Chapter 44

Only four chapters left after this!  (I think)

Chapter 44

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Eliot moved easily through the streets of Wafter’s Point on foot, following a blazing trail.  It was like the person he was after hadn’t even bothered to cover their tracks.

It was almost too easy to track them down to a run-down warehouse near the base of a river that cut through the back of the town.  There, a figure, clothed in shadow, was already waiting for him.

“It’s about time you showed up.”  The figure took a step forward and pulled back a dark hood to reveal tussled brown hair and bright green eyes.  “I was almost worried that I had made I had overestimated you.”

Eliot’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his distance.  “What do you want, shadowhunter?”

The figure looked no older than seventeen or eighteen and had a lanky, wiry build.  But there was no mistaking what he was.

Only a shadowhunter could be stupid enough to look him dead in the eye and not so much as flinch.

“I’m guessing that you’ve been the one leaving all those ‘presents’ around town for us," he added with a cold smile that revealed his fangs.

The shadowhunter grinned as well.   “Leftovers from a raid on a den of rouges a few towns over," he said offhandedly.  "Just give us what the witch stole, and we’ll be on our way.”

At the sound of ‘we’ two other figures disentangled themselves from the shadows to flank him on either side.  One was a girl with gleaming pale blond hair—probably the hunter Sage had caught sight of in the woods.  The other, judging from the smell of him, was most likely their  werewolf.

“Shadowhunters don’t usually pal around with your kind, mutt.”  Eliot glared into the beast's silver eyes, allowing centuries worth of violence to pool in his gaze.  "You've certainly been making a name for yourself around here."

The lead boy shrugged while the werewolf took an uneasy step back.  “Arnuald here tends to get a little sloppy when he turns, but he’s pretty helpful to have when you’re dealing with vamps.  We were just following the girl—we didn’t mean to scare her,” he added, explaining Miriam's werewolf sighting.  “We thought you were going to hurt her.  After all, why else would a vampire be hanging around a mortal other than to feed?”

Eliot ignored the question.  “Stay away from her,” he growled, fingers clenching into fists.

The blond shook out her hair fixing him with her own piercing emerald stare.

“Just give us what the stupid prophecy and we’ll leave,” she snarled.  “And maybe then we can get a real mission to go after instead of some wild goosechase for some piece of shit riddle that no one believes—”

“Al,” the boy warned.  His eyes cut meaningfully to Eliot.  “Look vampire, all we want is the witch and what she stole.  It wasn’t even that important—just some old artifact being taken to an exhibition for the witches about old magic.  It was guarded by minimal security; all they had was one shadowhunter, just in case of any rouges looking for an easy mark.”

“Yeah,” the werewolf grumbled, speaking up for once.  “And your witch fried him to bits.”

Sounds like Alazzdria, Eliot thought with a nod.

She had always been fond of dirty tricks.

“Just hand the witch over for judgment, and we’ll go," the boy said with a shrug.  "Even though you’re pretty notorious yourself.”

Eliot gave them all a mean smile.  “Heard about me have you?  Is that why you gave Miriam the symbol of the Dark Midnight?”

The boy nodded, but he didn't seem so smug anymore.  “I thought the truth might knock some sense into her.”

Eliot frowned, thinking of Miriam’s less than terrified reaction.  “I thought so too…”

The boy gave him an odd look, but just crossed his arms over the front of his black sweatshirt.  “Look we really don't care about you or your strange habits, vampire.  We didn't touch the mortal.  Hell, we even tried to help her--"

"But she had it 'taken care of'," the blond said with a smirk.

The boy glanced at her.  "We’ll give you a day or so to hand over the witch,” he said.  “After that, we’ll have to—”

“Handle it ourselves,” the girl finished for him.

Her gaze was as fiercely lethal as a hawk’s.

“The hard way,” the werewolf growled.

Then, without another word, all three turned and faded into the shadows.

______________________

Miriam stood before the bathroom mirror holding a pair of scissors in one hand.  She had stripped down to nothing but her undershirt and a pair of shorts, and still felt frozen.  Even with the heat on full blast.

Which was fitting, because the icy feeling perfectly matched how she felt on the inside.

Frozen.

Her heart...ached, if that was the word it.  Eliot's words were like scars sinking deep into her chest that no one else could see.

But...for now, something more pressing was there to balance out the hurt.

"There's no other choice," she said out loud, tightening her grip over the scissors.  The metal blades gleamed as she opened and closed them experimentally.  "You have to do it..."

Fingers shaking she reached for a strand of her hair.  Her scalp ached from being pulled.  Even as she stared, she could make out dark splotches of blood gluing the hairs down.

It’s now or never, she thought with a sigh.

Taking a chunk, she brought the blades of the scissors down over it and cut.

Snip.  A wave of curly brown hair floated down to the floor.

It was easier from that point that she would have thought.  Almost numb she watched as seventeen years’ worth of hair piled up around her feet, leaving the rest of her…

Well, at least she didn’t look quite so young anymore.    The loss of brown curls made her eyes seem larger.

Sharper.

Browner, if that even made sense.  The bones of her face stood out more, making her look more pixie-ish and less preschooler.

She felt freer too. Less…hidden.  A short fringe of wispy hair that barely covered the tips of her ears was all she had left to run her fingers through.

Now, if only it weren’t for the uneven pieces that stuck up at jagged points all over her head, making her look like she’d fallen head-first into a cheese grater.

Her feeble attempts to fix it only made her look worse.

Thinking fast, she stumbled into her bedroom and fished her phone from the bottom of her backpack.

She hesitated for a long time before dialing the number.  She even held her breathe as the dial tone sounded, but to her surprise the person on the other end picked up after only a few rings.

