

My eyes widen, and my cheeks flush. I stutter in my words.

“No! Like dress up for adults. Geeze, what’s wrong with you?”

He chuckles, then quickly becomes serious.

“Why would you think that of me?”

Now I hold back laughter. He sounds so offended. I point at his head.

“Before, in my room, you were wearing horns.”

Elliot slows his pace.

“You saw those, did you?”

He avoids answering, and it puts me on edge. He’s so tight-lipped, giving nothing away.

“Well?” I say,

I’m about to scream in frustration.

“What did you think of them?”

His question catches me off guard. It’s so odd, I’m not sure how to answer.

“Cosplay is cool if you're into that. Honestly, I kind of view it as nerdy, but I’m not judging.”

He doesn’t like that answer. Elliot’s mouth twists with distaste.

“I do not play dress up.”

Sure, he doesn’t. Whatever, I’m obviously not going to get a straightforward answer.

He stops in front of a brick building in a deserted alley. I must be crazy. Who follows a stranger that threatened them no less than forty-eight hours ago? In the dead of the night to boot!

“Will you promise not to discuss this with anyone? Even if you decide it’s not for you?”

My brows raise to my hairline. I don’t know whether to laugh or run.

“You're a sadist, aren't you?” I accuse. His expression mirrors mine, and he’s speechless, so I continue.

“You know, like Mr. Grey… fifty shades… The movie. Do you have a red room up there?”

Elliot grasps his forehead. I think I'm giving him a headache.

“Just stop, I have no idea what you're referring to, and no, I’m not a sadist… Are you into that?”

My eyes widen to a varying degree.

“No! Are you?”

He sighs, shaking his head at me.

“You already asked me that. There is nothing sexual about what I’m about to show you, trust me.”

Okay, and I’m supposed to just believe that? Like I’m going to blindly follow him into a dark building in a desolate neighborhood. It’s made of brick; I don’t even think an amplifier would make it through those walls.

“This was a bad idea.” I admit out loud.

Elliot folds his arms and looks down at me.

“Too late.” he states this as if it’s already done and pushes me forward. Shrugging him off, I walk through the door first, and he follows me close enough there’s no room for escape. I climb the flight of stairs, and Elliot opens the door, entering first. The room smells pleasant, like spice, not sex. I’m relieved and feeling kind of silly for my quick judgment. There’s a living area off to my left and a fair-sized kitchen to my right. The kitchen is separated by a partial wall, and there’s a hallway straight ahead leading to another set of stairs. This is a home. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I know I wasn’t expecting normal.

A man with red hair and a confused expression emerges from the kitchen.

“What’s going on, Elliot? Who’s this?”

Well, at least his name is real. He gets points for that, but he’s still in the negative column due to threats and being cryptic.

“Can I talk to you for a moment, alone?” Elliot's tone is hush, hush.

The red head doesn’t look impressed. If he reacted any other way, I would have booked it, but something tells me Elliot has never done this before. My curiosity keeps me in place. I’m a sucker for a puzzle, and that’s exactly what Elliot is. I sit on the couch, making myself at home. They’re whispering, and I can only make out the odd word or two. From what I can hear, they’re arguing.