“Hello?”

Miriam took a deep breath.  “Can you come home?”  Thoughtfully, she ran a hand over the top of her shorn head.  “It’s kind of an…emergency.”

A few moments later, she was back in front of the mirror pleased to see that she looked less...ragged.

“Not bad,” she admitted, running her hand along her scalp.  Now the drastic cut appeared somewhat deliberate; like a daring pixie cut found on the pages of a fashion magazine rather than a botched run in with the scissors.  “At least now, I don’t have to wear a hat to school for a year.”

“You look fine,” her father insisted, setting aside the scissors.  “If I do say so myself... At least those few years in the army taught me something about cutting hair.”  He gave her a weak, lopsided smile that didn’t hold any real cheer in it.

But at least he was there, actually looking at her.  Talking to her for the first time in months.

She had been surprised when he showed up at all, looking haggard and worn, still in his scrubs and lab coat.  She didn’t know what to expect, but when he caught sight of her hair, he had just sighed and gestured to the bathroom.

“What made you cut it, kiddo?”  He asked.  There were bags under his eyes, she saw, making him look exhausted.  “I would have taken you to get it done at a salon or something.”

She shrugged, tilting her head to observe her reflection.  “I just…needed a change.”

And a change it was.  Shrimpy Miri Spriller, shy epileptic, was dead and gone.  Leaving a new creature in her place.

A girl who looked like she could rub shoulders with vampires and the weekends and not think anything of it.

A girl who could be part witch.

But she wasn't quite sure what this new girl with the piercing eyes had in store.

“Well, you look great,” her father insisted, reaching out to brush the short strands of her hair.  “Almost like…”

He trailed off.  That familiar pain reappeared and Miriam waited for him to close up again. Make up some excuse to leave, but after a moment all he did was nod.

Just once.

“You look beautiful, Miriam.”

She glanced back at herself in the mirror and smiled.  Maybe, just this once, she believed him.

“Thanks.”

He glanced around nervously, running his fingers through his hair.  “You hungry?”

“Sure,” she said, stepping away from the counter.  “But...I don’t think we have anything in the fridge to make spaghetti.”

Her father smiled and pulled a cellphone from his pocket.  “How about takeout instead?”

_______________

The next morning, Miriam slipped down the staircase, surprised to find strange smell tickling her nose as she mounted the bottom step.  Turning into the dining room, she found her father standing beside the table, scrapping blackened scrambled eggs onto a plate.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he said sheepishly.  “I tried my best, but I couldn’t quite make them like…”  He hesitated, and then added softly, “Like your mom used to.”

“They look great,” she lied, slipping into one of the chairs.  Politely, she shoved a forkful into her mouth, barely tasting the food at all.

Her father sat across from her, quiet at first.  Then, slowly, he began to ask her things.

How was school.

Her grades.

Simple things, but she answered them and he listened.  Really listened and, for a moment, it could have just been like any old day back before…

“You should get going,” he father said, glancing at the silver watch on his wrist.  “I don’t want you to be late.”

She stood and reached for her backpack.  “Thanks for breakfast.”

She was almost to the door when she heard him call out behind her.

“I still have some time before my next shift…I could give you a ride, if you want?”

I need to leave for a while.

“Sure,” she said, shaking Eliot’s voice from her head.  “I’d like that.”

They headed out and climbed into his old silver van.

There, he caught her off guard by asking a question about some movie they had seen almost years before.  Mindlessly, she answered and they fell into the same old routine as if it had never been interrupted.

But, when they passed that curve in the road, she couldn’t keep her eyes from being drawn to the that same old spot.  Her eyes unconsciously searched for that sleek black car.

Of course, no one was there.

And that made it all sink in.  He was gone.  Really gone.

She knew it with the same finality that she knew her long hair was gone, as she reached up to stroke the side of her neck.  Eliot wasn't coming back...

“See ya, Miri,” her father called as he dropped her off in front of the school.  She waved, watching him go and was nearly ambushed by Sidney when she turned to enter the building.

“Did you hear?”  She demanded.  “What the hell happened last night?”

Miriam blinked.  “What are you talking about?”

Sidney snagged her arm and dragged her off to the side.  “Carl,” she said in a hushed tone.  “They said that he just quit this morning and disappeared.  I know you had detention with that creep yesterday; what happened?”

Miriam shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It was pretty normal,” she lied.

Sidney sighed.  “I was so worried…”  She hesitated, and then shook out her gleaming red hair.  “A couple weeks ago I found out that Coach Carl had been videotaping some of the girls during cheerleading practice.  He was always creepy—watching the girls during gym.”  She shuddered.  “But that just took the cake.  I confronted him about it and he blew me off.  He pushed me,” she added in a whisper.  “And he said that if I told anyone he’d make it so I got kicked off of the squad.  Cheerleading is all I have—my only shot at getting a scholarship to college.”

“It’s alright,” Miriam said, thinking of the way Carl had threatened her.  He had thought that Sidney had told her about the tape—it all made sense.  But then she remembered the sight of the werewolf with a shudder.  “I don’t think he’ll be bothering anyone else for a while.”

Sidney gave her an odd look, and then surprised her by throwing her arms around her neck. “I’m glad you’re okay!”

“I’m fine,” Miriam said, laughing.  “But, we should probably get to class before I earn myself another detention.”

They turned to the building.

Miriam saw the front doors.

She took a step, and then…

Nothing.  The blue started as a prickle—just a flicker along the edges of her vision—before it swept up and over engulfing her in utter silence.

There wasn’t any shock this time.

No fear.

Just quiet…

Endless quiet.

And nothing else.